Supernatural--Joyride by John Passarella

Author:John Passarella
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

EIGHTEEN

Maurice Hogarth lounged in a worn executive chair he’d picked up at a local yard sale, feet crossed at the ankles on the corner of his small desk while he talked into his laptop’s webcam. Instead of wallpaper, various hard rock posters plastered his bedroom walls. Even the ceiling and the back of his door paid homage to some of his favorite bands. Only the windows—at his mother’s insistence—had been spared. Months ago, he considered ripping up the carpeting to cover the floor, but he couldn’t disrespect his bands by walking on them.

His bedroom was L-shaped, with his desk located in the short side of the L, what his parents called a study nook. When he wasn’t live-streaming his album reviews, he called it his privacy station. Presently, his broadcast booth was on air, the posters in the nook bathed in black light for dramatic effect.

But he’d long since stopped reviewing Skull Town, the latest album by Morpheus Adrift. The vinyl disk continued to play on repeat on his turntable, the volume on the stereo as low as it had ever been since the day he brought home his first subwoofer. He’d begun his broadcast review before midnight and had been halfway through his analysis of the thirteen tracks, pulling heartily on a joint, when everything went dark.

After the two-minute blackout, he extinguished the smoldering spliff. It had burnt his rug, but fortunately hadn’t set the house on fire while he was oblivious to the world. Instead of returning to the album review, he’d stayed online with his limited audience to discuss what had happened. His parents had slept through it all, completely unaware, even though the crash he must have made when he fell out of his chair should have been enough to wake them. Which begged the question…

“Is it possible to black out when you’re already asleep?”

His laptop screen showed his image up top, with a row of viewers in thumbnail images below. Six guys, all friends from Moyer, and Sally Jennings, a cute girl his age from Bakersburg. His regulars. His attempts to broaden his viewer base had, so far, been unsuccessful, despite posting his recording online for general consumption. He needed to ramp up his marketing game. For now, the broadcasts had an air of exclusivity he kind of enjoyed. Like how his favorite bands had gotten started playing in small venues before performing for stadium crowds. His motto: start small and build a core following.

“Sure, man,” said Cory Henderson, the self-professed philosopher of the bunch, “if you sink to a deeper state of unconsciousness.”

“Somewhere between sleep,” Sally said, “and a coma.”

“Exactly,” Cory said, nodding. “Bitch gets it.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Not cool, bro,” Reggie Coleman said.

Maurice clicked on Cory’s thumbnail and hovered his finger over the delete key. “Have to boot you, Cory.”

Cory waved his palms in front of the screen before Maurice could disconnect him. “Sorry, Mo!”

“Not me you should be apologizing to.”

“No disrespect, Sally,” Cory said quickly.

“That don’t sound like an apology,” Frank Newton said, giving Cory a thumbs-down.

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