by Dave Welch
My body rocked back, tantalized by the concluding mellow gust. I felt myself fainting…
“Good day, Okani,” said Quincy.
“Good day father,” she replied as she continued to her car.
Okani…
I kept looking forward, for a second. Then I thought to myself… aaaggghh fuck it! I turned around. I had to.
Her ass wasn’t big or bodacious, but it was perfect and a tad bit larger for a woman of her size. She was simply incredible.
“Aw shit, fellas. Where are my manners? Come the fuck in. Come in!” Hollered the speed demon.
This dude cursed way more than me. I, however, was still watching Okani as she opened the door to her red sports car.
I felt Quincy grab my shoulder. He turned me around to see the Speedster standing to the side, holding the door open.
He gestured for us to enter as Father Quincy ushered me into the house.
“What yawl want to eat? I got a ton of deer meat shit in the fridge. I’ll get Lurch to whip yawl up some damn deer sausage. Yawl want some deer sausage?” Whaled the cursing Speedster.
Father Harmon patted me on the back as I finally entered the massive structure.
“I’m bout to show you dis’ right? I call it zero lag. Ya dig? I can bring you a heart transplant on foot, put it in yo’ chest, and sew you up before the plane touchdown, ya dig?” So chatted the crazed Speedster as Farther Harmon kindly closed the massive doors behind us.
Several floors below, in the Speedster’s basement, I sat warped in a black, plush, leather recliner.
This basement of his, was a fully functioning gym. There were free weights, elliptical machines, punching bags, full-body mirrors, squat racks, huge medicine balls, bar benches, treadmills, and 20-inch flat screens.
I was outdone. Not by this awesome gym, but by this…
Okani.
I viewed with no true interest as the Speedster jogged away on a treadmill. Father Quincy and a doctor from Queens accompanied him. They, in contrast, watched earnestly during this unexplainable event. They believed that the Speedster’s strand of muscular madness could, perchance, unleash a momentum of no end.
“Speed is the distance of an object divided by the true time of that object. Most segments of speed are measured in meters. As a runner comes off the blocks, he or she instantly displays the highest outburst of speed. That speed usually falls within the 0 to 10-meter range,” the doctor explained.
“Corey, as strange as this may sound, has a segmented meter range between 0 to 20 off the blocks. Most runners’ speed depreciates over the course of a set race.
Now, the drag also comes at the start of the race.
The reaction time, wind, plus the moment in achieving actual acceleration can all contribute to a runner’s lag,” he continued.
“I think if Corey was to have a continuous surge of energy and air, he could probably run-up to, and even over 100 meters- in about 6.5 to 7 seconds flat.”
“Now Doc, that’s crazy right? How can a human run that fast?” queried Father Quincy.
The doctor stood there holding onto his clipboard. He monitored the various readings from the equipment accompanied by a host of adhesive pads strayed about the Speedster’s arms, chest, and head.
“According to the Theory of Evolution, it is quite plausible, especially if the DNA of a human has been properly fed and nourished throughout a particular families’ lineage. Anything, then, becomes biologically suitable,” the doctor acknowledged.
“Damn right! I’ll catch a cheetah,” roared the Speedster.
I sat with my mouth wide open, staring into the ceiling.
I was so separated from the real world, that I began to question myself.
Did I forget about my true intentions?
And how come every time I close my eyes, instead of me seeing my daughter’s killer, I see…
Okani.
I can’t just let that go. Not like that. I couldn’t shake this, though. Not even a little.
All I saw was an amorphous of different reds—what a gorgeous presence. I felt full and without an appetite for revenge. The strangulation of my thumping heart had replaced my urge.
Amor literally had me in a chokehold.
I hadn’t felt like this in forever. Being a hopeless romantic, avoiding such symptoms to gain an evil was my lifetime goal. And I was doing well.
Cause Canieya and I were just a fling, an infatuation that extended way beyond what I originally expected. I thought for sure that I may have been in love with Canieya. But I’ve never felt like this.
I can’t believe this is happening. Not now.
As thousands of love songs swirled through my chemical makeup, I found it hard to place a specific song with my Okani. She was too genuine.
Man! I didn't want to think that I was in love, but…
“Fuck!” I spontaneously blurted.
“Egh, Hey, Hey!” Shouted the Speedster.
I looked over to see him still jogging away, pointing over to the wall adjacent to me.
The doctor and Father Harmon were both looking at me crazy.
“You see that jug over there?” Asked the speed demon.
I glanced at him and then back to Quincy. I guess everyone thought my outburst may have been from the herculean amount of boredom that sealed my restless and impatient soul. My yell had almost stopped the show. I didn’t care. I was somewhere else in my mind.
“Nnnoooo… over there, man!” Shouted the Speedster as he pointed even harder.
I turned over to the wall to my right, and I saw a big flat-screen television.
“Look down. On top of the entertainment center.” The speed demon shouted.
I scrolled down to see the entertainment desk and there rested a large five-gallon plastic jug.
On the front of this jug was a piece of gray tape with ‘Swear Jug’ written on it. The jug was full of cash and coins.
I turned back to the Speedster with anger. He was still pointing at the plastic jug when he spoke with a grimace tone.
“You go have to put some money in that fucking jug homie.”
Ohhh… I blew up!
“Man, mutha’ fuck yo’ jug!” I screamed as I rushed over to the jug.
The doctor hugged his clipboard as Father Quincy started shaking his head, giving me that, cut-it-out gesture with his hand.
“Derrick!” Quincy yelled.
I snatched up the bucket with one hand and launched it into the TV. The jug cracked the screen, shaking a rift through the glass wall. With violent whomps, the jug bounced about the room. Change and paper bills flew everywhere.
I picked the jug up again and banged it all across the Speedsters equipment.
I saw Father Harmon about to come over, but he stopped in his tracks.
I turned back around, throwing the jug across the room.
It bounced and rolled over the floor, settling next to a squat rack.
I stood with my nose flaring, huffing away in anger.
Father Quincy dropped his head, and the doctor kept looking at me as he backed up into the corner.
Just then, the Speedster stopped running, and the treadmill tossed him clean off the conveyor belt.
This happened so quickly that the wires plucked from the adhesive patches.
The speedster landed fast and with accuracy onto the black-matted gym floor. It was as if he had practiced this landing before.
He stood upright and looked over to Quincy.
“Shit, man. I’m ’bout to be late for practice,” he blurted, drying his face with a nearby towel.
“Wrap it up, doc,” he ordered.
The doctor picked up the severed wires and looked at them for a short moment. Then, he dropped the cords gracefully and began to shut off his devices.
The Speedster walked over to Quincy quickly.
“I’m sorry, Corey. I didn’t see this coming.” Quincy noted in sorrow.
“Look Q, I’m sorry about having to roll out so fast, but
I wasn’t aware of the time. Shit be shifting, ya dig?” The Speedster snarled as he gawked over at me, rolling his eyes back over to Father Harmon.
“I gotta take a shower. Hey? Do me a favor, right?” said the Speedster as he reached into his jogging pants.
“Anything Corey.” Quincy replied.
The speed demon pointed at me, flopping his penis out.
“You!” He shouted.
Quincy snatched away. “Mary and Jesus.”
“Suck. My! Dick!”
I grew furious as the speedster tucked his penis away.
Then he pulled out a wad of money with several rubber bands wrapped around it. He yanked the bands off, and they plucked away with tiny snaps.
“Put this in the swear jar.” He ordered, handing Quincy the hunk of money.
With guard, the clergy took the cash and carefully walked over to the swear jar.
“That’s for me and you,” the Speedster muttered as he pointed at me.
He then pointed to himself right before he dashed up the stairs beside him.
What was odd about this was that the speed demon didn’t get at me. I felt a bit childish. I felt like I just threw a dirty temper tantrum. But they didn't know what I was going through.
I’m a man on the edge.
“Oh!” shouted the Speedster as he spun around, jumping from the top of the stairs.
He landed a few inches shy of his original spot.
I had begun to pick up the change and paper bills, putting it all in my pockets as the Speedster turned the corner.
Father Harmon had come back over with the Swear Jar tucked under his arm.
They both looked at me as I continued to collect.
“I know this little display didn’t really provide any real answers.” The Speedster howled as he turned to face Father Harmon.
I knew he was coming at me now.
“How about I give you two some VIP passes to the game? Consider it done. Alright?” He asserted.
He pointed at me and Quincy. Then, he flew up the stairs.
Damn twerp didn’t even give us time to decline.
Father Quincy looked at me and dropped his head in disappointment. He sighed, running his hand through his hair.
I could hear the broken television, glitching behind me.
The doctor was still in the background unplugging his machines at a sad but quickened pace. I knew he was pissed because the athlete had snatched all of the wiring out with his erratic dismount. I wondered if the Speedster knew he still had a few pads sticking to him.
“Derrick…” mumbled the clergy.
I stood without speaking.
He returned my expression with a smile of patience. But then, I couldn’t get any angrier.
The image of Okani instantly soothed me.
“Almost,” mumbled Quincy. “Almost…”
On the main floor of the speed demon’s manor a few moments later, Father Quincy and I stood a few feet away from the front door. He felt... well, I guess he found it necessary to somewhat scold me for my deranged outpouring.
I hoped the clergy would choose his words wisely because I would gladly tear him a new one.
I was unstable, and the only one here with mental issues.
The Speedster, however, may have been a bit worse than me. He was real jacked up and I don’t think anyone noticed.
But above all, I felt reserved. I felt safe and sort of jolly. Something was humbling me. I found myself losing the desire to extract my revenge. All I could see now was…
Okani.
And even though the goddess had been gone for over an hour now, I could still smell her, plain as day.
“Hey!” Someone yelled from a distance.
Quincy and I turned around, looking in unison to the top of the stairs behind us.
There stood the Speedster.
He was completely naked.
We snatched away from the sighting.
“Yawl bout to leave?” He yelled.
“Man, go put yo’ clothes on. Shit!” I hollered.
“I’m just saying though-”
The Speedster continued to jabber in riddles as Father Harmon spoke over him.
“-You see Corey has a phobia. He’s afraid of time and clocks,” said Quincy. “Don’t worry though, Derrick, you’re doing good, man.”
I stood there looking at the floor.
“Derrick? You, okay?” Asked the clergy.
“Yeah man, but I ain’t about to apologize for something that I meant to do.” I addressed.
I glanced over to the large living room to see the speed demon. He was now, fully dressed and sitting on the top of a white leather couch playing video games.
“I got five minutes to kill your ass. You a supa’ bitch!” He hollered while tapping into the remote control.
“This my land hoe! Hey!” Yelled the Speedster. “Yawl wanna cut some grass? I gotta plenty of grass to cut. Oh shit! Dis hoe dun tried to clip my ass. Take dat hoe! YEeeeahhhh!”
Father Harmon was right. The Speedster had a noticeably short attention span. He was unhinged and all over the place.
“He’s going to shock the world, Derrick. Tell me you’re going to the game?” Quincy asked.
“Yeah…I’ll go. I ain’t got nothing to do,” I replied.
I thought I would see Okani again. Then suddenly, a butler walked over to greet us. The butler was holding a solid gold tray with two black envelopes on it.
Our names had been engraved into each envelope.
“Compliments of Corey Dunlo,” the butler announced.
“Take that shit Q!” Shouted the Speedster from the living room.
“You better be there too, crazy guy!” He said.
“Thanks Corey. We’ll be there. Right, Derrick?” The clergy asked while turning to me.
“Yeah…” I mumbled.
Thunk!
“Gotcha bitch!” The Speedster hollered, chunking the remote to the floor.
“You’re going to make it, Derrick,” The wise clergy whispered.
I looked back at Quincy as he took the envelopes from the golden tray. The butler bowed away gracefully.
Father Harmon handed me my envelope, just as the doctor approached the front door. You could hear him coming with all those crates and durable cases.
“You guys mind getting the door for me?” He asked.
“Sure.” Quincy offered.
The clergy turned to open the doors, but they both swung open before he could make his turn.
I felt a gentle breeze exit the manor as Quincy paused in his turn.
We thought the doors were automated.
The doctor stopped to speak with us as the doors finished opening.
“You know we are witnessing history. I’m actually creating a new compression fabric to assist with the reduction of the momentum lag.” The doctor claimed as he secured his grip and handling of his equipment.
“He wanted me here to conduct a few tests, but we just didn’t have enough time. Well… later huh? Thanks Corey,” laughed the doctor.
I noticed a subtle glitch in the doctor’s eyes as he hurried out the door. I shrugged it off as a ray of light deflecting from his pupil.
“See ya!” Yelled the doctor.
The clergy motioned for me to exit as he held the door open.
As the clergy and I exited the mansion, Father Quincy jumped back.
“Whoa!” He shouted.
“Shit!” I hollered.
We blinked our eyes, finally grabbing a hold of our senses.
The Speedster was standing outside, beside the door.
He was leaning against the marble wall with his arms folded, using his shoulder to support his weight.
The clergy grabbed his chest as if he was going into cardiac arrest.
“Question,” said the Speedster.
I took a double take, back into the massive house, then into the living room where I last saw him. He was just playing video games. But when I looked, there was no
one there. The TV had been turned off, and the video game system had been neatly put away.
I gawked back at him with my eyes wide open.
“Why you wanna kill yourself?” He asked.
I dropped my head. The question asked too much. It was a revelation, correlating with his amazing speed.
It made me sprint, mentally, increasing my warping.
I wanted to answer this...this question, but my thoughts were traveling too fast.
“It’s a conundrum, ain’t it? Almost as fast as me. Almost,” he giggled.
He then stepped closer to Quincy and me, unfolding his arms.
Standing directly in front of the main entrance, he mumbled.
“Nothing is worse than a powerful man with no goals, no ambition, no purpose.”
He then reached into my coat pocket and snatched out the murderer’s rendering so fast I didn’t have time to react.
It felt like he punched me in the chest.
“This the guy?” The Speedster asked while unfolding the image.
“Ya—Yea, yes!” I stammered.
He looked over the image briefly.
“I got it.” He reassured, ripping my only drawing to shreds.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He avowed, staring into my eyes.
“Now get the fuck on. Less yawl wanna cut some grass? Jewell!” Corey hollered.
Clenching the torn image in his fists, he pointed to his oversized lawn while peeping back into the living room.
“I gotta lotta grass that needs cutting! Can you believe her name is Jewell?” He inserted as he turned to face us.
I started to get angry.
Then, he said something that really threw me into next week.
“My sister has a crush on you.” He mumbled, glancing in my direction.
Just then, a maid rushed over to his side.
“Yes sir,” said Jewell.
“Jewell!” He screamed. “Where you get that name from?”
“My parents sir.”
“Put this shit in the trash, Jewell,” he ordered, dumping the shredded image into her hands.
She kneeled to gather the portions that fell. Then, she stood up fast, bowing away with a quick, elegant courtesy.
“Na, naa… put it in the Swear Jar.” The speedster clarified.