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Sunday, April 29, 2012

Weekend At Willies Ch Eleven Hard Pan













Them Shoes   by The Eagles 








The young man sitting in the passenger seat of the old hearse kept wiping his eyes.  There was nothing to see through the windshield.  The only thing that might be seen, if the fierce rain did not occlude our view, would be cactus and Joshua trees.

Those trees would hold up their arms in a shrug. “What?  What you want?”  Joshua trees might not have the answer for you, but maybe it isn’t time to tell you their truth.


I said, “Tellesco.  What the fuck is going on with you?”



He looked back at me with hollow eyes.  “I have no fucking clue.”


Or course.


That is the way we would end up.


With out a single clue.


Great.

Now what?



The rain coursing down from the unseen clouds overhead in the depths of the desert made it hard to see.  But Tellesco knew his way home.  He pointed at the street signs, and said, “The next one on the left is my street!”


I slowed down and turned off of the old, crumbly tar onto the dirt road.  The thing about a dirt road in the desert is that when it is an ancient river valley, well, the dirt goes down only so far.



The mud of a million years of being a river bottom will become packed into a solid, impenetrable, impermeable surface when it has become a high valley desert.  The inch or so of silt will make the tires slide if one is not careful, but the tires may not get mired in mud on a dirt road, if kept clear of the dust.


The dirt goes down only so far because the eons of mud have become cement, which is known as “Hard Pan.”   It is like iron.


Across the surface of the hard pan was the desert dust, and mixed with rain, it would be slick.

We would have to continue on at a slower pace.


We had to go home, and not end up in the fig tree orchards.




We passed the occasional driveway now and then as we traveled along the rainy lane, with the hint of a purple glow above the mountains off to the side, to the east.


Tellesco grabbed my arm and I almost spun the steering wheel.  I regained control.  “Don’t do that!” I said.


His eyes freaked me out,  They looked like crazy marbles.  Dude was scared.


He said, “Mr. Will!  I really don’t want to go any further!”



I slowed the heavy hearse to a stop and put her in park.  I said, “Do you want to get out here?”


He said, “We need to turn back.  I have a cousin who can help us out.”



I shrugged his grabby hands off of my leather and swung around to look directly into his eyes.  He was refracted from the light coming in through the windshield.  He looked like a ghost of his former self.  I said, “You ain’t got no cousin who can help us out.  You just afraid, that’s all.  Have you been back here since the fires?”


He shivered.  His white claws reached for my leather.  I let him grab hold of my arm. I said, “Ain’t you got no one else to help you?”



He closed his eyes to stop the tears.  “Sh.. Sh…Sh… Sean.”


Aw, Jeebus fucking shit. 


Looked like it was only me now.  Sean was gone. 


Fuckity fuck fuck.



Fuck.



I said, “Tellesco, Sean would want us to go forward.  You know it.”  It was a gamble, but it was all I had.


His grip on my arm eased, but then it tightened again.  He said, “Don’t talk about Sean like he’s dead!”



Damn.  I didn’t know if Sean was dead or alive, but I had a feeling that he was gone.  Yet, this would have been a bad thing for Tellesco to hear.  So I said, “Sean wants you to go back here.”



Tellesco wiped his eyes with the back of one white, clawed-up hand, and he said, “How do you know?”




I said, “Because Sean ain’t afraid of nothing.  And if you want to be his friend, then you gotta man up here.  You gotta stop being a pussy and fucking deal with this shit.  Tell me I’m wrong.”


Tellesco got mad.  “I ain’t no pussy!”  He threw my arm away and he folded his clawed-up hands across his bare chest. “I ain’t no fucking pussy.”



I pulled my leather on right, and put that old bitch back into gear.  “Then shut the fuck up and stop crying,” I said.  I felt bad saying that, but he needed to stop being a whiny bitch.


He looked out of the window at nothing, and stopped his sniveling. 

About damn time.



Of course, I had no idea why he had such a hard time with going back home, but I had a clue.


I just chose to ignore it.



I was an asshole, you see.





.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Weekend At Willies Ch Ten: Drive

When I write, it’s important to me that I have a groove to hear. 

It sets the mood for my words. 

If you care to hear what I listened to when I wrote this tonight, 

go ahead, click on the video below. 

If not, no harsh on you my friend. 

We are going back to a burned house, 

thirty some-odd years ago, in the depths of a desert night, 

with heavy rain punishing a dirty, huge city that we will call Fuckno. 



A house may not be a home, but for one in particular, it was all he’d had.

It was gone. 

It had been erased from the Earth by the evil person who owned the hearse we had stolen. 








 Deep Draw, by Chris Zippel. 





 
The young man drove the stolen vehicle in fear. 


He was heading home.


This made him grip the steering wheel so hard that his fingers became numb, and his knuckles turned white.


The memories of his father began to appear in between the brush strokes of the windshield wipers.  Each frame of an old movie appeared anew, one at a time.


The movie was in black and white.  The frames showed the door to a bedroom opening, with the dim light of the hallway beyond shining over a dark figure who entered.


Quietly.


The young man’s breath came faster with each beat of his heart.


Soon, they reached the same rate as the young boy in his bed, pretending to be asleep.


Bad things were about to happen.




-   -   -   -   -   -   -



I looked over to Tellesco and noticed his white knuckles in the light that refracted back from the headlamps in the downpour.



He was hyperventilating.


I said, “Tellesco!  Take it easy!   You look like you’re about to pass out!”


He jumped and swung his face over to me.  He said, “I don’t think I can do this!”

The heavy vehicle swerved to the right and we were both tossed to the left.  His head hit the side window but he straightened up and regained control.  He slowed the iron hearse down to a stop and pulled his clenched fists away from the steering wheel.  They made a sound like pulling tape from a present.


He began to tremble, rubbing his clawed, numb fingers to get blood back into them.


I said, “Tellesco, we need to get there.  You want me to drive?”


He looked up from his fingers and nodded.  I opened my door as he slid across, and in the crashing rain, I heard sirens from far away.  There were many of them, from different areas, but none seemed to be approaching.


At least for now.



I climbed into the driver’s seat while he blasted the heat.


The windows steamed up from the rain all over my leather jacket.  He pushed the heater lever to allow for the defrost, and the window began to clear.


“Mr. Will,” he said, “I don’t think I can go back there.”


I looked in the rearview mirror for a clue. Rain washed in through the open window back there.  It was busted-out from a vehicle smashing into the rear-end.



I could see as well from behind as I could looking forward.


There was nothing at all.


I dug deep.


I said, “Maybe we shouldn’t go to your old house.  You’re taking it pretty hard.  I just don’t know where else we can go.”



Tellesco was shivering and he looked down into his hands while he rubbed them.  His breath finally slowed down.  He rubbed his knuckles, but they remained white.  There was no red.


Then he straightened up a bit.

He said, “Maybe I’m supposed to go back there.  Maybe that’s why I’m so afraid.”


I had no idea what he meant.  I looked forward into the cloud of light, refracted.


Soon, the morning would come.  Daylight might offer some answers. 


Yet, the light of the angry sun reveals all secrets.  Along with the arrival of daylight, so would come the fact that we would be seen.  We would be noticed in such an obvious sort of vehicle as a hearse.


For the moment, the black of night was a cover, a shade. 


Tellesco sussed this out, I could tell.   He said, “Drive, Mr. Will.   I’ll make do.  Let’s just go forth.”



And so we did.




Huh.





God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.







.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Weekend At Willies CH Nine Home


Frank Klepacki.  Hell March. 
                   









The Lion Man stole a vehicle and rode it out of that hospital like a bat from the fires of Hephaestus.  The tiny red Mazda truck was an older make, and probably from someone who didn’t have all that much money.

He would later tell me that it still comes back to him, even now.  You see, it was an emergency that had made the owner drive to the hostibal in the first place, and in such a mental state, they’d forgotten to lock it up after having to find a place to park it out of the way of the rest of the emergencies that would be showing up.

Someone had tragedy befall someone who mattered enough to them to eschew an ambulance ride, or perhaps it was there was no time to wait for an ambulance, whatever.


An it was evident that they didn’t have enough funds to afford a newer vehicle that would lock up and arm itself with an alarm system at the press of a key fob button.

Now their ride was stolen.  Talk about a bad day for them.



However, Joey was having a bad day.  Hell, he had been having a bad day all night.  Perhaps you will forgive him for how he abused that old vehicle.


Lion Man Sped along in panic mode (Do Not Panic, unless it is absolutely necessary) among the side streets in the black heart of Fuckno.  He’d left Saint Mary’s Hostibal just as the police cars were arriving there in response to the discovery of one of the stolen expensive vehicles from the mayhem up to the north and west.


It would have been too easy to jump back in and race away.  Too easy, as in; easily caught.


He listened to his instincts, and that is what you must always do when you are in Panic Mode.   Fight or Flee.  If you are lucky enough to have been trained hard in how to react or navigate during Panic Mode, then God Bless You.  These skills have become your instinct.


Joey had not been trained, so all that he had in his tool box was his natural self-preservation instincts, and these would serve him well.


The thing that you should know about The Little Lion Man was that in his own tool box, he was an instigator.


That would be his savior.




+   +   +   +   +   +   +  

Hello, this is Trish Tocker for KFUK-TV and I am pleased to tell you that the international news station Cable Unlimited News, or CUN as we lovingly refer to them, has picked up our story.   Apparently, the alleged amazing explosions up to the north of Fuckno and the coinciding baptism of a huge mansion at the same place are not the end of this Night Of Treachery Coming Out Of  Losers Behaving Really Awfully, or NOT COOL BRA as we are referring to it. Indeed, there is alleged evidence that some vigilantes, acting as heroes, tried to thwart the escaping stealers of cars.  Many allegedly have ended up injured in their attempts to stop them stealers.  I know!  How totally tubular that I am covering this story Leslie!  Ahem, I apologize for that.  Leslie is our excited camera man.  So we have allegedly have been told by police that everyone needs to be on the lookout for some other vehicles.  One is a Maserati Bora, and another is a horse-drawn funeral stage coach with a bright, blue horse that glows like it was on fire with blue flames, and also a long black vehicle with a circle A painted on its driver’s door.  Now back to you in the studio, where you can make a seat for me at the anchor’s desk for the nightly news, bitches!  Oh my god!  My hair is so fucked right now from the torrential downpour---



(---commercials cut in for closed fast foods joints at this early hour---)



+   +   +   +   +   +   +


Seen felt at ease.  He had been afraid of the probing and examination tools at first, but since these folks did not appear to intend to harm him, he let them do their work.  Hopefully, they would make this new vessel healthy enough for him to restart his previous work, on such a mortal plane of existence.

He lied now in his fresh, clean bed, and wondered about the amount of work it took to keep such a place this clean. He considered that their food might also be good.  This new body’s belly rumbled and gurgled in hunger. He wondered what food they might have in store for him to eat.  He wondered what weapons they might have for him to steal.

He put his arms up behind his head and looked at the ceiling and smiled.


It had been centuries since he’d last been here, and my, how things had changed, he thought.


And then a nurse came in to help him wash up.



Sleeper Agent.  Get Burned.  For Tellesco.













“Tellesco!  I have an idea!”

“Really?!  Nice!  I ain’t got any myself, Mr. Will!”






“I know, and that’s cool.  But keep driving and check this idea out.  Do you remember the way to your old place?”

“Ha!  Of course I do!  I know that route like…  Uh, wait.  You want me to drive us there?”




“Well, yes.  Just do it.  You’ll see.”

“Huh.   Well, ok, if you say so Mr. Will.”


Radical Face.  Welcome Home.  We drove to Tellesco’s home.  This is for him, wherever he may be now.  Hope he’s doing well.




He drove the huge black hearse without saying anything at all.  The rain that pounded the wind shield with its angry knuckles covered our shared silence.  I stared out of the passenger window, trying to be cool, but all I could see was my own fraught face staring back, lit from the watery light of the headlamps refracted back upon us from the rain.


Ya know, it took something to drive back to the home that he grew up in and was now gone.  No matter what had happened to him there, no matter what had become of it, the place we were heading towards had once been his home.


And because of what had happened to it, he had lost Home.



Looking back, I think that was why he held on to Sean so strongly.


Sean was his Home.



Home was were Sean was.




And now, Sean was gone.


Seen was in his place.




Seen was a Walkin.



Sorry about that Tellesco.



Damn.




God Help You.


God Help Us All.




---willies out.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Weekend At Willies Ch Eight R U Mine?


Arctic Monkeys. Are You Mine?




 
The Little Lion Man pulled out all of the stones from the pockets of his leather jacket and placed them into two piles just in front of him.  As he kneeled, he heard sirens off in distance grow louder.

The rush of adrenaline flooded his veins.  He smiled. 


He grabbed handfuls of those stones and threw them will all of his might, from his left hand and his right, aiming for the furthest ones away on the second level of the parking garage. 

The second level was not like the lowest one, because the exit path had a downward grade to it.  It was not level at all.


As his arms grew exhausted from each winged motion of his arms, he grabbed the last handfuls and ran down between the two rows of these parked cars.  


Many of these vehicles awoke from their slumber with fright and alarm.   Some did not.  He pelted the quiet ones with his stones and almost all of them joined the rest in their obnoxious chorus.

He turned around and saw that seven were still silent.


He ran back towards his starting point, looking left and right.  He ignored the sleeping vehicles that looked to be expensive.  Those would be difficult to hard-wire.


He saw one particular pick-up truck, and it was a Mazda.  He grinned and ran towards it.  This was the One.  This small vehicle would be his savior, his escape pod.


He fingered her button and pulled on the door handle, and she opened up.


He reached in and pulled the stick shift out of gear, and released the parking brake handle and then threw himself to the floor of the diver’s side foot well.


On his back, he felt around under the dashboard for the wires plugged into the ignition chassis.  He would need only the brown one and the red one. 


He yanked all of the wires from the ignition chassis and pulled them out into view, and saw the two he needed via the bright lights of the flashing and honking vehicles in the whole side of this second level.  He twisted the brown and the red wire tips together, and the there came a sound of rapid clicking from the engine compartment. 


He jumped back up and pushed the small Mazda out of its parking space and turned the steering wheel towards the downward grade.


Exit and escape.


Gravity got that small pick-up rolling, so he hopped back in held down the clutch, and threw the stick shift into first gear.


The brown wire on a 1982 Mazda pick-up leads to the alternator, and that is what provides the engine with electrical juice.  He knew that he could jump start the truck before the condenser and points got fried.


She awoke when he let go of the clutch petal.  She chugged and coughed, and then he gave her some fuel.


The Little Lion Man roared with delight.
He pulled out of the parking garage of the hostibal and did not head to the exit.  Instead, he drove down to a side street, where the service vehicles went in their daily visits to the supply docks.  He followed this dimly-lit route to the safety of escape, just as police cars entered the parking area from behind.


Once he drove past the loading docks, he flicked on the head lamps to the Mazda truck.


The Lion Man had flown the coop, you see.



+   +   +   +   +   +   +



The cold bars pressed against Bryan’s back as he stared down at the metal bunk that was bolted to the wall.  His shadow flickered and wavered before him on the floor from the watery blue light of the lamp posts outside that shined through the silky fingers of rain streaming across the bullet-proof double panes.

His sentence was not quite as long as that previous one. 

Bryan would be released from jail in thirty six hours, but it was not soon enough.


He knew that some very bad things had happened, and these were not quite the same as the previous ones, but they were related to them.


He also felt, in his bones, something else.


It was the pain of an old man who witnesses the change of the weather in his joints.


His friend had died.



And now, she was whispering to him in his icy, cement cell.  


It was an alliterance of sibilance.


+   +   +   +   +   +   +


Tellesco drove that iron casket like a demon form hell.   He had this look in his eye that showed me his resolve.   I’d told him that Sean would be Ok, that he was in the company of help.


But really, I had no clue about that.


I had no fucking clue at all.



It seemed to me that Sean was different now.  I had witnessed his change, and I knew for certain that those who were now attending to his wounds would soon discover that the young dude was not quite right in his head.



He had taken a bump to the noggin



When you have been hit in the front left cerebral cortex, you may experience a change in your personality.  A hit on the right side may cause you to become erratic, without logic.


But if you get hit hard enough on the top…


…well, your brain wiring may become re-negotiated.


You may open up your portal to allow in a Walkin, and you will have to simply take a back seat, in your own head, if you are still there.



I didn’t know any of this at the time, but we would all find out.



It was because of all the shit that happened after.



-   -   -   -   -   -   -  



“Hello, this is Trish Tocker, and we have some news for you folks who are up all night.  Evidently, one of the cars that was stolen from this awesome explosions up to the north of Fuckno where I am currently getting all wet has appeared at a hostibal that we are not allowed to name, due to the newness of this news, but it rhymes with “Maint Sary’s.”   Evidently, the driver dropped off the body of a dead girl, and then he left on foot.  Police are now on the lookout for this mass-murderer and perhaps his cohorts.  Please stay tuned.  We will show you images of  everything as soon as we can get them.  Back to you in the studio, so you folks there can do some anal-is-sees, which is a circle-jerk that involves back rubs and unfounded conclusions that will all make us feel better about ourselves until the truth comes out.”







Huh.




God Help You.



God Help Us All.





---willies out.














Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Weekend At Willies Ch Seven: Berry Stones

.





Spoon. Don’t You Evah. This excellent version was put up by FatBoyGang. Thank you Sir.









The Little Lion Man Joey searched for a flat roof nearby. All were out of reach. Those, you know, hold many stones upon them. They add weight to a flat roof’s waterproof covering to keep it secure. He could use those stones to awaken sleeping cars. He would chuck them over the cars to set off their alarms for his escape.


He ran up to the top level of the parking garage and looked around at the nearby structures. They were all out of reach, unless one could fly across alleyways like a badass, but fake.

He roared in his disappointment and whipped around to bail on his plan.


Then he saw the flat roof atop the stairwell-elevator structure he'd just come from.



Huh.



Joey grinned.


He could clamber atop it, harvest his stone berries, and then run down to the lowest level, nearest the main exit, and cast his seeds far and wide. He would be like Johnny Appleseed, planting a crop of screeching cars.



+ + + + + + +



Seen eyed the devices that the doctor had around him. One hung from his neck on both sides, with a grabbing-sort of thing affixed to one end, and a silver medallion on the other.



Sean said, “Excuse me, young man, what do you intend to grab with that contraption?”


The doctor looked to the stethoscope that Seen pointed at. He pulled it off his neck and put the earpieces in his ears. He held out the other end. He said, “This is to listen to your heart.” He felt looked at the teenager in front of him and wondered why the boy had called him a young man.



Seen’s eyes widened. “How do you get it into my chest?”



The doctor laughed and shook his head. Such a curious teen. “With this, I can hear your heart without any bodily intrusion. I will not be injuring you at all.”



Seen exhaled. “Thank goodness. I thought you wanted answers from me or something.”



The doctor smiled back at the large teen, but this odd exchange between them made him wonder about the mental state of the boy. He had indeed taken a blow to the noggin.





+ + + + + + +



Bryan shivered. He backed away from the metal cot and held his breath.


He could hear nothing. Nothing called to him from the depths of blackness and despair. There was nothing there, and it chilled his hackles to the bone.


Death is nothing. It is nothing at all, but it is not empty there.



- - - - - - -



Tellesco got that heavy iron beast rolling hard, and then he shouted over the howl of the powerful engine. “Where are we headed Mr. Will?”



I had no clue. “I can’t take you back to my place in this hearse! Maybe we could go to yours?”



He thought for a moment and then looked down at his naked state, and then back to me with sad eyes.



His parents would wonder about that. We would need to clothe him first.



But how? Where? And then what?



Tellesco flicked on the radio and found his favorite station. His favorite 80’s song was playing, and he began to hop about while he drove, singing along. The leather squeaked against his bare ass and man junk. Gross.




La Roux. In for the kill.








- - - - - - -




“Hello, this is Trish Tocker for KFUK-TV with a bulletin for you about the great explosions up to the north of Fuckno. Details are coming in here about a series of car crashes up beyond the drowned mansion and its exploded car garage. Police are now on a man-hunt for the folks who caused all of this damage. There might have been some people killed in the car crashes. I mean, like, totally Wow! I promise you, I will not be leaving this awesome news story. I’ll be here all night and I’ll keep you informed! Back to you in the studio, so you can run the footage of this disaster over and over again! I think we may even get coverage by Cable Unlimited News! CUN! Yay!”




+ + + + + + +



Bryan exhaled and shook out his arms. He reasoned with himself. It was all nonsense. He simply had the willies, that was all. Nothing was nothing. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.




He went back to his cot and sat down and it was cold there and his neck hairs rose right the fuck up and his eyes got watery with fear.



He jumped back up.




“What the FUCK is your Problem?!”





In the cold silence of his jail cell, he heard sibilance just below the threshold of hearing.





“…shhhhhh…”




“…it’sssss…”




“…ok…”






He about jumped out of his skin.









God Help You.


God Help Us All.





---williesssssss out.












Antidote:


Here’s theWhiteRabbits. Heavy Metal.








Director, Producer, Editor, Cinematographer: Andrew Droz Palermo




That was sublime, Palermo. Do more.






.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Weekend At Willies Chapter Six: Sibilance

Birds Of Paradise, by Rumspringa.

Dirty Boots London has the only full version of it in all the intertubes.

Right-click on this link if you would like to hear it in a new tab.

It'll auto-play once, but other songs will follow.








Joey found himself full of adrenaline. He had no ride, but he had game. This little lion man could untie any knot that presented itself to his face. He was an instigator, and that would always be his super-power.


He hid and waited for the hostibal constable to stop chasing him, and while he crept down low behind many locked and secured vehicles, he knew that one of them would hold the key to his escape. The fear of alarm held him back. There would be no way to test each door one at a time and risk the car becoming alarmed, and flashing its lights and honking like an angry or frightened goose.



But what if every one of them was alarmed? Being the little instigator that he was, he decided to alarm all of them.

At once.

And then, there would be one or two who stuck out in the crowd because their owner had not locked them up. Sometimes, folks who park in the emergency lot of a hostibal have other things on their minds.


Once all of the cars were alarmed, he would not have long before someone would take notice and come see what all of the ruckus was. So he would have to find a car that was unlocked, and then he would have to try to start it, and he would not have much time at all.


+ + + + + + +



The young man went back to his iron cot and sat down. It was going to be a long night. The hiss of a death rattle echoed over and over in his brain. That is what the last exhale of a dead person sounds like. He was not going to be able to get back to sleep.



In his mind, he heard the sibilance of soft whispering from the lips of someone who held his memory intact, and she was gone. He knew it. He felt it in his bones.



Katheena was a dead girl.


“…Bryan…”


He jumped up and swung around. Someone had whispered his name in his ear.




It sounded like her.





+ + + + + + +



“It seems that your friend has left you here alone.”



“My friend? Oh, yes, that naked Tellesco chap. Did he tell you to where he was headed?”





“Tellesco? Is that his name?”


“Yes, it is. He said that he is my best friend.”



“Well, I don’t know why someone would leave his best friend alone in a strange place to fend for himself when he was incapacitated.”




“Yes, this is a strange place, indeed. But I’m certain he will be back. I could see it in his eyes. He would never leave Sean alone without help. Are you going to help me?” Seen looked up into the nurse’s eyes.



She nodded. “Don’t you worry, we will help you. You are out of danger.”


Seen smiled at her. She seemed to be telling the truth. He was happy that he was there, in a brightly lit place, when for so long, it had been all a black hole, and he had been awaiting his freedom. He had things that needed to be done.

He would get them done.


He had his own agenda.



+ + + + + + +



Tellesco screamed at me in surprise as I yanked that heavy hearse door open, and then he said, “Mr. Will! I thought it was all over for me! What’s going on?!”



“Drive.” I slammed the door shut and looked him right in the eye. “Sean is getting help. Now you need to get this bitch right the fuck out of here.”


Tellesco’s lip began to tremble. “Leave Sean here alone? But he’s hurt!”



I would have grabbed him by the lapels if he had been wearing any clothes. “Sean is safe. Now fucking drive.”


Tellesco wiped his tears and he put that iron beast into gear. “Ok. If you say so.”


Best thing he could have said.



We were gone.



God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Weekend At Willies Chapter Five: Admissions

.





Problems. By Salmonella Dub.







“You lost him? Did you see where he went?”



“Yeah!” (Wheeze) “He ran into the parking structure.” (Cough cough) “He’s probably hiding on one of the levels.” (Wheeze)





“You Ok, Freddie? You gonna make it?”


“I’m Ok. (cough) I radioed the Police. They said they on the lookout (wheeze) for some stolen cars from that explosion up north. (Wheeze) That fancy sports car he brought the dead girl in looks like it might be one of them.” (Cough, wheeze.)






“Hell, he’s not hiding. That boy is gone, Freddie. Gone.”





+ + + + + + +





“What is your name?”



“My name is Sean now, evidently.”


“Excuse me? Sean Noffidently? How do you spell that?”






I leaned over Sean and looked into the Admissions nurse’s eyes. “He’s taken a bump on the noggin.”



She looked up into my eyes and said, “It’s quite evident. His head is bald and sooty with a big cut on top and he smells like burnt hair. He has dried blood all over his neck.”


I didn’t like her tone. She eyed me up and down, and noticed my right hand. It was covered with dried red paint. She said, “Did you do this to him?”



Her hand reached for the phone. I said, “No. I helped him. This is paint on my hand.”



Her hand came back from the phone and she turned back to Sean. “We will get your insurance information after you have been seen by the doctor.”



She looked back up at me. “Can you tell me his next of kin and their contact information?”






Oh.





I remembered the last time I’d met his folks in the hostibal, and it was all about Sean back then as well. It was not such a good visit.




“Yeah, I can give that info to you.” I looked over my shoulder to see if Tellesco was still out there. Gawdamn it, he was. He was idling there in the huge black hearse. I turned back to the nurse and saw that she was waiting with an impatient look in her eyes. So I told her what she needed to know.




She told me to “wait here” as she directed the orderly to wheel Sean over to the corridor down to one of the examination rooms.





I stood up, turned around and walked straight the fuck out of there.




My heart was racing along from the desert dust I’d inhaled moments before arriving to West Clovis Medical Center.



Tellesco was the naked chauffeur of the hearse.





+ + + + + + +



The dead girl had lived long enough to cause Joey to drive away from the car crashes that would have killed him. He drove her south to the nearest hostibal in Fuckno, trying to save her.


She had left us.


So had Sean.



But someone else had come back. He was a Walkin.




+ + + + + + +




Joey had driven the dead girl to the hostibal in a very expensive car and it was the car that was the connection to the explosions up north. This matters.




Here is a picture of such a car. It was a Maserati Bora, if you recall.










+ + + + + + + +




“Hello, this is Trish Tocker for KFUK TV’s “On The Scene,” and I am here at yet another great explosion up in the north side of our lovely city of Fuckno! We have a huge mansion that’s been drowned in the desert, and the explosions came from a parking garage that burned down and left millions of dollars of damage from the melted and exploded classic cars inside, except, get this: four are missing! Yes, there are four of these cars somewhere out there, driven by car thieves. So be on the lookout for these cars, and there will be pictures of them when our news program starts at 5 AM. Back to your regularly scheduled pre-paid program.”




Huh.



God Help You.



God Help Us All.



---willies out.










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