Chuck.
I didn't remember being given that name. I figured that it would be best not to make that known to these guys so as not to raise any further suspicion. I couldn't understand why I didn't remember anything about myself. It seemed that I should've had a clear grasp on at least that. I had no idea who I was at all, really. I had no idea where I was, where I had been, or what "moon dust" even was. It felt as if I was just planted into a body, wiped of all its memories, and expected to just keep going as if nothing had ever happened. I was thankful that these two guys in this apartment, even if I didn't know who they were, seemed to trust me. I knew that if I wanted to figure any of this out, I'd have to rely on them.
Stu walked down the hallway past the stairs with the bag of moon dust in his hand, and Harry followed him. "Oh, come on, Stu," Harry said. "At least let me sell it to someone and get some of our money back." Stu ignored him and proceeded to open a door. I heard a slam come from the end of the hallway, then a toilet flush. Harry pounded on the door. "Are you serious, man?!" I walked down the hallway and saw Harry standing in front of the door with his hands on his hips, pacing around the door. The door opened and Stu walked out. He gave Harry a stern look. Even though he was shorter and smaller than Harry, he didn't seem intimidated at all. Harry, despite his larger stature, held a gentle disposition.
"Man, I'm not even gonna get my money back," Harry said, looking away from Stu, who was still giving him that look.
"Maybe instead of buying street drugs, you should try coming up with last month's rent," Stu said. He walked past Harry, walked into his room, and closed the door behind him. Harry walked toward me with his head down, looking like a displeased puppy. He walked past me back to the living room. I followed him. He sat back down on the couch, leaned back, and put his hands over his face.
"Oh man, Chuck," he groaned. "There was at least four hundred bucks' worth of moon dust still in there." He took his hands off his face and looked at me. "The least you could've done was finish it."
"I don't remember doing any at all," I responded.
"Oh, right, brain damage," Harry said. "So, you really don't remember shit, do you?" I shook my head.
"Man, that moon dust really fucked you up. I'm glad you were the guinea pig, though. Shit really does wipe you completely."
"What exactly even is that stuff?" I asked. "Why did we even get it in the first place?"
Harry sat up and clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "Ah, right, moon dust," he said. "So it's supposed to be this rock that can only be found on the side of some mountain somewhere in—I wanna say Asia?" He paused briefly. "Anyway, people say that some monks used it for thousands of years to, like, tap into the spirit world and go to other planets and shit. Supposed to be like acid, ketamine, shrooms, molly, and peyote all at once. Makes you trip like a motherfucker, man."
I thought back on the purple orb. I wasn't sure if that was because of the moon dust. It wouldn't explain the lost memories. "And I took this stuff?" I asked.
"Oh yeah," Harry said. "You were the one who wanted to try it out. Said you wanted to 'figure out what was really going on' or something like that. I tried telling you we should've gone out to that New Year's party downtown and try to chase some tail, but you were dead set."
"And so I was just here, on this couch, doing moon dust?" I asked.
"I'm pretty sure, yeah," Harry said. "I ended up going to that party, but it was a total bust. Struck out. I came back here and saw you passed out here on the couch, figured you had a good time."
"And what about Stu?" I asked. "What was he doing while I was here doing moon dust?"
"He was just in his room working. Guy's a total boner these days. Never wants to go out and have fun anymore, just stays in his room click-clacking away on his computer."
"And what does he do for work, exactly?"
"He's a programmer."
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