saint /8 cb

It was a Tuesday I think? Weather was grey, sort of like this. I'd found one of those old horryifying cookbooks that must have been my grandma's and decided to make bologna cake for dinner. Whatever you're thinking that's like, pivot and think the opposite. Yup, confusing. 

But intriguing? 

All I needed was bologna and a lot of cream cheese, so I got on my bike to go to the market and it was then that I realized my bike was gone. Key was in the bike lock, which was fun because I remembered hanging that up in my room last night.

Things have been disappearing from my house as long as I can remember. Dad was battling a pretty bad drug habit his whole life and ever since mom died, he gave up on hiding it.

So I started walking to the market and I guess I was a little hurt. Mom and dad had gotten me that bike for my fifteenth birthday. I'd stuck stickers all over the metal and after school sometimes I'd ride around for hours before finally going home. It was my little vacation from my Mom's being terminally ill.

And I remember thinking as I walked, "Damn, one day I'm gonna wake up and dad will have sold me."  I always thought that dad loved me, as best he could, but right then I wasn't so confident. Last time we talked it'd ended up with me hiding behind the locked bathroom door holding a cold cloth to a brand new shiner.

But dad always got punchy when he was high.

It's like the Jeff & Steve flyer was just sitting there on that pole, waiting for me to read it. It's like the pay phone jumped into my hand as I rung them and told them I only had $15 bucks. It's almost like I actually did forget to lock the door that night. It's like I barely even participated in murder at all, you know?