Happy parking around the corner so Shera’s parents wouldn’t be woken up. He’d called him before he left his car to let him in. The signal had been crackly from his basement.
Shera let him in the front door which chimed from the security alarm and he quickly shut it behind him. Happy took off his shoes out of respect and went down the stairs to Shera’s command centre in the basement. He had two monitors set-up. One was tracking the live bid price of gold around the work while the other was paused on a picture of Alex Jones mid-screech.
It was tragic to wtiness Shera’s decline into paranoia over the years. It had started with conspiracy documentaries and a few tokes of week. It had continued with gas station salvia and RFID blocking basketball shorts. It ended with him stuck in his basement. He’d also cut his turban in the last 3 years. Happy had did more corruption than him and still wore his. What made him this this was justified? He should be ashamed but he still somehow thought he was worthy, or that he could end up worthy.
“I couldn’t reach you earlier,” Happy said.
“My bad I was getting my new burner sppoled up. I’ll give you the new number,” Shera said.
Shera always changed his numbers frequently to avoid being tracked. It made it impossible to keep in touch with him as he didn’t volunteer a new number until asked.
“Your old one still works,” Happy said.
“Yeah I need it for a couple days,” Shera said.
Happy had actually been the one to introduce Shera to these theories, but he abandoned them himself when they stopped making sense between them, and when he realized they served no actionable purpose towards helping hum gain agency over his life. Instead they took away agency, making one think there was no point making grand plans that the unseen could and would override at their whim.
“Yo what you saying. Why are you here in the middle of the night?” Shera said.
“Saad’s going wild man. I need your help to get him off my back. He wants me to chip the machine at Sweety’s work and get her in trouble. I don’t want to do that but he’s got a gun now and shits getting too crazy. I don’t think I’ll come out ahead if I go against him.,” Happy said.
“I’m sorry man but I can’t get involved in this. You’re on your own,” Shera said.
“You always get involved to help people who need it man,” Happy said.
“I need to think of myself. We can still get turnt though,” Shera said.
“Sure,” Happy said.
Happy took swigs of his dad’s black label smuggled downstairs while Shera started to hotbox the basement.
“You parents don’t care about the smoke?” Happy said.
“Your parents don’t care about your swollen forehead?” Shera said.
Shera got so high he passed out on his couch as they watched a nature documentary.
Happy was desperate, but he got an idea.
He picked up Shera’s cellphone and crept upstairs. Once there, he opened the sliding door to Shera’s backyard, with freshly cut grass in the breeze. He grabbed the phone and dialled three numbers and then the green button.
“No, no emergency. I have an anonymous tip,” Happy said.
He told the operator about Amit’s flex in details with transaction dates and stores as well as Amit’s address.
Once the call was done he hung up and he left the hosue through the front door, hearing the chime, and walked to the corner through the catwalk and threw it onto the main road when it cracked into 3 pieces.
He wasn’t sure if he’d done anything useful, but it felt better than doing nothing.
Happy snuck back in the house and down the stairs.
Happy leaned back on the sofa and fell asleep to the metronome of Shera’s snoring inhales.