Baby Huey: A Cautionary Tale of Addiction Read Online Free PDF

it.
    Two empty beer cans were on the table when he finally came out, Scarface showing on a local channel, most of the good scenes deleted.
    “Anything in the kitchen you want, help yourself,” I said, going to the bathroom. He didn’t answer. A cloud of air freshener hit me when I opened the door and I thought, man, this guy in bad shape. At least he’s courteous.
    Back in the living room I noticed he seemed different, something in the way he was concentrating on the movie--not watching but concentrating.
    Making small talk I said, “That’s bull,” while Tony Montana, handcuffed to a shower rod, talked smack to a guy coming at him with a chainsaw. “Betcha one man in a million would do that. Average man would crap his drawers, wouldn’t he?”
    Mookie didn’t respond, and I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing, with his chronic constipation and all.
    Minutes later he got up and went back to the bathroom.
    The scene where Tony Montana snorts coke off his desk, I fell asleep. Later, the front door opened and I woke up. Mookie walked in, locked the door.
    “What time is it?” I said.
    Heading to the bathroom he pointed to the clock above the television. Almost eleven.
    In the hallway I spoke to the bathroom door. “Mookie, I’ma call it a night. If you go out let me know so I can lock the door. Okay?”
    He may have said yeah, but it sounded like yip, as if he was holding his breath . There was some Metamucil in the hall closet and I thought to offer it to him, but decided it wasn’t my problem.
    In my dream Doreen and I were having sex, at my mama’s house of all places. Usually Doreen put a pillow over her head to muffle noises Lewis might hear. Away from home, however, she was shouting loudly. The noise would wake Mama and she would come into the kitchen and ask what the hell we were doing in her house.
    “Yo, G, something buggin’!”
    We were busted. Mama would tell everybody, even Reverend Wilson. Wait a minute! Mama didn’t whisper, nor would she use those words.
    “Yo, G, wake up!”
    I felt a hand on my shoulder. At first I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. Then Mookie moved a little, and I knew exactly what it was. I jumped up. Mookie was butt naked, his package hanging to his knees.
    “Hey, man, what you doing?”
    Legs shaking; my main concern was Doreen coming in and seeing Mookie butt naked and me in my shorts in the bedroom.
    Mookie tiptoed to the door and flattened his back against the wall. The hallway light shadowed half of his sweaty face. He looked at me and put a finger to his lips. He then got down on all fours and peeked around the corner.
    Scrambling for my pants, I figured constipation had driven him crazy. Or someone was in the apartment.
    I whispered, “Hey, man, what’s going on?” and put my pants on.
    Mookie was on his stomach now, crawling out the room.
    No gun, I looked around in search of a weapon. Nothing. Not even a pair of scissors. Moving quietly into the hallway I noticed Mookie’s clothes and tennis shoes in a heap on the bathroom floor. A strange smell coming from there, like burning plastic.
    “Mookie?” I whispered. Except in the hallway and bathroom the apartment was pitch black. “Mookie, what’s going on, man?” I turned the living room light on and crossed to the front door. It was locked. What’s he doing…hiding?
    He wasn’t in the kitchen, the storage closet. I called for him again and then decided to call the police, let them figure out what was going on here. I picked up the phone and before I could dial the number, Mookie, right behind me, whispered, “Yo, G, don’t do that.”
    I jumped, but thankfully didn’t spaz out.
    “They out there,” Mookie whispered. He stood in a crouch, as if he were playing football. “You need to turn that light off.”
    “Who are they ?” I whispered, not at all liking the way he was looking at me. Wide-eyed. Paranoid, as if he didn’t trust me.
    Staring at me he backed up to the light switch on the