Fear and Loathing in Lethbridge

A 500-word short story, written in an hour at the prompting of Isaac.

We were somewhere around the Mac’s across the street from the schoolyard when the drugs began to take hold.

We’d graduated three months ago – Daniel, Margaret, and I – and we’d quickly come to the realisation that not only were there no incredible wow jobs waiting for us when we got our diplomas in our hot little hands, but that we were stuck. In Lethbridge. Land of a few tortured trees and weather that couldn’t stay consistent from one hour to the next. So we did what we had to do. Take some shitty ass job to pay the bills until such a time as we could escape and smoke pot. Lots of pot.

But as we meandered our way across the crosswalk, honked at by asshole drivers, a light went off in my brain.

It didn’t have to be like this.

We could go, all of us. And it wouldn’t have to be to Calgary.

I reached into my bag of chips. Good ideas required lots of sustenance.

“So hey, guys,” I said, once I had swallowed and we were safely onto the opposite sidewalk. “What if… what if… we can get out of here, y’know?”

Margaret giggled. A shrill sound, but she couldn’t help it. “Yeah, and do what? We could go to Vancouver and, I don’t know, work another shitty job. And pay twice as much for rent.” She giggled again. “Yeah, that would be awesome.”

Daniel slapped my back in sympathy. I think he meant it to be a pat, but, well, that’s Daniel for you. “We’d all like to go, man –“

“Lady. Boobs.”

“Lady, but we’re, like, adults now. We’ve got responsibilities and shit. We just can’t go flying out of here like nobody’s business.”

But I knew it didn’t have to be like this. And I would prove it to them.

The next morning, I was free of the pernicious influence of marijuana and I knew even then that this would be the right thing to do. I packed my suitcase. I figured out what necessities would fit in my truck – the rest went right down to the Sally Ann. (Okay, I left the rice cooker for Margaret.) This done, I donned my leather jacket and black sunglasses, and said my goodbyes.

Daniel and Margaret shook their heads at me. “Dude,” they said. “Don’t you think this is a bit rash? What about your job at Carlton Cards?”

“Nuts to Carlton Cards. I’m sending my own greetings from now on.”

“But why can’t you stay here until we can leave too?”

I adjusted my sunglasses. “Because this is coyote country.” And I left. My truck pointed due west and I headed, quite literally, into the sunset.

But Vancouver is a hard and huge place, not like in the movies. Employment was scarce. Rent was cruel. The hippies looked upon me with disdain.

After not long enough, I was forced to call my Lethbridge posse. “Hey, guys. Can I crash on your couch?”

I could.