My name's Percy. I dropped out at 15 and went straight to the park to start smoking up.
I had a girlfriend at the time that I stayed with until our graduating year. While I’d dropped out three years prior; I’d still walk her home from school.
She wasn’t like my current day usuals, she was smart, kind and most of all loyal. I tried fuckin around on tinder but it didn’t fill the void.
The most joy I get out of the week is Thursday afternoon when my brother Michael pays me for the week. I always spend it on the same five things; Hot bottles, Safe Pays, Ounces, 30 grams and Scotch fillets.
By Sunday I’m always broke. I don’t know how it happens but it somehow manages to happen every week without fail.
My only way out is if I manage to win a few hundred on online blackjack. But nine times outta ten up rinsing any profit I make. And for anyone wondering how to quit gambling; let me know if you get an answer, because I sure as shit need to find a way quick.
I mean Christ I’m 24 years old and the only asset I have are my construction tools, and an Iphone 13 pro max. Gambling is a losing man’s sport, I know that too damn well.
I also had a Honda Civic that I ran into the ground metaphorically. And then one day I quite literally wrapped it around a telephone pole after a heavy night on Vodka.
So maybe the drink will have to go as well.
The one thing I can say that has never let me down is weed. Weed is probably the one thing that’s kept me sane through this maze of confusion.
Luckily for me I never tried that synthetic garbage they legalised back in the early 2010s. I know from family experience that that stuff will screw your mind up like a pretzel.
Anyway, I work for my brother Michael who owns an earthworks business. I also live with Michael and his missus and their new born son Lain.
My life runs like clockwork. I'm up before the sun is up, at site as the sun is rising and I’m not usually gone until the sun is down again.
Most days are the same; I get woken up by Lain’s screaming, I crawl out of bed, put all of the unopened cans into my mini fridge and smoke a cone before I have my morning coffee.
But this particular morning wasn’t like that. Lain slept the entire night. Which meant I got the first full nights rest in forever.
Instead of having a cone I decided to go straight for a coffee and dart.
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As I entered the kitchen area at the end of the hall by the front door I was surprised to notice that I was the first one up, usually Michael always beats me to the punt.
I put the jug on and heaped a couple teaspoons inside my mug. My mug was a retro 90s KFC looney tunes mug. One that I’d inherited from our older brother Charlie on my first Christmas way back when.
Despite what you may think, my life isn’t all about drugs. Everything in moderation and the saying goes. For example I haven’t done any psychedelics for years and in fact never plan on doing them again.
The main reason for this and also the reason I don’t hang with my old friend group anymore is because I watched too many people lose their minds on it.
Luckily for me I managed to make it out the other side. As did my brother Michael. But our older siblings Egypt and Charlie weren’t so lucky. To my knowledge Egypt and her boyfriend are binge crack smokers. And Charlie’s minds been turned to mush from all his week long benders as a youth.
Right now I’m young and I enjoy a bit of a buzz but maybe one day that’ll change. Could be any day now.
As the jug continued to boil I searched the fridge for a bottle of milk but judging by smells our anchor milk bottle had most definitely gone sour.
So instead I reached for a labeless bottle next to the sauces.
I poured the usual amount inside the mug, followed by the scorching hot water. Gave a thorough whisk with my spoon, and finally took my first glug of morning coffee.
I then rolled up a cigarette and placed it next to my mug. Breakfast of Champions. And for a moment I think that’s what I’ll title todays poem.
I recalled a podcast I’d been listening to while I was rocked out of my mind last night. And so before moving to our front porch to smoke my cigarette; I decided to type up the title.
Suddenly, I heard the hallway began to creak under heavy footsteps. Followed by the gigantic silhouette of my six four older brother Michael. “Can you make me one?” He asked me.
Michael was a tall man, well over six foot. But despite the stereotype he never really had much luck with the ladies. In fact I thought it was a miracle that he’d not only become a boyfriend but also a father.
“Get fucked Mike.” I replied, taking a sip from my Mug.
“That’s alright. Looks like you’ll be on shovel duty all morning. Might wanna rest those precious arms of yours while you can.” He laughed, shovelling a couple heaped tablespoons into a plain white coffee mug.
“Well if that’s the case, we need to have a talk about how much you pay me. It’s not fair that you get to save your back and rack in the bulk when I’m the one doing all the work.” I continued, taking another sip.
Michael felt the jugs warmth then put it back on to boil, “That’s how the boss, worker dynamic works man. It’s not that deep.”
“Yeah but you’re not really my boss, you're my brother. We’re supposed to have each other's backs.” I argued, taking yet another sip.
“I’ve done a lot for you Percy. And don’t forget who pays for this roof.” Michael stated, gesturing for the milk bottle.
I scoffed, skulled the rest of my coffee. And flicked the milk bottle towards him along the bench. He picked it up and was about to pour the last in; but paused and inspected the bottle.
“You didn’t drink this did you?” He asked me, a burrowing frown.
“Yeah?” I asked and told.
He grabbed my cup of coffee with a tight grip and dumped it into the kitchen sink.
“That’s Emilys breastmilk ya fuckin idiot!” He whispered.
“Are you serious!” I cried in a whisper, beginning to gag.
“Don’t be sick in the sink, go to the bathroom!” He scorned.
I hurdled round the corners, down the hall, and into the bathroom. I began to hear their baby cry and a mild commotion outside the bathroom door as I began to throw up last night's beer as well as last night's bolognese.
I’m definitely not a morning person.