A Chip off the Old Block

Creative Writing Competition 2012 India
CODE	469
SETTING	Terrace OR Bedroom OR Living Hall
OBJECT	Cell Phone
THEME	Dream/Fantasy of a Teenager

Friends Short Story – A Chip off the Old Block

‘Wake up, Andrew’

He could hear his mother yelling, from a faraway place. As he stirred in his bed, Andrews’ eyes slowly took in the light streaming from the top window of his bedroom. His lips curved in a smile, as he thought of the big day ahead of him. He swung his legs energetically to the left, reaching the floor for his bathroom slippers. A few seconds of feeling around proved fruitless. Puzzled, he used his eyes to search this time. They found the slippers on the right side of his bed. ‘That’s strange’ muttered Andrew to himself as he squeezed his feet between the bed and the wall on the right side and managed to wear his slippers. He always kept his slippers to the left of his bed as the right side was close to the bedroom wall.

However, all that was forgotten as Andrew brushed his teeth, gulped down his breakfast and kissed his mom goodbye to catch the cab that was waiting outside his home. He and two more of his friends were catching the morning flight from New York to Amsterdam. They were embarking on a Euro trip, having just finished school and reached adulthood, at least legally, as they all had recently crossed eighteen.

Andrew had always been a straight-A student throughout his schooling career and was all set to study Computer Science at Stanford in a few months. His proud mother had been only too happy to allow him to cross the Atlantic, for Andrew was a remarkably obedient child. While his classmates whiled away nights at pubs, he would swot for his SAT.  When he once got a B in History, he was awake the whole night, thinking what a miserable failure in life he was! In short, he was an ambitious over achiever, wanting to be the best all the time.

The excellence came at a cost. He had never had a long-time girlfriend nor had he ever had more than the occasional beer. His social circle, if you could call it that, consisted of his 2 best friends, Tim and Peter. The friendship had sprung at a young age, when Andrew helped them with their math homework in first grade. The two of them could see the kind streak that existed in Andrew beneath his socially awkward exterior and always took his side in fights at school when he was picked on for being a ‘nerd’. They had even found him a girl to ask out for ‘prom night’.

Tim, the most adventurous of the three, had decided that if Andrew made it to Stanford, they would celebrate it with a wild foreign trip before parting ways for college (Tim and Peter were deemed not bright enough for Stanford). Andrew, who knew he had never done an exciting thing in his life, concurred. He told his mother of his desire to absorb the rich and varied culture of Europe with his best buddies and she had booked him a 3 week tour, starting in Amsterdam. Ever since his father’s untimely death thirteen years ago, she had brought up Andrews with a hawk eye and knew he deserved a good break with his friends. She was not blind to the fact that Andrew was not an A grade student in all aspects of life and felt that this was a good opportunity to broaden his horizons.

While Andrew did intend to absorb European culture, he and his friends had planned something more sinister too. Well, Tim planned it and the other two had agreed. It was not for nothing that they had decided to start with Amsterdam. For it was only in Amsterdam that psychedelic drugs were available legally and in great variety. Tim knew of a cousin who had consumed them and had raved about the experience for weeks. ‘A million times better than weed, man!’ he would say. That was enough to convince Tim. Now, he and Peter had smoked weed regularly but Andrew had never done it. So, while Peter was apprehensive about Andrew trying magic mushrooms (psychedelic drugs popular at Amsterdam), Andrew was all for it.

‘I can handle it as well as anybody’ he had postured.

With a spring in his step, Andrew approached the lady at the airport gate, showed his boarding pass and squeezed into his seat. Not even the cramped leg space of the economy class flight could dampen his enthusiasm. For, he had always wanted to accompany his friends on their wild adventures, but he knew his mother needed him, especially after his father’s death. He had exhibited a maturity far beyond his years and felt that this was the right time for him to let his hair down.

On reaching Amsterdam airport, Andrew had a momentary feeling of déjà vu. This surprised him, for he had never visited Amsterdam before. He shook his head and walked on. Tim took charge once they left the airport. He had booked a camp, not a hotel, as his cousin had advised him.

‘Stay at the Amsterdam campsite just outside the city dude. Totally the place to be for doing drugs. Great scenery and surrounded by other campers out for just the same thing. And privacy.’

It was 8 PM when the three of them headed to a restaurant, had a pizza and entered the ‘Smart Coffee Shop’ to purchase the drugs.

‘We have 3 choices – Laughing Gas for beginners, which mainly leads to uncontrollable laughter for a few hours, the Dolphin Special which produces, in addition to laughter, strong hallucinations and finally, Mother’s Best, which is our strongest offering, which even I have not tried’ spoke the pretty young blonde at the store.

Both her sleeveless arms were covered in strange tattoos and she had a belly button to boot. Behind her were t-shirts saying ‘Life sucks, that’s why God created Amsterdam’. The shop smelled of smoke from ‘joints’. Andrew was already beginning to feel a bit heady.

‘Let’s go for Dolphin Special, I wanna hallucinate big time’ Tim spoke.

‘Come on, Tim, you know it’s his first time… let us do the Laughing Gas for now…’ countered Peter, ever sensitive to Andrews’s plight.

‘Are you guys kidding me? We are supposed to have the night of our lives! And only Mother’s Best can give us that’ bellowed the ever ambitious Andrew.

Peter and Tim stared at this uncharacteristic shouting from Andrew, Peter with concern and Tim with a wicked grin splitting his face.

‘The king has spoken. Mother’s Best it is. We’ll take 3 boxes of 15 grams each’ said Tim to the blonde.

As they left the shop, Andrew noticed a grey Nokia 3310 on the table. It was the same model his father had used. He had not seen it in years.

A long metro train ride, followed by a bus and a 5 minute walk later, they found themselves at the campsite at around 11 PM. The reception was closed, but a notice displaying Tim’s name (who had done the booking) directed them to their chalet. As they walked through the woody area, with a starry sky guiding them, Andrew had a stronger feeling of déjà vu.

‘So guys, we need to consume the mushrooms on an empty stomach and strictly no alcohol, as the brochure says’ said Peter, determined to keep a control over a situation he felt may get out of hand.

‘Yeah, yeah, but only because not following the instructions will make the Mother’s Best less effective’ responded Tim. All of them chewed the tasteless mushrooms over the next few minutes.

5 minutes. Nothing happened. 30 minutes passed. The 3 of them were laughing loudly over stories only mildly funny. 1 hour later, Andrew yelled

‘Guys, my palm…. It is getting bigger and redder!’

Standing up and pushing his chair back with such ferocity that it fell down.  Tim laughed hysterically.

‘It’s hitting you, kiddo. Enjoy!’.

Peter wore a glazed look by now. Andrew felt filled with energy, and left the room to enjoy the sharp cold of an autumn Amsterdam night. As he walked, he saw a bunch of dark animals crouched together at a distance. As he approached it, he saw that they were just chairs all kept around a table on the grass. He laughed wildly. He looked up at the sky. The clouds had formed a smiley face. He smiled back and yelled ‘How are ya fellas’. He noticed his head had become heavy and he felt one with the universe.

‘So this is what it feels like’ he thought to himself.

‘Son’ croaked a voice behind him.

As he turned back, Andrew let out a small yelp. ‘No, it can’t be! You died 13 years ago, we buried you’ he yelled at the approaching figure of his father.

‘And yet, here I am. Can you guess why?’ spoke the figure.

Scared out of his wits, Andrew ran back to the chalet. Even though he felt he had been walking for ages, he was actually only a short distance from their accommodation. When he entered the room, Tim and Peter were mere blobs. Andrew could only make out that the stockier figure was Tim and the shorter one was Peter.  The blobs carried him to his bed. He closed his eyes.

‘Why did you feel you had been to Amsterdam before?’ asked the figure that resembled his father.

‘NOOOO’ screamed Andrew, ‘I am inside now, how did you get in? Guys… Tim… Peter…’.

‘I am also inside. Inside your head. Now think why the airport seemed familiar. It is important’.

‘Because… because… ‘ shivered Andrew.

‘Because?’

‘Because… I was actually here yesterday with my friends and I had Mother’s Best’ replied Andrew. The moment he said that, it hit him! He had been dreaming everything, from the moment he woke up in his bedroom and struggled to find his slippers. ‘Oh my god, what is happening to me?’

The figure answered ‘You’ve had an overdose. Your mind is unable to separate reality from the imagined. You are bordering on insanity. Some corner of you that is still sane is talking to you through me. Now take this cell phone’. Andrew saw the figure handing him the grey Nokia 3310 phone.

‘What should I do now?’ Andrew queried, in fear.

‘The phone will put you to sleep. When you wake up, you will know if you are truly awake or trapped in your dreams forever’ said the figure, before vaporising.

Andrew looked at the phone. It began playing the song his father used to play on the piano as a lullaby. He drifted far, far away.

***

Looking at her son’s body convulsing on the hospital bed at Amsterdam Specialty Clinic, Andrew’s mother had no tears left to shed. She had done all her crying on the flight to Amsterdam 5 days ago, when a quivering Peter told her of their shenanigan. Her worst nightmare had come true. 13 years ago, she had lost her husband to drug overdose and now, it was looking to claim her son. Not even in her wildest dreams had she imagined that Andrew would consume drugs. Not the way she had brought him up.

‘When will he recover, doctor?’ she asked.

‘Well, from his heartbeat and eye movements, I can say that he has been hallucinating wildly over the last 5 days, showing very sporadic signs of acknowledging reality. He has been shouting his friends’ names and other things in fear. He had an overdose of a strong psychedelic drug, which had proved too much for his mind, probably because it has never had any form of drug before. I cannot say when he’ll be back to his senses. May be tomorrow, may be a year from now. I am sorry I cannot offer more solace’ the doctor said gravely.

Mustering up more tears from the depths of her soul, ‘Wake up, Andrew’ his mother cried inside Andrew’s ear.

***

‘Wake up, Andrew’ he could hear his mother yelling, from a faraway place. As he slowly opened his eyes, Andrews’ eyes slowly took in the light streaming from the top window of his bedroom. His lips curved in a smile, as he thought of the big day ahead of him.

__END__