There is a man biking down Springer St. His bicycle is brown and the word Peugot is written on the cross bar. He is wearing headphones, white ones, and if you were doubled up on the handlebars you could here this coming from them,
I’d rather be a sparrow than a snail,
yes i would, if i could, i surely would
I’d rather be a hammer than a nail,
yes i would, if i only could, i surely would
Joseph, that was the cyclist’s name, turned left on to Harmony Ave. At the same time Darrell Johnston turned left from Harmony Ave to Springer St.
“Jesus Christ!” came, almost inaudible, muffled by the sound of his heart pounding and the heavy wind that seemed to blow with all of its force at his ears alone. There were leaves and sunlight in his face, trees and sky too. Someone was leaning over him going fucking ballistic. There was a small crowd gathered, curiosity and smirks. Everything was real casual on the outside of the invisible barricade. Joseph didn’t like a commotion so he stood up. That face, the ballistic one, stopped for a moment and just stared. Joseph picked up his bike and moved onto the destination, wrestling someone’s hand off of his arm.
His headphones were in his ears still, but they were plugged into nothing. If you were in his backpack you could hear the following:
Heavy breathing, very distant sirens, pedaling, a hum of voices, distant sirens, “Sir!”, sirens, “Sir!”, pedaling.
“Jesus Christ!” said Leo as he sat down, “What happened to you?”
“I fell off my bike, it’s nothing.”
“You’re bleeding Josie, people are like fucking concerned … Jesus, even that guy’s worried about you.” Leo pointed at an obese man with a 9 clock shadow, a moustache and pants that were too short.
Joseph laughed, “He even looks like he smells.”
“Like loneliness and menthol cigarettes.”
The waitress walked over, a plain girl with one redeeming feature.
“Nice rack,” said Leo.
“Quiet! She’s coming.”
“Hello welcome to Terry’s Diner, I’m Lacey. How can I… Oh my God! Are you ok?!”
“He’s fine, just bring us two coffee’s and some wet naps.”
“Are you sure? His nose looks crooked.”
“Yes , just get the coffee.”
Joseph checked himself out for the first time since the accident in the window behind his head. His nose was definitely broken, and his shirt was covered in blood. For the first time he noticed the pain. His left arm, his chest, both ankles and his left knee all hurt. What hurt most of all though, was his head. It was both all at once a dull ache and a sharp pain. Now that he noticed it, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t before. It was the worst pain he had ever felt.
“You have any Codeine?” Joseph said and tried to muster a chuckle.
“Yup.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Yeah. Here.”
Joseph took 4 with a gulp of coffee that had apparently arrived. He was shaking.
“Go easy on those, they aren’t cheap.”
“Yes they are,” Joseph didn’t actually know this he just knew Leo was cheap, “When did the Coffee get here?”
“While you were caught up in the horror that is your face. I think your nose is broken dude.”
Joseph was too busy wet napping his wounds to notice his friend’s concern. The lemon made his cuts sting, which distracted from the pain in his head.
“Are we all set fellas?” asked the waitress.
“I’ll get the special. Bacon, over easy, white toast.”
“I’ll do the same,” said Joseph.
“Okee dokee,” chirped the waitress and skipped off with the menus.
“Wait!” yelled Joseph. The Waitress stopped and realed around with a look that said “What the fuck do you want?”
“What the fuck do you want?” she said.
“I’ll get a couple shots of Jack, you want anything Leo?” Leo shook his head and gave him a look. “Better make it three.”
Their napkins were on their plates. They hadn’t said anything throughout the meal except when Joseph ordered two more shots. Joseph could barely feel anything, he leant back in his seat and lit a cigarette. It seemed to him that the cherry was hotter than the sun and that it was going to light his body on fire. He kept smoking, and he kept getting hotter.
“You don’t look so good,” said Leo with as much concern as he could muster.
The words hit Joseph like a truck, he put his cigarette out in the remains of his breakfast. He didn’t look good – He looked awful. He was sweating, and his chest was heaving. The pain in his head had come back and with it he experienced:
Severe nausea, dizziness, blurred vision and drowsyness.
Leo stood up, “Shit! I”m late for work! Is it alright if you cover breakfast, I don’t have cash and I don’t have time for debit?”
Joseph just looked at him and swallowed some phlegm that had gathered in his throat.
“Thanks Jo,” said Leo and started off. When he got to the door he stopped,
“You should really get to a hospital,” he said and disappeared outside.
Joseph looked at his half finished breakfast garnished with the butted Peter Jackson and his nausea hit him. He managed to stand up and stumble to the men’s room. He fell into the last stall vomiting so hard the blood vessels in his temples almost burst, and then he blacked out.
Joseph woke up on the floor in a pile of sick. The lights hurt his eyes and his head was throbbing, but he managed to get to the sink and clean himself up. He had to hold on to things to walk, and he made his way back to his seat using chairs and tables as crutches, watching his feet the whole time. He sat down unsure of what time it was, his table hadn’t been cleared but it had gotten dark. There was no one else in the restaurant, he couldn’t even see any staff.
He heard a shuffling to his left and there sat the man with the poor fitting pants hunched over his plate.
“Excuse me sir, do you know what time it is?” The man didn’t stir, so Joseph repeated a bit louder,
“Sir, do you know what time it is?” The man continued eating.
“HELLO! SIR! CAN YOU FUCKING HERE ME?! WHAT FUCKING TIME IS IT?!”
The man turned his head towards Joseph. His face had changed he was wearing a black and red mexican wrestling mask, with a gold venetian mask over it. He simply stared, unblinking, at Joseph.
“Hi there, do you know where everyone is?”
The man did not respond.
“Sir. Are you deaf? What the fuck is going on?”
Yet the man only stared, unblinking. The pain in Joseph’s head was getting worse, much worse than it had been before.
He was feeling nauseous.
His breathing was getting quicker and deeper.
He was panicking.
“Jesus Christ call a fucking ambulance you fucking spook!” he yelled at the masked face. His vision was getting blurrier and he could just make out the white and gold venetian mask that stared at him. Just before everything went black the man started to sing,
I’d rather be a sparrow than a snail,
yes i would, if i could, i surely would
I’d rather be a hammer than a nail,
yes i would, if i only could, i surely would.
The End
