Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Part Two: Cigarettes and burgers, caffeine and alcohol

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I was in disbelief. I have always despised my neighbors. In fact, I always made an effort to make it from my car to my front door without engaging in any visual or verbal communication. I never imagined, however, that standing there with his knees escaping his ripped jeans like a drowning man's head breaks through the water to gasp for air was my my new neighbor, Dave Mustaine.

I stood there motionless. My brain was regaining itself after a period of complete atrophy and then, just like a vampire he asked me to invite him in. I quickly motioned my hand towards the inside of my home and he lifted his long legs and entered. "I heard some interesting sounds coming from your house last night, evil sounds." I did not respond. How could I? I wasn't even aware of what happened the night before. He slowly sat down on my couch and inquisitively looked around my house. "Hey man, what do you say? Some' cigarettes and burgers, caffeine and alcohol?" I explained to him that I was much to weak to leave the house and walked towards the kitchen.

I returned to the living room with a bottle of mountain dew and a family size bag of Cheetos. He quickly sat up. His eyes widened and he licked his lips. I knew I had chosen well. He reached for the bag like a gollum and when I retracted the bag out of sheer surprise he hissed at me. Naturally, I hissed back and upon seeing the Necronomicon that I wore around my neck he sat back and withdrew his threatening behavior. We sat together in silence, our fingers stained orange and our minds full of thoughts.

Dave suddenly turned his head towards me, biting his lower lip as if trying to keep his words prisoner. His pupils became dilated and his nostrils flared. "What do you mean I don't I dont pay my taxes? Why do you think I'm broke?" I sat there in confusion not knowing what to make of his questions. "What do you mean I can't get to work on time? Got nothing better to do." He then turned his head away from me and we sat in silence once more. It was then that I realized that Dave Mustaine was insane.

He was trapped inside his own lyrics. I should have recognized this sooner when he referenced his song '502' as way to get a bite to eat. We sat there for a while longer before he got up. He nodded his head as he looked around. "I like you, man. You're into some wicked shit!" I looked at him in agreement. "I'll catch you later. Got some magazine interview bullshit." I watched him as he walked down my steps and past my lawn. He was my neighbor and I knew that I would be seeing more of him.


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