Sueth

ENTRY ONE: Visions of Yesterday, Dreams of Tomorrow

7 Days Before The Bus-

     "It doesn't matter! It's basically just a can of man perfume. It doesn't go bad."

     Take a brief moment to go back through your life. Try to remember a single statement that inadvertently changed every moment that followed it. This was mine, uttered by a good friend as we emptied out the remainder of a former housemate's abandoned bedroom.
     We had dived into his forfeited trove of unwashed band tees and empty Mike's Hard bottles in hopes of finding discarded valuables to sell off. Anything that could cover the large chunk of rent that had never been pitched in was welcomed. Instead, we found empty food wrappers, a broken cellphone from the stone age, four issues of Women's Fitness (our exhousemate was not a woman), and now Donny's latest grand discovery.
     He held in his hand a can of TANK Body Spray with a 'best if used before' warning ending in a year that predated my time on Earth as a graduated 'contributing member of society'. The old logo had slowly been brushed away over the years to reveal a dulled metallic silver underneath. The faint outline of a shark with jet wings still adorned the side. An aggressive row of teeth scowled out at nobody in particular. Two missiles sat loaded into place, unfired for so long their once bright red paint now mutely remained at a less intimidating dull pinkish.
     "I don't think they even make that stuff anymore," I winced, praying that he wasn't about to do the thing I knew for sure he was about to do.
     "Even better Sue," his face twisted into a wicked childish grin. I recognized the expression instantly. Bad decisions were about to be made.
     I'm Sue by the way. Hello.
     "It's an antique! I bet there are collectors online who would pay for a discontinued can in such beautiful condition!"
     The can was not in showroom floor condition. The can was not in any kind of presentable condition. He gave it a slight shake. A horrid sloshing from within confirmed that it was still armed and ready for tactical deployment.
     "Now I can't seem to remember how this stuff smells. If only we had some kind of method of resolving that?" He stood in a heroic pose with one finger already primed to unleash the payload.
     "Listen kiddo," I approached slowly and spoke with the calm tone of a hostage negotiator. "Now, neither of us want anybody here doing anything foolish that they might end up regre-"

     He sprayed himself down from head to toe.

     The distinct musk of a sasquatch doused in gasoline filled the room instantly. Those who were uninitiated in such products would have used this as their opening argument as to why one should never use expired body spray, but my memory reassured me that this was how TANK had always smelled. That loan can held the undiluted, unadulterated, and unbearable extract of teenage angst and desperation. Bottled, packaged, and placed on a shelf in an unassuming metallic prison, then stamped with a promise of landing you a date.
     The odor bloomed outward through the room with a speed challenging those quick-inflating emergency rafts. Like a merciless little invisible army it worked its way into every corner, pocket, nook, floorboard, and bodily sensorial orifice almost instantaneously. My nose was counted among the spaces viciously invaded. The scent wormed through my innocent nostrils, up into my skull, and rested uncomfortably right over my brain. I could tell what was coming.

     As I made an effort to stand up I felt the world around me begin to fade. The edges of my vision fogged, only slightly at first. Donny was too busy laughing to notice as the radius of the blur grew tighter until there was nothing of reality left. I knew what was happening. There was absolutely no reason to panic about it. I calmly reminded myself to just ride it out as the outline of my body began to kaleidoscope out of shape. Remnants of memories relating to the heavy scent flashed back to life, as if the can itself had summoned them back up from the dead. They flickered for a moment like an old television scanning through local channels.