My Quest for 72 Houri Angles 5 Zarina
- 1 year ago
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I look at the clock beside my bed. Nearly noon, again. It's Saturday, but that doesn't mean anything. I stretch as I slide out from underneath my comforter, stumbling across the room and into my closet. Mom is going to be pissed, again, I know. Nothing to do about it at this point, though. I toss my sleep shorts into the hamper, knowing Mom will wash them later, and pull on some boxers, a pair of comfortable sweatpants, and an old Marvel T-shirt.
As I go to head downstairs, I stop and look at myself in the dresser mirror in my room. A greasy young man stares back, disheveled brown hair nearly down to his shoulders, but still somewhat attractive despite those things. I know I need to take better care of myself, but for whatever reason, I never seem to. Maybe I stay up too late playing video games, or maybe I am just depressed. The nagging thought that I am wasting my life is constantly there, but it is never enough to actually make me want to change. Shit, why would I?
I shake the thought away and leave my room, traveling past my sisters' rooms, my mom's room, and down the stairs. My sisters are nowhere to be seen in the living room, but I look past our couch and see my mom slaving away in the kitchen. Wiping down the counters, cleaning the floors, the usual.
My mom was always a beautiful woman, despite her age. Nearly forty-five, now, but you wouldn't know it if you looked at her. Natural dirty blonde hair and tan skin, inherited from her father's side of the family, she works hard to stay in shape and take care of herself after my father died some time ago. I have done the opposite, in case it isn't yet clear.
She is bent over the counter with a scrub brush, furiously working at a spec of something dried onto the granite, when I call out to her.
"Hey, Mom!" I say.
She jumps at my voice and looks up to see me. "Oh, Sam, you're awake? About time." Her expression shifts from one of determination to annoyance. "Think you can help me with something before you disappear back into your dungeon?" She steps back from the counter, revealing to you that she is, as always when cleaning or working out, wearing a pair of skin-tight leggings and an athletic pullover. Neither do much to hide the curves she works so hard to maintain, but maybe that is the point. Her blonde hair is tied back in a knot that gives her manicured face a narrow, structured look. You know that is really just a small shot of botox at work, though.
"Of course, Mom, what's up?" you answer, crossing into the kitchen and leaning onto the freshly cleaned counter across from her.
"I need some groceries for dinner. Can you walk to the store and grab this list?" She pulls a piece of paper from behind her and slides it across the counter. I scan the list. Steak, potatoes, vegetables.
"Seems like a lot, can't a borrow the car?"
She rolls her eyes. "Your sister has it right now. You'd know that if you woke up earlier instead of sleeping until noon every day. I swear, Sam, when's it going to stop? You're almost twenty-one now. If you don't make some changes soon, I'm going to have to kick you out. I don't want to, but I will. Maybe some responsibility will do you good." And so, it begins. Every day is like this. Wake up, get berated for being a failure, sneak away, and piss the remainder of the day away in my room. I sigh and grab the list from the counter.
"Okay, okay, I'll go. Right now?"
"Thank you," Mom answers, shooting me a rare smile. "Be back soon. You can use your card for this, too." Before I can respond, she turns away and resumes cleaning another spot on the counter. Her curvy ass bounces up and down with each swirl of her palm against the counter, and I look away. I might be a failure, but I'm not a pervert. Especially not towards my own mother, of all people.
Outside, the sun shines overhead. I live in a nice suburb in a town, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The surrounding area is rather hilly, but thankfully the concrete sidewalk leading from our house into town is flat. Carrying back all of those groceries while traveling up and down a hill would be a drag. I look back at our house as I walk away, comparing it to our neighbors. Red brick with a traditional shingle roof, similar to every house within a half mile. A good area, too, with almost no crime.
I pass by my cousin's house, looking through the window to see if I see her or my aunt, but I don't see them. With a shrug, I push onward into town to fulfill my mission.
We have lived in this town forever, although not in this particular neighborhood. After Dad died, Mom used the life insurance money to move us into a better location where we wouldn't be subjected to negative influences. She had married him young and never held a job. My sisters and I were always her work, instead. The move was a while ago, before I graduated high school. Still, it hadn't worked so great. I managed to hang with the wrong crowd and ended up barely getting my diploma. College was never in the cards.
And that was the start of my downward spiral into the life I live now. Almost three years later and I have done nothing. Not a thing. Have maybe two dollars in my wallet, and my Mom gave me even that. Never had a job, never even tried to get one. My mom wasn't wrong to ride me so hard, I know, but I just can't be pissed about it. Why bother?
I exit our suburb and turn down the highway towards the grocery store. It's barely three-quarters of a mile total, but I'm not used to all of the movement. Damn, I wish I had our car. Walking is a drag. Still, I walk past store after store, from barbershops to insurance offices. The regular culprits in a small town shopping strip.
Eventually, I arrive at the grocery store. It is the only big box store in the area, so pretty much everyone in town shops there. They had beaten out the smaller stores long ago. That's why, as I was perusing the steaks in the meat section, I wasn't so surprised to hear a voice behind me.
"Hey, Sam, is that you?"
I knew who it was before I turned to face him. My old friend, Brad. He was our dealer back in high school, mostly pot and a little Adderall when we needed it. He was always a cool guy. I haven't heard from him since graduation, as I'd heard he'd decided to go into pharmacology and landed a scholarship at a prestigious university some states away. Hey, I never said he wasn't smart.
"Hey, Brad!" I said, finally getting a good look at him. The man before me is completely unlike the Brad of my memory. Whereas the boy I knew was lanky, with long hair and weird anime shirts, Brad is now bulging with muscle, with perfectly parted hair that falls just past his ears in a purposefully messy look. He wears a navy blue casual suit, with brown leather loafers and a shining gold watch. Despite being my same age, the way he carries himself adds half a decade to how old he looks. "Uh, wow. Dude, you've changed."
He walks around a display full of baked goods and slaps me on the back. "And you, Sam, are the exact same. What's been going on man? Where've you been?" He flashes a brilliant smile, full of perfectly aligned white teeth.
"Uh, around. Mostly at home, helping my mom."
He gives me an incredulous look. "Haven't you been in school? What's been going on?"
"Nah, man, that was never for me. You remember how I was back in the day. Not much has changed."
Brad thinks for a moment before glancing at the others around him. "Dude, I thought you'd have gone into programming or something with how into gaming you were. I, uh... Sorry, Sam, I realize I must sound like a dick right now."
I give him a weak smile. He does kind of sound like a dick. "It's alright. It is what it is. I wish I could go back and make some changes, but what's the point? Too late for college and all that, now."
"It's never too late," Brad shoots back. His voice has a certain energy to it that puts you on edge.
"Uh, okay."
I look around awkwardly for a moment before Brad continues. "Look, man. You were a good friend to me back in the day." He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a clear baggie. A trio of small, blue pills is inside. "The company I work for has been working on this." He discretely places it in my hand, and I slide it into my sweatpants pocket. I was never one to turn down free drugs. "It's called a nootropic. It helps your mind become clear. Unlocks your full potential. It's intense, though, Sam. You'll feel high with all of the thought power you'll have at your disposal. Don't do anything stupid. One at a time, at least twelve hours apart. And be wary of any side effects... hits everyone just a little bit differently."
A nootropic? Thought power? Is Brad an MLM salesman now? Suddenly things start to add up. No wonder he approached me out of the blue. He's trying to get me in on his pyramid scheme! This is nothing new, though, as MLMs are rampant in town. I know how to play it.
"Uh, alright, Brad. Thanks for that. I'll give it a go. How about we catch up sometime?" I say, knowing he'd want to follow up to show me the "deal of a century" or whatever they called it now.
"Sure, man. Here's my number." He pulls a card from his suit jacket and hands it to me. I quickly scan it. _Brad Smith, Vice President of Experimental Nootropic Pharmacology. _I search for a company name, but I don't see one. Strange, very strange. Maybe it is part of the MLM scheme, so I can't google it!
"Right on, right on," I answer, then we part ways. I grab the rest of our groceries and head home.
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