Week 502 (March 23 - April 5) Stories Topic: Patterns CLOSED

[C.P., Windrunner]

You have until the 5th of April to post a story and from the 6th to around the 12th of April, we’ll vote for which one we thought was best!

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group. Only one submission per person is allowed.

Your story should be between 300 and 3,500 words long.

REMEMBER! A short story is not merely a scene. It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

This week’s topic is: pattern

The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject/photo but it must relate to the topic somehow.

Most of all have fun!

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

I can't believe I didn't come up with something last time! I remember checking out the picture and should have kept the "gears" turning... oh well.

This topic is really interesting though too. Thanks Courtney!

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

Last night I got an idea for a story! I hope I'll follow thru on it this one, here's hoping!!

[M]

You can do it, CJ!

[Garrison]

AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: Nobody Wants to Change
GENRE: Educational Fiction
WORD COUNT: 1,600+
RATING: PG-13 for language, politics, and sexual harassment



Every year the pattern was the same: two rival debate clubs went head to head and not a goddamn thing changed afterwards. The clapping from the audience was only out of courtesy, not out of impressiveness for one particular side. Everybody in that crowd had already made up their minds, or whatever was left of them after devouring a nice helping of Tucker Carlson’s show later that evening.

Paulo Bermudez recognized this dull pattern all too well. As he sat there on the side of the stage with his head barely perked up, he could see all the faceless minions nodding in mock approval for whoever was speaking. Even his own debate coach, Mr. Diametes Cosgrove, looked like a mindless bobble-head in the crowd, though his civil rights lawyer credentials made him slightly more believable.

Though Paulo and Mr. Cosgrove had their racial differences, the former being a Mexican teenager and the latter being a black Boomer, their struggles as minorities were real to each other. The harsh treatment by white cops, the gaslighting rhetoric of rich pampered politicians on TV, the general disdain from society, they both knew it all. When Mr. Cosgrove asked Paulo to be the captain of this year’s debate team, it was because he saw something in the young man, though Paulo saw nothing in himself and not much else in his opponents.

While Mr. Cosgrove and everyone else in the audience had their best suits on for this occasion, Paulo’s T-shirt and jeans look showed he knew the outcome of the competition long before it was over. The minute his rival captain Cora Yellowwood took the podium in her posh blue sweater and brown skirt, Paulo’s Nostradomus skills were even more heightened. She went on and on about the basic conservative anti-immigration tropes: they took our jobs, they’re joining MS-13, you can’t care about kids in cages if you’re “pro-abortion”.

Paulo’s blood would ordinarily boil over at this kind of rhetoric. But at this point in the competition and in life in general, he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore, because nobody else did. Once Cora was done with her two minutes of hate speech, the audience applauded like they had been programmed to do all these years. Paulo didn’t even snap out of his apathetic trance long enough to hear his own name called by the moderator. The old man had to say it multiple times in exponentially louder voices before he woke up to the nightmare around him.

“Mr. Bermudez! It’s your turn at the podium. You have two minutes to rebut Miss Yellowwood.”

Paulo dragged his sorry ass to the podium and was greeted with insulting shoulder squeezes and hair fluffing from his opponent. The audience chuckled at the gesture, not realizing nor caring how creepy that was. Once Cora skipped back to her seat on the opposite end of the stage, Paulo stared out into the crowd with a mixture of hatred and aloofness.

He allowed the droning audience to absorb his rage before he finally spoke. “You know what this debate competition sounds like? Team Bermudez vs. Team Yellowwood sounds like a UFC event, which is what I wish it was right now.” The audience chuckled awkwardly while Mr. Cosgrove rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Bermudez, please stay on topic,” the moderator warned.

“Oh, don’t worry, I am on topic.” Paulo sighed heavily and read the room some more, wasting valuable time on his two-minute limit. “Truth is, I could stand up here and tell you all about my struggles as a third-generation Mexican-American. I could entertain you all with a sob story about my grandfather escaping violence. But in the end, none of it will mean a damn thing, because nobody wants to change.”

The audience gasped while Mr. Cosgrove face-palmed.

“Mr. Bermudez…”

“Yes, I know! I’m staying on topic like you said! Just give me a few minutes, okay?!” The room fell deathly silent once again. “I could talk here for a lot longer than two minutes and none of it would make a difference. Nobody wants to change their minds. Nobody wants to listen to me or anybody like me. People don’t get into political arguments because they want to see a new perspective. They do it because they want to win. They do it because they want to quote-unquote own the libs.”

“Mr. Bermudez, that’s enough!”

Paulo ignored the warning against him. “Think about it! When was the last time anybody changed their minds because of something I said? Never! It’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes! Actually, no, that’s not true, because at least the brick wall wouldn’t give me a snarky answer or call me a snowflake every time I had a valid concern! The minute Mr. Cosgrove made me the team captain, I should have quit!”

Cora made a hand-job gesture and earned another round of light laughter from the crowd. Paulo caught her. “I’m sorry, am I boring you? Is there anything I’ve said just now that was a lie? Did you do that little masturbation thing because I’m right about nobody listening to me? Or maybe you did it as free advertising for your Only Fans account!”

“MR. BERMUDEZ!”

“Tell me, Cora, what’s so funny about my struggles?!” As Paulo drilled Cora with more angry rhetoric, Mr. Cosgrove emerged from the crowd and grabbed his arm to pull him offstage. Paulo resisted as he continued shouting down his rival captain. “Of course you can laugh about it, because you’ve never been discriminated against in your life! You’re a rich white bitch who never had a day of hardship! You can just throw money at your problems and they’ll go away like that!” Once Paulo was successfully pulled offstage, Cora gave him a raspberry and laughed.

“Let go of me, Mr. Cosgrove!”

He did, but only once they were far enough backstage that they had the alone time they needed. Mr. Cosgrove angrily whispered, “I didn’t go through all those years of Harvard Law School just so you can go up there and act like a jackass, do you understand me?” Paulo breathed both to soothe his anger and warm up his anxious nerves at being lectured by his debate coach. “I made you the team captain because you have a voice. You have strong opinions that needed to be out there. If I did half of what you did out there just now, I’d have been expelled a long time ago, maybe even thrown in jail at some point. You don’t control the crowd by throwing a baby fit.”

“No! You win the crowd by brainwashing them like the sheep that they are. Cora’s good at that sort of thing.”

“So what if she is? It’s your job as a debater to snap them out of it. You actually have to work for their attention. You can’t just give up because it’s too hard. Imagine how many more black and brown folks would be sitting in prison right now if I had given up on them. If you’re so certain that nobody will listen to you, then you MAKE them listen to you!”

“I can’t! Jesus, will you leave me alone! I can’t save the world by myself! If I could, I would! But I don’t have the time and energy to pull the public’s heads out of their asses! I can’t save the world if the world won’t save itself! If you’re so damn confident in your abilities, why don’t YOU go out there and destroy Cora Yellowwood yourself!”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” That smug voice belonged to Cora herself, who stood at the entrance to the backstage area with a scorecard in her hand and a cutesy-wutesy smile on her face. “I don’t know if you guys are aware of this, but Team Bermudez is so far behind in the score that it wouldn’t have mattered either way. I got the scorecard right here if you don’t believe me.”

She handed it to Paulo and the defeated look on his face grew even more sullen at the news. “We never stood a chance.”

“That’s right,” said Cora with a wink. “I guess you made people see things your way after all: nobody wants to change. Sorry life didn’t work out for you in the end. Maybe you’ll have better luck debating people when you land your first job at McDonald’s. Do you want fries with that? Here’s why you shouldn’t have fries with that.” She laughed at her own joke. “Well…you can always try again next year. Here’s a little something for good luck.” Despite Paulo’s weakest resistance, Cora kissed him on the lips.

“I’m fairly certain that’s sexual harassment,” said Mr. Cosgrove.

“What’s he going to do? Sue me? Like he’s got that kind of money. Or maybe you’ll do his legal work pro-bono…Diametes!”

“That’s Mr. Cosgrove to you, you sanctimonious little bitch.”

“I’ll be sure to let the Principal know you said that. It’d be a nice test of your debating skills, trying to convince him to let you keep your job.” Cora laughed and waved goodbye before skipping back onstage to accept Team Yellowwood’s victory.

Mr. Cosgrove roughly grabbed Paulo’s shoulders and snapped him out of his sexual harassment trauma long enough to add a cherry on the cake. “In case there’s any confusion as to whether or not this school needs you more than you need them, I’m recommending you for a ten-day suspension for that stunt you pulled tonight. Rebut that.”

Paulo shrugged his teacher’s hands off of him. “I’ll send you a postcard from the Bahamas.”

If he couldn’t afford a lawyer to sue Cora, then he couldn’t afford a ten-day vacation overseas. But that didn’t matter, because the little zinger brought a smile to his own face. It was the first time he smiled that whole night. For just a tiny little while, he believed in his own verbal skills. How long would that last? How would he use that momentum? It was hard to answer those questions with the trauma of Cora’s forced kiss swirling in his head.

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

Courtney could you please extend the contest at least by a day? So many distractions are happening now I literally can't get any work done! Sorry about this.

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

Feel free to suggest things/criticisms welcome!

Title: Times Like No Other
Author: C. J.
Word Count: Over 4200 (I'm sorry but it's a good story I hope!)

PG-13

Story Part One:

Anyone not familiar with a friend like mine might instantly assume I could see into the future. As soon as the phone rang in my single home I was ready to talk to the person on the other line. I, Jared, even knew the name of the caller before he even spoke a word.

When I answered the phone my friend was caught off guard.

"Hey what’s up? Listen, I need you to do me a f--"
"Let me guess, Slater, you need money. Again!"
He paused as if he realized I caught him in his game and was rethinking his tactic. Then his desperate voice came in again.
"Uhh… well not really man. I have your comics here that I wanted to return so that was why I called."
"And you need money for that 'video game system' you were telling me about yesterday…?"
"Well… yeah." He paused again then continued. "You see, I feel like we should spend more time hanging out. Wanting some buckaroos… it’s different now; it's not gonna be like last time."
"But are you actually going to go out right now to buy that thing or will I have to hold your hand and make sure you don't get…. distracted?"
He started to sound defensive now. Maybe even a little hurt.
"You know me man! It's not like before. I'm not gonna buy any… illegal stuff, or whatever it is you're implying."
I couldn't help but scoff on the phone. He knew EXACTLY what I meant. He was trying to sound innocent, paranoid he'd slip up admitting something over the phone in case cops were somehow listening.

Almost all of my life I knew this man Slater. What was once a promising, smart, wanting-to-learn -about-life kid grew into the spoiled, drug-addled young adult that was on the other line. Over eight years I was worn out by him saying over and over he needed cash from me, would ignore and abuse me if I said no, go to jail, and come out clean till he found his next fix. I'd be dumb to ignore the patterns this time.

“You know what bub? Listen! What I want to know is if I give you the money this one time I want to go with you to the game store. We’ll see what place is open and we can get whatever games you need. Won’t even need cash! Here, I have---”

Shoot. I said to myself. I realized I had a rainy day fund. But it had been put away and depleted in order to fix up the house. I'd built it up for months just to keep an old side wall from falling out and giving the squirrels in the backyard a show of my dining room. It was the biggest check I had written in my entire life.

As I thought of what to do Slater wasn’t having it. “Come on, are you gonna help me?”

“Oh I thought this was ‘helping us’ as friends… wasn’t that what you said? You were planning to go to the electronics store- didn’t I hear you right- to get video games?”


“Yeah but I was thinking… it would also help me stay clean.”
I grunted out of frustration.

“You have your parents with you every day. I don’t have that luxury of someone to look out for me to take care of anything that happens. Let them help you stay clean!”

“Come on man. You’re pulling my leg saying you were gonna do something for me and now ya ain’t. Come on dude…”

It was over. My patience was at its end.

“The name’s Jared not dude. And you’re giving me an ulcer! I’m trying to live on my own while you wallow around with your family and do nothing. I need to use the money that I earn. Just stop making me feel guilty for not giving you cash: I work for me not you, dammit!”

There was a pause. Normally I’d relish in it but here it was maddening. Then--

“Okay. I see how it is. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Hey Slater--”

“No, nevermind.”

“I didn’t really mean to--”

“Nah I see what’s up now…”

“---say all of that.”

My phrase was followed by a beep noise. He had ended the call himself. I was now alone in my house full of amenities. All these years and I had never yelled at him like this before. He obviously had no time to prepare for me to say all that! I thought to myself in regret. Now as if my possessions had become a weight piling on me, mostly unused by even myself, I felt selfish and mean. Boy was this a guilt trip!

----

I didn’t know what to do the next day. Should I call him before I head to work? Should I send him a message on Facebook? No to the latter to that I realized, as I almost forgot he had been banned from there recently. With weak unrealistic hope I felt I could maybe send him a letter of apology? It was easier than just tackling the situation head on! Maybe as easy as all this stuff I was trying to work out.

Why couldn’t people just get along? Why are there always weird complications that get in the way and shake up relationships, even make closer ones as traumatic as two souls getting separated on two ends of a splitting ice floor. Sure it seemed rocky and it’s mature to have one person run across and make a big step but, why did it feel like I was the one that made it? Why did I have to make that sacrifice to risk my own “life?” Every. Time.

Or did I? I started to wonder. He always criticized me on not ever being open about things. When I got older I kept holding my tongue during times he needed my words the most.

I thought about us as friends as we used to be closer. Back when things were so simple. There was normalcy and a feeling of real family that I felt a real part of (my own parents were never so kind or even showed visual demonstrations of love, even around me). It was great but this was when we were kids like eight years ago or so.

Trying to snap back to reality I was still stuck in the past as I flashed back to all the bad things he did to me. The many times he used and abused our friendship and now he was making me feel like crap for even talking about how I felt, which is what he wanted, right? To talk to him more?

Whatever. If he was just wanting to be an immature person again then I’d bite the bullet and call him.

I picked up my house phone and dialed. No answer. Called again. Third time. Nothing.

I paused so long I didn’t know how much time had passed. Now I was worried.

----

It was about a day and a half later, around 10 p. m. when he called out of the blue asking for an impromptu hang out. It surprised me. The best thing about it was it reminded me of the times things were sane and so called “normal” again.

It had been Friday and I was done work ready for the weekend to start and relax. I noticed he spoke excitedly. And finally he was using my name again.

“Jared, do you want to swing by? Please. I have a surprise for you.”

Unsure I asked him. “Umm… what is it, if I may ask?”

“Come on, don’t you wanna hang?”

“Ok but first off… I just want to apologize.”

“Think nothin’ of it. If we end up hanging tonight it’ll be like old times. Will be cool!”

Him using that word made me laugh. Do people even use the word that way anymore? Made me laugh thinking again of nostalgic times.

“I can tell you’re happy about this too, Jared.”

“Yep. I’ll get to your place in a bit. I have to get ready first.”

“Right on.”

----/----

When I entered the house I was unsure about the surprise he revealed early to me in the doorway.

“Look..!” He showed off a PS5 and five games with it, a Nintendo Switch Lite with games and a brand new 16 inch flat-screen television. Afraid of what he did to gain such things I probably looked like I was getting ready to leave off the bat.

“No, I didn’t sell drugs or do anything else you think.”

“Oh good…”

He spoke matter of factly. “I got Harrison to buy me all this.”

I was shocked. “Oh gosh. That poor old man you keep asking for money? I thought he ended up in a nursing home by now!”

“Nope. He’s still at his house… fortunately. He always gives me his retirement money.”

“Let me guess… you hassled him until he gave in and bought all this for you?”

Slater had a look on his face I could not read. It was not good. Was it self-entitlement? Was part of him proud he had done this?

“I did this though for us. I will be able to keep clean and you will be able to hang out with me.”

Not appreciating the word play was not lost on me. I paused.

“Uh… this doesn’t make me comfortable at all.”

“Come on man. Remember when we used to chill and play N64? That was awesome. I miss that!”

“Yeah I do too but…”

“But what?”

“But we didn’t force money out of a poor old man to get that N64. Your parents were able to afford it then.”

“My dad can’t do that now because he got rejected from receiving his SSI. They felt he was using it improperly…”

You mean YOU were using his SSI improperly, I figure… I said in my head but I tried to forget all that craziness. This I hope might become like old times. Though it was wrong I ignored how had received his ill-gotten funds, in denial I played games with him through the night.

---

It was about three in the morning as two so-called “adults” played both Horizon Forbidden West and Assassins Creed Valhalla until our thumbs were sore from the epic open-world games.

“Dude that was too awesome.”

“Yeah I can’t believe I put off playing games like this. It felt like I was playing inside of two movies!”

Slater laughed. “That sounded like a review. You always talk like a reporter or something.”

I got uncomfortable. For being such a prolific “critic” that covered everything media online I sure was sensitive to being criticized myself.

“Let’s… talk about something else.”

His eyes lit up again. “Oh, I also want to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been trying to call a rehab.”

“What? Really?”

I noticed there was an unsteady tone in his voice all of a sudden like saying it aloud rang differently. Too official for his taste.

“Yeah they said they have no beds for probably this whole month but that’s cool though. Come that day I’ll have a month to think about it at least.”

“Think about what?”

He spoke as if ashamed. “If I should really go…”


“Come on Slater. You know how this is a huge step in your life. If you go when the door of opportunity opens, take it! I know it’s hard to make decisions… like this… cuz you’re not used to them but it will be worth it. I can promise you that!”

He again seemed uneasy. “Okay I guess. But at least we’ll have a month to hang out. We have about twenty days of fun, man!”

We high fived. This was so brave of him. I couldn’t help but even be moved at how mature he seemed at this moment. Being extremely bi-polar I never could guess moment to moment what he would do or how things would play out as it seemed like he always took the reins on his and even my life over the years. But it looked like here was a glimmer of hope. In the rollercoaster of chaos at his house for once things were finally working out right.

----

It was 1 P. M. I woke up to hear one of his parents shouting.

“That was your mother’s medication. You can’t steal it. It’s not yours!”

“I needed it!”

“No you don’t.”

“What good is it to stay clean if you keep things around the house like this?”

“Because…” there was silence.

It dawned on me in that moment just how actually dangerous it was to be at this house. The parents are possibly “using” too? I’ve got to get out of here!

Not knowing what to do I awkwardly put on my jacket. As if Slater heard me he charged down the stairs.

“You know what? I don’t care about rehab or any of that. I can’t stay here if I’m gonna come back here anyway. What’s the point?”

When he saw me his eyes lit up. Somehow I knew what was coming.

“Mom, Dad frick all this. I’m gonna stay at Jared’s house from now on! He’ll help me.”
“Just what made you think that?”:

“Cuz we talked about it last night... “ uh oh, his bi-polar is kicking in. We never spoke of this. “He agreed to help me out.” Partial truth. He always loved twisting words too.

Oh gosh, please no…

“Wait. I said I would be there to help you stay clean…”

“Yeah and you’d be by me day to day at your house. See Dad, he admitted it!”

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

Times Like No Other

Story Part Two:

“No… I … Please don’t…”

I felt like I was about to have some kind of break down. Was this friendship worth it if so much of it was going to be helping someone “get through life” if I had to put mine aside? I was already rising in my own personal career. I did not need this in my life at least all the extra stress involved.

I ran out the door.

“Hey. Wait up!”

I was heading to my car. This was it. This was reaching our breaking point. Too much happening way too fast. I was either gonna smack Slater till he got his life together (probably not possible so I’d be doing that a while) or tell him finally how I really felt about all his shenanigans.

Here I was pushing thirty (around same age as Slater) still afraid to say how I felt.

That was changing now.

Then without asking Slater popped open the passenger door so I shouted at him. “Don’t you dare! Stop. Just… stop!!”

He stood there somehow looking clean. I knew soon he would pull the act that he was innocent in all of this and I was the bad guy.

“Don’t move into my house. I shouldn’t be forced to make my own decisions. I am a... man!”

I paused as if I barely believed that last part.

He stared as a small crowd gathered. “I don’t want you wrecking my life by being high all the time at my house. It’s my one place I have to myself. My only thing that exists!”

“Well… I didn’t know you would feel this way.”


“And I don’t need you wrecking my life and making me do things I don’t want to.”

“What do you mean?”

Some people chatted amongst themselves. And one person pulled out their phone to record it, thinking it was probably hilarious. He had his stage now. I was in his control even then.

“You took your mom’s medication. Does she need it to live? What was it?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“What was it pain-killers?”

“What meds?” Then because I knew him too well I watched what he did next. He popped the pill in his mouth. Desperate to make it as if it was too quick to be seen he was now going to lose. We would lose in time. Slater would soon lose that “old timey” self now. He couldn’t listen to me when he was apparently craving drugs and not loopy but he would be worse soon.

“You’re not getting in my car.”

“What?”

“Close the door!”

He shut it. I continued. “Talk to your parents. You need each other now more than ever. Well at least see them as your parents not as some lottery of ‘tasty goodies’ you can endlessly partake of…”

I drove off. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had crashed as I was blind with rage. I had to get home. Had to get away from all of this. Now!

----/----

It was already Monday. I hadn’t heard from him in some time. I figured he was probably high on those pain-killers taking them day in and day out afraid of any after-effects as a result of withdrawal.

But he called me partially out of it and there were noises on his cell as if he was actively walking through a busy street.

“Hey.”
“‘Hey.’” I said surprised the rage came back like a flash of white. It was apparently a pet peeve that if he didn’t call me by my name he was asking me for help not as a friend but as some sort of money machine.

“Please don’t hang up.”

I was a little startled at his tone. It seemed like something serious had just happened.

“Right now I’ve got nobody to listen to me. I want to go to rehab but… I don’t know what I want.”


Though he sounded high I could tell a good part of him was fighting its way out.

“Yeah that was obvious.”

“I just want to let you know I do care about you more than you know. I have just the clothes on my back and things in a backpack. I have nothing. My parents kicked me out. They don’t care about me.”

Knowing them I knew they did care but this escalating madness was probably a constant occurrence at that place and half the time they probably had little time to know what to do.

“I want you to please listen… can I go to your place to get clean?”

Again the pressure was mounting on me again. Now he was without a house no one to take care of him and keep his habit in check, there was no one but him and me. I swear anything that happened in a day’s worth of his life took a lifetime’s speed in others. Feeling like his parents I didn’t know how to react. Shoot, what do I do??

Though it was bad timing on my part I finally had to put my foot down. “No.”

He seemed like he was trying to say ‘what’ but the words could not escape his lips. A loud car honked then zoomed by him unaffected by his situation.

“I just can’t. There is only so much with my life right now I can take. I can’t do this. Maybe at all. Anymore.”

What happened next changed us for the worst. I was caught off guard by hearing him cry. Real crying, not ‘drama’ crying where no tears would come out.

“‘You can’t take this anymore?’ What about me?”

It’s always about you, isn’t it..? I started to think but something caught me off guard at that attitude.

“I might be an asshole at times but you really won’t even help me? I’m not even asking for money right now. I need you to help me through my life. I really do care about you but just now showed me how much this friendship means to you. If I took my life tonight, would you even care?”

I started to rethink my words. “I--”

As he spoke he reminded me of the good times again. I forgot how his sensitive he was when we were kids. He worried about me if I had trouble making my trek home after staying at his place, just a few things came to mind.

“You don’t remember how much I do care about you. Do you?”

“Uhh… yeah. I do.” I realized I sounded like a huge jerk like I remembered that all this time.

“Then why won’t you help me? I’m probably in crisis now and you won’t let me stay at your place? One night? Anything.”


I tried to speak but felt helpless. I was feeling like my emotions had run out.

“Okay I see how it is…” it reminded me of another time he had said it but this time, it didn’t feel like no aimless guilt trip.

He hung up. I called back right away. It was busy. I tried again later. It was as if the phone had died.

“Shit!”

For once it was as if I had been deeply concerned for the first time for Slater. Why was I being such a jerk all this time?

----

It took forty minutes to return home. I called off work due to a “family emergency” and went to my parents to help me. After they gave me suggestions where he had been I left their place and was at first curious of what happened to my house. Something seemed off. I went around to where the wall was repaired on the other side seeing glass all over the grass and I thought the wall had collapsed. Nope. But somebody had broken in.

Though no one in their right mind would normally do this I ran in before I called 911. I was hoping I’d find out what happened. I was shocked to see two chairs in the dining room knocked over and barely visible under the table I found Slater lying under it.

I found a scarf around his arm and a needle in it. I called for an ambulance right away.

----/----

They gave him adrenaline and pumped his stomach! They found he had tried to overdose on heroin along with a drug I didn’t know the name of but I feel like whatever it was it probably kept him from losing his mind waking up out of his heroin high. But referring to the former drug I have heard the kind he took was powerful stuff. People usually came out of their comfy coffin of warmth mad that someone took it away from them. It was unreal the kinds of drugs that existed years now even after they were seen as "dangerous" back then.

I heard he was better and was told I had to see him some other time. After a couple of days I got to visit to talk to Slater again. It was a pleasant surprise seeing him in a hospital, a place he stubbornly avoided as if it were the plague yet was not resentful or mad I made the choice to send him there. Also it turned out he had no drugs on him so cops weren't planning to arrest him before he could have options to get any better in his life. I thanked goodness for that!

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey.” I said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like s-h-i-t but I’m glad I’m not dead.”

As soon as he said that I realized all the reckless things he could have done, he wasn’t completely careless about his own body as I thought before this. He overdosed at my house. He wanted to live! What some might have called a pointless cry for help I called progress for my buddy Slater.

“Are you going to stay here tonight?”

“No but I am going to make some adjustments about where I go from here…”

“Yeah?”

“I had some counseling before you saw me. They gave me some good choices for me... a program... after I go from here. I want to go to rehab. For real.”

“For real this time?”

“Don’t believe me?” Slater said. He laughed but coughed as if his throat was still traumatized from the awful agony he had faced the first day here. “Dang. Well I didn’t believe I would either but they want to help me go to a halfway house after that. Not going home. It’s too tempting.”

“Wow really? Where’s that?”

“Far from my parents. But we’ll write. I want to keep in contact with you at least.”

“I’ll be there for you.”

My last letter before his transfer to the halfway house:

Hi buddy,

It’s Jared. Just wanted to say I’ve kept safe contact with your parents while you’ve been away. I know you’d want this to happen since you’re clean now. I haven’t forgotten how much you really do care for people when you are ‘yourself’ so I made some choices for you. Since you don’t want to go to your home I thought I should sell your stuff. Not everything lol! Just the games. Yeah I’ll miss that PS5 too but I only did it just to give as much of the money back to Harrison. He was grateful for that.

Also I have here locations of places you can go to train to get a job, maybe even work your way to a career…… I am sorry I have been so critical of you. I don’t understand why I get that way sometimes. I also want to get this hobby of being a “critic” into more than just that! I am studying to get my communications degree, I finally listened to what everyone kept telling me to do! All I had to do was take that as suggestions not like I was being judged lol.

Anyway I hope you’re doing well. And let’s not focus on the “past times” and just make some new ones already, lol!

Keep being good…

Your “dude” Jared.

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

I just fixed a LOT of what was wrong with this story. Going back to it I realized how a few places (and that's putting it lightly, lol!) made little sense and I hope people who might want to give criticism could let me know what they know can do to help improve this story!