Reckless Abandon: Idiots

8/6/2019 Reckless Abandon: Idiots

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Reckless Abandon: Idiots

An intentionally arranged series of words

by Zachary Elmblad

ZachElmblad.COM

Reckless Abandon is a collection of short stories

pertaining to the characters, events, and backstory of the

upcoming book, Borderline Vagabond.

These stories are written for the vagabond in us all.

Indulge it every once in a while; be safe, be smart, be

alive, and have fun out there.

Screw plagiarism, and FUCK censorship.

Copyright 2011 by The New Scum Productions

Kalamazoo, MI TheNewScum.ORG

Also by Zach Elmblad:

Borderline Vagabond - Coming 2012

Whatever Happens Happens

A New Way HomeA Puzzle of Squares
http://www.zachelmblad.com/http://www.thenewscum.org/http://www.thenewscum.org/borderlinevagabond.htmhttp://www.thenewscum.org/whateverhappenshappens.htmhttp://www.thenewscum.org/anewwayhome.htmhttp://www.thenewscum.org/apuzzleofsquares.htmhttp://www.thenewscum.org/http://www.thenewscum.org/borderlinevagabond.htmhttp://www.thenewscum.org/whateverhappenshappens.htmhttp://www.thenewscum.org/anewwayhome.htmhttp://www.thenewscum.org/apuzzleofsquares.htmhttp://www.zachelmblad.com/


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I was fighting the urge to spit right in this guy's

face. All I wanted to do was buy some booze, but it was

quickly becoming a memorable and miserable struggle. AsI popped two thirty-racks of High Life on the counter; I

asked politely for a fifth of Svedka, a fifth of Jagermeister,

and a fifth of Jose Cuervo. You see, the Jager is for coffee

in the morning, and shots after dinner. The Vodka is for

mixing with juices to drink throughout the day, and theCuervo is for drinking with other people. The beer is just

what you drink in between. Better than water, you know.

That's boring. Passe.

I had some drinking to do. The extended, days long,

kind of drinking. The kind of drinking you do to get

something off your mind, or in my case, to put something

there. I get in the habit of becoming a normal person, and

sometimes I have to get back in touch with the raving

lunatic that lurks in wait for my first guzzle of fermented

grain.

So there I am, hundred dollar bill in hand, and he

stands there like a lump of mayo that fell out of my lunch.

Another useless maladroit running the cash register of

another stupid liquor store in Northern Indiana. I wish I

could make alcohol magically appear in my hand. I hate

going to liquor stores. If it isn't the idiot drunks it's the


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idiot cashiers.

Let me see some I.D., he says, and I hand it over.

Here ya go, buddy.

This isn't you.

What?

It's not you. This guy has long hair.

I... um... cut... it? Isn't that allowed?

Got anything else with your name on it?

I gave him my two debit cards, three credit cards,

and and expired college ID from five years ago that I had

with me for some reason. If he wasn't convinced, I had my

social security card, my birth certificate, and my passport

with me in the car. Just in case the mood struck me to get

out of the country, you know. Best to always be prepared.

I guess you could say I'm still a Boy Scout at heart.

Will this do? Are you convinced?


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I can't break a hundred. He stared blankly forward,

avoiding eye contact.

Look, dude, you're not breaking a hundred. You'reTAKING a hundred. There's a difference. I'm not

buying something that costs ten dollars, I'm using a

denomination that is applicable to the cost of the

goods. You don't have to give me a bunch of

twenties, you know. Just a five, a one, a dime, andfour pennies. As a matter of fact- I reached into my

pocket and grabbed a penny. Here's a penny. One

five, a one, a dime, and a nickel. Easy. Not gonna

mess up your drawer at all.

He took the penny, looked at it, cocked his head to

the right, set it down, and said:

Hold on, I have to get my manager.

Rage. Fury. A deep breath, then patience.

Are you serious? I felt like I might have to beat it into

him.

Hey Crystal, this guy wants to break a hundred.


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We can't break a hundred, I heard a scratchy old

woman's voice bark from the partially open office door.

See? Can't break a hundred. He put up his arms in a

shrug.

I'm not asking you to BREAK a hundred, I'm asking

you to TAKE a hundred.

Can I take a hundred, Crystal?

For what? I could see her stare vapidly into a computer

monitor.

For this guy's liquor.

How much is it?

Almost a hundred bucks.

Yeah, we can take a hundred if the change isn't too

much.

See? I said, Cash for booze, dude, I'm not playing

games with you, I promise!


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Ok, sir. Six fourteen is your change.

But I gave you a... ah, nevermind. Have a goodnight, man, take it easy.

I gave up on the penny.

C'est la vie.

I left, but at least I left with my booze in tow. I was

getting ready to just walk away and hold out until I found

another liquor store. Couldn't stay too hung up on that

idiot, though, he wasn't even worth dedicating brain time

to. I was on a mission. It was a simple mission, but an

important one to me. I had two days to get to North

Carolina, come hell or high water. Seeing as how it's only

something like a twelve hour drive, two days was plenty of

time to find some mischief along the way.

After my difficulty dealing with the Northern Indiana

locals, I opted to find a place further East, a touch closer to

my destination, and as far away from Indiana as I could get

before I had a drink. Ohio isn't much of a better option, but

it's a marked improvement in comparison to Indiana.

There's a reason Indiana is the crossroads of America, you


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know. Nobody every wants to do anything but get the hell

out of there. I simply followed suit. I traveled the I-90

turnpike, like I have a hundred times before. It seems like

I've driven the Ohio turnpike more than I've driven anyother stretch of highway. When you're coming from

Northern Indiana, and you're headed East, you can't really

avoid it unless you really go out of the way.

I cracked open the first of my beers parked at thesecond rest stop East of the state line. The first one sucks,

unless you're trying to score gross coffee and a Cinnabon,

otherwise you're boned. The bigger rest stops are for

people watching. After that first one is a series of decked-

out rest stops, some of the finest in the Country. The food

court is open, like a mall, letting the light flood in as you

watch the employees and customers of a wide array of

recognizable fast food establishments. Each building is

only very slightly different from the last one you saw.

Drinking in public is painfully easy. All you have to

remember to do is switch containers. If you drink out of a

can of beer, everyone knows that you're the wandering

drunk of the day. You'll blow your cover that way. You'll

get kicked out in no time. Pour that same beer in a coffee

mug, and no one's the wiser. You can drink beer anywhere,

and I mean ANYWHERE, so long as it's in a coffee mug. No


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one will ever bother you. You just have to remember not to

spill, and not to get close enough for anyone to smell your

breath. That might blow your cover. There's nothing worse

than the eighteen year old girl running the cash register atMcDonald's saying, Wow, your breath smells like BEER!

at six in the morning, as all the adults eye you suspiciously

knowing that this is a rest stop on a major highway.

You have to stay low key. You have to stink. Eitherdon't shower, or wear a few sprays of strong cologne. No

one wants to be near a guy that stinks, whether it's like an

armpit, like patchouli, like an ashtray, or like expensive

department store cologne. They'll stay away from you.

That's what I wanted anyway. I learned my lessons with

people. I just watch them now, I don't bother trying to talk

to them. It just gets... weird.

It's not that I don't like people, I mean, I AM a person.

It's true. It just seems like everybody else pisses me off

until I know who they are. I don't really have anything

against them, I just don't like interacting with strangers in

a public context like that. I don't like to small talk. I'll talk

your ear off, but only if I know it's going to be worth my

time. I'll talk to anyone that doesn't start a conversation

with, did you see (insert any television show) last night?


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It sure is! Two dollars, just for a coffee! I

remember when it used to cost fifteen cents!

How much does a coffee cost? said the man in the

pastel blue suit.

What? said the woman in the pink sweater.

I said how much does a coffee cost?

The poor girl behind the register just stared, with her

mouth open a little, knowing what was coming. I smiled,

and I drank another sip of my beer as I glanced over at the

table a few rows down from me. There was a mother,

easily four hundred pounds, breast feeding an infant for all

to see and wish they hadn't.

Stop pulling your sister's hair! She shrieked at the

blond haired boy.

She won't stop touching me! he moaned.

Stop touching your brother or we aren't going to

the toy store!

NO! I WANNA GO TO THE TOY STOOOOORE! cried


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the boy.

Now she'd done it. The boy continued to howl, and I

pulled my iPod out of my pocket. Sweet distraction. Ilistened to Strapping Young Lad's self-titled record, very,

very loud. I watched the boy's mouth quiver and shake

along to the demonic sounds of Devin Townsend screaming

in my ears. The mother detached the infant, pulled her

meat flop back into her shirt, set the spawn down in thebaby carrier thing, and grabbed the boy by the wrist.

I imagined what she might be saying to him.

Something to the effect ofstop screaming! I told you not

to behave like this, didn't I tell you not to behave like this?

Why are you being a bad boy? Why won't you do what

mommy says?

The boy wriggled and shook and flailed about like a

fish out of water, eventually knocking over mommy's

chocolate milkshake, which really got her upset. Upset

enough for the fatty to stand up before her meal was over,

no less. She picked him up out of his seat, sat down on a

seat at the adjacent table, put him over her knee, and

spanked him right there in the rest stop.


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I was trying to decide if people would think that was

child abuse, or just a due punishment from a lengthy span

of misbehavior we hadn't been privy to. Hard to say. Ihappened a glance to my left, catching the gaze of a girl

my age, similarly headphone laden. I reached my coffee

cup up toward her in a 'cheers' motion. She nodded and

smiled.

I looked at the condiment station, where a homely

looking girl with black hair was changing the garbage can.

I thought about how many times I had changed a

restaurant garbage can and wondered who was watching

me change the garbage, thinking about the guy changing

garbage at the restaurant. Weird things to think about

when you're people watching.

There was a well-dressed brown-haired woman that

looked to be about thirty waiting in line, patiently I might

add, behind the group of geriatrics. She kept nervously

checking the her phone, and I assumed it was because she

was running late to wherever it was she was going. I


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imagined it might be to catch a flight. She had a really

nice dress on. It looked like it might have been fitted for

her, instead of bought off of a rack. I wish I could afford

tailored suits, man. Then again, if I had that much money,I probably wouldn't spend it on expensive clothes when my

cheap clothes seem to work just fine. I would probably

spend it on booze. Then again, again, maybe I would be

rich enough to buy a tailored suit if I stopped drinking.

That, though, is pretty much impossible.

I decided I should get back on the road. Better not to

waste time, I figured. Even though that was kind of the

point of this whole exercise. Two days for a twelve hour

journey. Getting into North Carolina to visit my buddy

Hooper was the primary motivating factor in getting back

on the road, but I wanted the trip to be as fun as the

destination. If you've got to drive the entire expanse of the

state of Ohio, you'd better know how to entertain yourself.

Luckily, I can entertain myself for hours on end just by

remembering the past.

It's easy to regret the things you've done, but the

real challenge is using that knowledge to guide your


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decisions in the future. We all act like idiots from time to

time, but on this particular day the problem seemed to be

widespread and of staggering magnitude. Transgression is

forgivable, even repeatedly, but it must be said:

Human beings, In their natural habitat, sort of

disgust me.

For a sneak peak of Borderline Vagabond,

Borderline Vagabond: Sneak Preview!
http://www.thenewscum.org/borderlinevagabond.htmhttp://www.thenewscum.org/borderlinevagabond.htm


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http://www.thenewscum.org/borderlinevagabond.htm

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Reckless Abandon: Idiots