Small Apartments by Chris Millis

Author:Chris Millis [MILLIS, CHRIS]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-927380-82-6
Publisher: Anvil Press
Published: 2013-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

9

TOMMY BALLS WAS passed out cold on his corduroy couch when his mother knocked on his door at 10 o’clock Wednesday morning. He had passed out during the first five minutes of the last episode of the Magnum, P.I. marathon.

“Thomas,” called Tommy’s mother between knocks. “Open the door. It’s your mother.”

“Fuuuuck,” moaned Tommy Balls. “Hold on, dude.”

“Open the door. It’s not right to leave your mother standing in the hallway.”

Tommy swept the remaining weed on the coffee table into a Ziploc Baggie and stuck it in his back pocket. He dumped out the water from the gravity bong and left the bucket and the soda bottle in the bathtub. He gave his apartment a quick inspection: filthy. Reluctantly, he opened the door.

Tommy’s mother was forty-nine years old and petite, with a sharp nose and frosted auburn hair. She was wearing a cotton floral print church dress and white gloves. In her hands she carried a bible, a hardcover copy of Am I Crazy by Dr. Sage Mennox, and a white wickerwork handbag adorned with pink plastic flowers.

“Really, Thomas. How can you leave me standing in that filthy hallway? And I am not a ‘dude’, I am your mother.”

Tommy Balls moaned and rubbed his red, puffy eye sockets.

“Your apartment is a sty, per usual, but I am not here to quarrel over that this morning.” She straightened herself up as tall as her 5’3” frame would allow. “Thomas, come to church with me today.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Yes, Thomas. There are services on Wednesday. The Lord is available seven days a week, not just on Sundays.” Tommy’s mother opened her Dr. Mennox book to the first flyleaf and read aloud: “Those who ignore their faith ignore their responsibilities, for faith is the first responsibility.”

“Even if I wanted to, on principle alone, I would not go to a church that had services on Wednesdays. Besides, I have to work today.”

Tommy’s mother walked her fingertips over the dog-eared corners of her Dr. Mennox book and cracked it open: “Work has its purpose and its rewards, but should never serve as an escape from your problems.”

“Mom! Can it with that Dr. Mennox crap. That guy is such a quack.”

Tommy’s mother’s eyes began to well up with tears. He could sense the shit storm coming.

“I’m not going to just write you off, Thomas, I am your mother. Are you hoping that I will just ignore your drug addiction? Hmm? Are you hoping I will just pretend that everything is hunky-dory? Well, I will not. I have eyes, Thomas. I see what is happening to you. What sort of life are you making for yourself? You are well on your way down the Road To Crazy. I will not stand idly by while you punch your ticket to eternal damnation!”

“Mom. Mom, don’t cry. Aw, Je-sus …”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain. Right in front of your Christian mother!” Tommy’s mother sobbed as she crossed the room to dispose of her wet Kleenex. “And here is the thanks I get for trying,” she said as she lifted the paperback copy of Am I Crazy, by Dr.

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