Collaborated Damage

Chapter One

                                                       we are here 

                                      to laugh at the odds

                                                            and live our lives 

                                        so well that 

                                                         death

                                                                    will tremble 

                                                to take us

                                                  -Charles Bukowski-

I knew a man named James once. He laughed at everything, even when he was about to die. He never said a serious thing in his short life, but everything he said seemed wise and witty. I'm sure Death now wishes that he didn't take him so soon. James is probably yakking his ear off.

Anyways, James was a great sort of fella. He never really cared what was wrong with you or where you were from, what you did in the past, he just cared about what you were doing now. 

One day we were debating, well more like arguing over music.

"I'm telling you man, it doesn't matter what the style is as long as it makes you feel."  James inhaled his joint.

I took a sip of my beer. "But you gotta admit that you are attracted to a certain genre."

"Just like you have to admit that you are attracted to white girls more than other races?" He retaliated. 

"No way dude, that's racist."

"My point exactly. Don't be racist with music." He handed me his joint. "Here man, you gotta try this."

James opened my eyes to music. He made me not think about which note was coming first but made me feel what I was playing. James is my hero, not some pop star. I'm pretty sure wherever he is, heaven or hell, he's playing  some oldie to an angel or devil. Maybe both, you never know with him. He's got some tricks up his sleeves.

-----------------------------------------------

"Blue, doll. I haven't seen you in forever! Come give mama a hug." Fanny walked over to me, tossing her long red hair over her shoulders.

"It's been a week." 

Still Fanny came over and wrapped her thin arms around me. For being a shrink who helped people with their problems, I'm pretty sure that she had a fair deal of her own. Her head went to the crook of my neck and a felt her take a deep breath of my scent.

"Yeah baby. A week of agony. Now, tell me about how you and Annette are doin'? Hooked up yet or what?" She wasn't the usual kind of shrink. She didn't really like to give meds out, she actually wanted to help.

"No way in hell." I shook my head. "Ant's nice and all but she and I are like brother and sister."

 Annette was a pretty little thing. Tall and thin, like a weeping willow tree. Her hair was blond and limp, she always kept it pinned back from her eyes. She wore vintage band shirts, to bands that she actually listened to. Her feet were always bare and her legs were always covered in ripped jeans.