Memoirs.... Ch.2

CH. 2

There's something about a hotel bed that ensnares you like the web of a giant spider, and drains you of any happiness you may have. All hotel rooms have the same basic setup. A comforter that seems to be, in actuality, half of a comforter. No duvet covers at the “Deer Ridge Inn.” A few electronics devices, a turn knob t.v., well, for the Deer Ridge Inn, that was the extent of the electronic devices. It looked as though it were purchased at the Goodwill sometime in the early eighties, and repaired to serve as your break from the faded brown flowers on the wall. When you think about it, the entire room is a teeming pit of depression, so I chose to relocate to a livelier setting after nearly being blinded by the flashing neon’s that lit up the entire street like a bolt of red lightning, every fifteen seconds.

The rain ceased; the only good news since arriving in Daton. Outside, it was dark, probably because the only lights around were coming from the bar across the street. Not just the lights, the only cars around were parked in the dirt lot running along the left side of the old wooden building. Judging by the condition of the large beams that made up the exterior of the saloon, it wouldn't surprise me if it was the oldest building in town. It wouldn't have surprised me if it wasn't. As I stepped out the butt of another seven min of my life, I pulled out the plastic tube containing my happiness in the form of 50mg. Thirteen left, that's four days. I hoped that would be enough, especially since there probably wouldn't be a walgreens for thirty five miles. The doors looked sturdy, I wondered how many times Bubba, or Jimmy busted through those doors with the broad side of their skulls.

Of course, “Betty's Corral" wasn't much better than my hotel room. There were only two working lamps hanging above two decrepit pool tables, and a few neon beer signs hanging on the walls. The smoke that bellowed off the bar extended to the front door and softly rolled across your skin as if the arms of countless sirens luring you toward what was inevitably a false sense of acceptance. One of the greatest lessons I've learned in life is, “no matter where you are, there is a bar nearby with a crowd of people yearning to hear that you're doing just as bad as them." These are the people who really listen to you, rather than wait for their turn to speak...

CH. 3

“Tell us more about the girl!” demanded an old man at the end of the bar...