CHOOSE YOUR OWN MINDFUCK: A Night in Eighth Block Tower (B9)
Bedlam Bible fans! Explore the Eighth Block Tower! Choose your fate! New posts every Tuesday and Friday. September '23 through December '23. Don't succumb to the huummmmmmmmm...
You’ve decided to stay…
When the man finishes his song, he looks out at the audience and appears surprised to see the two of you standing there.
“Well, well… look what the cat dragged in,” he says, placing his instrument down on a guitar stand, just to the right of his wheelchair. Gale smiles ear-to-ear. “Girl, come over here and give T-Dakk some love.”
She runs over and wraps her arms around him. He’s so big that her hands don’t even touch.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says. “I thought those jokers done run you off.” You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but it’s none of your business, so you just smile awkwardly when he says it.
She hangs down her head, seemingly embarrassed. “Nah, I just quit. Speaking of, you know anyone that’s hiring?”
T-Dakk lets out an earth-rattling chuckle that sounds more like a drowning than it does a laugh. “Girl, you know I haven’t had a proper job in a minute! I don’t know nothin’ about who’s hiring. Hell, I hardly even leave the tower these days.” He studies her face a moment, then gets serious. “You aren’t still sleepin’ in that car, are you?”
“Not if your offer is still good,” she says. Her eyes are welling with tears. “What do you say? Think you could stand a roommate for a month or so? Just until I get a couple paychecks, of course.”
“You already know I’ll help in any way I can,” he says. “Offer’s still good.” Gale throws her arms around him again. You’re beginning to think you shouldn’t have come up here with her. You feel like a third wheel.
“You’re seriously the best,” she said, squeezing his shoulders one last time. “I owe you. Big time.”
T-Dakk turns his attention to you. “Who’s your friend?” he asks. Before she can answer, he follows up with yet another question, one directed at you. “Haven’t seen you around here before. You new to Eighth Block?”
You introduce yourself, then throw out your hand to shake his, but he just stares at it until you put it away.
“I only have the one spare bedroom, friend,” he says, assuming you’re looking for a handout. You laugh and wave him off.
“Not necessary,” you say, then dig into your pocket to remove the car keys Gale handed you earlier. “I’ve taken over the lease at Gale’s old place.” You’re trying to lighten the mood, but T-Dakk doesn’t seem to find it humorous in the slightest. He keeps looking you up and down, as if something on your clothing will reveal a reason to kick you out of his apartment. Gale senses the tension between the two of you and makes an attempt to thwart it.
“So, what happened to the band?” she asks. “You all not playing together anymore?”
“I mean, nothing’s official or anything,” he says, finally looking away from you. “I’ve just been feeling the blues lately, you know? And not in a depressing way either. In fact, just the opposite. I feel close to god with that guitar in my hands. Anyway, it’s sort of a one-man gig. Feels too personal to stand up here with a band. Hard to explain.”
“Well, it sounds great. Really, I think you’ve found your true calling.”
He sighs. “Man, I sure hope so. It’s been a long road gettin’ here, let me tell you.” He looks down at his legs, his wheelchair. There’s an entire story in the way he looks at them, but unfortunately you’re not given the privilege of knowing it.
“Honestly, between Sensei and the blues, I think I may have figured out my place in the world. Everything makes so much sense now. All the shit from my past. The bad. The good. Everything. It all has a place in where I’m at, who I am now.”
“Sensei?” you ask, hoping he’ll elaborate. You only know the word from old karate films you used to watch as a kid, and given his physical condition, you have a hard time believing he’s a fighting man.
“Remember that poster we saw downstairs?” Gale interrupts. “Sensei’s that spiritual guru I was telling you about. T-Dakk swears by his work, and hell, I can see how much of an impact he’s had too. In only a few months, T-Dakk’s entire worldview has changed. His attitude, everything. Just a few weeks ago, this man was playing hardcore punk music with a band called Shit Storm! Now he’s playing the blues! A complete 180!”
“It’s true. Sensei’s really helped me work through my bullshit, that’s for damn sure,” he says. “He has this specific way of talking—it’s hard to explain—he can take all these complex thoughts and feelings and ideas and break ‘em down in a way that they become more manageable, easier to work with. After just one session with him, all my troubles, traumas, and worries became these little stone blocks inside my mind, and every week since, his words beat on them like a sledgehammer, bustin’ ‘em apart. Now those stone blocks are only pebbles. Livin’ is a lot easier than I was making it out to be, if that makes any sense.”
“Totally,” you say. “Maybe I should have a talk with this Sensei some—”
Before you finish your sentence, someone in the crowd taps you on the shoulder and offers you what looks like a blunt, but it sure doesn’t smell like one. The stench is thick and awful, like they’re smoking a brake pad.
“Hey man. Want a hit of this tower flower?”
— To take a hit, click here.
— To decline, click here. (coming soon)