Big Bang [Metal Family]

Big Bang

THUD!

Ow.

I crack open an eye but can't make out a thing. Was there something in that weed that made me go blind?

Can't turn my head either. I feel like the ball at the end of a soccer match, every inch of me sore and cramped. Rolling my tongue in my mouth, I check to see if I've knocked out any more teeth. Nope, still just the one. Through it, I give a pained hiss, the kind Glam always says reminds him of a snake.

"W-what was that?" someone says. Their voice is muffled. And shaky. "I thought I heard a snake."

"No way, dude. You're imagining things," says a second person. Just as muffled. Not as shaky.

Great, now I'm hearing voices. Something is jabbing right into my forehead, and it takes me a moment to realize it's my own knee. I'm upside down.

My next groan really does sound more animal than human.

"I mean it! It's coming from the closet."

The other voice laughs. "What are you, five? There's nothing in the closet." He makes a series of shushing noises like he's trying to coax a stray kitten to feed from his hand. "Now, why don't you just relax, huh? I thought we were having a good time..."

I grunt, squirming in place to right myself. But my arms are jammed at funny angles, and I can't grab anything. There's something solid under my feet, though. Above my head. Man, all this upside-down stuff is confusing as hell. The "something" creaks when I apply pressure. Particle board. Cheap stuff. I can tell by the hollow sound it makes when I brace my heel against and give it a hard shove, once, twice-

With a loud crack, it pops open, and I tumble out head over heels.

The two boys on the bed shriek.

Splayed out flat on my back, I look up dazedly at the dusty fluorescent light overhead. "Where the hell...?" Ash coats my throat from the last hit I took, and I cough to clear it. I raise a hand to my head, feeling for a bump under my bandanna. No goose egg. That's good. And there's only a small tear in my favorite jeans. Beside me is a horizontal plank of wood bolted to the wall, its underside populated by a colorful city of chewed-up gum. Gross. Higher above are rickety shelves heaped with necklaces and half-melted candles and all sorts of weird crap.

The funny thing is...that weird crap looks kinda familiar.

On the other side of me is the bed. The pair of boys are still clinging to each other, staring wide-eyed and trembling like rabbits as I slowly lumber to my feet. Brushing the splinters off my plaid shirt, I automatically feel for the pack of cigs tucked in the front pocket. In my life, I've found nothing solves a problem faster than a quick puff, whether I'm feeling spent, out of place, or confused. And right now, I'm all three.

My pocket's empty, though, and I remember I'd swapped them out for something different earlier tonight. That was supposed to solve a different problem, but seeing as I don't know where I am now, I'm starting to wonder if this has turned out to be less a problem-solving smoke sesh and more a problem-making one.

One of the boys evidently finds his balls again because he jumps down from the bed, fists by his sides as he barks, "Who the fuck are you? And what are you doing in my room?!"

Okay, so that's one question answered. But there are still a few dozen left. At the top of the list is currently: Who's the runt? I blink down at him, trying to refocus my vision.

I am way too high for this.

The kid doesn't even come up to my collar. Mangy and with shabby clothes, he looks like something that crawled out of a dumpster. But the way he holds himself-not to mention the missing tooth that punctuates his snarl-tells me he's had his fair share of back-alley brawls. Feisty little thing. Guess even rabid opossums crawl out of dumpsters.