"I sure hope Max will be able to come home soon…" Boston was in the Grab 'n Save grocery store, working his least favorite position: register. He reached over and picked up a tube of toothpaste and swiped it. There was a quick ding as he started to reach over for the next item.
"Hey! I thought I told you I was paying for that with cash!"
"Oh! Sorry ma'am!"
"Christ, pay attention, would ya?" She resumed digging in her purse. Boston sighed heavily and removed the toothpaste from her current bill. She pulled out a plastic card and ran it through the little machine in front of him. Food stamps.
"He's been in there for three days now… How much longer could it possibly take? I don't know how much longer I can stand to go home to an empty apartment…"
"Well? Are you gonna get the rest of it?"
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Stop apologizing and hurry it up!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And stop calling me ma'am! Do I look that old to you?"
"…No, sorry." Boston stared down as he swiped and bagged all of the items. Like dealing with a rabid dog, the last thing he wanted to do was make eye contact with her.
After she left, he spent the next few minutes leaning against the cash register, fantasizing about going home and finding Max there. Like all of his fantasies, it grew steadily more ridiculous as it went on. Eventually, he was coming home to a family, food, and trophies of his achievement in the Pokémon world. In his daydreaming, he hadn't seen him coming.
"My, my! If it isn't my favorite Pokemon trainer, Loston Boston!"
"Hello, Zane…" Boston swallowed hard as the contents of his stomach rose to his throat.
"I'm just here to buy some cigarettes… So, uh, if you'd be so kind, the red pack."
"Alrighty, that'll be… five-fourteen."
"Thanks, but I can read. You do know the price is right here, right? On this little screen right in front of my face?"
"Yes, I knew that."
"Ah, alright! I was just making sure… After all, you're not the brightest person out there, are you?"
Boston handed him the pack of cigarettes, but didn't answer.
"Oh, don't be that way, Boston! We're buds, right?"
"… Why would I be friends with you?"
"Isn't it obvious? It's because people who aren't friend with me die, Boston."
There was a palpable silence between them. The rest of the store went on, not privy to what had just been said; but even if Zane had been overheard, nothing would have been done and nobody would have cared. Who were they to risk their lives for someone they didn't even know? Who were they to question the word of someone with known connections to the underground world, to insult a powerful and popular Pokémon trainer, both loved and feared?
"Now… Boston." The smile had faded from Zane's face and an all-too-familiar hardness had transformed his expression. "Are we buds, or not?"
Boston stared at him. It was not the first time he had been threatened, not even the first time by Zane, but it was enough.
"Yeah… We're friends."
"Good." He cracked him a smile. "By the way, how's your rodent doing?"
"… He's doing fine."Boston's voice was low and uninterested.
"Listen, Boston. I'm a nice guy. I want to be friends, and like a friend I'm inquiring into your life: the good, the bad, the ugly – mostly ugly with you – but regardless, I'm gonna have to ask you to change the attitude. Okay?"
"Alright."
"So you're good, Boston?"
"Yeah."
"…Yeah," he nodded slowly. That's what I thought."
Zane started walking away and didn't turn back.
Boston's knees were shaking and he could feel his eyes growing wet. He wanted to vomit. It was not the first time Zane had made such a threat, and it was common knowledge that he could and would act upon them.
When the day finally came to an end, Boston left the grocery store and started walking home. He looked at the crumbling bricks of the projects and the worn down sidewalk and asked himself why. He wanted to know why things had to be the way they were. Why he had to be a loser. Why he had to be a failure. He looked up at the sky; it was black. There was only one spot in the sky with any light. It was from the moon, but it was blocked off by the clouds. He sighed and resumed looking straight ahead. Hopefully he would make it home before he was robbed.
When he rounded the next corner he saw a large group of people gathered around, staring at something. He rushed over, curious to see what it was, and to his horror, he found a woman's body lying in the street. Her throat had been cut and blood was gushing out. The neighborhood was bad, but dead bodies were not exactly common place.
"Gawd, whatta shame. Poor girl getting' cut down right in da prime a' 'er life…"
"Yep. I wonder if she was a prostitute."
"Nah you know it aint polite ta be talkin' 'bout tha dead like that!"
"I know, just curious. It usually happens to prostitutes… and judging by the way she's dressed…"
"Nah I don't see ha it mattas. She dead, and they aint nutin we can do but hona ha memry."
Boston stared at the poor girl. She was wearing a tight-white top, no bra. She had on a short skirt, and it was pulled up past her faded, pink panties. He swallowed hard. He tried to listen to the people around him, and soon, he tried to look away; but he could do neither. He could only stare at her lifeless body, an odd sensation churning inside of him.
His heart started to pound against chest and his sight started getting blurry. His face was red and hot, and he was suddenly seized with an overwhelming sensation to lunge forward, to grab the corpse and run. He wanted to take it, but he didn't know where. - No! - He wanted to take it home. He would take it home, but then what? He could… store it somewhere. He could hide it. And no one would ever have to find out he had taken it.
But they would see him. He knew they would see him. His fists tightened and he struggled to get a hold of himself.
"No." He thought to himself. "You don't have those thoughts anymore. You're a normal person, Boston."
He swallowed again. Was he a freak? Was he a monster? He could think of nothing else but of that dead creature before him. He could think of nothing but of its sensual curves and its… delightful posture. He wanted to embrace her.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" His head wouldn't stop screaming at him. He couldn't get the urges to go away. The primal lusts he possessed, the overpowering allure of instinctual guidance, it was something he had feared his entire life, something he shunned. His fists couldn't get tight enough. He started to blink randomly and rapidly, his lips started twitching, and he couldn't control his breathing.
"Hey, Boston, you alright?" It was the man from before, the one who had been talking about the dead body with the woman.
"I, I, I, I…" He started shaking his head. "I… have… to go…."
