7/9/2001

*
He flew down I 95 towards Boston, not caring if a police man turned on his lights. He was getting to Boston and he was getting there on time or Levi would have even more hell to pay.

He looked beside him. The Urn, now empty, but still smelling of the urine that Dawkins had marked it with that fatefull evening, sat in his passengers seat, strapped in.

"Don't worry momma, I wont screw up this time. I promise I wont screw up this time."

The Urn didn't respond.

Levi kept going, his speed pushing 80 and hurrying along the interstate in his black 99 Acura.

"Of course you are gonna screw up. You always did before."

It was her. Momma was talking. Levi looked over and there she was, strapped in the passengers seat, staring at him, eyes bulging in a sick rhythem.

"Oh jesus, oh god, oh my god, momma, im sorry"

"Shut the fuck up, Thomas. You stupid shit. First you killed your own father, then you escaped from the boys home and put your only MOTHER in danger, and then you LET ME DIE! Then of all things, you let my ASHES get stolen! It's just as well, not like you ever cared anyway."

"Oh, mamma, you know thats not true. I killed Dad for you mamma, I wanted you to stop hurting."

"You stupid little fuck."

That wasn't his mother, no no no. That was Dad.

Now beside him, Levi looked and yes, it was his father. His mother had moved to the backseat. Her face was still the same as it was the last time he had seen her, just before cremation. But dad's was just like it was after his death. Blood was dried and matted on his face. His left eye had holes all around it marks from the spoon he had dug the eye out with. His left eye dangled on its socket on his cheek. His nose and mouth were crunched to his face just as they had been after the refrigerator had fell on him. And he still smelled like Jack Daniels.

"Been a long while hasn't it son? We need to talk, you little prick. We need to talk about your mother. Her ashes were stolen you fucking screwup. We need to get them back from that man you call a friend. We need them Thomas, or else. You dipshit. You were this stupid when you were ten. When I gave you that scar on the back of your head, I KNEW I should have just finished the job. I KNEW I should have just broke your fucking neck RIGHT THERE! Then me and your mother would be alive! And happy!"

"Stop" Levi screamed, hands clenched to the wheel as the car sped even faster, 90 miles an hour coming close. "Stop it Dad!!"

"You fucking screwup. Your nothing! Not a goddamn thing!"

"Stop it Dad!!!!"

"Your fathers right, you are nothing but a murdering jerk who i should have NEVER HAD!"

"STOP!!!!"

Levi did the only thig he could, he snapped on the radio and turned it full blast. The voices were drowned out by the B-52's Love shack.

Bang, bang, bang on the door baby it sang. Levi looked to his side. His father, one eye dangling, face half covered in shadows at the three AM hour lipped:

Knock a lil' louder sugar!

Levi screamed.

I can't hear you!

The car swerved. Levi flipped to one side as the urn came flying out of its seat and hit him across the forhead. The interstate sign went under the car as Levi flew out of control. As the car flipped and rolled he saw at his side, still strapped in, his father.

BANG BANG BANG ON THE DOOR BABY! BANG BANG BANG ON THE DOOR, BABY! C'MON!

The tree came and stopped the voices, and the radio. For a little while.

When Levi woke up, he was in a hospital in Chesterfield Virginia and an old friend, Erik Bryant was beside him. Apparently, Dawkins had gotten the note, and he wanted to respond...

*