I just don’t know where that place is yet, cause Jesus been quiet lately. Much obliged, and I reckon, and all that fancy talk aside, Jesus gonna be here real soon. He already knows m’plan, he just ain’t shared it with me yet. He’s got a plan for all of us I think, and it’s all got to do with this damn snow pilin’ up all around me. It’s a shitty plan, not his best work. My way’ll show itself when the time is right. This snow ain’t no accident. When Jesus is at the wheel, ain’t nothin’ an accident.
The television is out now, which is a real pain in the dick. I think it’s on account of the wind outside… and the snow. Everything is icin’ over real nasty. The power lines out in the street look like they about to snap in half! Wish I was back in Florida or something. It’s only been a few days, but I’m pretty sure that this storm is just getting started with kickin’ our asses. Somebody on that weather television station was talking about how this sucker is setting records left and right, and they was talkin’ about somethin’ real strange-like, somethin’ that they still can’t explain.
According to all them Doppler radars and shit, there’s no signs of a storm. All their instruments aren’t detecting shit, like they’re all on the fritz or somethin’, like they all got broken at the same time. One weather fella was spoutin’ on some theory that the weather patterns don’t even exist, that we’ve all just gone crazy and that our eyes are trickin’ us. They took him off the air when he started saying that—they cut away to one of them car commercials, the one with the candy-ass action star from Europe standing on top of a couple of trucks like some sort of cunty show-off.
They sayin’ they can’t say for sure when the snow is gonna stop. Mostly because they can’t even see it, ‘cept when they look out the window. I guess seein’ is believin’.
Ain’t that a bitch and a half?
They can’t predict nothing. I think Jesus is pullin’ the wool over our eyes, so I’m mighty glad that I’m on the right side with him, ya’ know? I heard somebody on one of them morning talk shows (before the fuckin’ television went out) say some things about God and how this is his reckonin’. They didn’t cut away from that like they did with the kooky weatherman, but she got into a real toss-up with the guy that sits next to her. They was really rippin’ into each other’s asses. She was saying that this is for all the sin that we done created; all the hate and abortions and all the pollution and all the evil people doing evil things to each other. I can’t speak much on that noise, but I think this is something a whole lot nastier than just a storm.
It’s makin’ people crazy.
Like there’s a drug in the snow and we all breathin’ it in, gettin’ batty as all shit.
I can feel it inside me, I swears it. I feel different, like something mean is comin’ alive inside my belly. I ain’t felt like this since I was real little, before I started wanderin’ and all that. Always been a mean son of a bitch but never all that crazy.
Hell, who am I fooling? I’ve always been crazy, so maybe the world is just bending in my direction now. Halle-freakin’-lujah. My uncle once told me that a man with one eye is a king in a world of blind assholes. Maybe I can be a king. The King of the Snowmen, right? Can’t you see me like that? Old Edgar, the king with the bad-boy cowboy boots and the ten-inch dick, standing on a mountain of snow, waiting for all the dumb cunts to come worship me.
I drank all the schnapps and I ate all the food. What’s His Name kept mostly frozen meals in the freezer, which was all a-okay by me, but when the electric started getting funky—flickerin’ on and off like it couldn’t make up its fuckin’ mind—I couldn’t figure for sure when I could use the microwave next. So I cooked them all at once and left them all over the countertops. Whenever I got hungry, I’d go pickin’ at one. Now, those are all gone, so I’m eating fruit snacks and potato chips. I found a nice stash in the basement, in the boiler room of all places. They were those hippie kind of potato chips, the ones that are actually good for you, but they tasted alright. A hungry man can’t go off complaining too much or Jesus’ll start tossin’ lightning bolts at his ass. Don’t want none of that.
The snow is halfway up the first floor windows now. I kinda feel like I’m gonna get buried alive in this shitty house, with all these ass-grabbin’ angels staring at me while I freeze to death, so that’s why I’m thinking about wandering again. If I wander, then I won’t get stuck nowhere. I need to find another place to keep warm for a spell, to wait this crazy thing out. Need me some place with real food and entertainment so I don’t get bored and thinking about wandering again.
Settle up. Settle in.
That’s what they always told me, but I wasn’t too good at listening. I always blamed it on my ears being so full of wax. I was always picking the wax out and flicking it at kids when I was in elementary school. I think that’s why I wouldn’t never clean it out. My secret weapon, not listenin’ none.
Something happened this morning though. Something special. A sign, maybe.
There I was, you see, taking a shit on the toilet. Those frozen meals smell even worse on the way out the back end, so I flush every couple squirts or so. Case of the wet and sticky chocolate thunder. I hope I’m not offending you, and by that, I means to say suck it up and stop being a whiny bitch.
You want to hear the goddamned story or not?
OK.
I’m on the shitter, doin’ what folks do on the shitter, fiddling around with the toilet paper on the spinner cause there ain’t shit else to do in there. Sometimes I look at pictures in magazines when I’m in the bathroom, but all the magazines that What’s His Nuts kept are all political ones and art magazines. Bullshit.
There I am, in my glory, taking care of business, hollerin’ every time I pushed because of the hot lava that is coming out, and suddenly I hear something tap at the window. A few seconds go by, and there’s another tap. This ain’t no coincidence, but I know that nothing is. Another tap, and then another. Fuckin’ aye, can’t a man take a shit in peace?
I pull back the shade, looking out the icy-ass window, and I see the neighbor leaning out her window, waving her hands at me. I’m not sure what she was throwing at the window. Maybe jelly beans or some shit like that. Pebbles? Icicles? Anyway, she got my attention. If only she knew that sometimes, I’m not the kinda guy that you want to get the attention of.
The window’s a little bit stuck in place, I’m reckonin’ from the weather, but I manage to budge open the window just enough to stick my head and neck out, so I crane my neck and look across the way. The upstairs windows are directly across from each other. It’s hard to tell, but I’m pretty sure she is standing in a bathroom just like me. They probably built all the houses in the neighborhood just the same. How fucking fucked is that shit? That, my friend, is why I wander. In case you needed another reason.
“Howdy!” she calls out. She’s got a lot of energy, just blasting off her like sunshine beams. I hate that. Right off the bat, I’m annoyed. I’ve always kept away from people like this, but I also don’t turn my back on signs when they show themselves to me. I’m not stupid, even if you think maybe I am cause of the way I talk, and cause I ain’t ever been to college. Go fuck yourself if you think it.
“Howdy,” I say back to her, leaving all that sickenin’ pep out of my voice. No time for that. I can’t pretend to be somethin’ I ain’t.