Jatupon heard the door open.
"Oh, God," he heard Kazem's voice. Surprisingly, it wasn't angry.
He heard footsteps of restless movement. "Oh, God," he heard again.
Then he heard the footsteps move toward him. The movements were slow
and careful. He opened his eyes and saw his brother. Kazem was
scratching his head in confusion.
"I'm sorry buddy. I'm so sorry. I know I'm late saying that, but
fuck, you were ready to throw a television into my head. I don't know
how all that happened, but what a mess. Why did you have to get
yourself all doped like that at this time-especially this time; and oh,
fuck, did you get into my whiskey? You did, you little thief! Right?
Right? Was that a nod? Was that a nod? Do you like that? I'll pull
your ears off the way father nearly did. Man, we've got an
appointment! Did you take anything besides sniffing this stuff? I mean
besides drinking my liquor and sniffing glue was there a third thing?
Think: I've got to know how serious!" This had been one of Jatupon's
only times of being in the cell and flying within his own head. Nearly
all the other times he had gone out to the streets to gain his high and
stayed there until he was able to return home halfway sober and feign a
sickness successfully.
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