531 lines
35 KiB
Plaintext
531 lines
35 KiB
Plaintext
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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[ Saving Johnny ] [ By Max West ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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R.H. Pollette as Max West
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1175 A Oak St.
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San Francisco, CA. 94117
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SAVING JOHNNY
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By
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Max West
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Gritty. That was the way I felt, just coming out of a drunken stupor in the
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back of Jake's muscle car. Everybody else, except Jake at the wheel, and
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myself in the back seat was slouched over snoring. His chubby face, with a
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couple of days stubble on it was under lit in green from the instrument
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panel lights and when I looked up, he was trying to dig on the radio to some
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tune fading in and out. He nodded three or four times like one of those toy
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birds you fill with water that bob forever, till you get sick of watching
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them, before he pulled over to the side of the road. Lights from some
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passing cars filled the interior with long running shadows, while we sat
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there, motor idling, Jake hanging on the steering wheel, baggy and wasted.
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Slowly he took in the slack bodies all around him, until he got to me,
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owl-eyed, but more or less there. "You gotta drive Frank." Is all he said,
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real weary like one of those tired motherfuckers in the "Grapes of Wrath".
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"Man! I can't drive. I don't want to." This doesn't seem to make the
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required impression--I don't want to move. He takes another slow watery
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look, like he had a lot of options, stopping for a minute on Roy against the
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door, mouth open, half-empty beer between his legs.
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"Everybody's drunk " He had to gulp a couple of times, swallowing
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some vomit. " Your not as drunk as them ahhhgg!" he's out the door heaving
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his guts and I know if we're going to keep moving I had to drive. The cold,
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as I stood by the car waiting for him to finish, hit me like a frozen sledge
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hammer; it didn't improve my mood but it woke me up a little. I managed to
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bundle Jake into the back without getting any puke on my jeans, took the
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driver's seat and settled in for a lonely haul with nothing but miles of
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empty asphalt and radio static for company.
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We had to get Johnny, who was someplace in St. Louis with the creature
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known as, 'Ugly-Ugly' I guess she had a name but they all called her
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'Ugly-Ugly' because she was supposed to be so bad looking. Another one of
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Jake's pals, Mike Riley, had picked her up somewhere and tagged her after
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he'd discovered he was still in her bed the next day. In the harsh reality
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of the morning light, minus the mellow glow of total drunkenness, the sight
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must have been stunning. Because she was available, her reputation hadn't
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stopped any of the other boys from taking a shot at her since they all
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worked on the principle that anything looks pretty if your drunk and horny
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enough. "Just don't be there in the morning" Jake confided.
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John was the latest victim to 'Ugly's' unsatisfied cravings for
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youthful alcoholics. That afternoon it was a Friday Jake had a call from a
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very toasted Johnny, who'd babbled and gargled his intention to marry, "The
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greatest little gal in the whole world!" He said we'd really be surprised
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when we found out who it was, but he wouldn't say at that time. All Jake
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could get out of him was the address of where the celebration party was
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going to be and it didn't take us long to do the math. Johnny, who was under
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Jake's special protection for reasons known only to themselves, " had to be
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saved, we owed him that much." (Jake again). I didn't really see how I
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fitted into this; John reminded me of a skinny weasel, though after a few
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beers and some joints, the idea of a little road trip sounded better than
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what I'd planned for the evening, which was nothing
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Between gulps of warm beer, I wrestled the big car up to about
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seventy-five, though the view through the windshield was less than ideal
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from all the dust and crap Jake wouldn't clean off before we left. I pushed
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the Auto-window cleaner button, but the spray must've screwed up cause it
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just went over the top of the car instead of on the window while the wipers
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made a nasty scraping, dragging dry, back and forth. I was not at my
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sparkling best and my ass was cold from the steady draft under the door. The
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thought of sitting in my warm apartment in front of the TV didn't sound all
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that bad If it hadn't been so much trouble I would've just left them by the
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side of the road and hitchhiked back
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Another car blasted by, headlights on bright, boring holes in my
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skull. It was while I was searching for a match among the old French fries,
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loose change and packs of rubbers on the dashboard that I noticed the gas
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gauge sitting on empty. This wasn't good, this was inconvenient. I'd just
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gotten myself into the driving thing, my thoughts settling someplace between
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avoiding staring at the white lines on the road, and pondering various girls
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I had almost fucked. The whole process of getting gas etc., after midnight
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in a car full of dead drunks is a lonely and irritating feeling. I didn't
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want to stop either, I just wanted to go. My eyes felt like somebody was
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rubbing ground glass in them every time I blinked I probably needed to stop,
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but the highway had me, I was in the groove, if you know how it is, and I
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didn't want think about much else.
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A billboard popped up on the shoulder advertising hot coffee and
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gasoline, three miles ahead. I had to admit, that painted cup of coffee with
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it's little wisp of steam curling off the top, somehow suggesting fried eggs
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and bacon, looked pretty good.
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The yellow and green tower, lit up like a beacon was by an off ramp
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to some little town, population five hundred and twelve. There was a big
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wooden arrow by an entrance to a truck stop where a bunch of fuel pumps
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squatted, surrounded by about ten or fifteen grimy tractor-trailers. When I
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stopped the car by one of the islands, everyone except Jake woke up.
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"Let's go over to that restaurant and get some chow!" Roy suggested,
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craning his neck for a better look at the cinder block building on our
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right. There were a couple of double-wide trailers put together to make an
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addition at one end and the entire effect under the light from a single
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mercury vapor lamp was not encouraging.
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"That ain't a restaurant asshole," Al corrected him,
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"that is a truck stop."
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"Who gives a shit! They got food; I'm starving!" Roy threw back,
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already out of the car, leaving the door open to stagger in the only
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direction that mattered. The cold breeze, probably the same one that'd
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frozen my butt previously, blowing into the boozy smelling car was pissing
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me off. Al caught up with Roy, both tucking in shirts and smoothing their
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hair in some misguided effort to look good for all the classy babes you find
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in truck stops. I managed to park near the end of a line of cars in front,
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between a four wheel drive pick-up with a full gun rack and a Dodge station
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wagon with a 'I Love Dixie' decal on the bumper. Reluctantly I followed them
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in.
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The place was jammed with customers and as far as I could tell, they
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were all Rednecks. The mixed aromas of fried food, coffee, cigarettes, cheap
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perfume and sweat along with the droning conversation to some crappy country
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music hit me as soon as I opened the door. I caught a psychic whiff of dread
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and almost backed out I'd wait in the car-- but then I heard Al slurring a
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question about toilets and I spotted Roy in one of the padded corner booths
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in the back he looked far gone. After the inevitable soured bleach blond
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waitress shoved glasses of water at us along with some greasy menus, we just
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sat there, forgotten as a week old fart. Roy tried to get her attention by
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waving his knife, but she always seemed to be at someone else's table or
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talking with the cook and generally far too busy to mess with us. I noticed
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that Al hadn't come back and immediately a vision of him passed out on the
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piss soaked floor, Pinesol and the lingering smell of a million shits his
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only companion, played in my imagination, real and undeniable. I decided to
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get him and Roy told me he'd order my "Country Breakfast" if our waitress
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came back. I wasn't real worried about missing my order, a glacier moved
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faster than she did. I guess I was getting the once over and coming up
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short, I could feel hostility, thick as toxic waste at my back while I made
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my way to the Gent's pisser. Personally I didn't think I looked any worse
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than some of the jerk-offs in cowboy hats, smoking butts sticking out of the
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corners of their sneering mouths, but I could've been wrong--must've been .
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When I went into the toilet the first thing I saw was Al passed out,
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face down on the floor just like I'd suspected. One of the good ol' boys was
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squatting by his side, going through his pockets. I considered his back for
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a short moment, taking in the boots, jeans and plaid shirt topped with a
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beefy pocked marked neck and thin blond hair sticking out of his sweaty hat.
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It was when the trucker reached down between Al's legs and grabbed him that
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I moved. The guy was so eager he didn't even hear me behind him where I
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slugged him double fisted in the back of his skull. I connected with a
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really loud, meaty noise that sort of surprised me, knocking his cowboy hat
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off and him on his ass, where his head hit the edge of the long urinal.
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Blood spurted out into the rusty trough like red piss! I laughed. I laughed
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like I wanted to beat the living shit out of the guy: Half tanked up,
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oblivious to pain, you know, I was in the right mood. The trucker was up on
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one knee, eyes squeezed shut, when I kicked him with everything I had, right
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in the face. That was a funny feeling, like kicking a pillow full of mud;
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kind of gave me the creeps but the deed was done, he was out cold. I felt
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satisfied the way his head sounded like a coconut on the cement floor when
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it hit.
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Maneuvering Al, I splashed some cold water on him, coaxing him up to
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comatose then hustled him out of there before any other asshole buddies
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showed up.
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"Let's get the fuck outta here!" I said to Roy who still hadn't been
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waited on yet. To his credit he didn't ask questions, I guess the look on my
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face and the way Al was leaning on me was enough for him. Just as he got up
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our gal showed right on cue, pad and pencil in hand.
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"Aren't you gonna order any food?" I watched the lines around her mouth
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while it twisted like she'd been sucking on a half a pound of Alum.
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"Thanks, we changed our minds.." I started to say but she'd already
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turned her skinny back on us and I was glad it wasn't more complicated.
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We'd almost made it through the door when over by the toilets I heard,
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"Don' let em get away Charlene, them two with the nigger, they beat
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Cleetus up, real bad!" I turned in time to see a fat guy in a red DECALB'
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hat, talking to Charlene, pointing in my direction. For just a second we
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made eye contact over the heads of the rednecks beginning to turn in our
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direction, and his steel piggy eyes were the color of anvils. By osmosis a
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new mood was on the room; I thought of Saurian swamp dwellers on a bad day
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and then I thought about 'Cleatus' and all of his friends two or three bulky
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plaid shapes were already moving toward us. I did not miss the details
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before we ran, like how some of them were pulling their metal watch bands
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over their fists.
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Outside, we were already rolling when I turned to catch Roy plant a
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right hook into an anonymous shape running along side of us as he hung onto
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the open front door and then we were burning rubber. In the rearview mirror
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I saw the parking lot fill with a murky pack of hopping mad truckers purple
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under the overhead lights, their angry yodeling punctuated by the rumble of
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big pickup engines revving. Stainless steel tankers, black asphalt, chain
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link fences and neon lights blurred into the snarling distance, as we lost
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them. Al, still dazed but defiant, stuck his head out screaming, "Eat shit,
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you pussies!" I thought it was unoriginal and his timing was off, and he was
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starting to argue when the distant pop of firearms and the whine of bullets
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flying past us, shut everybody up. I looked at the speedometer for a
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second one hundred and five we had to get away; there was no pleasant
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alternative. I was off the freeway at the next ramp tearing down any road
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that looked good. Soon we were traveling between barren, snow blown corn
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fields on a backstretch that didn't even have a real name; The road was
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called something like, EEE or YY-- weird.
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"Man! I'm still hungry " Roy complained
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Peeing on my boots in the dark. We were just outside of the suburbs
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and everyone had to go. I stood behind a tree looking up at the night sky
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where the stars still blazed, clean and bright up there and I wasn't at all
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sure what I was doing with these guys. Al was the only one I knew and he was
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an acquaintance. My hands throbbed dully, but for a few seconds I couldn't
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figure out why until I looked at the backs of them, slightly red and puffy,
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where I'd hit the trucker. Dimly I hoped I hadn't done too much damage
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though the part where I'd kicked the guy flashed on me in nauseating
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detail...
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The high that always follows a good piss after you've held it for too
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long was upon us and now that we were so close to the city another sign
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loomed by us: Glen Park, a major suburb--we speculated recklessly. Jake's
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plan was not brilliant but it was direct: Go to Ugly's hideout and snatch
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Johnny, whither he was willing or not. John, the youngest member of the
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group, was a man of limited experience, his condition was so obvious in his
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present determination to marry somebody who'd fucked almost everyone he
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knew. The more I thought about it the more idiotic he seemed to be my
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feelings at four thirty A.M. were mixed. I needed beer.
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I guess the monotonous drone of the car's engine and the heater blowing
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must have lulled me back to sleep. I woke up alone, stretched out in the
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backseat, mouth dry as desert sand and cotton packed. I rubbed my cheek
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where I could feel the imprint of the vinyl seat covers as I checked our
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location in front of a monstrous, sooty brick apartment building. In the
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snow-patched street, no one was in sight and except for a couple of birds on
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a pipe handrail I fixed on for a minute, nothing moved. Squinting, I checked
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my watch--it was almost six o'clock Saturday morning my mood is of the
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scratchy and irritated variety. I was thinking I'd had about enough of
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these idiots, and was wondering how much trouble it'd be to take a bus back
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when Jake and Al, towing a very despondent John between them, showed up in
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the doorway. Directly behind them fluttered, what had to be the scraggly
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'Ugly', dressed in a shapeless Baby doll night dress, despite the weather,
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and those kind of open toed slippers you always see prostitutes wearing in
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'B' movies, with the fake pink feathers on top. From the cover of the back
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seat I finally had a chance to examine her but apart from the fact that she
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had breasts, and was known for her willingness to screw anything that moved,
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she was unremarkable. Her willingness to fuck anything was probably her best
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trait. Surprisingly, she wasn't even remarkably ugly, it was just that most
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of the elements of so-called feminine beauty seemed to be missing. John
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struggled feebly, but his system, weakened by the vampiric demands of his
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'fiancee?' was no match for his friend's determination to save him. Behind
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her I heard a woman's voice, "Sarah?! what's going on?" Jesus! I thought,
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her name's Sarah? Somehow this humanizing factor to the legend of
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'Ugly-Ugly' was ruining the whole idea of the trip. For one irrational
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millisecond, I was forced to view 'Sarah' doing stuff like washing her
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dishes, pulling up her underpants, paying the rent and yes, the ultimate
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equalizer, taking a shit--basically the same kinds of stuff we all did and
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the connection was troublesome, a downer, but I didn't want to go into it.
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Jake hustled ol' Johnny into the back with me, muttering, "Fer yer
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own Goddamned good, I told him.." He oozed in unresisting, human Jello
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spreading over the seat.
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"Let's get some food?" I asked hopefully. Al grinned, dangling a
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little bag full of white powder by his face.
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"Here's breakfast dudes!" I looked through the windshield, past Al's
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hand holding up the bag and true to her alleged, blood sucking nature,
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'Sarah' stood in the shadow of the doorway, shy in the cold silver sunlight
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for a moment, then faded back out of sight like a ghost. They must've gotten
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it from her. I think that was her occupation: Speed queen.
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"Where's Roy?" I asked, watching Al chop up some chalky grains of speed
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on a little mirror.
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"He's staying. With Ugly-Ugly" Jake informed us. I heard a groan
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beside me.
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"Don' call Sarah that!" protested John, but real weak.
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"We'll get him later." Jake continued, "Tonight. Don't worry Johnny,
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when you straighten out you'll see it was the right thing, the only thing we
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could do." He was all business. "Let's get booze."
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"What's with John?" Al asked, sticking a rolled ten dollar bill up
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his nose while he eye-balled his friend on the nod. Jake seemed to feel that
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John had no problems apart from almost being fucked to death. We pulled out
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of the parking lot, floating down the city streets, miles above it all. When
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I pushed John up against the seat, (he was sagging all over the place), I
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saw fresh needle tracks. "Man! I see what he was getting married to " No
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response up front, too busy looking for a liquor store open at seven thirty
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in the morning. Johnny groped with unfocused, happy eyes at everything we
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drove by.
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The lift caught me and then the burn. I was waiting for my eyes to quit
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watering when I fixed on John's profile against the winter sky in the frame
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of the window. The speed burn made his goofy expression behind the steel rim
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glasses even more lurid if that was possible. Jake and Al were tripping
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heavily on obscure baseball games that happened when dinosaurs ruled the
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Earth. They had all the statistics, they had the dates, they knew the
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numbers. They had so many numbers and so little time, they had to eliminate
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all parts of the conversation that wasn't either some ballplayer's name and
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team, a number or the words, 'shit' and 'fuck', tossing percentages back and
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forth as fast as they could get them off their drooling lips.
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Seven Eleven, open twenty four hours: We got beer and liquor, pretzels,
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candy bars, beef jerky. We were keeping it together but the clerk was
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unimpressed suspicious--kept glancing down at something behind the counter,
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probably a gun. Soon we're back in the car, John over against the door in a
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slump. Lots of beer, shots of Four Roses on an empty stomach, almost took my
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head off worse than the Meth. I let the others rush on, we're just joy
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riding, flying low, looking for someplace to land till it was dark, everyone
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was getting nervous. Up front, they're jabbering behind the red light in
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city streets that are suddenly wide awake. Cars everywhere, people eating
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lunch through the reflection of the city buses on the plate glass going by,
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the reflections of the riders watch their own reflections the need to get to
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chillier ground is upon us heavy like neurotic dread.
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"Gaslight Square, man!" Al said out of nowhere. "That's the ticket. We could
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go there. I think there's a whorehouse close by! I've lived in this
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town for fifteen years and I know where it is at! Johnny too " He sounded
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kind of stupid and I suppose he wasn't very bright but that didn't stop a
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note of pride from creeping into his voice.
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We left John under a blanket in the back seat. Gaslight Square: We'd
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seen it and it was Historic'. Brick streets, coffee houses, shops.
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Midwestern tourists, College Joe's with white and blond city girls in fringe
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boots and love beads small clusters of military types got their civvies on
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trying to look regular, failing miserably, hustle by us in clouds of
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cigarette smoke, beer fumes, Jade East, you could smell the Testosterone
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leaking out of them like a Musk Ox herd; they have spied the young girls
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weaving through the crowd, leggy colts in knee socks and private school
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uniforms, got their skirts pulled up too high. James Taylor in the boutiques
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moaning about 'Fire and Rain' sort of made me want to puke but then we moved
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on. The atmosphere wasn't really coming through for me...
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I was getting these sort of messages or vibrations from what could've
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been extraterrestrial or possibly extra-dimensional sources, (though I
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hadn't nailed it down), telling me that nothing was conclusive. Their voice
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was a high stutter in the top of my brain; I was really getting the message.
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Tonight! Screamin' Jay Hawkins Jack's or Better One night only!' We read
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this over to ourselves, not sure how to react. There was a slightly green
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fog creeping up the streets, across the low piles of melting snow and the
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long windows on every side of us blazed a poisonous liquid Cadmium Yellow in
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a wired sunset. The sign was by an open door right in front of us, with
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steps leading down into what looked like a subterranean vault.
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It was back in a dark corner, over steins of cold beer that the deep
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space Aliens attempted contact directly into my brain, plasma transmission,
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a backdoor to the deep end of the Human thing. I sipped my beer; they
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scoured my brain. A little later, I'm sight groping around in a surge of
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music off the stage now bathed in red and blue spots like a scene out of
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Hell, and all I can take in is asses, eyeballs and colored light bouncing
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off my beer glass the faces are all pale smudges with holes in them. I was
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feeling pretty abstract and Alien myself, maybe the transfer had been
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complete and I'd become something less or more than human. This went on for
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hours until I get to the point, where I think I have temporary amnesia and I
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was sure it was from the brain drain I'd been fighting off. I gazed at the
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others sitting around the table, actually seeing them for the first time and
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my conclusion was that they were a bunch of Assholes. Those guys were
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nothing but trouble.
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Three-thirty a.m., Like a wall of irresistible meat, the club
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bouncers kicked us out, blowing our cover. We hit the frozen sidewalk on the
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jump, peeling off down the ally where the car was parked, our razor sharp
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shadows racing ahead, black Post Modern cut-outs. Behind us I heard an
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outraged voice: False alarm folks " but didn't know if that was aimed at
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something we did or not.
|
|
"Why'd you have to do it, man?" I gargled at Al; I was babbling by
|
|
this time, cranked up with chain saw intensity. Al had that bag out again
|
|
flicking at it, knocking the white stuff clinging to the sides down to the
|
|
mother load at the bottom.
|
|
"A guy's gotta go for the gold." He smirked. We were talking about
|
|
him taking a shit under one of the tables back at the club; he'd called it a
|
|
gesture of Existential futilely, but I'd seen him at work too many times it
|
|
was just something he liked to do, and he was supposed to be from a good
|
|
family too.
|
|
Johnny was barely conscious but jerked a couple of times when we
|
|
jumped in. Jake chewed his lips around a cigarette but looked more like his
|
|
old self behind the wheel, which I was beginning to understand was the only
|
|
place he ever really felt comfortable. When our eyes met in the rearview
|
|
mirror, his held the light of impending insanity. "We gotta get women." He
|
|
pronounced. "And I know just the place " John perked up at that, feeling
|
|
better.
|
|
"Yeah! Women." a man of few words. "Where we get 'em?" like he was
|
|
talking about groceries. He probably didn't even know where he was.
|
|
"Just watch out boys, and don' get in my Goddamned way " Jake growled
|
|
making a U-turn in the ally before charging out onto the main street. Jake
|
|
drove at top speed oblivious to traffic lights or insult; he was on the
|
|
Poontang trail. About fifteen minutes into some seriously suspicious
|
|
territory we ran through yet another red light, finally stopping in front of
|
|
an apartment house about midway down the block in what looked like an all
|
|
Black, middle-class neighborhood sort of an upscale ghetto. From out of
|
|
nowhere we were suddenly swamped by hookers.
|
|
"Hey Whiteboys! We got what yo' lookin' fo', oooh YEAH!" scoping us out.
|
|
Jake kept repeating "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" to anything they said.
|
|
"I get yo' nut fo' twenty dolla'," a pouty one at Jake's window,
|
|
cackled; The fully recovered John had one arm out and was making lazy scoops
|
|
in the air at her for no particular reason.
|
|
"Oh mama! You got class " Jake crooned, getting a shot of the whore's
|
|
round tits when she deliberately leaned into the open window. Get your nut,
|
|
get your nut,' never heard that one before but it was right! I dug it. Back
|
|
over on my side I catch a husky, "Sniff this baby." She lifted her
|
|
already nearly non-existent blue skirt in a bazaar dainty gesture. She was
|
|
naked, and against her dark skin her pussy was as pink and fat as a piece of
|
|
raw pork. Without dropping her dress she turned, spreading her cheeks wide
|
|
so we could get a shot at the bull's eye winking back. She eyeballed us over
|
|
one shoulder, sort of barking, "All ways " Johnny was fully operational--the
|
|
crotch of his jeans swollen and in motion; his eyes bulged like a couple of
|
|
blue grapes. Moments later, he was out of the car and nearly up the stairs
|
|
leading into the apartments, prostitute in hand. Jake, with a cigarette butt
|
|
still hanging off his lip was making arraignments himself. While his date'
|
|
watched us from the sidewalk, he steered his car, with a cool macho flip of
|
|
the wheel, to the curb and shut off the ignition.
|
|
"What about you guys?" he challenged over the front seat. I wasn't
|
|
digging this scene and neither was Al; He shook his head,
|
|
"Nothin' doing." Besides I was too sensitive, with possible Alien
|
|
Intelligence watching my every move and so on, I was not dropping my pants
|
|
any place strange.
|
|
"Thanks, you go ahead. We prefer Free-range chicken. Let me have the
|
|
keys and we'll be back in half an hour " I knew he wouldn't go for it that
|
|
fucking car was his wife but it was worth a shot.
|
|
"Oh no you don't!" He made a big deal about putting the keys in his
|
|
pants pocket. "Nobody drives my baby without me in the car" We'd heard it.
|
|
"Fuck you." Al told him in a bored voice, "We'll go find a bar." Jake
|
|
waved in our direction taking off after Johnny. That was the first time I
|
|
noticed that there were hardly any lights on in the house. Indistinct male
|
|
shapes wearing what could have been Zoot suits, lurked, watching, up on the
|
|
porch. Al and I both got the same feeling observing this scene and it did
|
|
not put my mind at ease. A couple of blocks down we could see the garish
|
|
blue-white neon of a Phillips 66 gas station and some traffic in an
|
|
intersection on the other side--without a word we headed for it.
|
|
..The two of us worked that bag over pretty good while we walked, getting
|
|
more and more frisky as we went along. At about this time, an enormous white
|
|
1960 Caddy blew by, big as a parade float we were both sure that the two
|
|
girls inside were smiling at us Al yelled at them to come back and they did,
|
|
in reverse, from half a block down. We could hardly believe our luck.
|
|
Denise and Doreen. Denise driving, she's really good looking with
|
|
long blond hair, dark eyes and big wet lips; she was giving Al the once over
|
|
and he had her number too. I got the one riding shotgun: A cute brunet in
|
|
bright pink lipstick, leather dress and fishnet stockings. I couldn't stop
|
|
looking at her legs as she sort of squirmed around messing with the radio.
|
|
Something wasn't exactly right up there in front but we were rolling, we
|
|
were pumped and my main concern was velocity. Al had the crank out again
|
|
hanging over Denis' shoulder, whispering away while she's firing a reefer on
|
|
the car's lighter. Something about the size and shape of Denis foot in her
|
|
high-heels resting on the accelerator kept dragging my attention away from
|
|
the boner I was sporting, a result of the tantalizing shots up her skirt of
|
|
Doreen's black underpants. I was getting this idea that Denise was not all
|
|
she seemed. When the two girls were busy mixing gin and tonics I pulled Al
|
|
aside, so I could tell him that his gal wasn't one. His response was
|
|
typical: "fuck off. She's mine." Doreen grinned handing me the bottle. Her
|
|
dark hair was in her face and she had white powder all over her upper lip,
|
|
looking sleazy, but after a few more shots and lines, it didn't matter.
|
|
We cruised down more streets, then we're suddenly out of the car
|
|
reeling up wooden stairs in the dim light from Art Deco style lamps on the
|
|
walls. Falling against Doreen, I I'm fighting gravity but she put my arm
|
|
around her and she smelt like dove soap. My hand slid down her back, lazy
|
|
and familiar where I maneuvered it so I can feel the side of her round right
|
|
breast through her mohair sweater. A door closes and we're in their flat:
|
|
It's another one of those buildings put up in St. Louis in the 20's--they
|
|
really dig brick. There was dark wood around an elaborate mantle and ceiling
|
|
with plaster walls giving the place a sense of old fashioned insulation. The
|
|
smell of those Mid-western buildings never changes--varnish, dusty carpets,
|
|
old plaster. The two 'girls' were busy doing stuff: making more drinks,
|
|
taking off coats and shoes etc. but then Al and Denise, giggling, go into
|
|
what must've been a bedroom, and close the door. I'm left alone, Doreen is
|
|
in the toilet. I stare around the room with bloodshot eyes till I fix on
|
|
some photos on the mantle of two little kids, boy and girl who look like
|
|
brother and sister and this stirs something unexpectedly sharp in me; I
|
|
can't get over the little kid expressions on their faces. Behind them I can
|
|
see someone's arm, probably Mom.
|
|
I'd just finished my drink when Doreen came back, taking my hand,
|
|
leading me into the bathroom asking,
|
|
"What do you want?" When I didn't reply right away, she asked,
|
|
"How do you want it..?" She slow stripped down to a cut-out bra, black
|
|
nylon pants, garter belt and stockings, her nipples were very red and large
|
|
poking through the triangular openings. She led me to the sink by my
|
|
hard-on, so she can wipe me off with a warm washcloth while I finally cop to
|
|
the idea that these two are working girls and somewhere along the line we
|
|
must've made some deal but I was fucked if I could recall where or when just
|
|
about everything before I ended up in that place was a blur really shaky.
|
|
She was on her knees trying to give me the 'blow job of my life', she
|
|
mumbled around mouthfuls and I wondered how Al was getting along. Too
|
|
scrambled to keep my mind on what she was doing so we sat on the stool,
|
|
she's on my lap, back to me, pumping away, her clipped pubic hairs, like
|
|
steel wool rubbing me raw. From the other side of the door we both heard a
|
|
loud: "Goddamn it! "
|
|
"Al must've discovered Denise's little secret." I said to her moving
|
|
back.
|
|
"How'd you know?"
|
|
"The hands, for one thing "
|
|
"It's my brother," she said matter-of-factly, without stopping her
|
|
motion. "We do tricks together sometimes. It's fun." I was feeling too hot
|
|
and clammy, I had to get to Al before he did something that'd get us jailed.
|
|
The headlines were starting to reel up in my mind .I pushed Doreen off me.
|
|
Without another word she grabbed a Terry cloth robe lying on the sink and
|
|
ran out of the room, giving me a chance to pour what was left in the Gin
|
|
bottle I'd stuck in my back pocket, over my giblets with some bogus idea
|
|
concerning VD prevention. I hoped I didn't get anything man! If I'd wanted
|
|
a case of clap I could have gotten it for free from at least two girls I
|
|
knew.
|
|
I came into the living room as 'Denise' in a red bra, ran by, one of
|
|
the biggest cocks I'd ever seen outside of a porno flick, bobbing, with Al
|
|
dressed but unzipped, on his tail ready to kick some butt. Doreen's brother
|
|
hid behind the sofa squealing incoherently while I hustled Al to the door.
|
|
We were almost into the hall when Doreen asked,
|
|
"What about our money you said you could do ten each. Al who was making
|
|
doggy noises in the back of his throat, finally growled over my shoulder at
|
|
her,
|
|
"Kill ya! I'm gonna kill ya!.." I snatched what I had in my
|
|
pockets--about six bucks--tossed them at her through the open door then
|
|
maneuvered Al back down the stairs where he pissed on the potted plant in
|
|
the lobby; This cracked him up. I guessed it just didn't get any funnier
|
|
than that for him but at least he was in a better mood.
|
|
Out on the snow covered sidewalk, apart from a rare car gliding by
|
|
silent as a UFO, our crunching boots were the only sound. We were blasted
|
|
and in no danger of becoming otherwise any time soon. I had no thoughts,
|
|
listening to our footsteps, not really caring where we went, though the
|
|
possibility of getting knifed or shot drifted in and out of my head at odd
|
|
intervals. I was hollow, no chance of Alien encroachment there no mind to
|
|
get Death-wind 2000 was where I was at, breathing in the frigid air straight
|
|
out of the crystal vacuum of space. Our shadows revealed us for what we
|
|
actually were: Shambling mutants, distorted, tweaked, rippling.
|
|
"Damn! If she hadn't had a Dick she would've been beautiful." With
|
|
just a hint of regret he summed it all up. " I should've fucked him anyway.
|
|
Yeah." He'd forgotten about me, lost in his own world.
|
|
A cold winter sky, beginning to streak with lighter traces, hung over
|
|
us with depressing monotony. We were finally heading out of the city, me
|
|
driving. Everyone was crashed hard. In the back seat, Jake and Al were
|
|
huddles under blue Air force issue blankets. Roy was against the door in
|
|
front and John was missing. When we'd finally found our way back to the car,
|
|
we'd asked Jake where Johnny was, he'd just shrugged. Pushed for details,
|
|
all we could get out of him was, "He left!"
|
|
Listening to the windy heater fan--it was blowing hot metal scented air
|
|
in my face--I examined the interior of the car imagining that it was really
|
|
the day before; The time was about the same, the setting was right. I toyed
|
|
with the idea until I'd almost fooled myself but then I remembered that John
|
|
wasn't with us; we never saw him again. I wonder where he went?
|
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
uXu #433 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #433
|
|
Call tHE MiCROLiNKS WHQ -> +32-16-356019
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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