You know, I never necessarily meditated on a kid being essential in escaping a fleet of cars who are after my drug money, but I'll put it on his resume.

Being involved in, what some may call, the "Thug Life" isn't drab. Not at all in the slightest! But with Theron, it's a whole different ballpark.

Like I just said, I'm being trailed by a fleet of cars. There's a bit of gun fire, I think I had spotted a grenade, but you know how the drugs are. 

Theron's in the backseat and he's being very useful, actually! You see, I'm in the middle of a terribly, terribly bad trip. Really bad. Let me give you a sliver of what I'm seeing right now.

Anything that could resemble a surface in this car looks like cow entrails. Not beef entrails. Uncooked cow entrails. They're all in this cute hue of flaxen and some kind of citrus orange. Luckily enough, I can still gauge my steering wheel and the road, but of course the drugs fucked with them as well. They're not cow entrails, but...I think I might be sick trying to explain what the fuck they're supposed to be.

I've got some Supertramp playing on the stereo, but I can't tell which fucking song's supposed to be playing. And that really pisses me off because I'm not playing Supertramp because Roger Hodgson's voice turns me on, I'm playing it to keep me sane!

And you know what the music sounds like? It sounds like everyone playing and singing went out and got smashed in the literal sense and decided to see if they could multitask by fucking each other in the ass while playing. 

Add a coating of the classic I've-got-voices-in-my-head-itis and watch a level-headed man turn into a bumbling pile of flesh. I don't even know the name of what I took, but I'm staving off it for good.

Theron's my anchor. I can hear him perfectly—loud and clear—and he's giving me directions to Bangers & Mash's house. 

Really, forgive me for saying this, but my minds been flipping on two sentences. "This is your fate, you son of a bitch! Let your car and that ankle-bitter fall into the ocean!" and "Keep on going, keep on going. If not for you, do it for this kid's parents."

"Where am I?!" I'm yelling at the top of my fucking lungs and the words are literally scratching my throat. "Where do I go next, dammit?"

All calm and collected, he says to me, "You're still in the dessert. It'll be twelve more miles until we make it into the city. We should pull a stratagem for Tatum Diede's safety."

Tatum Diede. That's Bangers & Mash and that's beside the point right now.

I couldn't help but feel bad for Theron. Of course everyone in the druggie industry is doomed from the moment they start, but Theron was doomed from the moment he was born, as stale as that sounds, it's true.

You know what some users do for a hit of smack or whatever they like. That baby was passed down to a line of drug dealers. Apparently, he has all of his organs, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was maltreated along the way. Now I have him. I've had him for about seven months and he's like my son to me. 

But I really had to come to terms with something. He's important to me, but he's not important in the grander schemes of things. And he's especially not important to anyone else who wants a piece of whatever I have. He'll be used like bait.

I mean, but am I any better? I just sold him to some deranged kid who thinks Theron has superpowers. Enough of that, though. Let's get back to the now.

The cow entrails have been replaced with what seems to be a bunch of dead flies neatly put into rows behind a glass casing. Theron's face almost looks like a spiral ingrained in sand. He's putting in another CD. "Please keep your attention and eyes on the road, Henderson Berry."

"I, I got it," I'm sputtering. I hadn't heard my full name since I was five-years-old. "Whatcha...got going on there, bud?"

He's back in the front seat and he goes, "Essendon Airport." I've never heard of that band in my fucking life. I thought it was a command for a few seconds.

"Yeah, sh, shit! Where do I go now?"

"...They're still on our trail. Make an unlooked-for right."

The fucking music crawled into my ears and inflated. I bet I looked like a fucking loon to Theron, twisting and shouting and all that. I spin the wheel to the right, trying to disregard the disgusting images this drug looked like it enjoyed showing me.

I didn't know where the car was going off to until I'm suddenly jerked to the front with the entire car. 

Theron hollers into my ears. "You collided with one of them! We're in their midst!" 

I just closed my eyes. I was hoping that the both of us would just get lead in our skulls. I didn't want to go on. Theron finally turned off that goddamn monstrosity of a band. "Stay seated." He says. And then he leaves the car.

I was too busy shutting off the remainder of what I thought was the world to notice that he was back in the car. 

"They're on their way." 

I spin around and I find him in the backseat. He's practically unbothered. "...What?"

"They left."

A bunch of smashed up cars that looked absolutely nothing like the guys that were behind us. I learned not to question what I saw or what heard, or thought I saw and heard while under the influence. I just let all of the air off my chest and started driving back to Bangers & Mash's house.

When I drove through the highways and all of that fun stuff, I could actually see everything sobering up for me. That's one problem out of the way. Time to talk to Tatum.

We pulled into the house and immediately I see Tatum and Finn Dax outside. They probably already knew. My hands were getting clammy and I even debated not getting out of the car. All is well, though! They both stand near the passenger seat, so I'm obliged to talk regardless. I roll the windows down.

Finn thrusts her head into the car. She yells, "Where have you been, kid? We've been grassed on!"

I'm too busy eyeing the dashboard to come up with a coherent answer.

"Let's not pile on him all at once." Tatum says. "What's your damage, Berry?"

I told him everything with my signature cretin sputter. I was skipping and hopping over all of my words and all of that.

"Glad you're alright," It actually sounded genuine from Finn's mouth. "You still got the money do you?"

"Mmh. Er...yes, Theron, could you bring it out?" 

He does and he holds it in a clinical way. I saw Bangers & Mash make a face. "Why don't we lay off the kid?"

I stop looking at the dashboard and I turn to them both. "...Where's he gonna go, then?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't know about how I feel with a dead child under our roof."

"Hopefully you don't feel giddy." Finn spits something out. "I agree, but we should sleep on it. Staying out here isn't a good investment, I don't think."

Nothing of great significance happened after that. I went in the house, greeted Finn's lady, spent some quality time with Theron, hung around Tatum and went to bed.

But even with the melatonin supplements I've been scarfing down my throat, I just can't sleep. 

It's that kid. What am I gonna do with that bastard, and what will I do when he's gone?