Duh um, Duh um

The dream was so funny that I awoke laughing.

I was somewhere that was com- fortable. Some- where that I wanted to be. Somewhere that felt like home. Only to wake up in the dark, in the dorm, in the snores of so many men. I sat up as the dream melted away and searched the darkness. This was not home.

I got up and headed for the bathroom, passing Mike Murder's bed and finding him there, sitting up erect on the side of it. Now a little about Mike Murder these few days that's he's been back. He's been out cold. That's it. The duh-um, duh-um that's he's been taking has been knocking him senseless. He has...oh, sorry about that.

DUH-UM, DUH-UM is a word or more accurately, a sound, that Matt had penned before he left, meaning in general the drugs that the Box uses to sedate us. It can mean one drug, all drugs, the use of drugs, the drugs being used, being put under by said drugs. It has a bevy of uses. That's the good thing about the terms that we pen, they are so flexible and varied in their usage. Just remember that duh-um, duh-um means drugs or use.

Now back to our regular programming. I've been walking in and out of the Box, and in the three or four days that Mike Murder has been back, he has been crumpled up unconscious in his bed like a rag doll. No doubt, the powers that be, in the Box deemed it necessary to incapacitate the young man by keeping him under. So they put him UNDER the bus. I have not talked to him since his first day back.

But at around two in the morning, when my laughing fit had woke me up, here I am strolling past him and finding him awake. The duh-um, duh-um finally wearing off. I greet him, as if for the first time and he responds with a clear head.

I use the john and return to my bed, crawling in and closing my eyes, shutting off the world to enter a better one. Even my nightmares are beginning to be more pleasant.

I awake early, and get ready to leave the Box before Wendy arrives with her silly assed rules. I hit the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I'm bending over the bowl, Mike Murder appears next to me in the mirror. "Dude, did I tell you the good news?" No Mike, what's that? "I'm getting my social security check in September!" Yes, Mike, in fact you did tell me that. He has very little recollection of the conversation that we had when he first arrived. Do you see how powerful duh-um, duh-um is? He goes into his retroactive pay like it's the first time he's ever told me. "And you know what that means, don't you?" No Mike. "I'm going to get you fucked up my friend. We're going out and get shitfaced." Of course you know that my heart soared at this prospect. But Mike, I have to be careful. I can't take a jag in DETOX, because they're going to separate me from my laptop. And that just will not do.

He laughs. "Don't worry, we'll start early and be finished early so that we'll have time to dry out." Sounds like a plan. I head out of the bathroom and grab my gear. I'm on the move. Wendy is not in yet, the hateful sun is not high in the sky yet to bring her brimstone ass forth. I head to the Broadway Starbucks, where I should have watched and reviewed porn, but instead I blogged. My addiction, my mainlined heroin. Fucking vacation of the mind.

I wonder what today will hold to blog?

Hobobob