Fruit-Striped Condo (dad’s snack)

It was around sunset when the acid began to take hold of our group. We were in the fruit-stripe decore condo, that was attached by a suite-like door to the blue-on-blue condo where my dad, in the final phases of his remission from brain cancer, was staying. I don’t know how we ended up with five guys on acid kickin it at my dad’s condo purchase in nearby Horseshoe Bay, and as the night closed in the hilarity ensued.

Something was on the tv. The music was on so you couldn’t hear the show. And the five of us, my brother, my best friend, and two of my brother’s friends were all in various stages of visual overload. When “fruit-stripe” entered our trippin-vocabulary we all joined in the first belly buster of the night. I nearly died from laughing. Once you saw the gum-stripes on everything from window blinds to bath towels it was impossible not to giggle. The additional side effect was an intense desire for something sour and sweet.

Around 11:30, when the cackling had wound down, the “suite” door opened and my diminished father shuffled in. My brother had given him some pot to see if it would lessen his nausea. “I’ve got the munchies,” he said. We were all terrified and tried to be silent as if we could become invisible. My brother went into the open kitchen and pulled a bag of Oreos out of our groceries. The old man was so small, bent over Ghandi-like. Under my chuckles was a fist of sadness crushing my throat and ability to join in any conversation. An amazing smile came over my dad’s face as he chewed his first cookie.

And without a word more, my father turned and left with the bag of Oreos, quietly closing and locking the door as he retired to the blue side again.

Read more Short-Short Stories from John.