Jonny Jonny

            “Jonny! JONNY!” bellowed Jonathan Smith Sr., banging on the apartment door.

            “Goddamnit Jonny, open the fucking door!” he banged on the door again, the green flakes on the faded door reverberating. “I know you’re in there.”

            Jonathan heard his son scuffling inside, hastily making way towards the door. He could hear his son, Jonathan “Jonny” Smith Jr. clumsily fiddling with the latches on the other side of the door, cursing under his breath every time he fumbled. Jonathan flung the door open, almost knocking over Jonny, and barged right in.

            “What took you so long?” Jonathan said, and went straight to the only bedroom in the apartment, not waiting for an answer.

            “I was in the bathroom Pop.” Jonny said, lying down on the tattered old pink couch, taking a swig at his beer.

            “In the bathroom” Jonathan sniggered from the other room. “What’s it this time Jonny? Heroin? Speed? Hell, you’d snort talcum powder if someone told you it could get you high”

            “Oh, come on pop, don’t be like that.” Johnny slurred, “You know I’ve been sober for months now”

            He could hear his father scuffling through the bare bedroom, turning over near empty cupboards. “Hey, yo, pop! I told you, I’m off drugs now” Johnny got off the couch and headed towards his room. “You ain’t gonna find nothin’ in there old man”

             “Whoa!” Jonny let out a cry as he entered his room, almost dropping his beer. It looked like his room had been rampaged by a large, Caucasian, balding gorilla. The beast was not done yet. It was looking through his stuff, picking clothes off the closet, and throwing them over his upturned bed. “Not cool man” he said, as he walked past the pile of hastily strewn cloths pile on the floor, and stood by the broken purple bong on the floor. “You’re paying for this old man” he said.

            Looking out the blinds of the window, he spotted a purple Cadillac. “You could have called your friends inside” Jonny said turning to his father.

            “Fuck off Johnny” Jonathan said as he continued to rampage through the room.

 Watching a balding old man scoffing through the little room, cursing every now and then, about how the room was filthy was funny, and Jonny let out a little laugh.

            The purple Cadillac belonged to Vega, the biggest and baddest drug cartel owner in Miami. Vega had come to Miami as a nobody, a Mexican immigrant looking for a job. But that was twenty years ago. He had soon monopolized the entire drug business in Miami, either by eliminating rivals in the first chance he got, or getting them to work for him. Doesn’t matter what your choice of drug was, if you were smoking it, injecting or snorting it, it all came from Vega’s business establishment. A shrewd business man, he never tolerated for bullshit in his business. Fool me once and you are dead. He never believed in second chances.

“Goddamnit!” Jonathan swore and walked out of the room. He resumed his activities in the kitchen as well. There wasn’t much to turn over there however. He looked through empty cabinets, under the sink and through every bowl on the counter. Jonny settled on the pink couch, sipping his beer.

“Alright motherfucker” Jonathan yelled from the kitchen, looking over the hole in the kitchen, where there once was an open counter. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” he said, gazing distantly at his ceiling. The water marks on the ceiling had given it brown patches, and it looked like the ceiling had some sort of a disease.

“Quit playing games with me boy. Where’s the fucking sugar?”

Jonny looked around at his tired father, his face was red, and sweat gleaming off his bald forehead. “Care for a warm beer?” Jonny asked him, holding up the near empty bottle. He couldn’t contain himself anymore. Maybe it was the beer, but he couldn’t suppress his emotions and let out an all knowing smile, almost mocking his father at this helplessness.

            Jonathan glared at his son, looking for a reason not to murder him right then.

He was sill glaring at him when Jonny feigned concern. “You think I used it up?” Jonny looked offended. “I’m done with coke, you know that. I mean look at me! I look” he drank the last sip out of his beer bottle “fabulous!”. He went back to staring at the diseased ceiling.

Jonathan could see at least twelve empty bottles of cheap beer lying around the apartment. He looked his son, disgusted. “Yeah, the transition from a junkie to an alcoholic is quite charming” he said. “I swear to God Jonny, I’m gonna fuck you up if I find that you’ve been siphoning off the sugar”

            He left the empty beer bottle on the floor, along with four of its brothers, went over to his broken refrigerator, which had been nothing more than a glorified cupboard for weeks, ever since the cooling element bust. “You sure you don’t want one?” he asked, holding the warm beverage up for his father to see. “They’re warm”

            “Jonny” Jonathan said, looking straight at his son, “I’m gonna ask you one last time, where is the fucking sugar?”

            Jonny knew this was it. He took one last swing at his beer and said, “In the bathroom”

“I just looked in th…”

“You didn’t look right”

“Fucker” Jonathan muttered before running into the bathroom.

The bathroom was as he had left it before. There wasn’t much to search, it was pretty bare. The single mirror cabinet was open, and was completely empty. Jonathan had thrown the cabinets sole possessions- Jonny’s red tooth brush and toothpaste on to the floor. They lay where they had been thrown, not half an hour ago- on the bathroom floor, next to the toilet, and lay in the midst of green, indiscernible goo. Jonny knew he wasn’t putting the brush into his mouth any time soon. The edges of the faded pink tiles had turned black already, and the entire bathroom was in desperate need of attention.

“Well” Jonathan said, “where the fuck is is?”

            Jonny pointed at the toilet with the beer in his hand. Jonathan looked at the toilet, brown stains adorned it on the outside, and water leaked out of its water cabinet. The leak must have been ages old, and had deposited a thick layer of calcium and calcite on the pipe. It seemed like a miracle that the pipe hadn’t burst yet.

            Jonathan hurried over to the dirty toilet. It stunk like rotten eggs, bad chilli sauce and last night’s puke. He removed the top of the water tank. He looked at the unsanitary toilet in horror, and rolled up his sleeves and got ready to dunk his hand into the dirty toilet.

            “No” Jonny intervened, giggling like a school girl “Not there”

            Jonathan gave him a bewildered look.

            “It’s… uh… there” he said, pointing at the pile of dirty laundry in the corner, trying hard to suppress his laughter.

            “Goddamn it boy!” Jonathan yelled and stood up, and rolled down his sleeves again.

Just then Jonathan’s phone rang. He froze when he saw the caller id. He pushed the green button and began whispering into the mouthpiece. He walked over to the window and watched as his handler spoke to him. “… nah, my stupid son’s soiled himself again. Having a great father son moment here. I’ll be down in five” he said and cut the call.

            Jonny sat on the commode. He was nursing the the last of the warm, frothy drink down his throat.

            Jonathan looked the pile in disgust. He looked back at his son with the same disgust. “I know it’s dirty, but that would keeps the cops away if they ever came searching for it” he said. Jonathan dived into the laundry, sorting the soiled clothes. Peeling them off, one by one and going deeper into the pile of filth, hoping to get to the end of it soon.

            “Hey pop” Jonny yelled. Jonathan knew what was up and spun around immediately.

            Jonny held a huge pack of pure, uncut crack cocaine in his hand, one end of the pack wide open, threatening to spill all the coke into the filthy toilet. ‘All the coke’ was exactly 25 pounds- worth 2.7 million dollars in the black market, over five times that amount in retail, when cut right. Damn straight Jonathan was pissed.

            “Don’t you dare!” Jonathan yelled, and made a dash for his drunken son. Jonny was quicker, and slipped past his father to the nearby window.

            “There, there pop” He said, dangling the coke off the window. “There won’t be any second chances now”

            “Alright!” Jonathan sat down on the toilet, exhausted and red in the face. “Just hand me over the sugar and we’ll all be happy”

            “Sugar” Jonny sniggered. “Why don’t you call it coke like everybody else?” Jonny got a little too verbal with his hands, and spilled a few grams on the floor. Easily $500worth of coke fell on the cold, wet floor.

            “Jonny!” Jonathan yelled, and immediately regretted his mistake and continued in a somber tone “easy there, son. Now why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll buy you the best heroin in town. OK?” he got up.

            “Oh, come on pop! I told you I’m sober! I’m done with…”

            “Well, beer then. A pitcher of the finest, coldest beer in town. You’d like that won’t you?” Jonathan looked more excited at his own prospect than his son. “Anything for my little Jonny boy”

            Jonny laughed. A genuine, tummy numbing laugh like a little kid. “Jonny” he mocked his father. “Why do you keep calling me Jonny? Why can’t you just call me Junior like mom does. Why do you have to be so fucking stupid?” He looked down the window and yelled “HEY BOYS! IS THIS WHAT YOU ARE LOOKING FOR?” and threw the bag of cocaine into the air. White powder spilled out of the bag, scattering all over the pace. Just then a wild wind blew and carried the coke over a wider area. The three people at the Cadillac ran towards the building, clocking their guns. Johnny could see two Glocks and one Mac. The father son duo knew that was their end. Yet, Jonathan was the only one who had turned white, anticipating the massacre that was about to happen, and looked dead ahead with a vacant stare. Jonny on the other hand was laughing hysterically, red in the face, holding the windowsill for support.

            “Why?” Jonathan let out a small whimper as he heard the men reach the door

Jonny said nothing, and continued to laugh some more.