skeeter

note: based on a true story. skeeter was a good friend of mine.

"there are three obsidian cannibal orcs in the cave, congregating in the southwest corner. Listen, i will employ my shadow cloak and deal with them, you fellas sneak in behind me and plunder the chest."
right click, cloak employed, creep in behind the hulking, slobbering orcs, stealthily smite them with my newly purchased hinderon battle axe. I am a 37th level wraith, i descend, i destroy, i disappear.
"jason, you coming to bed soon? I need my medicines. This fucking kid will not stop kicking."
double click to mute the volume to my microphone.
"uh, yeah, jess, listen, i just have to finish this online application, then i'll be right in."
a door slams.
Back to my quest. Unmute my microphone.
"listen, boys, i gotta go, my wife needs some lovin. Good luck with the rock dragon in the everlasting bog. See y'all tomorrow night."
i sigh and close the application. I turn off the monitor and greasy finger smudges are illuminated neon in the glow of the console television across the tiny room. Stale smoke hangs heavy in the air surrounding me, yellowing the clapboard walls, a second hand smog is breathed in, and i cough, spit something green and menacing in the overflowing trash can beside the unsteady computer desk. I lean back in the cracked, worn, fake leather desk chair and sip from my superman returns slushie cup, the ice clicking against my teeth, the mixture of orange drink and vladimir vodka hammering down my throat, into my bloodstream, making sleep come easier. Outside, the sound of taxed tires squealing around the curve leading down our street, an engine guns, and high beams grind through the dirt covering the living room window, thick and heavy as molasses. Tires thrash the gravel driveway, and i tense up. And then, the thunderous expression of metal converging with metal, the trailer shivers, then trembles, and then falls.
I've spilt my drink on the keyboard.

Perhaps i'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

Two years ago i had just returned to north carolina from baghdad, my year of faithful service completed. I counted myself lucky to have only lost two buddies in the desert, victims of hyundai bombs. Really, war wasn't all that bad, especially with laser guided rockets and unmanned phantom bomber planes. The only interaction we ever had with the "enemy" in the 101st airborne was kicking through the corpses in some demolished building or when we would hand out chewing tobacco to the local sand kids. God, we would act as if it was candy and those fucking kids would gulp it down, handfuls of the stuff, and we would laugh and laugh as they puked their guts out. To be honest, war was pretty boring. But then again, so was raleigh.
I lived with my mom and five brothers, in a crumbling plantation house, the fields of farmland surrounding it long lost to weeds and weevils. I came home to find everything as it had been, my brothers jobless, growing pot, impregnating local chicks, sucking at the teet of government assistance. My mother had lost the battle with alcoholism years before, regulated to days upon days of finishing off 12 packs of natty ice and pissing the couch. I slept off my jetlag for two weeks in the basement bedroom and masturbated to the thought of escaping, leaving the tepid town. I was so predictable. I used my check from the army to buy a shitty computer, signed up for the internet, and lost myself in cyberspace.
One night between looking up articles on homemade pipe bombs and stroking it to lezzie porn i came across the world of warcraft, i downloaded the free trial offer, and my life changed.
My escape came electronically. I could be a fierce warrior, a magician, a hero.
Days and nights melted into one another, i rarely even turned my lights on, acne infested my face, i could not stop. I bought a headset so i could communicate with my fellow adventurers, and i met her.
I was tits deep in a quest to retrieve the crystal goblet of andorra when an angel's voice rang through my headset. I couldn't help myself, i had to know her real name. Jess.
Over the next couple of weeks we spent every moment together, finishing quests, laughing, getting to know each other, tinny conversations ringing in my ears even as i slept. Eventually i got her phone number and rang up a 900 dollar bill. I was in love.
Jess came to raleigh to live with me for two months. When i first saw her, at the bus station, i knew i would marry her. She looked as if the world had already had its way with her, the lines in her face acted as a legend mapping out her life, her hips told of years of inactivity and ice cream. It took me exactly two weeks to knock her up.
Jess decided it was a good idea to move back to her mother's house in washinton burrough, pennsylvania to have the baby, i could find work there, in my trade, as a mechanic, and we could raise our child. I was taken aback by her newly formed southern accent, her authority over me, my compliane to her ridiculous demands, but i went along. In the name of sidestepping my fate in raleigh, i lost myself in her, and i followed her to the north, to a new existence, as a father, provider, follower. I have never been a smart guy, but i should have known better.

The dust settled, and the walls of the trailer shook in relief. I stood and walked up the newly slanted living room to the broken screen door and made my way outside. Ronny, jess' mother's boyfriend, who lived with us, stumbled from his grand marquis, now neatly wedged beneath the southern corner of the trailer. I surveyed the damage.
"jesus christ, ronny, you done knocked the fuckin trailer clean off the cinder blocks!"
Ronny looked up at me, bloodshot eyes glistening. He looked back at his car.
"damnit, skeeter, i thought i told you to take that fucking car to the garage, damn brakes are wore wafer thin!"
i stood and stared at him. By now, jess and her mother stood in the doorway, i could feel their collective gaze.
"what? Ronny, goddamnit, you never told me such. Listen, get inside, you look like a wet polecat. We don't need the law here again."
He slapped my back as he strode unsteadily past me.
"listen, tomorrow we'll take the car into the shop after court. You got a couple bucks? i'm going over to bill's place for a little late night pick me up."
i fished in my pocket and handed him a wad of crumpled ones, the remainder of my army money. He stumbled up the driveway, singing skynrd, and i pushed past jess and her skeletal mother, went down the dark hallway, stepped over the mound of dirty laundry in front of my bed, and collapsed onto my futon. Sleep came easy.

The next morning i awoke to the sound of tires squealing once again, and the trailer shook once more. I stood and scratched at my crotch, the house was quiet. I strolled into the living room to find no one home, so i fixed myself a drink, sat at the computer, and begun another quest.

After two hours or so my phone chirped, vibrated off of the coffee table, i let it ring. It rang again, then again, and after the fifth time i got up and answered it.
"hello?"
"yes, is this jason bolland?"
"uh, yeah, who is this?"
" yes, hello, this is sergeant billings with the hempfield police. Do you know a ronald haskins?"
i swallowed, hard.
"yeah, he's my wife's mother's boyfriend. What did he do?"
"well, mr. Haskins asked me to call you. Uh, there is no easy way to say this. Mr. Haskins was pulled over about an hour ago on route thirty for speeding. He was doing in excess of 110 miles per hour. Upon further inspection we discovered mr. Haskins was quite intoxicated, as well as in possesion of a sizable amount of powder cocaine. He, uh, he could not make this call so i felt obliged to make it for him. He told me to relay the following message. Hold on a sec, let me get my notepad. Ahem. 'Skeeter, kevin down the block owes me a favor. Get him to take you to whatever police station i am being held in and bail me out. Don't tell jess or her mom.' Now, you need 10% of the bail, around 200 dollars, and we are at the hempfield police station, do you know where that is?"
I rubbed my forehead.
"yeah."
"do you mind if i ask you a question?"
I took a long pull from my superman cup.
"yeah, shoot."
"if you don't mind me asking, where was mr. Haskins off to in such a hurry on a tuesday morning?"
I sighed.
"he had a court date this morning, something about his suspended license."
The cop laughed.
"well, he won't have to worry about that now, will he?"
I kicked at a pair of dirty underwear in the middle of the slanted living room.
"no, no, i guess not. Listen, i should be there within an hour. Thank you for the call, officer."
click.
I pulled on a pair of filthy jeans and walked down the street to gather up kevin.

In kevin's rusty blazer on the way to the hempfield police station, my phone began chirping again. I picked up.
"private bolland?"
i sat up in my seat, at attention.
"Speaking."
"bolland, this is commander mcnulty, 5th division, 101st airborne. Son, i have some bad news."
"no surprises there."
"pardon me?"
"nothing, sir, what is it?"
"private bolland, it seems you are being called back to duty. Normally i would have just mailed you a letter, but as i was looking over your records i saw you have recently been married and are expecting a child. My heart goes out to you and your family, but you are needed, by your country. I will need you to report to fort rawlings in virginia by next monday."
i sat for a moment, listened to the engine, watched the lush trees fly by, held my breath.
"private bolland?"
I snapped to attention.
"uh, i understand, sir, i do. I am proud to serve my country. I will see you next week."
"good man, good man. See you then, soldier."
I flipped the phone shut and looked at kevin, who seemed to not even know i was there.

Escape, it's a funny thing.