Title: My friend Charlie
Author: Sarah San
Genre: surreal?
Rating: PG-13, maybe.
Warnings: some drug usage but not really much
Critique: please
Summary: A friendship between two people
Authors note: It needs some editing but I'm working on the idea. I don't know if it makes sense to others.
He was an unfortunate skeleton. It was hard to tell if Charlie was ready to die. Maybe bigger things, a master plan, caused him this existence. He likes to sit in his yard and wave to his neighbors. Usually they are frightened.
He was a very stubborn man once who would debate co-workers for hours on what color the walls were. He died believing it was a pure white while the paint was clearly labeled eggshell. In fact his last words to his girlfriend Rose, an ugly twenty something were: “Tell 'em I was in a white room, just like the ones that surround my cubicle.”
After he was pronounced dead. His wishes were appropriately granted.
He asked that his organs be donated to the black market, his skeleton to science. Sadly, his bones would never be seen by the overwhelmed eyes of hundreds of young medical hopefuls and interns. On a lighter note: Charlie's liver saved the mob boss of Little Italy.
Charlie doesn’t remember much about his last day, he just remembers the part where he dies. He can recount the moments before. Sometimes he thinks about them. He was eating a delicious cannoli right before he started hacking.
Sometimes he thinks about contacting Rose, but he had nothing to say.
Currently, Charlie spend his days working at haunted houses and amusement parks. He's paid more than the other workers who wear silly costumes and make up. He has a nice apartment right outside of town because of it. The place had a blue and orange color scheme everywhere. He decided against white because the paint store only had eggshell in stock. He really hated that color: "Goddamn you people, it's WHITE".
For lunch every day he enjoyed bourbon. He couldn’t actually consume the liquid, but old habits die hard. An attractive woman passed him today and he whistled and hooted. She flicked him off. He was used to this, "all people are bitches" he mumbled to himself. The idea provided him the pride to restore his ego and he smiled at this nasty thought. He didn’t even have desires anyways, after all he was just bones.
He looked on the bright side about his “condition”. There were many benefits along with the shortcomings. He had a solid pelvis that let him still indulge in gyrating to music. He was the best dancer in the town.
As a result, he felt most at home among the goth clubs located downtown. All the young folks envied his physique and complimented his “look”. One strung out girl always paid special attention to his every move and would pull him into the bathroom all the time. Her named was Mariah and she liked cocaine and all things undead. “You’re so sexy, you’re so dead. Tell me again what it’s like to die” She would say when she'd caress his bones and lick his eye sockets.
It’s hard to tell if he cared about her or if he liked the attention because it couldn’t have been the sex. He asked her to be his girlfriend and she told everyone about it. Her father, an oil tycoon in Texas, did approve.
I met Charlie at one of these clubs. We shared drinks and agreed on albums, politics, and the current economic state until last call.
We became quick friends. When I got evicted he let me move into his place.
I stuffed all my belongings into paper bags and headed over running into Mariah on the way.
She flipped her hair and said she’d be over later. She went on to add that she was in a hurry; she was meeting a guy for some real good blow. I arrived to his place to find him slouched into a chair that faced the balcony. It permitted a mediocre view of more brick buildings and two trees. After a couple of minutes passed Charlie stood up and showed me to a spare room. Mariah’s shit was scattered all over the bed but together we threw them into a pile. He told me she was thinking about moving in. I asked him how they were doing and he shrugged.
That night we watched reruns until Mariah returned, she divided the blow and the two of us snorted while Charlie looked on. I think we had a wild time but I can’t actually remember. I woke up in my bed the next morning feeling like I was punched with cinderblock fists. When I left my room I saw that all of Mariah’s things were gone. Charlie later explained that he dumped her because she was consuming too much of his energy.
I remembered shortly after his split with her he lost his job. The economy was killing the industry of family fun and thrills he told me. We starting spending our days on the steps outside of his place. Charlie would tell me stories about his living days and I would tell him stories about my current state. In those afternoons we spoke for hours. Mariah’s rumors prevented Charlie from visiting the goth club. Sometimes the two of us would dance in his living room. I always looked awkward but Charlie always somehow found nirvana in the beat.
Somewhere along the line Charlie and I decided we were best friends. It was by choice and not by default, even though he was the only actual friend I had. When I finally found another job I didn’t move out. I insisted I stayed. That was the same day Charlie flipped out on me, telling me how I should go out there and live, how he wished he could be alive. "What are you doing? Go and fucking live! You can't spend the rest of your days in the company of a goddamn skeleton!"
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