“Hey, move it you lousy bum!” I am awoken once more, this time by the irksome voice of an angry stranger. He has a round face with features that all warp around his seemingly permanent scowl. Even his comb over looks upset.
“I’m sorry?” I’m not entirely sure about what I’m supposed to say right now. Still, I find myself reluctantly scooching a few feet back after lifting my body with my sweaty palms.
“Yeah, you’d better be,” he starts to trail off into a quiet bicker, “These damn hobos think they can just crash wherever they want, never even offering a second thought to anyone else. One of these days… One of these days…” Even after he was well out of my range of hearing, I could tell he was still grumbling to himself.
I try to stand, but I can’t quite force my body up. I lean my back against the cold brick wall behind me instead, and I try to make sense of my situation. Fragments of a strange memory begin to come back to me. I was trapped in a never ending barren desert that doesn’t look like anywhere I had ever been before. There was seemingly no reason for me to have been there, yet that was where I found myself. It doesn’t seem real, but it doesn’t seem like a dream either. There have to be memories I’m forgetting in between then and now, but I can’t quite seem to bring them back. The only thing I can do to move forward is to start setting goals for myself. My first objective is to figure out what I have with me. I don’t have a bag or suitcase, so there can’t be much. I start by digging my shaky hands into my front pockets. I feel up every inch of the fabric, but all I find is some lint packed into the corners. I lift my body up a bit to check each of my back pockets. I hastily pat each pocket with my right hand. In my left pocket, I feel my wallet. It seems to be the only thing on me, so I remove it with care. I bring it into my line of sight, and I take a look inside. My ID, my credit cards, my money, and a torn photograph are scattered inside. I straighten them out, then I carefully shut it tight. This wallet is the only thing that makes sense to me right now, so I know that I have to guard it vigilantly. If I were to lose this, my mind would go with it.
I attempt to lift my body once more, this time pulling myself up using the rough wall behind me. The feeling is quite jarring, but if this is what it takes to bring myself back up, I’ll tolerate it. My knees wobble beneath my weight, threatening to snap. As a desperate attempt to keep myself stable, I dig my elbows into the crevices of the wall. The rough bricks push into my skin, but thankfully they aren’t forceful enough to draw blood. I straighten my back to the best of my ability, and my quivering legs follow suit. At this point, I am standing nearly completely straight as I press the entirety of my body against the wall for support. I still feel quite unsteady, but I know that my only option is to move. I force my heavy head to turn as far in each direction as it can, letting my sore eyes survey my surroundings. It seems as though I have found myself in a small, dilapidated town. There aren’t many structures to see here, and most of the ones around are falling apart. On this side of the bumpy gravel street, there are three buildings that all look relatively similar. The one that I find myself leaning against seems to be a small drug store called “Hazy’s”. Next to Hazy’s, there’s another shabby establishment. It hosts a faded wooden sign displayed above a tall glass door. It reads, “THE GRASSHOPPER BAR AND GRILL: WE COULDN’T CARE LESS”. The place practically drips with optimism. There’s another building next to The Grasshopper, but it’s too far down for me to tell what it is. I make a mental note reminding myself to check it out after I clean my glass and put some food in my stomach. I direct my attention to the cluster across the road. There are only two buildings in sight, one of which being a crumbling old book store, and the other being a small house. Both of which look long since abandoned. At this point, I have seen all that I can handle. I drag my wobbly body over to The Grasshopper’s entrance in hopes that it will soothe my raging hunger.
After stumbling over to the door like a drunk man, I push open the towering door to a room full of drunk men. The main room is lit with several tinted overhead lights. They give the room an unwelcoming red glow. I stare down at my torn brown boots, and look at the pale grey knotty wood floor beneath me. It creaks loudly as I take my first step without anything to support myself. I feel myself stumble a bit, but I stabilize myself before I can crash to the ground. The tables that decorate the area all have splintery wooden tabletops with rusty metal legs. The tabletops are covered with orphaned scraps and sticky beer stains. The place is packed with sorrowful strangers. Even without knowing their exact words and expressions, it is clear to anyone that they are unhappy. I finally make my way to a marble countertop hidden behind velvet bar stools. This corner of The Grasshopper is probably the liveliest, although it would still make even the most ambitious optimist drop to their knees and cry. I grab the edge of the counter, and I sling my body over one of the last empty stools. An austere man to my left gives me a brief glance. I direct my eyes away from him, and I stare into the dark space behind the counter.
“Hello?” It’s obvious that there is no one there, but a part of me feels like I could summon someone with that one measly word.
I fold my arms onto the table, and I let my head sink onto them. I’m trying not to let the last of my hope slip away from me, but this isn’t exactly an easy situation. Staying positive seems useless, it just makes me feel more defeated when everything around me tumbles down hill.
“You’re not from around here are you?” The man on my left asks, putting a hand on my
shoulder. His grip is surprisingly gentle.
“It’s that obvious?” I let my words weakly roll out of my mouth.
“Absolutely. That’s not a bad thing or anything, it just means you’re not used to tragedy. Well, maybe that is a bad thing…” He lifts his large calloused hand, bringing it up to tap his short chestnut beard.
“I can’t say you’re wrong. I really can’t remember when my normal life stopped, and the one I’m stuck dealing with now began. Before all this, I was a stranger to this kind of pain.” I lift my head slightly to turn towards him.
“Ah, so I take it you’ve been traveling for a while then?” He leans onto the counter top.
“Well, I can’t remember that either. I don’t really know why I’m here, but I am. I’m here and I’m hungry. Very hungry.” I’ve never been known for my subtlety.
“Oh, that would make sense. Well, the bartender is on his break, but he trusts me pretty well if you want me to grab you something.” He offers as he starts pushing himself up from his seat.
“Ah, thank you! How much will I owe you for that?” It’s mostly an empty offer, but I don’t want to seem like a leech.
“Unless you want some real fancy crap, you can just have it. Nothing is worth too much around here anyways. Some people call this town ‘The Vultures Nest’ since we’re all basically just a bunch of scavengers.” He says as he slides behind the counter.
“Oh, uh, that’s… reassuring.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not too awful here. Anyways, I’ll be back in a minute, so try not to pass away while I’m gone.” And with that, he disappeared behind the dark wooden door hidden amongst alcohol of all varieties.
“...Yeah, I’ll try.”
“Hey, you!” I hear an angry voice charge in my direction. It is coming from my left once again.
“Are you talking to me?” I ask, lifting my head all the way up this time.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you! You’d better be a really real starving stranger, and not some con artist from a couple towns over.” The guy looks like he is somewhere in his late teens, and he speaks with a noticeably scratchy voice. He has dark brown hair cut into a short mullet. It’s covered by a tall white and green cap that has “fish fear me” embroidered on it.
“I guess I’m a ‘really real’ stranger. I’m not exactly sure why I’m here, honestly. I can assure you that I’m not a con artist, though.” I say, slightly intimidated by his expression. His thin pink lips are crushed by his bright red cheeks, and his bushy eyebrows are furrowed tightly against his brow bone.
“Yeah, that sounds exactly like something a really real con artist would say. I bet you think you’re real clever, I bet you think you can fool me and my bro. Well, you can’t! You couldn’t fool either one of us even if you tried your absolute hardest.” He speaks confidently, as if he is giving a heroic speech.
“Uh, okay. Is there something you want me to say?” I say, confused and somewhat annoyed.
“If I told you what I wanted you to say, that would make it too easy for you to scam me. I bet you never thought I would know that, right? I bet you think you’re way smarter than me, right? Well, you’re wrong! You’re super wrong! In fact, I don’t think anyone wronger has ever walked in here!” He continues to speak with absolute confidence. I have to respect that much, even if he sounds like a total idiot every time he opens his mouth .
“I don’t really understand what you’re getting at here. I’m not trying to scam you, and if I was why would it only be for food?” I’m struggling to stay patient with him.
“‘Only food’? What are you, some stuck up brat from The Heart? Did your daddy kick you out or something? Is that why you're here? I bet you’re just some former really rich kid who’s super lost. You’re some cowardly rich boy, right? I got it, right?” He leans towards me, stretching his large blue eyes as much as a person can.
“What are you talking about? I can hardly understand what you’re saying. And what the hell is The Heart?”
“Don’t try to play dumb now! You’ve already made it super clear to me that you’re super stupid anyways. You know what The Heart is because that’s where you used to live, right? Can’t deny it now, can you?”
“You really don’t make any sense at all. Please, just stop talking to me.” I turn away from him, propping my head up on my arm.
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“Yeah, turn away in shame. I would too if I got super humiliated by a local genius! Oh, and don’t go trying to use my brother for your little scheme just because he’s not the smart one. I’ll make everything super clear to him when he comes back! I’ll make sure he doesn’t fall for your sneaky tricks!” In my peripherals, I can see him smiling from ear to ear now.
As I wait for the man I met earlier to come back, I find myself zoning out. My thoughts begin to wander back to the strange memory from earlier. That strange, desolate desert. It is the closest thing to an explanation of why I’m here, but I just can’t figure out how I got from that strange place to this strange place. The only real similarity that I’m finding between the desert road and this town is the absolute abundance of sand. It really is everywhere, both here and there. Still, the absurdity of this whole situation is just leaving me puzzled. This all seems like a bad dream, yet I am absolutely certain that I am awake. This has to be real, it would be foolish to deny that much. I just don’t understand how any of this has happened to me.
“Hey, sorry for the hold up!” The burly man from earlier says as he walks back to his barstool. He sets a large paper bag in front of me.
“Thank you, I really appreciate this.” I say, reaching out to open the sack.
“Yeah, it wasn’t too big of a deal. There’s nothing special in there, so you don’t owe me anything for this.” He grins and gives me a solid thumbs up.
“No way, Bernard! He totally owes you for that.” The boy from earlier whines, furrowing his brows so close that it looks like he summoned a unibrow.
“He’s not a con artist, Moe.” Bernard says with an amused expression.
“What? I wasn’t gonna say he was! I wouldn’t say something like that! Why would you even think that I would think that?” Moe says, clenching his fists and wrinkling his face. He looks like he’s on the brink of a tantrum.
“I said that because that’s what you always assume. Sure, we got screwed over one time, but I don’t think it’s healthy to constantly expect the worst from people. And if nothing else, this is just food. It’s not like he’s taking our money.”
“‘Just food’? Dammit, not you too! It doesn’t matter how gross it is, it’s still super important. You can’t just go around handing it out to strangers.” Moe looked strangely stern saying this. For a moment, it seemed like he actually wanted to act his age.
“Just cut it out already. The kid looks starved, so he should eat. You can complain about it later.” Bernard mumbles, letting his previously smiling hazel eyes relax. With that, Moe finally decided to shut up.
I reach my hand into the bag and I pull out a large plastic container. It’s scratchy, white, and a bit on the heavy side. I pull off the grey rubber top eagerly and I look over the contents. Inside, there is some kind of thick meat hanging loosely off of a yellowing bone. Alongside it, there are carrots and a roll. I open the bag again. This time I discover a fork, a knife, and a tall metal container. I screw off the container's lid, and I press my eye onto the opening. Inside, there is a clear, shallow liquid. It smells like rocks after rainfall. It’s oddly refreshing and hopefully not too contaminated. With slight hesitation, I take a sip of it. It tastes like regular water, aside from some slight traces of various minerals. Regardless of what it technically is, it still comes as a great relief to me. It soothes me as soon as it comes into contact with my parched mouth. It is like the long awaited storm after an endless drought. After finishing most of what was in the metal receptacle, I lift the roll out of the tupperware. It is light and quite dry. I raise it to my mouth, and bite down into it. It doesn’t taste like much of anything, and it isn’t all that satisfying, but it is much better than the gnawing emptiness that was eating away at me before. I eat the rest of the food as slowly as I can. If I listened to my stomach and just inhaled the rest, I would probably choke and die before I even got a chance to figure things out. So, with caution, I savor the rest of my meal. It’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever eaten, but it is still rather satisfying. After finishing everything except for the bone, I direct my attention back to Bernard and his pouting younger brother.
“Thank you again. I wish you would let me pay you for this, I feel bad accepting it for free.” I say, looking towards him. I don’t want to waste my money, but a part of me feels wrong for taking his kind offering without giving anything in return.
“It’s fine, I was the one who offered anyway. I didn’t want to watch you starve, you know?” He grins at me lightheartedly. I wonder if he’s happy in this place.
“Well still, I truly do appreciate it.” I try to smile back at him, but it’s surprisingly hard to fake a happy expression.
“Yeah, well you should appreciate it. You should also leave.” Moe grumbles, not turning his attention from his drink. It’s either vodka or water. I wouldn’t be surprised by either.
“Moe, you don’t have to be so rude all the time. It really doesn’t help.” Bernard sighs, turning back to face his brother.
“Do you want me to pretend to be nice? I don’t see how that would help either. He’s a stupid liar, he’s like everyone else. It doesn’t make a difference if I’m nice to a super stupid liar or not.” He whines, tightly gripping his glass.
“I’m not telling you to be nice, I’m telling you to be polite. People fake being polite all the time, it’s just a part of life. It would help things a lot if you would try it.”
“I don’t care if it’s a part of life, I’m not gonna lie! I’m not a liar!” He lifts his cup just to slam it back down.
“It’s not lying, it’s having manners. Or in your case, it’s being quiet from time to time.” Bernard says calmly.
“I’m… It’s still lying! I won’t do it, I wouldn’t do that!” At this point, tears are forming in the corners of his eyes.
“Hey, should I leave? I appreciate your help, but I think it might be time for me to get going.” As I say this I’m already standing.
“This probably would be a good time to go. Good luck, kid.” Bernard says quickly before turning his attention back to Moe.
“Well, Goodbye. Thank you for everything.” I walk away before either of them have a chance to respond to my farewell. It’s not that I’m not grateful for Bernard’s generosity, it’s just that I need to find my way home. I’ll never get out of this place if I don’t start moving forward.
I walk to the door with ease now, each step more confident than the last. Running on a full tank really makes a difference. As I get a bit closer to the exit though, I notice something strange. When I came in here, I could feel the weight of my wallet in my back pocket. It may just be my mind playing tricks on me, but something tells me that it’s gone. With despair already pitting in my stomach, I bring my hand to my back pocket and I give it a pat. It’s empty. My wallet is gone. I feel warm tears bubble in my eyes. This nightmare just gets worse and worse, doesn’t it? The one thing that I had left is gone. That wallet contained my ID, my credit cards, my money, a torn photograph, and what remains of my sanity. I’m sobbing now, there’s no use in fighting my sorrow. My panic and pain is unbroken until I hear it.
“Alexander Sherman, 18 years old. Couldn’t even be bothered to make a fake, huh?” I turn around to face the shrill voice behind me. It belongs to a sparkling cloaked figure. Their eyes are covered by mirrored sunglasses, and the lower half of their face is hidden by a loose silver cloth.
“Excuse me?” My voice quivers, making me sound dreadfully weak.
“It’s okay, I’m not 21 either. Actually, a lot of us aren’t. You get to living in a hole like this, and all of a sudden you’re coming into a crummy little bar everyday for a drink or two. Or maybe a drink or twelve. Still, it really doesn’t matter how old you actually are as long as your ID says that you're at least 21. It doesn’t matter how lame your attempt is, profit is profit here.” They put a gloved finger up to what might be their chin. Most of their features are obscured, so it’s hard to tell.
“I didn’t come here to drink. Hell, I don’t even know where I am right now. I don’t know how you got my wallet, but I need you to give it back. It’s all I have.” My pleading is pathetic, but I don’t really have any other choice.
“Huh, yeah, I guess I could give it back. But like, do you even want any of this crap? I mean, most of this junk is ancient. Sure, you could try to pawn it off at an antique shop or something, but nothing here really seems like it’s worth a damn.” They say, flipping through my valuables.
“Hey, none of that is even expired yet! How is that even remotely old, nonetheless ancient?” I burst out, taking a step towards them.
“Not expired? These were made about… Uh, I wanna say eighty years ago? Hell should I know, I’m not a historian. Anyways, either you got these from a dinosaur, or these really are over the hill.” They seem bored saying this, as if this is just a game to them.
“Eighty years ago? That’s impossible! Check the date again, you probably misread. It says 2025, right?”
“Yeah, it does. What about it?” They give me a bewildered look.
“Well, it is 2025. In other words, it’s nowhere near eighty years old.”
“2025? Were you even alive then? You do know that it’s 2110, right? I mean, I know it was just new years, but even so you shouldn’t be off by uh… Seven decades? No, uh… Eight decades? Yeah, that’s about right.”
“What are you talking about? Jeez, you’re confusing the life out of me. Dammit, I don’t even care anymore! Just give me my wallet back!” I lunge towards them, but they quickly slide away.
“Yeah, are you sure that you want this crap? Really, I think I could get more use out of this than you could. I mean, I know I don’t look like it, but I’m kind of a sucker for weird historical stuff. Plus, it’s not like you can even use any of this. Seriously, if you showed this to anyone else they would laugh right in your face!” They lean towards me, practically begging for a fist in their face.
“Even if you are telling the truth about that, why shouldn’t I just keep it anyways? It wouldn’t hurt to hang on to it.” I say, reaching out to grab my stolen possession.
“Oh yeah, fair point. Well, uh, fine. How about 100 pondus for it? With money like that, maybe you could take a bath, get a decent outfit, or better yet a new haircut! Seriously, what were you going for there? Were you trying to look like an eight year old girl who cut her own bangs?” They speak down to me as they turn away, just as quickly as before.
“What the hell are pondus? Wait, am I in Britain?” That would explain the inescapable miserable atmosphere.
“Huh? Well, I mean, with the ‘style’ you’re pushing you would have certainly fit in there. But uh, no. This isn’t Europe. It couldn’t possibly be Europe. Have you really never heard of pondus before? Oh wait! Hold on, I think I know what you are. You’re amish, right?” They lean towards me once again. Holding back my anger is only getting harder.
“No, I’m absolutely not amish. And yes, I really haven’t heard of pondus.”
“That’s weird. The only people I’ve met who come anywhere near being as out of touch as you are all from an Oasis. Still, even those cowards seem to have some handle on basic knowledge.”
“Are you… Are you lying right now? I don’t know if this makes any difference to you, but I don’t think I can take that kind of thing right now.”
“Oh gasp! Me? Lying? Why, I would never! Hey, why don’t I get someone to vouch for me so you can be sure?” They start walking backwards before they even finish making their offer.
“Isn’t there a huge chance that they’ll just say whatever you want them to if you do that?”
“I mean, yeah duh. But like, it’s still a small step up from asking me directly, right? Seriously, who does that? Aside from you, of course.”
“Okay, whatever. Call someone over then.” I can’t shake the feeling that this is a giant waste of time. For whatever reason, I just can’t walk away though. Probably because they’re holding my only remaining possession hostage.
“Okie dokie, be right back!” And with that, they run off into some dark corner of the bar.
I watch the unidentified thief chatter away to a hulking shadow. Their dark figures move with strange grace under the dim glow of the dying red lights that are scattered around the room. This person feels dangerous, but I know that I still need to get more out of them. And I need my wallet back. I really need my wallet back. If only I had put it in one of my front pockets…