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Wednesday, July 4, 2012

The Walkin Killings Pt 9 No Eyes Man



Jump Into The Fog, by The Wombats.





Seen set the One Eyed Man next to the table, across from Sven.

Sven was missing several toes, and also the skin of each hand, all the way around and over them both.


He was also missing something else.






His life.





Seen considered that he had used too much powder from one of Sven’s curious brown bottles.  He yanked the tiny ampoule of smelling salts out from the singed eyelid of the poor fellow before him and he sniffed it.


It made his eyes water. 


That was good, so to speak.


He shook it a little bit, and stuffed it up into the One Eyed Man’s left nostril.  Then he punched the man in the nose.



“Wake The Fuck Up!”



The street-person woke up.


He began to scream.



Seen grabbed him by his stinky hair and hissed at him, “Mind the neighbors.  You need to be a bit more considerate of them.  They have jobs and they need to work to eat.”



The One Eyed Man looked down at his arms, bound to the arms of the chair that held him.   He was quite groggy, which is an old Scottish term that means, “Too much Grog.” You know, Grog is another word for becoming overly intoxicated from lager, ale, or other intoxicants.  The One Eyed Man was overly intoxicated from a full bottle of green bottle lager laced with a bit of powder from one of the brown bottles.




He was slipping away again.



Seen smacked him in the head with the lovely metal eyeball-extractor and pressed it into his remaining eye.  The poor fellow howled in pain.


He set the pistol down away from the man, near the dead man's skinless hands, and he picked up the stiletto knife.



Seen said, “I am going to take this other eyeball of your head out and swallow it, so I can see what you have been doing here all this time.”


The One Eyed Man woke up and he screamed. 



Seen said, “I told you to not wake the neighbors.”   Then he grabbed the man by his stinky hair and inserted the knife into his eye socket.  "Hold still."


The poor fellow howled and passed out from the white hot pain.



The nerves of the eye can feel pain, but the optic nerve at the back of the eyeball cannot.  It senses pain only in light, for that is its purpose, and when it is cut, pain is a blinding, white hot explosion in your brain.





Seen pulled the eyeball out of the poor man’s skull and considered it.  The sliced muscles all about it spurted blood, and this small fragment of sight looked like a tiny creature escaped from the depths of Hell.


Indeed, it appeared somehow comforting to Seen.



He filled his mouth with green-bottle lager and tilted his head back, and then he stuffed the eyeball down his throat, swallowed it along with the mouthful of beer.


It stuck in his esophagus, and this took some mindfulness to not panic, but instead, to allow the contractive muscles of the throat relax, let it pass, and then do their work.


Best for you, when you are choking, is to not try to swallow. It is best to cough.


You know when you are about to choke, we all do.


Pay attention here.


Stop being "cool" and worrying about causing a scene.


You must always fight for your life.


Fuck "manners."



When you are about to choke: pause, no more swallow, and softly intake air, if you can.


Get a lung-full.



Then cough, and it should come back out.  Is there anything you can grab to pull back out?



That's the first step, baby.


Second step is the Heimlich procedure, which involves the embrace of the arms of someone else, across the belly, below the ribs, or the back of a chair, to help you puke it out.


If that doesn't work, find someone who can perform an emergency tracheotomy. It may be You.



If you want to live, you can breathe though a hole in your throat, below the Adam's Apple, where the ribs of cartilage can be felt.


Feel for it now.


This can save you, my friend.



Just keep the air-hole in your throat open.






Ahem (cough)...




So,



Seen didn’t care if he died, and such a posture will make a man quite dangerous, but he had already invested quite a bit of time and effort into this short window of opportunity for his agenda.


If the Walkin "died," well, he would simply bide his time for the next visit here.



Such a posture as this will make a Walkin eternal.



Seen poured more lager into his mouth, and he forced the eyeball further down.




The eyeball went down into his gullet, whole.



Then he began to experience what the No Eyed Man had been up to doing.



He began to see, in his head.



It connected him to this living man before him.


And now, the Walkin was addicted to two things, which were these.



One:  Torture.



Two: Crack.





Never the two should meet.



It makes for a very horrible sort of experience.



It will become a horrible thing to "see."





"See" you on the weekend, my friend.







God Help You.


God Help



Us All.


---willies out.



.








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