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  “You’re not going anywhere until your rooms tidy.” Speaking the words quickly and with authority behind them, she headed for the door.

  “For crying out loud I'm seventeen!”

  “What and you think you should get special privileges or a medal perhaps?” She said arching an eyebrow.

  I could guess and say I was walking on thin ice. “No-uh, I just... Fine... I'll tidy it.” Pouting, I began to gather the discarded garments and rubbish littering my room.

  “Never a problem, dear,” she said drifting out the room and into the bathroom. “It's okay, Ursine. I will take your towel down for the wash.” I rolled my eyes.

  Another thirty minutes ticked by as I emptied my room of its spoiled contents. Emptying the clothes in the washing hamper downstairs quickly, I got changed. Finally, I snatched the rubbish sack from my room and ran it outside to put it in the trash can. Walking back into the house, I finally had a chance to look through the phone. One of the messages was from Mike. It said he was going to be early because his mom wasn't home, and so he skipped his chores and got ready. I think he said something about wanting to get some beer before we went to the club, but I couldn't tell. The other message was from my admirer.

  *hey goofy, hope your looking forward to tonight, it could change your life forever x*

  “Yeah I bet it does!” I grumbled the words to myself. I was all geared up to meet Mike's hot friend, and my stalker was probably going to be a pasty-faced, hairy knuckled dude with enough Flunitrazepam to incapacitate a hippo. A knocking at the door threw off my trail of thought. I could hear my mom who answered it.

  “Ursine, it’s your friend Michael; he's here with no flowers for me, again!” My mom joked... Well at least, I hoped she was joking.

  “Mom, don't encourage him, he's stupid enough to think you're being serious!” I hated it when my mom tried to be funny. Flirting with my friends was always enough to make me feel queasy.

  “I saw some flowers, Mrs. Edwards, but there weren't any pretty enough for you.” Mike winked at my mom. I was mortified. That sly bastard, he was so dead.

  “Now why can't my little Ursine have more manners like you, Michael?” My mom said with a sigh.

  Probably because I'm not so stoned that I hit on anything with a pulse, I smarmily pointed out to myself.

  “He has great manners, Mrs. Edwards. You should have seen it the time he took Becky's babysitter-” I quickly cut Mike off. I was stunned that he would reveal the story to my mom.

  “Mike, she doesn't need to know about the time I helped her get home. You're probably too busy, right, mom?” I abrasively said. Mike looked at the door; his tongue was in his cheek as he giggled softly to himself.

  “Actually, I'm never too busy for guests.” My mom responded with a wicked grin, apparently wanting Mike to elaborate. Now, I know that she knew she had to be getting on my nerves.

  “Well, Mom, I'm thirsty, can you get me a drink?” I said in a desperate attempt to dispatch my Mother. I was hoping she would take the now less-than-subtle hint.

  “You know where the kitchen is, dear.” She paused and looked at me expectantly. I frowned, trying not to lose my temper; after all, I did want to go out...

  “I'm joking!” My mom said, much to my relief. “It’s always a pleasure, Michael. Please bring Ursine back in one piece. I don't fancy having to bleach the toilet bowl because he replaced his blood with booze again.” She glanced at me, and with a sigh, she turned and headed back into the lounge.

  “Dude, your mom is so much cooler than my mom! My mom is all like, ‘Mike, pass the Jay’ and ‘roll one for me; I can't be assed’. Your mom... Well... Your mom's hot!”

  “Mike, what have I said about you crushing on my mom?” I spat the words, copious amounts of venom within each syllable.

  “You said not to or you would 'Gouge out my eyeballs and skull-fuck me'. That’s right, isn’t it? It would be totally worth it, though-” I punched him in the arm, cutting him off.

  “Ahh, that's my rolling arm, you bitch! Wait...” Mike appraised his arms, nodding to confirm to himself. “Yeah, you goon, that’s freaking lame!” I was pleased with his pain.

  “Well, Mike, when you’re finished with your hissy fit, are we going or what?” I retorted.

  “Huh? Yeah, I suppose we will be...” I called out to my mom that we were leaving.

  “Where's my kiss?” She protested heading back towards us.

  “Aww, really?!” Mike's eyes lit up. “MIKE, STAY!” Slumping my shoulders, I quickly ran over and pecked her on the cheek, “Love you, Mom...”

  “Love you, too, my little handsome man; have fun!”

  “Okay, Si, so you ready now my handsome, little man? Come on; give us a kissy-wiss!” Mike spoke high-pitched, trying to sound more feminine.

  “I'll give you another dead arm, dude. Now shut it, and let’s go.”

  “See ya later, Mrs. Edwards! Until next we meet!” Mike called out. I could hear my mom's laughter ringing from the lounge.

  Opening the door to Mike's beaten up Toyota, the door protested as it squealed on its hinges. The odour from his car came rushing out at me. I could tell that he had given a go at cleaning it... It still stank, but now it was less cluttered, and he had made it smell like a tart's handbag. With the cheap perfume that was radiating from the interior, saying that, I suppose it could have been his cologne. My eyes began to water the moment I sat in the car. I sighed quietly.

  “Mike, you don't mind if I keep a window open, do, ya? That smell's going to make me bald, on top of giving me a headache.” I said while trying to hold my breath; it was no good. When I had to breathe again, the huffs of air were killing me; possibly, literally.

  “You are so fussy, man. First the car stinks like a jock strap, and now you’re complaining even after I cleaned?” Mike seemed genuinely hurt... I knew he was playing, but in any case, I thought it was best not to press the matter.

  “It’s not my fault you make your car go from one extreme to the other.” I clicked my seatbelt into place, and I started to laugh in disbelief.

  A moment went by before Mike joined in. “Hey, you know what? The driver decides how he wants his motoring experience, and shotgun has to deal with it, or they can just keep on walking,” Mike said, appearing to be proud at the sentiment. Firing up the ignition, he swung his screeching door shut and cranked up the stereo. Finally slipping the scrap heap into gear, we set off.

  Chapter 3

  We went to The Keg a few months ago to see a band. Mike had dragged me along despite my protests. The bouncers rarely ask for I.D., and the admission was free before eleven. Really, Mike was just looking for an excuse to go crazy.

  It was a really small venue, like a dungeon for a dance floor. Saying that, the room was surprisingly spacious; but with the ceiling being so low, it made the whole place seem cramped. Red paint was smeared on the wall, and event posters were littered around the place, letting people know who was playing and when. They had the kind of philosophy which was instead of tearing it all down and resetting it, they would just paste it on top. It made the whole place feel like in the day time, squatters would be lounging around, sleeping on ammonia soaked mattresses... In any case, with the buzz of people jumping around to the thrash metal that I couldn’t discern, it was a fun place to be. There was always one person or two being sick in the toilets, a fight was on the verge to break out or a girl would be crying because of their asshole partners, or vice versa. I don’t think I could say that it was a magical place, but it definitely was a happening one. Flashing lights lit up the room and the aroma of sweat and stale beer filled the air. On the bright side, it looked like the heat wave was finally dissipating. Not that you could tell inside that particular sweat box. But you could feel the change coming in the air, like a charge of energy. With the loud music and lots of dancing ladies, it was taking all my self-control to not go completely crazy. I wanted to jump around and thrash to the music. Normally I was the sit in the corner with a beer kin
d of guy, but I was wired for some odd reason; I didn’t think that I had more than a beer at this point either. With each new song that was played, it was becoming more and more difficult not to fly around and act like a complete idiot. This really wasn’t like me... Mike hadn't noticed me acting oddly yet, which is good, as he would have been encouraging me. I think it was because he was looking for his mystery girl to arrive.

  Don't dance, and don't act like an idiot! I kept telling myself. My pulse was racing, and I was starting to worry that someone had spiked my drink. I kept feeling tenser as the beat continued. I was practically bobbing on the spot. Something had to be wrong with me.

  “Mike, I gotta go out for some air; it's too hot in here,” I called out over the thrumming beat of the music.

  Mike turned to look at me, appraising me for a moment before finally replying. “No worries, dude, I'll get you a bottle of water if you think it might help?” Mike looked genuinely concerned, possibly for my well-being, or possibly for his. He had to of been worried if my mom was going to kick his ass, or if I was going to need to get some help before the girl he was into had turned up.

  “No, don't worry about me; you go mosh. I'm just going to go get my head together,” I replied with a half-hearted wink. I brushed past a bouncer on my way out of one of the fire exits, which had been opened and cordoned off as a “smoker's area”.

  What the hell was going on with me? We only got here about forty-five minutes ago... I re-called what I had had to drink. It had only been a couple of Buds. I was pacing myself, still waiting for Mike’s friend to arrive... Feeling more confused and frustrated, I consulted my phone to see if I had missed anything... Maybe my hairy-knuckled admirer was here and hadn't spotted me yet... unless of course, he or she was bluffing. I glanced at my phone with that in mind and noticed that I had a missed call from my dad.

  Shit! I had forgotten all about that chat he wanted to have with me. The memory echoed in my head making me feel momentarily worse. I was trying to think of a valid reason for me not to stay in and chat... I suppose I could have said that I had a bad dream, but my dad was not the sympathetic type. One time he had fired one of his employees because their partner had a baby early, and they were not scheduled for maternity. Yeah, my dad was the polar-opposite of my mom. Hitting the green button on my cell, I waited a few moments for the call to connect, while taking the time to try and compose myself. I felt like I was waiting for someone to jump out at me. Every noise was amplified; I was wincing from the grinding thump of the rock music. Pulling up my hoody in an attempt to cover my ears hardly made any difference at all. I could hear each footstep going on inside the club, each distinct shuffle; I could picture in my head those who were wearing sneakers, boots or platforms. There was even an idiot wearing sandals in the mosh-pit. I could hear the distinct slapping and scuffing sound that they made when the owner made a movement. What the hell was happening to me? The call didn't connect. I dropped the phone as the static crackled and bleeped through the receiver. It sent a buzzing through my skull.

  The world was beginning to look crazy at this point; I could feel myself sweating, dropping to my knees, feeling overpowered by my base senses. The sounds and the smells were getting to be too much for me. I threw up. Heaving, my organs strained, blood thumped in my head, and the outside sounds were drowning out, thanks to the rhythmic beating of my heart. The smokers that were standing outside enjoying the fresh air were urged inside from the bouncer who was by the door. I remember wondering if I was contagious the way that I was being treated. After the bouncer ushered the smokers away, he approached me and grabbed a hold of my shoulder... It wasn’t to help me.

  “Hey, if you can't handle your drink, you’re going to have to get the hell out of here,” the brutish bouncer glowered at me.

  My heartbeat kept accelerating, being spurred on with everything going on. I began to hyperventilate; digging my fingertips into the gravel, I could feel one of my fingernails break. It tore away a strip of skin with it. I was having so many things happen at once that I didn’t have time to register the pain.

  “I-I d-don’t know what’s happening, I th-think I’ve been s-s-spiked, p-please call a...” A crippling pain shot through me, forcing me into a convulsive spasm. My back arched. I was lying on the floor, and I couldn’t stop my arms or legs from twitching.

  My heartbeat thudded in the foreground. I could hear voices that were muffled badly thanks to the excessive blood flow.

  “Get him out of here already, last thing we need is for some junkie to die here, it'll ruin business for us.” The mail voice over the radio squawked.

  “No worries, I'll get Phil to drop him by the dumpster around Lakota's. He can just be their problem in the morning,” the bouncer grunted.

  “Just get a move on,” the other voice stressed.

  My eyes rolled into the back of my head; I felt like I was about to explode. I was afraid that if I jolted again, I might bite off my own tongue. The bouncer grabbed a hold of my leg while pulling the light steel barricade open, which had been ringing the perimeter of the smoker’s pen.

  “It's all right, fella; we'll get you some help.” He chuckled.

  I knew what was going on, and I was more or less aware of my surroundings. “D-don't. I-I won't s-say anything, p-please!” My words were strained; my body still tensing that it was taking all my control not to scream. There was a burst of noise as the clubs door swung open.

  “He said, don't... What, are you deaf?” Mike's voice called out. The bouncer turned and faced him, dropping me onto some discarded cigarette butts and broken beads of glass that dug into my skin. My eyes began to re-focus; I could just about see Mike standing in the doorway with two girls. The music was still blaring away in the background while my body was trembling; part in sync with the rhythm.

  “My friends here just had a go at me because I wasn’t sticking with you dude... Sorry about that.” Mike said motioning to the women by his side. “Si, are you alright? I thought you were just going out for some air?” I could see that Mike was clearly concerned; a dumbfounded expression was across his face. “Can we talk about this?” Mike asked the bouncer hesitantly. I still wasn’t at the point where I could converse. The bouncer held a quizzical expression on his face, taking a moment before he bleeped his radio. In an instant another bouncer appeared, apparently responding to the radios call.

  “Phil, take this one while I have a few words with his worried friends.” The first bouncer sneered, rubbing his thumb across his nose.

  “Kay,” he replied walking past Mike and the mystery girls. Mike took a hold of him by the arm.

  “I'll take my friend home, alright? So there are no problems and no excessive violence, yeah?” The thug called Phil smiled, releasing a quick jab; he punched Mike square in the face. Mike crumpled to the floor. I could feel the impact from where I was lying. Neither girl flinched; I thought they were too scared to move. The blonde one spoke; she had golden ringlets dangling lightly beside her face. The light that was emitting from behind her was acting to mask her face in shadow. She tensed, her shadow engulfed form looking towards where Mike lay. There was a moment, and to my surprise, Mike stood back up; his eyes were glazed over, blood dripping from his lower lip.

  “You should have taken his offer.” Mike's voice echoed, speaking in time with the blonde girl.

  I wanted to blackout, I felt an immense pressure build inside my chest; my skin felt like it was starting to petrify. I could still move it though; I had sporadic movements, every now and then, with the rhythmic beating almost driving me into a craze. The way my body felt, it was like it was changing... It would be better to say that my hardening skin was like it was turning into a Chrysalis. It felt foreign to me.

  What the hell was happening? The brunette looked at me; her eyes went wide with shock and in an instant, she ran over to me, side-stepping around Phil and his comrade who looked on at Mike. Mike was still standing; he had his arms hanging at his side, limp. She knelt down and be
gan to whisper.

  “I know you’re confused and scared, but you have to try and stay calm or you’re probably going to kill everybody. Kitty is trying to slow you down, but if you don't get a grip, you might be lost to us... I don't expect you to understand right now, but just... Relax, okay?” The girl whispered. Each syllable seemed to chime like a bell, the words rang home to me even though, honestly, she might as well have been speaking Samarian for all the good it did...

  Be calm or I am going to kill them? Yeah that was possible, while I was having problems not twitching while lying on glass and dirt... I decided then and there that this one had the brain of a pop-tart. It was probably what attracted Mike to her.

  “H-h-how am I s-supposed to?” I said, spitting the words at her. I was gritting my teeth as hard as I could. She shook her head in apparent disapproval.

  “Just try. Please…” She looked over to Kitty, appearing to be distressed or just generally pissed with my can do attitude. Kitty, on the other hand, looked completely relaxed. Her expression was as cold and vacant as Mike's. And Mike at the moment was shuffling toward the bouncers. I was still unable to effectively control any of my motor functions, so I lay there, twitching and jerking on the floor while I felt a red haze creep over me. “You should have stayed down, kid,” The first bouncer said, sounding confident that he was going to make Mike suffer more. Without needing an invitation, Mike lunged forward feinting left; the bouncer reached out to grab a hold of him. Mike dropped down in the same instant, swiping the bouncer’s legs out from under him. Before the bouncer hit the floor, Mike was up and rocked forward; he threw an over-armed punch, wheeling his arm around. He pivoted on his heel and shifted all his weight to his fist, which connected directly to the bouncer’s temple. The poor guy didn't even have time to blink. Mike's quick succession of blows landed the man in the pool of my vomit with a thick and wet slap. Mike was moving at an inhuman speed. His friend Phil, who had been watching slack jawed in disbelief, barrelled forward. Mike sunk low again as the second bouncer approached. Taking the opportunity, Phil raised his arms, clenching his fists together; he was aiming to hammer down the injured kid in front of him with a hefty haymaker. As soon as he connected, Mike practically bounced off the floor and was standing again, now with his back to the Neanderthal, Mike threw his elbows back, not even bothering to turn and look as his elbow connected to the brute’s solar plexus. I could hear the air escape Phil’s chest, and a loud crack like a stick being broken in two as his ribs snapped; he fell flat on his back, gasping for air.