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Great Writing - Home > Extended > English Slacker chapter thirty-eight
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Extended Work
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| English Slacker chapter thirty-eight | |
| By chrismorton | ||||
| 04 August 2008 | ||||
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I have no idea of when we got up to go but I know it was well late and we were well fucked. We all, like the six of us, left together at the same time, splitting up into our respective directions once we’d gotten to the main road, with Duncan taking the same route as me. Me and Duncan didn’t talk much on the way back; I guess we were too stoned to bother. But when we got to Duncan’s flat and I was about to say, “Bye,” I remembered about seeing him walk off into the sun earlier that day (or the day before, depending on how you look at it) and I asked him where he’d gone and what he’d done with his afternoon: Turned out he’d just gone home and gone to sleep ‘cause he was, “So fucked from working all week.” So yeah, I said to Duncan that I’d, “See you later,” and carried on going and pretty soon I was walking up my road. Yeah, I was singing to myself again by then too. Although this time it was Patterson, The Name Song; which is well cool. My mum’s light was on as I turned into my house but as I got in everything was dark so I figured she must’ve just gone to the loo or something. The kitchen was a bit of a mess. There was an empty packet of B&H on the table which I thought was weird ‘cause my mum had given up smoking. And then in the front room there was like this stench of smoke and alcohol and even I wasn’t allowed to smoke in the front room. I remember wondering what the fuck had been going on. It seemed strange for my mum to have had someone over but it really did seem like that’d been the case at first: but I could only see one glass in there, a tumbler, which I picked up and smelt, and it smelt of gin which my mum never drinks; she’s always been more of a wine person. Under a magazine on the coffee table was a bowl with shit loads of cigarette stubs in. And there was also a chocolate wrapper; like from one of those big bars of chocolate that you break off bits of chocolate from. I remember that I didn’t know what the hell had been going on and in my stoned state it seemed interesting and kinda fun to look around for more evidence so I searched for another glass and then checked for an extra pair of shoes at the front door and then I was looking for more clues in the kitchen but I found nothing else out of the ordinary (I later discovered that she’d lost her job that day and the state of the house had been the result of a cigarettes, alcohol and chocolate binge – although she never actually admitted this so I can’t really say that I know for sure; I just know she lost her job that day). But anyway, so like the state I was in when I got in to bed was all of like, I dunno, there was an unsolved puzzle eating away at me and I found it well difficult to get to sleep. And while at first I figured it was ‘cause of my mum, as I lay awake for longer I started to feel that… well maybe that it could’ve been something else; I wasn’t sure. What I did know was, that everything had been fine before I’d got home and once I’d got in it’d all (like the state of the house) been kinda exciting and entertaining even; if only for a few minutes. But as I tried to get to sleep that night there was definitely this feeling that something was wrong: Something weird that I hadn’t noticed. Something that I’d forgotten about or overlooked… And I couldn’t place what exactly that something was.
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