Who doesn’t love a remaster?

Many months ago, I shared this chapter, which kicked off months of me sharing random chapters from my book.

Today, I want to show you the changes I made. Many of you were so helpful in your notes, and I can’t say it enough, how much I appreciate every one of you. Shaun in particular, gave a great note, that made this chapter so much better so S/O to you Shaun.

So thank you, thank you, and for the hell of it, thank you again. Seriously, all of you on the other side of the screen helped me so much. If you’d like, feel free to see the changes and if you have the time, please let me know what you think!

There’s a moment after change called acceptance, where you begrudgingly accept the situation you’re in. Sure, you might have fallen into change kicking and screaming, but after the blows are the open road and the many miles ahead. It’s on you to accept your situation and make the drive. This is where we find Omar and Jasper.

Jasper and Omar pour down the road, watching the world pass them by. Occasionally, Omar would rub his eye as details of the previous night came rushing in to devour his mind. Flashes of his fist connecting with the biker’s face, the shots, the cancer, Monica, everything seemed to roll in and out like a wave crashing to and retreating from shore. He leans forward and runs his fingers through his messy hair, causing the strands to stick to his damp forehead.

Jasper glances over and stares at Omar.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Omar lies. Inside, he was more mixed up than a bottle of salad dressing and despite physically being a man, he never felt more like a boy unsure about his future.

“You look like you need to eat something,” says Jasper as he reaches into a crumpled paper bag and pulls out a breakfast burrito, its greasy exterior glinting in the morning sun.

Omar hesitates before taking a tentative bite. His eyes dilate. After a moment, he bites harder and starts to scarf it down like it was his last meal on Earth.

“Hey, this is pretty good… Where’d you get this?” says Omar as relief spreads and mellows his face.

“The gas station,” says Jasper casually. Omar freezes, shoots forward, and begins spitting it up.

“The gas station?”

“Yeah, the gas station! What’s wrong with that?” says Jasper.

“I can’t eat a gas station burrito. Are you crazy?!”

“Are YOU crazy? Why the hell not? It’s food.” Says Jasper.

Omar’s face wrinkles in pain.

“Do you know what those things do to you?” says Omar as his mind races to a fart-filled future. He starts rubbing his temples.

“What?” says Jasper. “Satisfy hunger?”

A low rumble rings out from Omar’s stomach, causing Jasper to turn his head.

“Oh no… it’s happening,” says Omar.

Omar doubles over and grabs his belly. He starts to feel his stomach twist and turn like it’s a fork wrapping up spaghetti, and a few moments later, he hears that low squeaky, eeky sound that only comes when something is horribly, horribly wrong.

“Damn boy!” Jasper does a double-take, and the car swerves.

“Watch the road!” Omar screams and grabs the handle.

Jasper yanks the steering wheel back, causing the car to swerve once more.

“My bad, my bad. Reflexes aren’t what they used to be,” says Jasper as he straightens up the car with a sheepish grin plastered across his face.

A few groans later, Omar speaks up.

“Dad, we gotta find a place to stop. NOW.”

Jasper shakes his head.

“We just got on the damn road, O. Don’t you want to make it to California?” Jasper taps the steering wheel and then glances over to see sweat beading on his son’s forehead. A slow smile spreads across his face.

“Alright, alright.” Moments later, a blue sign appears on the horizon like a promise in the night.

“Fireworks exit 89.”

Jasper glances to his left and checks the mile marker… it’s 88.

“The road code provides again… I’m telling you O – there’s some truth to this shit.”

“Just shut up.”

Jasper laughs.

The car veers right as they exit off the highway and approach the fireworks store. Its faded, chipped paint, dark windows, and gravel parking lot weren’t exactly welcoming, causing Jasper to chug a coke at the sight alone and perform his signature coke-stomping move. But when they cracked the door open, their world changed.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowed with fireworks of every imaginable size and shape – red sparklers that promised fleeting joy, bottle rockets that boasted a fiery ascent, and big boxes of rockets emblazoned with the names of slightly fiery, slightly sexualized mythical creatures. It was a pyromaniac’s paradise.

 The Watsons approach the counter and set their sights on a stranger who looked to be the shining gemstone of roadside America. The first thing they noticed was his mullet. It was long with dyed bleach blond highlights as if the man had tried out for a redneck boy band, got cut, but never let go of the dream. Then there was his outfit. He wore a military jacket with the sleeves cut off on the side, showing off his massive red arms and a figure that wouldn’t survive boot camp, wrapped up with a pair of dark sunglasses. Then there were the chins, 3 or 4 powerful chins any lesser neck would strain to support. Looking at him, Omar could feel his neck ache from just the sight alone. And finally was his morals that he wore as necklaces. A chain with a 50-caliber bullet, a peace sign, a shark tooth, and a cross were just the beginning of his dogma. His name was Darryl, and he was the epitome of roadside America.

Darryl eyes the Watson men down, sizing them up as they approach closer. In his world, people only came here for two reasons: one to buy fireworks, one to take a shit. And based on that wavy-haired fella hunched over and his soft-ass, non-firework-lighting hands, it was bound to be the latter.

Darryl crosses his arms and scowls. Omar turns to Jasper. “You think he’s gonna let us use his restroom… he seems angry.”

“You’d be angry too if everyone you met asked to use your bathroom. You’d probably think the world is full of shit.”

Omar looks down and frowns as his father’s simple logic checks out, and they continue to make their way to the counter, only slowing down when they meet Darryl’s judgmental-ass gaze.

“What can I do you for?” Says Darryl as he lowers his glasses, revealing a pair of steely blue eyes. Jasper opens his arms and speaks.

“Hey buddy, I was curious, do you mind if we use your restroom?”

Darryl looks down at the counter and scowls before pounding his hand off the counter. “Sorry, boys, I ain’t got one.” He smiles a fuck you smile.

Jasper raises his eyebrows. “You mean to tell me you sit here out in the middle of nowhere without a restroom? What do you do when you have to go?” asks Jasper.

Darryl, appreciating the challenge, gives a curt nod. “Hold it. I’m good at holding things.”

He delivers the line with a suggestive wink that does little to reassure the Watsons. Jasper takes a half-step back and sizes up Darryl.

“Yeah, I bet you’re good at holding things.” This time, Jasper’s the one who smiles a fuck-you-smile.

A tense silence stretches between the men, broken only by the ominous rumble emanating from Omar’s stomach. Both men whip their heads around to stare at him, knowing the gravity of the situation that can only come with this sound.  Jasper speaks again.

“Alright, alright,” Jasper sighs. “What’s the price? How much to use your bathroom? My son’s gonna erupt like a volcano here.”

Darryl throws his head back and roars with laughter. “Now you’re speaking my language!” He slams his hands on the counter, causing the display rockets to wobble precariously.

“Well, you’re gonna need some serious firepower if he’s gonna blow up my bathroom. You’ll need some Sky Sizzlers, a couple of Boom-Boom Busters, a handful of Fizzle Fountains, and some Whizbang Whirlers.” He gestures grandly at the surrounding fireworks, like a king surveying his pyrotechnic kingdom.

Omar face puzzles and can’t help but feel that this man is a fucking idiot.

“Come on now, did you really think I’m gonna let him mortar my toilet for free?” Darryl asks while his eyes trace the front pocket of Jasper’s shirt, noticing his fat wallet sticking out.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought,” Jasper challenges. “Seems like the right thing to do.”

“Right, wrong, fair, and unfair are all in the eyes of the beholder, muchacho,” says the firework man.

Jasper mutters, “fuckin’ bastard. Alright… pack em’ up and toss him the key.”

Darryl nods with a stupid smile plastered across his face.

“Pleasure doing business with yah.” He reaches down under the counter and produces a key, flinging it towards Omar with a flick of his wrist. “Right over there, behind the Bam-Bam Begones and the Extra Cheery Cheerios.”

Omar snatches the key, his head spinning from the bizarre firework names, and practically sprints towards the back, his desperate need overriding his confusion. Darryl licks his lips and turns back to Jasper.

“Can’t believe y’all city slickers wanted to come in here and shit in my toilet for free… don’t you know there’s a price to everything in this life old man.”

“You’re damn right there is!” says Jasper as he slyly reaches over the counter and grabs a lighter and slips it into his pocket.

Darryl bags up the fireworks, while Jasper’s eyes find a case of bottle rockets at the back of the store and then looks down at his lighter. Meanwhile, Omar rushes to the toilet and fumbles with the keys. After a few jangles, he cracks the door open and sees the best seat in the house, The king’s throne. He rushes in. There was no time for the let-me-make-sure-this-place-is-clean pleasure. This was all burrito business. He plops down on the seat and begins to release. Unfortunately for Omar, after a few moments, he felt a strange, warm, wet sensation seep onto his legs. He quickly stands up, looks down, and spots it. Wet drops of yellow piss.

“DAMNIT!” Omar erupts and trips over his pants, falling forward and landing face-first on the cold tile floor. The commotion echoes throughout the store, fracturing the fragile truce.

Jasper stands across from Darryl, arms crossed in an I’m-judging-you-stare. Darryl returns the favor, one eye bulging out of his head, the other caught in a wink when the crash breaks the spell.

“Hey! What’s going on in there?!” Darryl bellows.

“You alright, O?” Jasper calls out at the same time.

The two men exchange a grimaced glance before cautiously approaching the bathroom door.

“Everything alright?” Jasper’s question hangs in the air. Then, a long, pregnant silence follows. After a tense moment, a muffled “Motherfucker!” comes screaming out from behind the door.

Darryl winces. “I gotta see what’s going on in there.”

He starts walking towards the door, but Jasper is quicker.

“No, I gotta see what’s going on there… Bub.”

Darryl looks up as if he doesn’t believe what he has just heard and starts pushing Jasper.

“Did you just Bub me?” says Darryl.

“Yeah, Bub. Whatcha gonna do about it? Charge me for more fireworks, yah cheapskate.” Says Jasper as he starts to push back. It was like two 5th-grade boys fighting for the back seat of the bus when, finally, they pushed each other so hard that they fell into the bathroom. When they looked up, they were hit with the senses.

First, there was the smell. The sharp smell that bites the nose and causes both Darryl and Jasper to pull their shirt over their nose. Then, it was the sight that looked like a brown speckled painting of a Jackson Pollock. Shit was sprayed all over the wall with wild imprecision. Then, there was the moan. Omar was face down on the ground, moaning, feeling lower than whale shit.

A whimper escapes Darryl’s throat, starting soft before escalating into a full-blown wail. “Oh noooooo… Oh nooooo! OH NOOOO! My… my… fucking bathroom!”

He looks around like a man surveying the ruins of his home after a tornado touched down. “What have you done?!” Darryl stands up and lunges at Jasper, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him against the wall with such force a bar of soap falls into the sink.

“We ain’t got no janitors here; I’M gonna have to clean up all this shit!” Darryl bellows, causing Jasper’s eyes to widen.

Omar slowly picks himself up. “Sor…. Sorry!” says Omar, his voice never knew more shame.

“Sorry?! Sorry?! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SORRY!” Darryl releases Jasper and starts running his fingers through his scalp.

To Darryl, the situation in the bathroom was desperate, and the bright yellow lights only seemed to make things worse, even with his sunglasses. Then, a sick smile quickly grew on Darryl’s face. It was somewhere between a madman and a menace.

“No way in Hell am I cleaning up all this shit.” Says Darryl, getting ever more amused with himself. He turns back to face Omar and Jasper. “You are!” He points at them.

Jasper throws his hands up in exasperation as if he was pushing air. “Now, now, let’s not get hasty here,” he soothes, trying to reason with the increasingly volatile Darryl. “I’m a paying customer.”

“Oh really?” Darryl challenges while raising his eyebrows.

“What do you have to say about this?” With a flourish, he lifts his shirt, revealing a line of Roman candles strapped across his torso, each one primed and ready to ignite. He reaches into his back pocket and brandishes a mortar tube with a menacing grin plastered across his face.

“I’ll blow your ass to kingdom come if you two don’t start scrubbing like Cinderella.”

Darryl pulls out a Roman candle and twirls it in his hand like some sort of redneck ninja.

Jasper then throws his hands up and backs into the sink until his butt touches the hand dryer while Darryl hones in.

“Easy… easy.”  Says Jasper as if he were trying to tame a bucking horse.

“YOU BE EASY. Now we’re gonna do this MY way,” Darryl barks. “Below the counter are some chemicals…I want you to slowly open it and…”

HUP SQUISH Omar lunges forward and slams a plunger directly into Darryl’s ear. The unexpected attack sent Darryl reeling, falling into the toilet as a strangled cry escapes his lips.

He stumbles back, clutching at his head as toilet water starts to drip down his face. “What the FUCK!” Says Darryl. He looks into the mirror, sees toilet water running down his face, and gags. Instantly, Jasper loses all the tension he was carrying in his face and sidesteps to stand between Darryl and Omar.

“Let’s get out of here!” Screams Jasper. Jasper rushes forward and pushes Darryl to the side, causing him to fall into the sink. Omar pushes the door open, and they scamper out.

“Who taught you how to use a bathroom?” Says Jasper.

“YOU!” screams Omar. Jasper frowns.

They make it about 10 – 15 feet when the whirl of a Roman candle comes screaming by. It flashes and flares right between the Watson men’s heads.

“Whoah!” another green flare rushes past their head and into the wall. “Come back here, you fucker!”

Darryl screams and starts lighting some more Roman candles. PHEW…PHEW…PHEW… the Roman candles continue to scream on by and bounce off the wall.

“Dad! This guy’s going to blow us up!”

Jasper looks back to see Darryl chasing after them. He digs deep and picks up the pace.

“I know!  He’s crazy, but I ain’t going out like a bitch!”

Jasper then stops mid-run, pulls the confiscated lighter out of his pocket, takes a bottle rocket, and fires one back. PHEW… POP!

It goes straight at Darryl’s head, causing him to duck under the counter.  He leans his back against it as if this was a saloon in the Wild West. His chest rises and falls, and he cracks open an energy drink to steady his nerves. Jasper and Omar slide in behind an aisle as a standoff settles in.

“Listen, man, you ain’t leaving here without cleaning!” Says Darryl before he stands up and lights off a few more Roman candles, which fly by Omar and Jasper’s heads and bounce off the back wall.  “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

“Fuck you, man!” Jasper sends a rocket screaming back. “You crazy bastard! Cheapskate motherfucker!”

They hear a deep laugh, almost like a madman, sailing from behind the counter.

“Yeah! Well, I’m fixing to turn you into a fireworks show!” Darryl sends a volley back to the Watson men, causing the store to rattle and shake. “You know what my ex-wife said about me?… I have an explosive personality.” He sends another wave of rockets.

Jasper and Omar are pressed in behind the aisle, shoulders touching. And for a moment, they lock eyes, and a smile appears on their faces. They were having fun in the direst of ways.

“Bitch, don’t lie, you ain’t never been married!” Jasper sends a firework screaming back. POP!

“Oh yeah! You want to judge me? Get ready, I’ll show you Cupid’s arrow!” Says Darryl.

Jasper and Omar hear rustling and the sharp crack of glass. Behind them, Darryl had just busted open the glass counter and pulled out an extra-large firework aptly named “Cupid’s Arrow.” It has a tacky image of Cupid with devil horns on his head, an image only the most faithful of clientele would love.

“You know, I was gonna save this one for my own personal show, but this seems like the right time for some LOVE,” says Darryl.

Omar and Jasper look at each other and hear the sizzling of the fuse, tensing up in preparation for the explosion.

“Get ready, bitch!” Darryl screams.

BOOM! A monumental firework goes off in the store and shatters the glass casing of all surrounding fireworks. Mortars, whizzlers, and star-spangled stunners fall onto the floor and start rolling around on the ground.

“You think I’m messing around?! I’ll blow you up like you blew up my toilet!” Darryl promises.

BOOM, another firework comes roaring by, sending a thick billow of smoke throughout the shop. And then, curiously, Omar notices the distinct red spark of a flame. It starts off small and grows larger and larger, as it gains more kindling.

BOOM!

Another firework comes flashing by as Darryl digs in for his last stand.

“Dad… Dad… DAD!” Omar starts yanking Jasper’s shoulder. “We got to go… we got to go!”

Jasper ignores Omar, too focused on the fight, but Omar isn’t having it. He knocks the bottle rocket out of Jasper’s hands, turns his head, and can see the fire reflecting from Jasper’s eyes.

“Now! We got to go now!” Omar screams and yanks Jasper once more.

“You think that’s all I got! I’m just getting started muchacho, get ready for this!” Says Darryl.

They hear another fuse light. A low, angry rumble echoes throughout the fireworks store, a sound so moving that it causes Omar’s teeth to vibrate. This wasn’t the playful boom of a bottle rocket or the satisfying sizzle of a sparkler. This was the hungry growl of a beast awakening.

Omar glances back at Jasper, who is already halfway out of the aisle, with a new bottle rocket taking aim at the enemy ahead. Omar’s eyes are wide and wild with a manic glee. “Dad! Dad! A fire!” Omar yells, but the roar of the fuse drowns him out.

The world went red. Not the cherry red of a safety fuse, but a deeper, angrier crimson. It pulsed from beneath the counter, the glow pushing its way through the cracks in the linoleum like a demonic heartbeat. Omar squeezes his eyes shut, picturing the fiery aftermath of misplaced anger. Big mistake.

“Now, Dad, Now!” Omar grabs Jasper and physically pulls him out of the store; all the while, Jasper struggles to get a shot off.

“Stop shooting, the stores going to blow!” Omar yells into Jasper’s ear. They make eye contact, and the color instantly drains from Jasper’s face.

They make a beeline straight for their car and rush into it, practically knocking the door off its hinges. The silence that followed was worse. A pregnant pause that stretches on for an eternity, punctuated only by the ragged gasps of their own breath. Then, a crack. It wasn’t the sharp crack of a firework, but a deeper, more ominous sound, like an elephant’s ass splitting in two, accompanied by a deep roar of the beast.

“Oh FUCK!” Darryl screams and runs out of the store. It may have been the fastest he has ever moved in his life.

Omar peeks through his fingers. The floorboards beneath his feet seemed to ripple like someone tossed a stone into a pond that kicked up waves. The air grew thick and hot, smelling not of gunpowder but of singed hair and something sickly sweet, like burnt cotton candy.

Another crack, louder this time, and the front of the store seemed to bulge outwards. The windows splintered, sending its sharp glass onto the front lawn. Omar throws himself back, burying his head under his arm just as a blinding white light filled the world in an instant.

It wasn’t the gentle glow of a sparkler or the fleeting brilliance of a bottle rocket. This was a supernova in a shoebox, 4th of July everywhere in the world, all at once. The heat slams into Omar like a freight train, momentarily stealing his breath. He squeezes his eyes tighter, gritting his teeth against the deafening roar that seemed to vibrate through his very bones.

When the light fades, Omar found himself staring at a scene straight out of a fever dream. The store was gone, replaced by a smoldering crater ringed by twisted metal and broken bricks. Smoke billows into the sky, carrying with it the fading embers of a thousand explosions. And Darryl was on his knees, throwing his hands to the heavens above, begging, begging for mercy. His baby gone in an instant. Jasper and Omar are frozen with disbelief when, finally, the moment becomes digestible.

“Damn! Now that’s a firework!” says Jasper, laughing.

Omar starts laughing, too, out of utter shock. His nerves were so fried; this was more of a reaction than a funny moment.

“What a crazy fucker… who lights fireworks in their own store?” Says Jasper between gasps of air.

“What the fuck?” Omar joins, hardly catching his breath. He looks over at Jasper and felt his bond grow and get hardened as if by iron. They just shared the strongest bond known to man, bonding through chaos. A bond you can only earn from shared debauchery.

“I love you, man.” Says Jasper as he turns to Omar. But something in the back seat catches his eye. It was the letter. And slowly the realization of the inevitable sets in. Mortality. Jasper’s excitement is quickly extinguished, like the fireworks after the explosion and tears start to roll down his face.

Omar sighs and nods, still focused on the store and not on his father. “I love you too.”  He looks out the window, expecting to move, but sees the world remaining still. Then he takes one last look at the embers of the firework shop as panic sets in. He clutches the seat, his white knuckles bulging out, and turns to his Father, not noticing how upset Jasper is.

“We… we gotta go… We gotta go!” screams Omar.

But the car remains still. Jasper is staring at the letter as a single tear traces a path down his cheek. “Dad? Dad!” Omar’s voice cracks with sudden fear. “What are you doing?”

Jasper’s smile falters as a deep sadness that seems to age him ten years in those few seconds sets in. He glances over at Omar and sees the boy he once had, not the man in his car. Then, a lifetime of regrets, missed moments, and what-ifs floods his mind. The brush with oblivion had ripped the curtain back, revealing the precious, irreplaceable nature of time. It had fully dawned on Jasper that there weren’t going to be many more memories created. It was sobering as it was upsetting. 

“Sorry.” Jasper shakes his head and slaps his face, trying to wake himself up. He returns to the wheel.

He starts the car, the engine roaring to life, but it didn’t move. Instead, Jasper grips the steering wheel, all the while losing the battle in his mind. On his peripherals, all he can hear is Omar coming in and out in a blur.

“Dad. Dad! DAD! What are you doing? We have to go! We’re going to get arrested if we stay here!”

Tears well up in Jasper’s eyes, blurring the road ahead.  He takes one last look at Omar, then looks down at his hands and studies them, turning them from side to side, wondering how much longer he would have these tools.

“I just want to live,” he whispers, his voice choking with emotion.

Omar lurches back in his seat as if his father’s words just sucker-punched him and watches his father’s cement start to crack as a single tear slips down his own cheek in unison.

“It’s ok, let’s go!” screams Omar. “Now! He’s going to call the cops!”

But inside, something in Omar changed. He understood now. This wasn’t just a road trip;  this was a goodbye and the weight of it all seemed to be crushing his father.

Jasper snaps out of it, wipes his nose, throws the car into drive and pulls back onto the road, thinking one thought:

Memories, how fleeting.

 

 Please, like, comment, share and tell me what you think!