Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Bad Batch (Chipotlan; The Great Nooch; Merome)

(This story was 'livestreamed' on October 31, 2016 beginning at 8 PM EST. )

Happy National Creep Day, friends!

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           I peel off the Guy Fawkes mask I loaned from Jerome and look right in her greenish-colored eyes as I pull out my wallet. If there weren't eighty people chattering in line in this little sweatshop of a restaurant, our silence would be awkward and full of unasked, unanswered, unacknowledged questions.

She knows.

I don't know how much she knows.

But she knows.

She slides my card through her little register and hands it back and quickly pushes the extra large bag of crack toward me, already turning to smile at the next person in line like I'm not even here. Like I'm a god damn ghost. I don't dare meet anyone's eyes on the way out the door, as I slide my mask back on and curl the crumpled top of the paper bag over as far as it can go to lock in the sparse warmth of the tender body inside. Masks, make-up, stilettos, robes and cloaks, inflatables, disco lights - even what looks like a giant, bendy purple dildo jousting with someone in a pirate costume, repeatedly stabbing them in the lower back with their gel-filled head. I push through the line to the tinted glass doors and hurry out into the slightly cooler, humid darkness, the smell of the last filthy rainstorm still hanging in the drenched air. There are so many people inside that their bodies and breath and excitement are making the air hot and sweaty, and I see with irritation that there are even more people waiting outside, trailing along the wall leading to the tanning salon on the corner. I bet all the rest are like this, too.

I look around and no one seems to have recognized me. No one's chasing after me for a selfie or an autograph, or to accuse me of having already gotten the three dollar Halloween special at four other Chipotles.

No one needs to know about the beer cooler filled with perfectly preserved, silky smooth, deliciously decadent bodies in the back seat, or the two others waiting to be filled to the brim with squishy shafts and crunchy chips and gooey guac. I have sixty American dollars on the gift card Merome gave me yesterday, and I'll be damned if I don't stretch it as far as I stretch my bae-rritos. I dig out Mitch's car keys and try to see the alarm button in the near darkness so I can find where I parked the damned thing, thinking about which mask I should use at the next place in case someone recognizes me from another restaurant. My mind is split in three different directions and I almost walk right into him, jumping back in horror when I see the bright red shoes in the reflection of light streaming out from Chipotle and onto the street.

The clown stands there, completely silent, completely still. Watching. Waiting. A bundle of rainbow-coloured balloons floating around in his hand, bouncing off of each other in the soft, rainy wind. Yellow, bloody fangs stick out of the mask at a disturbing angle and glowing hot pink eyes peer deep down in my soul. The red wig is almost as red as the streaks of fake blood smeared across his face - and it's probably some bodybuilder guy, their body's so thick and tall, like a bulldozer made of human meat. I take another step back and I see the whole front of the yellow, polka dotted suit glisten in the distant light. More fake blood. Is it fake? It has to be fake. Right? I look back up at the sinister, monstrous smile on his face and I could swear I just saw the teeth wiggle, like worms. The clown doesn't move. But I can see the person underneath breathing as the wet (fake?) blood shines on his chest.

            I take the mask off and shake my mussed hair to get it out of my eyes. I don't know how that was supposed to help, but I guess it was. It's easier to see him but I still don't know what to think. Or do. I nod at the solid wall of rainbow-y flesh standing in front of me but the clown doesn't move. I know it's real. I can see it breathing and you need to breathe to be alive, so I know it's alive.