Pint-Sized Stories

June 13, 2016
Five Star Bar
Cool Lager
* this one moves around Hamilton a bit…stay with me*

“I paid fifteen grand to go to school for that,” he said, “and now I do this.” He told me this as we were both in the recycling nook, at the same time.

He seemed too young to be where he was, doing what he was doing; pushing his cart through life, looking for treasures. He was dirty, but not long dirty and his eyes still held light.

His cart had bags of cans and bottles in it, along with part of a fan and half a bar-b-que, and it was sitting mid-nook when I walked around the corner with my recycling stuff. He apologised to me and began to leave and I told him not to so he stayed on and we talked.

Most people just look at you like you’re some kind of gross bug they just squished with their shoe. They just wanna pretend you’re not there. I guess that’s what they do, anyhow; like I wanna be here.

I got way off the path I started on, that’s for sure, but I’m no different than they are. Just different. Ha. Only difference is I got demons stronger than theirs, because everybody has demons.

Just because I’m the guy with the cart full of weird shit and my pants and shirt are second hand, or fourth, and dirty, don’t mean I lost my whole brain. I guess I lost part of it though or I’d be the guy in the coveralls asking if you want synthetic or regular, down at the Jiffy Lube. Instead, I’m the guy with the cart. I’m the guy who never shoulda had that first hit because it punched my ticket.

They say I got a choice, but I don’t feel like I do. It owns me now, and now, instead of a pay cheque, I got this cart full of stuff.

That lady was nice though. She didn’t act like I was a walking disease. She talked to me and said, “Have a nice day.” That got me thinking about how could I maybe change. Maybe I could have a nice day.

I walked down town with my cart and I traded my stuff all in. It only came to eleven bucks, but I figured I could maybe use it for something instead of just that crap I keep taking. I don’t ever want it, but I need it.

I bought a pizza instead. I never fuckin eat. I mean, obviously, I eat, but I never just eat, you know? So I got a pizza and I sat in the park and I ate; the whole thing. I looked like those starving kids on TV, my belly was so full. It made me sleepy. I don’t even remember the last time I got sleepy from eating food; maybe when I was eight or nine and things hadn’t turned south yet.

June 21, 2016
Augusta House
Guinness, Deep-Fried Okra
 

My Dad was the one who kept us fed. He made us sandwiches between shifts at the steel mill and the diner he cooked at, nights. I don’t know when he ever slept. Somehow, he found time to take care of me and my brother and my sister. I was the youngest. I guess I still am, but I feel so old; so far away from then.

Dad would come home, dirty, tired, hopeful. She was always drunk, passed out or gone. And he would smile and grab us all up in a grimy hug and then he’d pretend he wasn’t tired and he’d have a shower and change into his herring-bones and whites. He’d make a loaf of bread’s worth of sandwiches and put aside one for his lunch for the next day. He’d cut them all in halfs and wrap them up so us kids could eat for a day or two, just in case he could get some overtime, and maybe not get back real soon.

Sometimes he’d get a Saturday afternoon off and he’d make the sandwiches and cut up watermelon or get apples, and we’d all go on an adventure.

My favourite one was when we’d take the bus and go to the beach over in Burlington. We’d eat and swim and sleep on the sand and we three kids would bury my Dad under the sand. We’d make a huge mound over his whole body and then Jill, because she was better at it than me or Joe, would make Dad into a giant sand mermaid, or one time, an octopus. That one took forever and Dad just laid there, sleeping, or at least pretending to. Come to think of it, those days were probably the most sleep he ever got.

Anyhow, the day she made the octopus, it was so hot that Dad’s whole face got red as a boiled lobster. He didn’t care, or if he did, he never said boo.

He had squinty white lines around his green eyes the whole rest of the summer and practically to Halloween.

That was the summer I was nine. Joe was 12 and Jill was thirteen. That was the last time we had Dad adventures. The accident happened on the day after Remembrance Day.

June 22, 2016
Gown and Gavel Patio
Strongbow 

We had a school holiday because of Remembrance Day and Dad had to work during the night, but he had the next day off, or at least part of it. When he came home in the morning, he woke us all up and said we were late for school and got mad at us, but we knew he was goofing around; he was no good at being mad at us. He laughed and said we could sleep in a little more but then we had to get up, school or no school.

An hour later, our noses woke us up. Dad had filled the table. There was a huge stack of pancakes and a plate of scrambled eggs with melty cheese all over them. He brought home some pea-meal and sausages and cooked up the biggest pile I’d ever seen. There were oranges cut up in wedges, hot buttered toast. We had big glasses of cold milk while Dad drank black coffee. We sat at that table, us in our PJs and Dad in the sweat pants he always put on after his shower, and we ate and ate and ate. We poured Mrs. Butterworth’s on everything and told stories and jokes and we ate some more.

When we were done, finally, after seconds and thirds and fourths, we helped Dad clean up. It’s funny. Most kids don’t want to do dishes, but we never minded, especially if Dad was home. We only ever wanted to be with him, no matter what we were doing. Doing dishes with Dad was better than getting yelled at or back-handed by our Mom, if she was ever even around.

So we cleaned up the kitchen and while we did it, we all moaned and rubbed our full, happy bellies. I remember thinking that I could just go right back to bed and sleep for a hundred years, even though we got to sleep in that day.

July 14, 2016
Brux House Patio
Lucy in the Sky, Revel Cider Co.

After we got all them dishes done, we were pretty bushed and poor Dad looked like he was going to fall asleep standing up. Since it was Saturday, and not too late in the morning yet, he told us we could stay in our PJs and watch the rest of the Saturday cartoons. He usually hustled us out for one of our adventures because he said the boob toob would rot our young brains, but that day he let us watch. He lay down on the chesterfield and watched us build a pillow fort with everything we could drag into the living room. He drew the line at hauling in the mattress off Joe’s and my bed, but it was one helluva pillow fort, let me tell you.

Before we were done, Dad was sound asleep and we were so full from our feast that before we got half way through Scooby Doo, we were too.

That was the last time.

That was the very last time I fell asleep from being full. Until today.

I got no idea what time it was when I woke up, or how long I’d been asleep, but it was the first time in a really long time that I woke up on my own, and not from my demons. It felt really weird; my eyes were all little-kid sleepy and my head felt kinda swim-y; not all crunchy and full of broken glass, like it usually does.

I felt like I was somebody else; like I was outside of me, looking in. Or over. Or something. I dunno. All I know is that I wanted to stop; be that full-bellied, happy kid again. Like I just wanted to hit rewind and go back and do it all different. I never finished high school, but I’m not a retard or anything, so I know I can’t do that, but I also thought that maybe, if I fought them real hard, maybe I could win the fight this time.

I sat on that patch of grass where I woke up and I just…sat there, all calm and stuff. I’m twitchy by nature and this shit I do only makes it worse, so it was strange to just be…smooth.

I was scared.

I started thinking about my Mom and all the the bad stuff and that made me want to go get my guy and some of my stuff and make it all go away, but I just sat there and I put my hands on the ground and I weaved my fingers into the grass there and hung on like I was going to float away if I didn’t. I started to shake, I was holding on so hard, and when I stopped shaking, I was just sitting there, on the grass, under this big tree in the park and I was crying. Just sitting there with my hands all smeared with pizza grease, holding big clumps of grass, crying. And I could see myself, and I was so scared.

If I got up, I thought, I’d just go get more stuff and for once, I really, really didn’t want to, even though I really wanted to.

So I sat still, or as still as I can be, which isn’t probably very; like I said, I’m twitchy.

I sat still and just waited to see what would happen next.

The weird thing? I fell back to sleep, at least I must have, because the next thing I knew, it wasn’t day time anymore, but dark.

I couldn’t believe it, but after all that time, my cart was still beside me, under the tree, so I got up. I had to hold on to my cart because my legs were as creaky as an old man’s, but I got up and started pushing my cart back up the street.

That was the longest time I kept my demons away in a really, really long time, so I started walking in a direction I didn’t normally go.

July 15, 2016
Two Black Sheep
Pommies Farmhouse Cider

Maybe I could lose them. Maybe this time, maybe if I went down a different street, maybe they wouldn’t find me.

I picked up some bottles while I walked and by the time I got to the Beer Store I had maybe four or five bucks, and I knew I could get a beer but I didn’t. For some reason, I felt stronger than normal; like I could maybe hang on, just a little bit longer, but man, I needed a cigarette. Just one more shitty habit, huh?

I knew I could eat free at the shelter, but I didn’t want to see none of them guys. Or girls. I just wanted to be invisible. I had enough for a couple more slices so that’s what I did. I got more pizza and went back to my tree and sat back down and ate some more. Damn. This was such a weird day. I was starting to get a bit shaky, but then my full belly got the best of that, and wouldn’t you know it but I fell asleep again. I think that’s the most I ever slept in one day or night or whatever, since, well since back so long. So long.

I woke up in sunshine.

I wondered how he got there. I don’t meant there, as in our apartment recycling compound, but there. What happened? Was he some privileged college kid who couldn’t shut down the party? Did he have a bright future and get in a head-injuring accident? Was he an abused kid? A nice guy? An asshole?

He seemed nice.