Hopeless Prisoner of Loneliness

Title: Oil Chapter Title: Chapter VII- SEVEN

Disclaimer: Refer back to the top of the page on the Prologue or First Chapter, here: http://glassesg33k.livejournal.com/

Special Thanks: TT, or TactlessTruth for all of her help. :-)

A/N2: Some incidents occurred and I have a few announcements to make.

I didn't want to address this but needs to be dealt with.

I have a dear and close friend who is going through some very tough medical things right now and needs my help. Because of my own struggles with depression and the slight falling out I had with her upon finding out how ill she really is I did not write for a while on this story. New events have caused me to pick it back up here, mainly the greatly encouraging comments, though they may be few they were what I needed to continue.

Thank you all, it's amazing how such a small thing can help out so much :-) X's and O's to all of you :-) But because of this for the next 3-5 weeks I'll be posting only on the weekends, so check in every Sat. and Sun. for updates and most of that will more then likely be PWP items.

I desperately NEED everyone's encouragement and comments on what I post here and on these items especially. I'm an A-Sexual and have studied sex and all the stuff that goes with it. I am now trying my best at “applying” what I have learned and the first step is writing about it. (Like a paper at the end of college, the first step is writing.) So PLEASE let me know if I am getting it right.

Let me know if what I am writing is enjoyable and if you feel so inclined what I may have written correctly or you loved the most. If anyone has any critiques at all then PLEASE I BEG of all of you to LET ME KNOW. Only through criticism will I grow as a writer and I DESPERATELY NEED THIS. (Unfortunately everyone seems to rather like being mute or praising, which I'm more then for. ;-D, the praising that is, I NEED the ego boost to say the least, but it also doesn't help me grow. :-/! )

Anyway, that's it.

PLEASE show your support for my writing by clicking the Kudos button or better yet letting me know what you liked about it, or how it made you feel. :-)

Every comment, share, like etc. etc. is a BIG Pick-Me-Up for TactlessTruth ( and me =-) ) so PLEASE show your support by reading this fiction and spreading the word to any and all communities and people who might like to read it also.

Thank You and may you be blessed =-)

G.G. =-)

When John got to the door he found it was only one skinny ill looking middle aged man. He was hunched, drawn and bald, his eyes deep in his sockets and dark as if he hadn't slept for a whole lifetime or longer. He was pale and shook like he had some muscle disorder, his fist knocking on the metal part of the door. John couldn't tell if he was purposefully pounding away or if the man was unable to control his movements, his hand jerking despite himself.

John walked up to the door, the man babbling so fast he was incoherent, and unlocked it doing his best to be polite.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I need ...” this actually gave the guy pause, he licked his lips his mouth hanging open for all of a few seconds. John could see that his teeth weren't perfect, one overlapping another and his top teeth, there was a bit of a gap there; not as big as Letterman's but it was still present.

“I donno what I need, just give me something I'm about to die here!” the guy waved his hand and bent his head more or less ramrodding his way past John and into the shop.

“Ahh, actually were close-”
“You're sign says open till ten or are you deaf and blind-” the guy pointed, “and I'm not about to be refused simply because I don't have some quacks card stating that I need the shit you sell here. And since it's now free a for all I suggest you pony up!”

John blinked and put his hands up taking a step backwards, “ahh,” he didn't know if this was a robbery but that sure sounded like it.

After a few seconds the guy actually shuffled over to a seat and plopped down deflating as he did so.

“Oh my God!” he rubbed his back, “do you know how long-I can't believe I can't stand up for a measly ten minutes now with out-” he cut himself off his head snapping up to glare at John. “I thought you were gonna get me my order,” he frowned.

John's felt his own brows jump, “what,” he turned his ear towards the guy and frowned one brow at him. This guy was nuts, great just what John needed tonight, some insane asylum escaped druggie needing a high.

“I want the best of whatever you've got-here...” the man reached around and John nearly dived for his gun, which again didn't exist anymore.

“Alright, I know what I said earlier and how I'm allergic to everything and yes I might just be allergic to your stuff too. But really don't worry about it-what I said earlier,” the man waved his hand over the pile of money in front of himself, “I'm in so much pain right now that a heighten allergic reaction and going via-how did that guy off X-Files put it?” the man actually put his finger to his bottom lip and struck a thinking pose, “auto-erotic-asphyxiation; is actually better then what I'm experiencing right now. So if I do keel over in your store you won't be blamed for it. If you really want just give me the damn stuff and you'll never and I swear-” he cut his hand through the air, “never hear from me again. And don't worry, I don't have any kind of family or friends of any kind so you won't have to worry about people out for revenge or blood or whatever,” the guy finished sighing like he was suddenly about to puke and leaned forward putting his elbows on the table top. He let his forehead drop into his hand and wrung his head.

“You know it's odd, I always thought it was so terrible to go bald, and that the cause was because I was wringing my hair … You never know how much you need to wring your own hair until it's gone,” he chuckled and then turned to look at John. “What.”

John just stood there, then had the great need to ask, 'what's wrong with you.' but he thought better of it. The man's eyes narrowed anger igniting in them.

Before John got a chance to decide if he wanted to serve the guy or not the man started babbling again, this time getting even more angry then he was before.

Not knowing what else to do John turned and went into the back. He grabbed up one of the small measuring cups he'd created for the half an ounce servings and scooped up the chocolate he'd been working on. It was made with pot-butter which was a creation of his own, the chocolate also had it's own pot mixed in. He had combined the two, the next step would have been mixing in some more marijuana along with other ingredients. This was the base mixture that he used to create his fine confectioneries, boxes of bon-bon's and melt in your mouth fudge, along with fruit dipped and drizzled in this and white chocolate.

Usually this base wouldn't even be touched until he was done perfecting it, and the items he made with it were far more fancy then this.

John was so flustered and upset he just grabbed up a scoop of the stuff and shoved it into a plastic dipping cup, popping a lid on.

Never before had he stooped so low as to give a customer a raw unfinished product.

John marched back out front and slapped the container down in front of the guy. He spun and walked away,“don't let the door hit'yeah'ass!” he waved over his shoulder hoping the guy would get the hint.

John was in the back before he heard the guy making noise again.

“Wait-what!?”

John heard the chair scrape, stuttering across the floor and winced, he'd made sure the feet of the damn things were capped so they wouldn't screech when slid across the tiled floor. To make any kind of noise with those damn things you really had to press hard and work on it.

“Don't you want me to pay for it!?” the guy sounded like he was shuffling, yes shuffling his way into the back. John scrunched his face up upset with himself for not installing a proper door in the place. The doorway between the back preparation area and the front customer area was a two person wide archway with counters on either side.

“Keep it!” John waved him off.

“No! As contradictory as this is I don't want to get arrested for not paying for the stuff-an' don't you have a profit margin or some such crap to deal with-” the guy changed mid breath, “of course I don't want to get caught paying for it either if I get pulled over leaving here.” The guy slapped his hand over the top of the tiny container and looked around as if he or the item in his hand was about to be ripped away. “Actually can I just eat it here-just in case. I don't want...”
John actually stood back, grabbed his hair and nearly yanked it out. Never before had he ever encountered someone like this. For lack of what else to do he actually did his damnedest to stop himself and his whole world at that moment, employing a Buddhist, Hindu, Taoist or god knows what religion it was that, that one guy was trying to shove off on him that one day, technique and tried to stop his mind from thinking.

Then he took Teyla's advice of all things and breathed in as deep as he could through his nose, long and slow-or as slowly as he could at that moment … then let it out … releasing all his tension.

“Oh,” the Guy said.

“Oh wow,” Guy said.

John inhaled again and let his arms reach out and his hands splay wide, then decided to go all the way and imagined a wind moving all through him taking his tension and rage, his overall uptight … ness, and washing it all away …

“Oh god-aahhh...”
John heard shuffling.

“Are you okay,” the guy said.

After a minute he was able to open his eyes and think for all of ten seconds.

Maybe it was because the damn customer was finally silent, and thankfully looking scared instead of like he'd been horribly offended and wronged.

“Ahh,” the guy swallowed.

“How about you eat it out front,” John nodded at him putting his hands on his hips. He tried giving his best smile to the guy, the one he used to always have in place but until lately he hadn't been able to drag up. He'd figured it was dead, buried somewhere in his past, with his lover and dreams, but this monster that had just stormed his little safe haven was able to get him to, through sheer need to be rid of the guy, drag it back up again.

John did his best to be polite and usher the guy out to the front of the shop. He sat the man down and asked if he might want something to drink.

“Ahh-ye-yeah actually ah,” the guy gulped, like he was nervous of something, “I'd like some bottled water-but not the Dasani stuff that always gives me the trots!” he held up a finger as John went to get him just what he asked for.

John brought it over and just as he was about to go into the back both of their attentions were grabbed by the T.V. set.

“Are banks going to be punished for giving loans to Marijuana growers and shops who sell, or are “Friendly”; this is the question being asked right now-”
“What a bunch of crap,” the guy said.
“What-excuse me,” John turned to him.

“Oh it's already legal-hell their pulling in more money then they ever have, they wouldn't shoot themselves in the foot,” he waved at the screen opening his water and taking a swing.

“If the federal government doesn't quit leaning on the banks-at least lay off a little then I don't know what I'm gonna do,” one interviewee said.

“I mean-their making it hard for the rest of us,” the next interviewed person waved their hand to encompass all around, “I'm an honest green house, and shop owner, and I was questioned just last week-had to fill out a form and everything. And one of my banks-lenders they cut me off. I don't have half the money I need now to keep my business open-I mean I'm gonna hafta shut down the green house.” She gave a surprised disbelieving chuckle waving over her property. “I don't know what I'm gonna do,” She shook her head.

John turned back to the man, this was the story he'd been waiting to see all night. Deciding he raced for the remote glad that the strip mall had come with the option of cable. He grabbed the control finding it behind the counter right where his best but also most bossy cashier worked. He also grabbed a bag of chips for himself and switched the radio off. He needed to hear this.

He sat himself down on one of the chairs then jumped up again to turn the lights off in front of his shop. That was when John found that he'd left the OPEN sign on; he hung his head for a minute trying to get his anger under control. No wonder someone had come along demanding service, John had been sure he'd had the sign turned off before everyone left early for the night. After a few seconds he flipped the switch making sure the OPEN sign was no longer on, the only light now, was coming from inside his shop. Just to be sure he pulled the venetian blinds, slating them so that his customer didn't feel too boxed in, the last thing he needed was for the guy to go off on him again. He didn't want any more distractions and just to be safe he locked the front door, again.

The guy watched him closely, his eyes bugging when the door was bolted but thankfully he didn't say anything, John wondered why but didn't care right then, he had serious T.V. watching to do.

John got himself a few more things, since he hadn't had dinner yet he grabbed one of his sandwiches and a nice cold bottle of pop from the customers cooler then sat back down.

The guy was staring as John went through it all and hadn't touched his stuff.

John sniffed, figured.

He sat himself down and pressed the button to rewind, “whaddyeah do that for!”the guy squawked but John just ignored him his finger on the button.

“Hey!”
Finally it was back at the beginning of the show and John let it play.

“Dear god,” the guy said, shifting around, it sounded like he was getting up.

“Want me ta' let you out,” John offered eyes glued to the set.

“No thank-you,” Guy said.

John heard the top of the small container pop open and he rolled his eyes, hopefully it would get the man to actually relax for once.

He sat and watched not noticing a thing from the peanut gallery, it took the whole news cast but finally at the end they showed the story they'd been promising to show all week.

“The Marijuana debate and how Citizens Uptight are petitioning to have it put to another vote. ...”

John watched and listened not once noticing the man behind him, or anything else for that matter he was so absorbed.

When the story was over he sat back and watched for a bit not sure what to think, his mind went blank and he just stared. … It had been one interesting story and from the sound of it, by this channel anyway-John checked to see what channel it was, each one differed in their politics and therefore made the story seem as if it were something it wasn't, usually.

John checked and then had to recalculate, wondering what the real story was. He shook his head finally shutting the whole thing off, he was going to have to look it all up, see for himself, there was just no way to tell. At least he had the topic headings now to know what he needed to look into.

He turned ready to finish his meal but jumped not expecting to see the customer from earlier still there.

He'd been so silent … and now John knew why.
Tracks marred the poor guys face, his eyes all red rimmed, his nose wet.

“Sorry sorry-it's it's just I-” the guy wiped his eyes suddenly animated, “I haven't-it's been so long since I haven't been in pain. I forgot what it was like. Do you know what it's like to be tortured, not able to breath it hurts so bad!?” His voice cracked and he pinched his nose wiping his hand on his pants after-wards. “Ahh, sorry, sorry.” shaking and in a jerky manner he stood grabbing up his stuff. The man quickly shoved his pockets to bulging with his cash and one credit card.

John reached out steadying him-it didn't look like the guys legs would hold him up. The guy jerked away as if he expected to be hit-or hurt but John managed to grab him anyway. The man's whole body tensed in reaction as John gripped his arm, then just as suddenly he seemed to pause, full body, and slowly ever so slowly, he relaxed.

After a second John let go, “what's wrong with you,” he looked the man up and down.

The guy frowned at him, and crossed his arms dropping his phone. He picked it up and sized John up right back, “you don't seem dumb-are you?”

“What,” John leaned back.

“I'm TERMINAL,what is there not to understand about that!”

Pity hit John hard, he must have gasped or something because the guy reacted.
“Seriously what can you here back there-oh,” The guy snapped his fingers rapid fire near his head, pretty impressive for how much strong pot he'd just had, “yeah you had the radio on blasting and the T.V. How in the world did you even hear me-no wonder I was having to bang away for whole hours-” he shoved the chair under the table the two hitting each other and nearly tipping, “I could have died-DIED because you couldn't cater to one customer!”the guy waved his arms.
John leaned back, “Hey,heyhey,” he put his hands up, “I'm sorry, I've got what this one shrink-head quack called it PTSD can't work with out noise-hell I can't sleep most-”
“Wait what.”
“PTS-I donno-never min-”
“No, you were a soldier?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy crap.”
“Yeah well,” John turned to leave, “have a nice day,” he gave a mock salute to the guy and went over unlocking the front door.

“No I had no idea-I'm sorry what's-ah-what's your name.”
“Don't matter,” John just nodded at him opened the door as wide as it would go and gave him the biggest shit eating grin he could.

“No seriously cause maybe I can-”
“We're closed,” he glared at the guy,smile firmly in place. That kind of look was guaranteed to creep him out.

“Fine,” the guy scrambled his few items left out into his pockets and checking everything twice stomped out the door.

He turned and John shut the door in his face, the blinds banging against the damn thing.

It had been one horrible night and his original creation was gone, John looked around the shop. … Might as well just close up, calling it an early night and try again tomorrow.

At this point there was really nothing else he could do.

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