"SON OF A BITCH," he hissed, plopping down on a comfy-looking couch. Like I'd seen him do a hundred years ago in Spring. Thud! Casey leaned back, a glitchy commercial dragging. Flashing FOX. Fourth Quarter. 20 - 20.
So I snagged somebody's abandoned joint, and as I patted my damp pockets slowly, I realized. My BIC®. "Hey." Thud! Casey winced. They'd break in. Eventually. "Hey, do you..."
"Nah, I lost it, I dunno." His gaze on Breezy. "I lit up The Burrito Spot."
I blinked. No. I heard him wrong. "Downstairs?"
It was... hot.
"Yeah, but hey," he lulled, leaning, digging up a (torch) lighter among Dorito crumbs. "Here." His finger pressed—click!—and a flame lifted as I lowered, lit up absentmindedly. There was a Psychology here, Casey and I, endlessly high. I didn't know yet.
Smoke. My eyes closed; envisioning curtains burning, withering away. Ashes. Building shook as I passed. Sparks. Thud! Thud!
Then Ryan Succop again. FG. 23 - 20.
"Fuck, I bet I know somebody with a drone down in New Orleans."
What? Casey wanted a drone strike on #3?
No, #87, he said, and I laughed him off.
Thud! Crack!
We were dying already.
Heat kept rising. Wood crackled around us loudly. I broke a cold sweat, yeah. Before I almost stubbed an ashtray. His hand clasping my bare wrist roughly. My head foggy.
"Nah, I am staying high, Kir."
Stay High, Casey. Die High. Okay.
Let's go.
It was barely a roach when Casey stood. Floor quavering. TV went blotchy-white, blinding. Then Tom Brady again, Tom Brady as I died. First and Goal.
Smash!
Arms. Legs. Bodies shouldering in so awkwardly.
Everything unraveled and imploded, a shuttering speed, flickering, flashing. Window shoved open, screen-grating; climbing a fire escape like Annika could've—should've—Before. Up. "... and Tom Brady in The End Zone! Tom Brady scores a Touchdown!" There, as I wrangled over a wall: The End.
"Extra Point... Good! It is 30 - 20 in New Orleans, 4:57 a go, Fourth Quarter!"
The Rooftop.
Casey Kelly coughing quietly.
A breathless view of Manhattan. Dark. Defeated. High.
YOU ARE READING
AT THE END OF THE WORLD
AventuraRoommates Casey and Kira smoke their way through unimaginable stupidity in the COVID-19 Vaccine Zombie Wasteland of NYC, hellbent on seeing Breezy play in the Super Bowl. "I never saw Casey Kelly again."
