Goose

9/06/05

The three of them sat in Goose’s basement, waiting for him to get back from meeting his dealer. There was Eddie, who stalked the basement tiles like a hyena on the prowl. Digging his fingers into his ears and spitting on the walls. Eddie used to be a professional skateboarder, but blew all his sponsorships when he got injured and hooked on opiates. Then there was Gillian. No one had ever really figured her out. She wore “x’s” on her hands, as if she claimed straight edge, but would convulse constantly. She was probably still in high school judging by the school girl’s uniform. Either that or she was a stripper, no one seemed to know or care. Gillian kept quiet and concentrated on de-pleating her skirt. There was Keith, the b-boy master. Keith was from the streets and he never let you forget it. He danced to old hip hop songs for money to buy smack.
“’Aight,” Keith started, breaking the silence that had been choking all of them for several minutes, “Where’s our boy Goose?”
Gillian shook her head and sighed, keeping her eyes on her skirt and sitting on a beanbag chair in the corner. It was raining outside and she would glance up every now and then to the small window to see if Goose’s feet were trotting by.
Eddie attempted to keep conversation saying, “Man…that guy’s always…just…late man. He’s always…late. I gotta work pretty soon; just wanna…get a little…before I gotta work.”
Keith sighed and stood up from a folding chair. His jacket- gigantic, orange and bubbly- dropped down to his knees. He fiddled with the huge gold ring on his middle finger.
At all times, but never at the same time, one of them would have their eye on the door.
“Wait…” Eddie said, “Let’s get outta here…”
“No, man!” Keith yelled, getting desperate.
“Why, man?” Eddie said.
“We’re waitin’ for Goose, man!”
“Ooooh”
Just then, the door from the second floor opened, and someone started down the steps. Keith rubbed his hands together and licked his lips, saying “Alright, alright…”

The three of them stared with wide eyes at the door. Suddenly, the door burst open to reveal Goose’s mother. She carried a basket of laundry and frowned at them. She shook her head and offered a careless “Ya’ll waitin’ fer Richie?” and turned to the left, walking to the washer and dryer.
Keith sighed again, balling his hands into fists and shadowboxing towards Goose’s Mom’s back as she returned without a word and went back up the stairs.
Suddenly, Gillian let out a brief, high pitched squeak as she pointed up to the window. Keith and Eddie turned quickly enough to catch a glimpse of Goose’s Doc Marten’s, the leather of which was adorned with the Union Jack.
The basement door burst open and the pouring rain was heard briefly as Goose slammed the door and came down the steps. He entered, his Mohawk soaked and bleeding down the side of his bald head like a black eel. The water dripped down in pools off his leather jacket and flooded the cement floor. He glanced around the room quickly, not attempting to make eye contact but rather to see who the hell had let themselves into his house.
Keith spoke first, “Hey, man…need to buy a few hits.”
“Yeah, well…” Goose started, grabbing a towel and drying himself off.
“Yeah man,” Eddie followed, “I gotta go to work pretty soon…gotta buy some hits.”
“Look, the guy didn’t show up,” Goose said with a snarl, “I think maybe the cops got him.”
Gillian hugged her knees and started sobbing quietly.
Keith erupted, “What?! He didn’t show up? Well what the fuck are we supposed to do now, man?”
“Fuck if I know, man…have a cigarette, chill out,” Goose said, offering a smoke from his pack.
Keith grabbed the box, crushed it and threw it in the litter box sitting in the corner. He grabbed Goose’s collar and shoved him against the wall.
“I don’t fuckin’ smoke man. I shoot up. And when I can’t shoot I suddenly get real pissed off at little white boys,” Keith said through his teeth.
Goose sighed, seeming bored to death with the extremely angry man who was threatening him. “Look man,” he said with a slight grin, “I’m sure there’ll be some new shit real soon…besides, who’s the motherfucker whose been hooking you up for months? The Goose, baby.”
Keith stared deeply into Goose’s dilated pupils.
“You piece of shit…” Keith said, backing off Goose and turning to Eddie, “This cracker shot all the shit before he got here…He’s high as fuck.”
“Aw, man…that’s…that aint cool, man,” Eddie said, pacing nervously.
Gillian suddenly jumped up and ran towards Goose, tearing at his face with her nails and sinking her teeth into his neck. Keith and Eddie ripped her away and she fell to her knees, gasping for air between sobs with Goose’s blood dribbling down her chin.
Goose fell to the ground, grasping his neck.
“Shit!” Keith yelled to Eddie, “That bitch pulled some Nosferatu bullshit right there! What, you think you can get the smack out of him by suckin’ his blood? Straight trippin’. I wanna hit, but not that bad, I’m out…” Keith threw his hands up and walked out the door.
“Gotta…get to work…Not cool, man,” Eddie said, following Keith and glancing back at Gillian, “Not cool.”
Gillian and Goose sat staring at each other. Goose was speechless, bleeding, and grinning from ear to ear. Gillian remained emotionless and crawled towards Goose. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him in a tight embrace. She stroked his wet hair and cried into his shoulder. Goose just grinned and bled.