The Jabberwock

Well, it’s all a long story. The thing about long stories is that most of them are never really long, people just don’t feel like sharing them to you. This story however, truly is long. Everything started one day last May. Nothing very interesting happened that day, nothing I can remember as significant. Just one general thing, I broke my wrist and tore two tendons inside it – sounds a whole lot more gory than it actually was. Anyway, the whole exact reason that happened isn’t very relevant, so you’re out of luck if you like to know how people cripple themselves. That whole broken thing and tearing two tendons sounds like a huge deal doesn’t it right? Well if you thought it is then you’re wrong, at least according to my doctor. He wanted me to see if I’d feel better and all if I just wore a big old cast for a while. You know who ate that up? My parents. So hearing I didn’t need surgery or amputation, they decided going to the gym everyday the whole summer would help it heal best. So, that’s what I did. The end of the summer roles around, and guess what. My damn wrist is still broken. Who would’ve guessed that, me. You probably did too, but given that the story is past tense your input isn’t helpful. We went back to the surgeon to let him know his grand idea wasn’t so grand after all. This man is obviously a genius however, and he presented us with another option that would for sure fix my wrist pain, surgery. My parents and I have this big old talk about it and came to this conclusion that it’ll work. So, we went to get my wrist all cut up. That goes well and all but it hurts like a sonuvabitch. They said they’ve got a miracle drug I gotta take home to help with the pain, called them opioids or something. You must be thinking, this guy hasn’t told me anything of any meaning yet. Which is true, but if you hopped off tiktok for two minutes maybe you’d have the attention span to get through my story. You know I warned you in the beginning, it is a long one after all. Anyway, opioids, those are the things that started that one epidemic I think. All I know is they’re bad for you or something, but little me, buzzed off those drugs they put in my IVs to knock me out, jumped up at the offering. They offered them to me as an option of painkillers. Being as knocked out of my mind as I was, of course I agreed to taking them. The other option was some sort of crap like Advil or whatever. What kid would take Advil over goddamn opioids, not me. Those things worked I’ll tell ya. They did more than take away the pain. In my moms words they make you ‘loopy’ but they sure as hell did more than that. They made me the happiest sucker in the whole world. You know what a happy, drugged up kid does? Dumb crap. So that’s what I did. I had this grand idea to go out to Worcester with my friend not much more than a few days after surgery. Worcester isn’t very close, it’s actually really damn far. So far, we’ve got to take the commuter rail for god’s sake. The day that we go out rolls around, and I’m still at my peak of popping opioid pills every few hours. The plan was to take this train around noon and get back on the train departing at 6. I forgot to mention this, but the reason we’re going out there is to watch some minor league baseball game. I’m dressed the hell up in a red Sox’s hat and shirt for who knows what reason. I left really damn early to the train station. I’m pretty sure I woke up, put clothes and a hat on and left – I usually have a lengthy routine for mornings, but not this time. That morning was so abnormal, I always remember taking the train over to whatever. This time it felt like I just spawned at Back Bay. It was about 10:30 in the morning during the summer so as you’d expect there was a decent amount of people out and about. I didn’t notice any of the people being too strange until Ric came and asked why the hell I was sitting on a crack head bench. You know looking back on it everyone sitting next to me was a damn druggie but hell at that time I was one too. Maybe they sensed the opioids oozing out of me or something because not a single one of them even came near me. Not the usual “can I bum a cigarette” or nothing. Not a peep from them. Hell maybe I was the one they thought was going to bum a cigarette from them. I was sitting all bent over doing god knows what – I’m actually always bent over. My posture sucks. That’s a whole other issue which I don’t have the time to explain. This whole time I haven’t heard a word fromRic. Even my opioid induced brain could put together that’s not good. So I gave him a buzz, and he answered rushed as hell. Saying “I slept through my alarm” or something like that. Truth is I was so out of my mind I couldn’t recall even what I said, let alone what he said. I got the information I needed, he was on his way. The time between when I hung up the phone and Ric’s arrival just doesn’t exist, Or well that’s what I remember. There’s a lot of things that happened or I’m assuming happened  that I was just too out of my mind to remember. Anyway, he arrived and all, late as hell, per usual. The train ride over to Worcester is a real long haul, it really is. So as proper Bostonians, we got some dunkin for breakfast. They must’ve forgot one of our drinks or got something wrong with it because I remember saying “those goddamn train stop dunkins, they always mess up your shit”. That’s what I picture myself saying, in all honesty I could’ve just walked away saying nothing except thank you. That’s the thing, I can’t get nothing without saying thank you even if I ordered a coffee and got a damn lemonade. Maybe it’s the fact they’re working to make me something. I feel the need to thank ‘em for it or something, but I’ve never really figured it out. So, we got our food and were heading down the maze of stairs to find the right track. You know they ought to hand out a map for that sort of thing because it took me a long second to find out where to go. After what felt like forever we got ourselves situated on the right platform of the station. Decked all out in goddamn red sox gear to go see a different team. I bet we looked like total douche bags standing there with that dunkin and weekend passes for the commuter rail. Something about those weekend passes had me going crazy i’ll tell ya. I was so damn peculiar about them – they were these little things you had to purchase on your phone and activate. All that messing around online to pay for them really stressed the hell outa me. The train finally got here, that big old commuter rail engine was so damn loud. They ought to add things being loud to the list of side effects for opioids because every single thing was loud as hell i’ll tell ya. Anyway, we got on the train and it was empty as hell. The whole thing was bare to the bone. Every row and every floor was goddamn empty. For some reason that made me feel likeI was free of the world. The little chains that held me back snapped at the sight of that. Being as drugged up as I was, I feared that if I told anyone this realization I’d be chained back up. So, I just carried myself forward with the same demeanor as before. That train ride really was long as hell, boring too. I can honestly only remember two things that happened; Ric telling me to read some article he wrote and taking this one picture. The latter of the two being more important – no offense to Ric or nothing. That whole ride felt like a good forever you know what I mean? Like, the kind of forever that feels like an eternity but isn’t necessarily bad. Maybe that’s because old Ric was there – spitting out perspicacious conversation. The kind where you get lost in thought for hours just oscillating your thoughts. All good things come to an end however – that really is true – and we arrive at this stunner of a train station. No joke. The thing was connected to this beautiful lookin’ place which I can only assume was used for weddings or something of that nature. The place was a mess of people hurrying to make the next train and scrambling to get into their taxi. Oh and of course the occasional homeless man shouting obscenities at whoever passes closest to them. I kind of shouted back one time, making the guy look my way. Being as smart as I was, as soon as I said it I ducked behind a pillar just in time for his gaze to miss me. Ric and I just couldn’t hold it in and started dying laughing right there, still behind the pole. Loud enough for onlookers to give us a sort of side eye but quiet enough for the homeless man to not find us. Like I said before, all good things come to an end, and so they did. We exited the place onto the druggie filled streets of Worcester. In honesty it wasn’t that rough, we just happened to be in their haven; their park. It’s not really a park anymore by basic definition. The grass was gone, the fences were lined with druggies, the ground littered with cigarettes, and the benches covered in trash. We walked past that quickly – that really wasn’t a place either of us wanted to be. I’ve been to the stadium before, so we took the scenic route. Well, I’d like to consider it that, in reality, I was just getting lost trying to avoid all the streets filled with druggies. The walk wasn’t of any importance – the story is. It really is. One long as hell story. That’s the thing about long stories, they never get finished – neither will this one.