Pothead Poltergeists

There was no greater relief that I have ever felt in my entire life than what I felt right at that moment. “Billie?”

“Hey, you – you’re actually awake?”

I covered my face with my hands and wiped the tears away. “Billie, I thought for a second maybe this was all in my head.” I should have been more embarrassed to be crying, but I wasn’t.

He ran inside and threw his arms around my like I had been a childhood friend. “Shit,” he shook his head, “I thought so too.” He pulled back and looked at me from shoulder length. “Damn, ok, this I can deal with.”

“I hope so,” I sniff with a thankful grin.

“I know you’re real too now. And I wasn’t hallucinating or rabid.” He was shaking his head, but seemed unsurprised. Like it still made sense.

“Ha, rabid?” I give a teary laugh. Wow, it feels so strangely good to be back. I can’t describe what is different about being a ghost and being alive in a body, except that it’s different. You feel it. You feel more I think when you’re alive. Maybe that’s what it is.

“Well, actually a squirrel did try to bite me about a week ago when Tre brought it in the studio, and was taunting it.” That made me crack up. Ah, but it hurt in the chest a little and I was forced to stop. But he could see the smile on my face.

“Nope, me neither I guess.” Ok, well neither of us is very sane, but at least right now, in this world, we two are on the same plane. I really don’t know what else to say.

The French nurse buzzed back in followed by a team of doctors and other people of high authority. She cocked her head in question to what the man was doing in here and hugging me for. I looked at her and gave a crocked smile, “See, Billie,” I pointed to him, “I was right.”

I don’t think there had ever been a more confused look on her face in all of her life. It was almost cute.

Now, I ask you something. How on earth would you explain any of this shit to anybody? How could I tell my parents how I suddenly know Billie Joe after being in a coma. It sounds like a soap opera first off.

And more important, it really just doesn’t make any fucking sense. We decided what to do about it together, I mean Billie and I.

~~~

We won’t tell anyone. We will say nothing about this. But how can we forget?

I felt shitty about it. “I don’t want to just never see you again. You’ll forget about me.”

He laughed when I said that, “I really don’t think that is ever going to happen.”

“And I liked just hanging out. You’ve changed my life before, and this, this I
don’t know, but I’m going to remember all this Forever.”

“It was fun. And more important, you saved my life.”

So we have a plan. It’s been a few days in this godforsaken place. Billie went home, but today he’ll come back. When I get out tomorrow, I’ve been in this bed for awhile now, I’ll take a walk. I’ll meet Billie downtown.

We can have lunch or something; just waste some time. Then, we’ll go back to my house, and I’ll just walk in the door with Billie Joe Armstrong. We’ll tell mum and dad how I “saved him” from a car and that explains why we got to talking and became such “quick friends”. Plus it did happen.

“But wait, Billie, what are you going to tell your family? You almost got hit by a car twice in two days? The days won’t match up. We have to keep one story here.”

“Oh, right. All right. You returned my wallet?” In a case like this, we are going to have to screw the half-truths.

“Hmmm…”

“I think that would work.”

“Sounds good, but what do we say about why you’re up here in the first place?”

“Why do you have to make me think?”

“Someone’s gonna ask.”

“Why do people have to make lying so complicated?”

“Life’s complicated in general. Lying’s a dumb part of it, but you do it if you want to get by.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”