Ted isolated Down syndrome. He isolated and crystallized it. He chopped up the crystals. He rolled up a ten dollar bill and snorted it. His eyes bulged and his face tightened. His mouth got numb and he felt the brain in his skull shrink like a sponge, then the cool release as it eased back against his skull.
At his desk, his pens and his pencils stayed the same. He gripped the side of his desk, had the urge to eat a Twinkie. He felt kaleidoscope, a bird flutter, felt his tits sag into fleshy sacs on his chest. He wanted to wear tie-dye inside him and on him and have cartoon characters as friends. He wanted McDonalds, he wanted a job there, he wanted it now, all over him, he wanted the plastic toys in the kid’s meal, he wanted to feel the cheap plastic in his pudgy hands.
Ted snorted more Down syndrome when he was coming down. When he felt his eyes go back to normal and his brain start asking questions, he used the loosely-rolled bill to snort and snort. The Rockette came to his apartment to check on him. Ted had not been in to work for days. People were not worried about him but they needed him to do his work. She wanted to help him so he wouldn’t get fired and go broke and be homeless on the street. He might scratch himself in public, or defecate in front of people. The Rockette cringed at the thought, and swung his front door open. It was unlocked.
The Rockette found Ted on the floor bug-eyed and coloring in a coloring book with marker. He had gotten it all over the rug. He was eating Twinkies. The Rockette realized Ted had been doing nothing but eating Twinkies and snorting Down syndrome for a week. She knew that Twinkies for a whole week were not good for Ted’s bowel movements.
The Rockette bought Ted a cooked chicken but Ted was stubborn because he isolated more Down syndrome and snorted it all, an even bigger and more potent dosage to maintain his high harder and longer. The Down syndrome made him stubborn and only want to draw big pink cats with googly eyes and green whiskers. The Rockette was frustrated but she also found it very sexy. They went to his room and Ted laughed like she tickled him.
Ted made mental notes to his other self when he was his regular self, even though this was happening in less and less frequent intervals. In fact, some of his notes went unfinished and The Rockette could read the fragments on his walls and desk and carpet, only to wonder at his language. Ted prepared more Down syndrome because whenever he was high he stopped remembering how to do simple but important things like make more. So Ted started doing a lot at once so that there was no confusion. He locked his door and The Rockette didn’t come in for days because he didn’t open the door when it was knocked on.
The Rockette was fed up with Ted and his behavior, especially after she tried to help him by making him laugh. She barged in on Sunday morning, the Holy day of rest, and found Ted doing just that all stiff and bulgy-eyed on the cream-colored carpet in his living room. He had marker all over his skin and he was laying in a pile of crayons and half-eaten Twinkies as though he had forgotten he was eating them and opened a new one several times. It smelled like bad and stale desert cakes. The Rockette pulled the chicken out of the fridge and took a seat next to Ted. Cradled between her shoulder and her cheek was a phone. She dialed Ted’s mother and told her that her son was gone.
