.
Gemini. Blue
The giant black horse with the flaming blue mane began his descent to the bottom of the crater, following a trail that had been rutted eons ago. The wheels of the black carriage fit them grooves like a marriage made in heaven.
The reins to this horse were held by an angry cowboy preacher who wore a broken set of eyeglasses; one lens broken down the half by a bullet that had killed him a century ago when it entered his brain.
Glinty McFlintlock had some business to tend to. He would not be thwarted.
= = = = = = = = =
“Sean! What the fuck?! Wake up dude!” I grabbed Sean’s arms and brought him straight up. His eyelids fluttered and he looked at me with one eye, and the other one wandered off to the other side.
“Willie Boy, let me alone. Sleepy…”
He wandered off into his dream again. His eyes closed, and I felt a disconnection, a sort of release in his shoulders.
He was going away. I would not have it. I shook his shoulders over and over again, but he would not respond.
He was taking the next flight out, ticket bought, security check cool, buckle up and let’s go through the pamphlet in the seat pocket in front of you. Locate the nearest exit, it may be right behind you.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Tellesco knew his ride. He knew that his fat, chunky tires could get him out of the desert silt and back onto the road, the path ahead, if he didn’t drive like a dumb-ass. He would not spin his tires. He needed to feel the response of his bitch, and so he drove bare-footed.
When you drive in such a manner, you are connected to your vehicle. You two are wedded. You know when to ease off her accelerator, and when to tickle her fun button.
All good marriages are this way. It is give and take. When you give her some good thrusting, she will take what ever you want to give her, and she will deliver the both of you to the moon.
+ + + + + + + + + +
Fat Jerry had his hands full. The lump was in bad shape. The blood from the top of his head was ruining the fine velvet in the back of Fat Jerry’s hearse.
And he had yet to go and get the other lump. All he wanted to do was to meet those folks who raced along, coming closer. He felt something about them.
They called to him.
They could dance quite well. They would love to dance with him. They were worthy adversaries. They had plenty of bones to snap. And they wanted to snap his bones.
This could be quite a lot of fun.
By now, you know that Fat Jerry was the sort of person who could not deny his true nature.
He sat in his front seat, and he looked in his rearview mirror.
Through the downpour of rain, he saw them lights grow brighter. Hunger for pleasure crawled across his scalp with the purple mohawk, and down his neck, across his back, down his arms, across his chest, down his belly, and…
…well…
..he got the willies.
= = = = = = = = =
Glinty McFlintlock reigned in his steed. They had arrived. The old shack glinted a flickering oil-lamp in the window, and smoke wafted out of the chimney. Home, sweet home.
He jumped down, took his old preacher-style cowboy hat off, and swung it against his thigh to clean it off. Then he stalked over to the side of the carriage.
His horse snorted and breathed heavy. Mayhem was done for the night.
Glinty grabbed the door handle, twisted and clicked it open, and looked deep inside.
“Well hey there you young whipper thnapperth! How ya doing?”
I looked back at him from Sean and almost jumped out of my skin.
A ghost was talking to me.
On the surface of the moon.
I could not conceive of this. It was incontheivable.
I pulled Sean’s limp body back up, close to me.
“Please help us.”
Glinty, well, he nodded.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
I publish these tales here on this site every weekend as mental escape. Enjoy them, but do not steal them. If you do, I will come to your window while you are sleeping, my friend.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
170 Splashdown : : : Weekend At Willies TDC WEAW
.
The music included in this chapter is essential to this part of the tale. These were found on youtube by my Lady. Thank you very much, Lisa.
B. B. King. Blues Boys Tune. Yup. The King’s sound on his Lady Lucille. man....
The black horse with the flaming blue mane crested the rim of the moon crater and sought the downward spiral trail into the crater to the floor below.
The ghost girl with the mane of blue fire that once stretched a hundred miles up into the night sky was helping the weakest member of our group.
Blues figure deeply. Here’s why:
A dream? A coma? What was it? Certainly, a coma or dream is not shared by another person at the same time.
Perhaps I was dreaming alone, and I was imagining that Sean was there too.
That was it.
Of course it was.
Well, in that case, onward to the moonshot, baby, and then let’s go check out Saturn, the coolest planet in the solar system, if you ask me.
Giddy Up, Yippee Kai-O, Get along little doggie, Let’s go.
--------------O----------------
Tellesco climbed into his own rocket ship and splashed down in the bucket seat. The cold rain water shriveled his balls up into his torso, and he jumped back up, charley horsing his thighs on the steering wheel.
“Boo Hoo!” He wiped his eyes, but they were beyond drying. If he’d been a chick wearing eye make-up, it would have been all washed away weeks ago on this night.
What a fucking awful night for him. He wanted to go and take a warm bath and play with his submarine. He wanted to slip into his footie jammies and snuggle in his huge bed with the down comforter and down pillows and Mr. Buns his floppy bunny and not wake up until he smelled bacon cooking.
Fuck this awful night. Nothing but a bad dream. What happened in the top floors of that mansion was a blur. It reminded him of other things that were also a blur, and that was all, nothing else, nothing left to see, move along folks.
He felt the hand on his shivering right bicep and he stopped his whimpering and looked down. She glowed with a bluish tint in the downpour. Her white hair seemed to float about her head like she was underwater. Her smile warmed his cockles. He wanted chust one kiss from her…
He looked at the headlights glowing from the side of the road to over here, where he stood in his Jeep.
Sean.
He had to go back for Sean.
Of course he did.
Etta James. I’d Rather Go Blind. Rest well, you lovely angel with the strong, beautiful voice.
Tellesco looked down at the pretty ghost girl and smiled at her. She slowly nodded and then looked back to the road, back to the car crashes. He really wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t want to, because he felt that if he did she would disappear. If he kissed her, he would wake up.
What if she woke up?
Maybe she was the dreamer, and he was only a figment of her dream?
What if she woke up, and everything, our tiny blue marble, her sister the moon, the angry, accusing sun, and all the planets (even Saturn?) they all dissipated and faded away into a forgotten dream?
That would suck.
The rain felt so friggin cold. How realistic, for a dream? How could a dream feel so real?
He decided, there and then, that he would not kiss her until after he became the Hero.
For once, he would be the Hero, and then afterwards, he would make a move on this beautiful apparition who sat below him in her own bucket seat.
She was strapped in for the ride. She would never leave her seat.
She would go to the depths of the ocean in her seat. She would sit in her seat until the ocean crumbled it into fine silt, there at the bottom of the sea.
The water currents would carry the particles across the globe.
The particles would wash up on shore, and mingle with the bits of shell, granite, and different colored glass from sunken cruise ships, drowned airliners that never made it to France or their passengers to Germany beyond, and broken beer bottles all eroded down to miniscule size from rubbing up against each other in their eternal night club dance to the beat of the ocean’s waves.
You know, all of the Earth's deserts were once oceans. Each of them was once the bottom of their sea.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, it's all the same thing.
Fuck it, he thought, after you are drenched to a certain point, you chust can’t get any wetter.
He splashed back down and buckled his own seat belt like a good boy. He ignited his rocket ship, and looked one last time into her eyes. For the first time this night, he chust wasn’t so sad anymore.
Chust don’t vant you to be ssso sad.
Huh.
But you should know that Lorelei’s ghost wasn’t leaving him any time soon.
Lucky bastard.
Little Walter and the Night Cats. Boom Boom. Out Go The Light
Fat Jerry snapped his knuckles in his fingerless gloves, (you knew he’d be wearing those friggin things) and he could not keep himself from grinning ear to ear.
Someone was coming to tea.
Except, he had to take care of the lumps.
Well, fuck the lumps. They were all snuggled in for a nice desert nap, and he could go and make some new friends. These ones would be quite bone- snappity snap snap fun to play with.
He looked back down at the lump in the car with the crushed roof.
His grin faded.
Fuck. Fuck it to hell. Shit. Fuck shit. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.
He sighed, his shoulders slumped, and then he swore softly as he bent back into the ride to drag the lump out and place him in the back of the hearse.
Shitfuck.
--------------O----------------
Sean steadied himself against the side of the ghost carriage. “Whoah. Almost slipped off the moon there!”
I looked over at him from the window. “Hah?”
He put a hand to the top of his head. “I don’t think I’m doing all that well. I feel…”
I went over and sat next to him on his own bench seat. “Let me check your head.”
He bent towards me, and I saw that the top of his head was sticky with matted hair and clotted blood. “Sean, you look like you took one hell of a hit to the top of your noggin. What the fuck happened to you?”
He slowly straightened back up. “I was playing chicken. Looks like I lost, huh. So, is this Heaven? Seems kind of fucked up if this is Heaven.”
I shrugged. “At least there ain’t no fires!”
He laughed and tried to keep his head steady. “Man. I think I should lie down for just a second…”
Something in the back of my mind told me to keep him awake. I didn’t know what was telling me that, but it seemed very important. Maybe I was remembering that when you had a concussion, you should not take a nice nap for a while.
You could slip into permanent unconsciousness.
A coma.
Of course, this was all a dream, and I was dreaming it. I could just let him take a nice nap, and that would be the end of it. Then I could step out and go play on the surface of the moon for a while. Go cave exploring or someshit.
The voice at the back of my mind screamed, “You Fucking Lump! Don’t Fucking Die on me!”
Then Sean slumped sideways, and he fell against the side of the carriage.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
The music included in this chapter is essential to this part of the tale. These were found on youtube by my Lady. Thank you very much, Lisa.
B. B. King. Blues Boys Tune. Yup. The King’s sound on his Lady Lucille. man....
The black horse with the flaming blue mane crested the rim of the moon crater and sought the downward spiral trail into the crater to the floor below.
The ghost girl with the mane of blue fire that once stretched a hundred miles up into the night sky was helping the weakest member of our group.
Blues figure deeply. Here’s why:
A dream? A coma? What was it? Certainly, a coma or dream is not shared by another person at the same time.
Perhaps I was dreaming alone, and I was imagining that Sean was there too.
That was it.
Of course it was.
Well, in that case, onward to the moonshot, baby, and then let’s go check out Saturn, the coolest planet in the solar system, if you ask me.
Giddy Up, Yippee Kai-O, Get along little doggie, Let’s go.
--------------O----------------
Tellesco climbed into his own rocket ship and splashed down in the bucket seat. The cold rain water shriveled his balls up into his torso, and he jumped back up, charley horsing his thighs on the steering wheel.
“Boo Hoo!” He wiped his eyes, but they were beyond drying. If he’d been a chick wearing eye make-up, it would have been all washed away weeks ago on this night.
What a fucking awful night for him. He wanted to go and take a warm bath and play with his submarine. He wanted to slip into his footie jammies and snuggle in his huge bed with the down comforter and down pillows and Mr. Buns his floppy bunny and not wake up until he smelled bacon cooking.
Fuck this awful night. Nothing but a bad dream. What happened in the top floors of that mansion was a blur. It reminded him of other things that were also a blur, and that was all, nothing else, nothing left to see, move along folks.
He felt the hand on his shivering right bicep and he stopped his whimpering and looked down. She glowed with a bluish tint in the downpour. Her white hair seemed to float about her head like she was underwater. Her smile warmed his cockles. He wanted chust one kiss from her…
He looked at the headlights glowing from the side of the road to over here, where he stood in his Jeep.
Sean.
He had to go back for Sean.
Of course he did.
Etta James. I’d Rather Go Blind. Rest well, you lovely angel with the strong, beautiful voice.
Tellesco looked down at the pretty ghost girl and smiled at her. She slowly nodded and then looked back to the road, back to the car crashes. He really wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t want to, because he felt that if he did she would disappear. If he kissed her, he would wake up.
What if she woke up?
Maybe she was the dreamer, and he was only a figment of her dream?
What if she woke up, and everything, our tiny blue marble, her sister the moon, the angry, accusing sun, and all the planets (even Saturn?) they all dissipated and faded away into a forgotten dream?
That would suck.
The rain felt so friggin cold. How realistic, for a dream? How could a dream feel so real?
He decided, there and then, that he would not kiss her until after he became the Hero.
For once, he would be the Hero, and then afterwards, he would make a move on this beautiful apparition who sat below him in her own bucket seat.
She was strapped in for the ride. She would never leave her seat.
She would go to the depths of the ocean in her seat. She would sit in her seat until the ocean crumbled it into fine silt, there at the bottom of the sea.
The water currents would carry the particles across the globe.
The particles would wash up on shore, and mingle with the bits of shell, granite, and different colored glass from sunken cruise ships, drowned airliners that never made it to France or their passengers to Germany beyond, and broken beer bottles all eroded down to miniscule size from rubbing up against each other in their eternal night club dance to the beat of the ocean’s waves.
You know, all of the Earth's deserts were once oceans. Each of them was once the bottom of their sea.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, it's all the same thing.
Fuck it, he thought, after you are drenched to a certain point, you chust can’t get any wetter.
He splashed back down and buckled his own seat belt like a good boy. He ignited his rocket ship, and looked one last time into her eyes. For the first time this night, he chust wasn’t so sad anymore.
Chust don’t vant you to be ssso sad.
Huh.
But you should know that Lorelei’s ghost wasn’t leaving him any time soon.
Lucky bastard.
Little Walter and the Night Cats. Boom Boom. Out Go The Light
Fat Jerry snapped his knuckles in his fingerless gloves, (you knew he’d be wearing those friggin things) and he could not keep himself from grinning ear to ear.
Someone was coming to tea.
Except, he had to take care of the lumps.
Well, fuck the lumps. They were all snuggled in for a nice desert nap, and he could go and make some new friends. These ones would be quite bone- snappity snap snap fun to play with.
He looked back down at the lump in the car with the crushed roof.
His grin faded.
Fuck. Fuck it to hell. Shit. Fuck shit. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.
He sighed, his shoulders slumped, and then he swore softly as he bent back into the ride to drag the lump out and place him in the back of the hearse.
Shitfuck.
--------------O----------------
Sean steadied himself against the side of the ghost carriage. “Whoah. Almost slipped off the moon there!”
I looked over at him from the window. “Hah?”
He put a hand to the top of his head. “I don’t think I’m doing all that well. I feel…”
I went over and sat next to him on his own bench seat. “Let me check your head.”
He bent towards me, and I saw that the top of his head was sticky with matted hair and clotted blood. “Sean, you look like you took one hell of a hit to the top of your noggin. What the fuck happened to you?”
He slowly straightened back up. “I was playing chicken. Looks like I lost, huh. So, is this Heaven? Seems kind of fucked up if this is Heaven.”
I shrugged. “At least there ain’t no fires!”
He laughed and tried to keep his head steady. “Man. I think I should lie down for just a second…”
Something in the back of my mind told me to keep him awake. I didn’t know what was telling me that, but it seemed very important. Maybe I was remembering that when you had a concussion, you should not take a nice nap for a while.
You could slip into permanent unconsciousness.
A coma.
Of course, this was all a dream, and I was dreaming it. I could just let him take a nice nap, and that would be the end of it. Then I could step out and go play on the surface of the moon for a while. Go cave exploring or someshit.
The voice at the back of my mind screamed, “You Fucking Lump! Don’t Fucking Die on me!”
Then Sean slumped sideways, and he fell against the side of the carriage.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
169 Float : : : Weekend At Willies TDC WEAW
.
The Kills. Night Train.
“Willies. I don’t think we’re in Fuckno anymore.”
Sean sat across from me in the flickering blue light and shook his head. Then we hit a bump. He reached over and pulled the black drapes aside and looked out.
“Willies Boy, you gotta check this shit out.”
I slid across the leather seat and pulled back the black drapes so I could see. The stars touched the ground. There was no moon out. Nothing was there. Chust the ground and the stars. There were no cacti, no sage brush, no tumbleweeds, no flora at all.
“We in the Mohave?” Sean’s eyes were bug big.
I shook my head. “No, man. Even Death Valley has some shit out there. There’s nothing here.”
I looked off into the distance and saw a mountain range that we were heading toward. It looked like we were traveling very fast, because it loomed up higher at a quick rate.
Looking at the ground revealed that we were not speeding much faster than thirty miles per hour or so. This was odd. Then we were riding up higher on the side of the mountain, and when we got to the top, it was a rim.
The black carriage swung left and next thing you know, we were traveling along the rim of a circular canyon.
I went to the other window and yanked them drapes back. Off in the distance, the sun blasted my eyes like the shriek from an electric guitar.
But there was no blue sky? The stars gleamed all around the sun, against the black eternity of space.
I went back to the other window and saw our shadow on the bottom of the canyon, riding atop the rim’s own shadow. In the center of the canyon’s floor was a round pile of debris.
It was a crater.
We were riding on the rim of a crater.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Tellesco pulled his Birkenstock sandal out of the muck and decided to take the other one off as well. He headed off to where the headlights shined, towards his powerful 4X4 Jeep with the fat balloon tires that had big chunks for tread.
His date led him along, and he carried his sandals in the other hand. The keys to his ride jangled against his lower belly, tied to the drawstring dangling inside his shorts.
The rain poured down into his eyes, and he had to keep wiping his eyes so he could see. After a bit, he chust closed them, and followed the tug of the ghost girl. This is known as blind trust.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + +
Fat Jerry straightened up in the rain and cocked his ear. He could feel it, but not quite hear it. That was good enough for him. Someone was coming, and he could go meet them and have a spot of tea and some crumpets with them.
But first, he had a bleeding lump in this crushed car to retrieve, and then he would return to the other lump he’d left behind up the road a piece. Since he was now certain that neither lump was bleeding to death on the outside, he simply needed to collect us.
The Kills. URA Fever
“Willie Boy, where the fuck are we heading?”
I pulled the drape back. It was overwhelming to me. It was too much to see. My head was full. The stars were right there. The edge of the moon was a hundred yards away, and you could fall off if you weren’t careful.
“Uh, Sean, we on the fucking moon.”
Sean nodded. “Yup. Kinda figured.”
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
The Kills. Night Train.
“Willies. I don’t think we’re in Fuckno anymore.”
Sean sat across from me in the flickering blue light and shook his head. Then we hit a bump. He reached over and pulled the black drapes aside and looked out.
“Willies Boy, you gotta check this shit out.”
I slid across the leather seat and pulled back the black drapes so I could see. The stars touched the ground. There was no moon out. Nothing was there. Chust the ground and the stars. There were no cacti, no sage brush, no tumbleweeds, no flora at all.
“We in the Mohave?” Sean’s eyes were bug big.
I shook my head. “No, man. Even Death Valley has some shit out there. There’s nothing here.”
I looked off into the distance and saw a mountain range that we were heading toward. It looked like we were traveling very fast, because it loomed up higher at a quick rate.
Looking at the ground revealed that we were not speeding much faster than thirty miles per hour or so. This was odd. Then we were riding up higher on the side of the mountain, and when we got to the top, it was a rim.
The black carriage swung left and next thing you know, we were traveling along the rim of a circular canyon.
I went to the other window and yanked them drapes back. Off in the distance, the sun blasted my eyes like the shriek from an electric guitar.
But there was no blue sky? The stars gleamed all around the sun, against the black eternity of space.
I went back to the other window and saw our shadow on the bottom of the canyon, riding atop the rim’s own shadow. In the center of the canyon’s floor was a round pile of debris.
It was a crater.
We were riding on the rim of a crater.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Tellesco pulled his Birkenstock sandal out of the muck and decided to take the other one off as well. He headed off to where the headlights shined, towards his powerful 4X4 Jeep with the fat balloon tires that had big chunks for tread.
His date led him along, and he carried his sandals in the other hand. The keys to his ride jangled against his lower belly, tied to the drawstring dangling inside his shorts.
The rain poured down into his eyes, and he had to keep wiping his eyes so he could see. After a bit, he chust closed them, and followed the tug of the ghost girl. This is known as blind trust.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + +
Fat Jerry straightened up in the rain and cocked his ear. He could feel it, but not quite hear it. That was good enough for him. Someone was coming, and he could go meet them and have a spot of tea and some crumpets with them.
But first, he had a bleeding lump in this crushed car to retrieve, and then he would return to the other lump he’d left behind up the road a piece. Since he was now certain that neither lump was bleeding to death on the outside, he simply needed to collect us.
The Kills. URA Fever
“Willie Boy, where the fuck are we heading?”
I pulled the drape back. It was overwhelming to me. It was too much to see. My head was full. The stars were right there. The edge of the moon was a hundred yards away, and you could fall off if you weren’t careful.
“Uh, Sean, we on the fucking moon.”
Sean nodded. “Yup. Kinda figured.”
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
Friday, January 20, 2012
168 Talisman : : : Weekend At Willies TDC WEAW
.
Razorblade, by The Knux.
The fat punk rocker pulled himself out of the sleek hearse with one meaty hand on the edge of the long door. He closed his eyes and smiled big into the rain lashing down with thundering applause.
His smile held a thousand fangs.
He howled.
Then he giggled. He was looking at the headlights all pointing off into various directions. Some stared into the sky. Those looked like the bright light from the top of the Luxor, the pyramid of Las Vegas, which can be seen from space.
The rain outlined their beams of photons jetting off relentlessly at the speed of light, into the stars above. But these were refracted and they never made it.
Other headlights were cross-eyed. Another one was a lone headlight, staring glumly into the desert mud of Fuckno.
He really wanted to go to the other headlights to have some of his own brand of fun, but he had eyes for only the ’57. He restrained himself from pleasure to take care of business.
He slogged through the desert mud in his boots with the chrome shin guards, and when he got to the ’57, he grabbed on the door handle, clicked the button, and yarded on it.
The handle busted out in his hand. He stopped grinning and looked down into his palm. He pocketed the chrome handle and looked back at the car.
Crows collect shiny things along the highway. You thought it was all road kill. Some things are talisman. They become talisman when they mark a certain occasion, or an event in time. They record our human condition, when the occasion holds a strong emotion in a life-changing event. A chrome door handle, a broken screw from the latch-lock of a missing horse stable, or even a…
…I apologize to you for getting off track here.
Fat Jerry saw the wrinkle in the door where it met the front fender. This door was wedded to the rest of the car, all made from woodstove metal. He bent and peered in and saw a dark shape leaned over the passenger seat.
He leaned in and poked its shoulder. “Hey! Wake up!”
No response.
“Hey! WAKE THE FUCK UP!”
Nothing.
In any other case, he would have simply grabbed on the lump and yanked it out of the car and then proceeded to bust its bones, but he restrained himself. He reached into his leather jacket and brought out a lighter, and flicked its shiny top open.
He spun its wheel, and there was light.
He shined it around the face and noted a large, bleeding welt on the forehead. But no blood came from the nose, lips, eyelids or ear. This was a good sign.
He cast the wan light about the rest of the figure and didn’t see anything poking or jutting out, covered in meat or blood, and that was good too. He had seen the movie “The Other Side Of The Mountain, so he knew about the danger of moving an injured person and by doing so causing them to become paralyzed for life.
But that was where his medical expertise ended.
What the hell was he going to do?
He thought about the other car that got away, and wondered how long it would be before some other folks, angry people, would be showing up.
He knew that he had to go and collect another lump, in another car, and wondered if that one was in need of more immediate attention.
This was all knew data, new ground for him to cover.
Why the hell did he even care?
One For The Road, by Leslie West, with Slash. Get ready to have your head kicked in. Best wishes for good health Mr. West.
Tellesco smiled at the watery figure in the seat beside him as he slowed the car to a crawl. The desert looked much different on such a dark and stormy night, even though he had traversed this crumbly old lane many times before.
The shade of the beautiful girl pointed off to his left.
Tellesco looked out, and he didn’t see anything, but he nodded anyway. He pulled over to the side of the road and pointed the car into the direction she had indicated. He jumped out to open the door for his date, but she was gone.
His bottom lip quivered, but then he felt her tug on his other arm, to lead him off to his Jeep.
He smiled again.
Jeez.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It wasn’t all that much further down the road to drive. The car’s roof was all smashed in, and it laid just beyond another one which was upside down, with its headlamps all cross-eyed. He resisted the strong urge to go off to that one and have some bone-snapping fun.
Instead, he went to this one’s passenger side, which was less dented-in, and he looked inside.
This car’s single headlamp did not offer much by way of light in the cloud of splashing rain, so he brought out the lighter again.
He bent inside, flicked it open, and was just about to ignite it when his chubby nose caught the scent of gasoline fumes.
Well, ok then. Instead of flicking it anyway as he done before to an unlucky soul, he pocketed his light in his leather and dried his rained-drenched hands on the lump’s clothing. He closed his eyes and felt around for broken bones.
Broken bones were his favorite, but all he felt was broken glass.
Then he felt the top of the lump’s head. It was sticky wet, not wet from the rain entering through the busted out windshield.
This lump needed some attention.
The skin under his leather creeped.
Someone was coming. He straightened out of the vehicle. He began to smile again. He couldn’t help himself.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
“Sean! What the fuck dude?”
“Willie Boy! Where is Tellesco?”
“Last I seen him, he was with you. You lost him?”
“No! I mean, …I wouldn’t do that! I mean… Wait, he was facing the other way.”
“The other way from what?”
“From me. From me heading back to you. I was driving back to you to save you.”
“Sean, you trying to save me?”
“I mean, help you . Help you and Joey out. Where is Joey?”
“Joey? He is, ah… Hey, Joey is driving away with Katheena!”
“Katheena? He’s with Katheena? Dayam dude, what else did I miss?”
“Shit. It’s coming back to me. Katheena died!”
“Uh, wha?! Willie Boy, you need to start at the beginning!”
“I wish I knew. Where the fuck are we anyway?”
There was nothing.
Nothing at all.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
Razorblade, by The Knux.
The fat punk rocker pulled himself out of the sleek hearse with one meaty hand on the edge of the long door. He closed his eyes and smiled big into the rain lashing down with thundering applause.
His smile held a thousand fangs.
He howled.
Then he giggled. He was looking at the headlights all pointing off into various directions. Some stared into the sky. Those looked like the bright light from the top of the Luxor, the pyramid of Las Vegas, which can be seen from space.
The rain outlined their beams of photons jetting off relentlessly at the speed of light, into the stars above. But these were refracted and they never made it.
Other headlights were cross-eyed. Another one was a lone headlight, staring glumly into the desert mud of Fuckno.
He really wanted to go to the other headlights to have some of his own brand of fun, but he had eyes for only the ’57. He restrained himself from pleasure to take care of business.
He slogged through the desert mud in his boots with the chrome shin guards, and when he got to the ’57, he grabbed on the door handle, clicked the button, and yarded on it.
The handle busted out in his hand. He stopped grinning and looked down into his palm. He pocketed the chrome handle and looked back at the car.
Crows collect shiny things along the highway. You thought it was all road kill. Some things are talisman. They become talisman when they mark a certain occasion, or an event in time. They record our human condition, when the occasion holds a strong emotion in a life-changing event. A chrome door handle, a broken screw from the latch-lock of a missing horse stable, or even a…
…I apologize to you for getting off track here.
Fat Jerry saw the wrinkle in the door where it met the front fender. This door was wedded to the rest of the car, all made from woodstove metal. He bent and peered in and saw a dark shape leaned over the passenger seat.
He leaned in and poked its shoulder. “Hey! Wake up!”
No response.
“Hey! WAKE THE FUCK UP!”
Nothing.
In any other case, he would have simply grabbed on the lump and yanked it out of the car and then proceeded to bust its bones, but he restrained himself. He reached into his leather jacket and brought out a lighter, and flicked its shiny top open.
He spun its wheel, and there was light.
He shined it around the face and noted a large, bleeding welt on the forehead. But no blood came from the nose, lips, eyelids or ear. This was a good sign.
He cast the wan light about the rest of the figure and didn’t see anything poking or jutting out, covered in meat or blood, and that was good too. He had seen the movie “The Other Side Of The Mountain, so he knew about the danger of moving an injured person and by doing so causing them to become paralyzed for life.
But that was where his medical expertise ended.
What the hell was he going to do?
He thought about the other car that got away, and wondered how long it would be before some other folks, angry people, would be showing up.
He knew that he had to go and collect another lump, in another car, and wondered if that one was in need of more immediate attention.
This was all knew data, new ground for him to cover.
Why the hell did he even care?
One For The Road, by Leslie West, with Slash. Get ready to have your head kicked in. Best wishes for good health Mr. West.
Tellesco smiled at the watery figure in the seat beside him as he slowed the car to a crawl. The desert looked much different on such a dark and stormy night, even though he had traversed this crumbly old lane many times before.
The shade of the beautiful girl pointed off to his left.
Tellesco looked out, and he didn’t see anything, but he nodded anyway. He pulled over to the side of the road and pointed the car into the direction she had indicated. He jumped out to open the door for his date, but she was gone.
His bottom lip quivered, but then he felt her tug on his other arm, to lead him off to his Jeep.
He smiled again.
Jeez.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It wasn’t all that much further down the road to drive. The car’s roof was all smashed in, and it laid just beyond another one which was upside down, with its headlamps all cross-eyed. He resisted the strong urge to go off to that one and have some bone-snapping fun.
Instead, he went to this one’s passenger side, which was less dented-in, and he looked inside.
This car’s single headlamp did not offer much by way of light in the cloud of splashing rain, so he brought out the lighter again.
He bent inside, flicked it open, and was just about to ignite it when his chubby nose caught the scent of gasoline fumes.
Well, ok then. Instead of flicking it anyway as he done before to an unlucky soul, he pocketed his light in his leather and dried his rained-drenched hands on the lump’s clothing. He closed his eyes and felt around for broken bones.
Broken bones were his favorite, but all he felt was broken glass.
Then he felt the top of the lump’s head. It was sticky wet, not wet from the rain entering through the busted out windshield.
This lump needed some attention.
The skin under his leather creeped.
Someone was coming. He straightened out of the vehicle. He began to smile again. He couldn’t help himself.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
“Sean! What the fuck dude?”
“Willie Boy! Where is Tellesco?”
“Last I seen him, he was with you. You lost him?”
“No! I mean, …I wouldn’t do that! I mean… Wait, he was facing the other way.”
“The other way from what?”
“From me. From me heading back to you. I was driving back to you to save you.”
“Sean, you trying to save me?”
“I mean, help you . Help you and Joey out. Where is Joey?”
“Joey? He is, ah… Hey, Joey is driving away with Katheena!”
“Katheena? He’s with Katheena? Dayam dude, what else did I miss?”
“Shit. It’s coming back to me. Katheena died!”
“Uh, wha?! Willie Boy, you need to start at the beginning!”
“I wish I knew. Where the fuck are we anyway?”
There was nothing.
Nothing at all.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
167 Mayhem
.
For Tellesco. I Got a Girl. By Tripping Daisy.
Tellesco drove away with his dead girlfriend.
Yeah,
He had a girl.
How cool was that for him?
And you thought he was in love with Sean.
Well, you would be correct on that point. But it was more like adoration. Nothing sexual. You see, he and Sean had connected in a way that many of us will never know.
When you have gone through some serious shit, and you don’t think that anyone else on this tiny blue marble has never been through it,
Well,
When you discover that you are not alone in the vast eternity of space, it kinda has an effect on you.
You become a soul mate, of sorts.
Enough said on that.
Myself, I had a blood brother and sister, and I was blood brother to the Sans Joking desert river valley due to the Figging Crash.
My two blood relatives sped to the closest Hostibal, which meant I was all alone out on the off-skirts of North Fuckno.
Except for the fat punk in his hearse, and a ghost cowboy, of which I had no clue.
I was heading towards mayhem and doom.
I found my mettle, and it was ugly.
Damn.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Fat Jerry was heading for a crash.
Black Keys. Stop Stop. This is loud, so turn down your volume, my friend. Or, do like I am, and turn it right the fuck up.
The rain strummed along on his windshield like a guitar out of tune. Fat Jerry gassed his carburetor again, and he smashed into the ass end of the car on the right.
It swerved and caught its traction again, and then its brake lights flashed bright.
Jerry punched his ass again and swung left.
The car spun around and hit some dirt. And then it flipped. The young man inside was not smart enough to have strapped in with his seatbelt, and so his head and upper half flung itself through the driver’s side window, and he felt the impact of the roof in the desert dunes, upon his top parts, as it rolled over and over again.
Dude would not be waking up ever again.
Always wear your seat belt.
Fat Jerry giggled like a creepy baby, and then he tickled the fun button below his steering wheel, and the nitrous oxide pulsed again into his engine.
His hearse jetted forward again towards the other car.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sean watched the headlights in front of him grow brighter. Behind them he saw a blue flame whipping wildly in the black hole of the night.
It entered the small slot between the pair of cars ahead, and then an explosion of blue gun fire caught the one on the left with shock and awe.
The driver swerved and spun around on the slick, crumbly tar. He disappeared from view.
He was the one who got away. He went back to the other purple robes and told his story.
The other car kept right on speeding towards Sean.
They would meet, shake hands, and go have a drink at The Dunes.
Yeah. Right.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I saw the one of the cars racing towards me spin around and then flip and tumble, and a new set of headlamps took its place.
I don’t know why, but I aimed the old ’57 towards the pair on the left. Fuck the new set of lights that had appeared.
That set of lights swerved into the other one, which swung off to the left when I slammed into its driver’s side.
T-boned that fucker.
We’d been playing chicken, but now it didn’t matter anymore.
Smash,
Crash,
Sleep.
Gone and out for the count.
Sorry about that.
Fail.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sean smashed into the other car head on, and it flipped up and over his own ride. He kept steering even though his windshield was gone, baby, gone, and he had glass and blood in his mouth. He was chuggin on his new set of false teeth as he went into the desert dust for a nice, wet nap. His roof was caved in on his head, but he was slumped over as his car came to rest.
He had worn his seat belt.
Always wear your seat belt when you play chicken.
Chust sayin’
God Help You.
God Help Us All
---tdcwillies out.
.
For Tellesco. I Got a Girl. By Tripping Daisy.
Tellesco drove away with his dead girlfriend.
Yeah,
He had a girl.
How cool was that for him?
And you thought he was in love with Sean.
Well, you would be correct on that point. But it was more like adoration. Nothing sexual. You see, he and Sean had connected in a way that many of us will never know.
When you have gone through some serious shit, and you don’t think that anyone else on this tiny blue marble has never been through it,
Well,
When you discover that you are not alone in the vast eternity of space, it kinda has an effect on you.
You become a soul mate, of sorts.
Enough said on that.
Myself, I had a blood brother and sister, and I was blood brother to the Sans Joking desert river valley due to the Figging Crash.
My two blood relatives sped to the closest Hostibal, which meant I was all alone out on the off-skirts of North Fuckno.
Except for the fat punk in his hearse, and a ghost cowboy, of which I had no clue.
I was heading towards mayhem and doom.
I found my mettle, and it was ugly.
Damn.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Fat Jerry was heading for a crash.
Black Keys. Stop Stop. This is loud, so turn down your volume, my friend. Or, do like I am, and turn it right the fuck up.
The rain strummed along on his windshield like a guitar out of tune. Fat Jerry gassed his carburetor again, and he smashed into the ass end of the car on the right.
It swerved and caught its traction again, and then its brake lights flashed bright.
Jerry punched his ass again and swung left.
The car spun around and hit some dirt. And then it flipped. The young man inside was not smart enough to have strapped in with his seatbelt, and so his head and upper half flung itself through the driver’s side window, and he felt the impact of the roof in the desert dunes, upon his top parts, as it rolled over and over again.
Dude would not be waking up ever again.
Always wear your seat belt.
Fat Jerry giggled like a creepy baby, and then he tickled the fun button below his steering wheel, and the nitrous oxide pulsed again into his engine.
His hearse jetted forward again towards the other car.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sean watched the headlights in front of him grow brighter. Behind them he saw a blue flame whipping wildly in the black hole of the night.
It entered the small slot between the pair of cars ahead, and then an explosion of blue gun fire caught the one on the left with shock and awe.
The driver swerved and spun around on the slick, crumbly tar. He disappeared from view.
He was the one who got away. He went back to the other purple robes and told his story.
The other car kept right on speeding towards Sean.
They would meet, shake hands, and go have a drink at The Dunes.
Yeah. Right.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I saw the one of the cars racing towards me spin around and then flip and tumble, and a new set of headlamps took its place.
I don’t know why, but I aimed the old ’57 towards the pair on the left. Fuck the new set of lights that had appeared.
That set of lights swerved into the other one, which swung off to the left when I slammed into its driver’s side.
T-boned that fucker.
We’d been playing chicken, but now it didn’t matter anymore.
Smash,
Crash,
Sleep.
Gone and out for the count.
Sorry about that.
Fail.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sean smashed into the other car head on, and it flipped up and over his own ride. He kept steering even though his windshield was gone, baby, gone, and he had glass and blood in his mouth. He was chuggin on his new set of false teeth as he went into the desert dust for a nice, wet nap. His roof was caved in on his head, but he was slumped over as his car came to rest.
He had worn his seat belt.
Always wear your seat belt when you play chicken.
Chust sayin’
God Help You.
God Help Us All
---tdcwillies out.
.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Weekend At Willies, TDC WEAW, williesthestories 166
.
My own Flickerstick: The Jefferson. Days Are Falling.
Here is some "exposition" to catch you up. It will make your head spin, and I apologize to you for that.
Of course, you could simply read the previous chapters instead, but who wants to do that?
Sean and I were the only ones left in the equation, and we faced each other, with eight cars between us, plus a black hearse, and also a horse drawn wagon, with an old cowboy ghost as a driver.
We chust didn’t know about that shit yet.
Two cars faced opposite directions from us on either end of this stretch of old, crumbly tar, up on the north end of Fuckno. One had a dying girl as a passenger, and the other one had a dead girl as a passenger.
Only four of the eight cars driven by those purple robes were still on the road.
Two were heading for Sean and Tellesco, and two were heading for me.
And I was driving toward them in a car from decades ago, built of solid metal, like a woodstove. 1957 Chevy. She was a collector’s edition, before they called them that.
My buddy Joey had stolen her, but now he was taking the dying girl to the “hostibal” in my own stolen car, and I was going to play chicken with assholes who were fucking shit up, with this old car I drove that could not be stopped.
Great. This was going to hurt.
Now, Sean was on the other end of this shit, and he saw those headlights coming up. More of those assholes. He looked over at his buddy Tellesco, from his own driver's window through Tellesco's driver-side window. These were my friends, and they were also in stolen cars. We had taken all four of them from the garage way down south of this line of trouble.
Tellesco didn’t have the balls to play chicken, so he sat in his car, facing the opposite direction of Sean. He was going to bail.
This was OK with Sean. He’d prefer to have his buddy Tellesco survive, and come back after shit had happened to take us all to the “hostibal.”
Sean gritted his teeth, waved at Tellesco, and then he sped off to meet his doom.
Tellesco waved back, oblivious fool that he was, and he put his car into drive. He looked into the passenger seat next to the smashed-out passenger-side window. The rain poured in, which had opened a portal of sorts.
It was a portal of water, for a watery ghost to enter.
The dead girl still sat there: a shade, a shadow, a glint of a glimpse of someone who had died months ago. A ghost. She smiled back at him.
Weird.
This would not end well.
+ + + + + + + + + +
In between the two pairs of assholes speeding in opposite directions from each other; one pair toward me on one end of this long stretch of old, crumbly tar in the desert of Fuckno, and the other pair toward Sean on the other end, there were two curious-looking vehicles also racing along.
One was a long, sleek hearse with a fat punk rocker who had a mohawk of high, sharp, purple spikes and a smile on his pale face that held a thousand fangs. Fat Jerry was his name, and he enjoyed causing pain.
Speeding in the other direction was a black carriage driven by an old, forgotten cowboy ghost who sat up high in the rain, holding the reins to a huge black horse with a mane of blue flames.
Glinty McFlintlock strung the reins in one hand and then he hefted up his old shotgun, and he took aim.
This giant horse, dark as an invisible black hole, well, he knew what was about to happen.
His horseshoes clicked blue sparks on the tar as they raced along to doom and damnation.
The name of this giant black horse was Mayhem.
Are you still with me?
It gets worse before it gets better. It gets fucking worse.
Ok, enough description and exposition.
Here we go.
Massive Attack. Paradise Circus, with Hope Sandoval on lyrics. You know, she is the Mazzy Star vocalist. Her vocals are fucking sexy. She got that silky Texas drawl. You can thank youtube's DamselBoo for putting up this high quality sound on youtube from a great duo that we know as the Massive Attack.
"It's unfortunate that when we feel a stone, we can roll our selves over because we're uncomfortable.
Or,
Where:
The Devil makes us sin.
But we like it when we're spinning...
...in his grip.
Look at her, with her eyes like a flame...
She will love you like if I never loved you ...
...Again"
I wish I could write that well.
Uhhh...Huh.....
I adjusted my tie. My leather jacket squeaked against the cold, hard vinyl seat as I straightened up and looked past the windshield into the black hole that awaited me.
Up ahead, a pair of yellow eyes glared at me, blurred, then glared, blurred, and glared, between the brush strokes of the windshield wipers.
A watercolor painting in the black torrent of tears from the hidden moon above, it was being re-painted with each beat of my heart.
I didn't want to die. I feared death, or course.
But those assholes had injured the girl in the car Joey drove now, racing away to safety.
Fuck them.
I felt blind rage.
Fuck them to hell.
The pair of eyes glaring at me from up ahead split apart, and became a new pair of eyes, each.
Blur, glare.
Blur, glare.
Two cars sped towards me.
My pulse raced.
I gripped the hard steering wheel and braced for impact.
I wondered if my teeth would meet this steering wheel. The seat belt held my waist, below my leather jacket, but not my torso.
Air bags had not been invented when this car was built.
Possibly, the steering column would enter my torso before I met the metal dashboard.
Who had built this metal stove; Hephaestus in his fiery hell of a blacksmiths shop?
Perhaps I would meet him there, and we could share stories about our Venus stars.
Mine was named Katheena. She had a lung full of muddy water.
Fucking assholes.
Fuck them.
Blur, glare.
Blur, glare.
Crash.
Sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sean, gobless him, he pulled himself close to the steering wheel and glared into the windshield.
He did not have fear of death. He had lost it long ago.
In his head, he wanted escape. Fuck this place. Nothing but lying, cheating, and stealing. Those were the colors on his palette. Mix them up, and you would not get grey.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fat Jerry reached down and turned the volume up. The Misfits wailed in the empty carcass of his hearse. No other music was ever heard in his ride. He had their skull spray painted on the back of his leather, and on the hood of his car.
He floored the accelerator and his heavy beast blasted along with hunger in its belly. He saw those tail lights come closer, and that was when he flicked the tiny metal switch beneath the steering wheel, in its hole.
A strange gas entered the carburetor, and this caused the huge beast to surge forward and throw Fat Jerry's mighty melon back.
He howled with laughter and looked back ahead again. It was like light speed.
Nitrous Oxide, baby.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The horse glinted its sparks onto the old tar in the downpour. Its driver wore a pair of round glasses with black lenses, and one was broken down the middle, where the bullet had smashed it, and entered his brain, killing him a century ago.
He had his own anger as fuel, and this will be explored after the demolition that was about to ensue.
Next time.
Sorry about that, my friend.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
Check this out:
NSFW dubstep video of the Massive Attack song above.
It's from The Lucid Dreams of Grayagent. Grays Provocation. Thank you, Grayagent. Keep up your good work.
.
.
My own Flickerstick: The Jefferson. Days Are Falling.
Here is some "exposition" to catch you up. It will make your head spin, and I apologize to you for that.
Of course, you could simply read the previous chapters instead, but who wants to do that?
Sean and I were the only ones left in the equation, and we faced each other, with eight cars between us, plus a black hearse, and also a horse drawn wagon, with an old cowboy ghost as a driver.
We chust didn’t know about that shit yet.
Two cars faced opposite directions from us on either end of this stretch of old, crumbly tar, up on the north end of Fuckno. One had a dying girl as a passenger, and the other one had a dead girl as a passenger.
Only four of the eight cars driven by those purple robes were still on the road.
Two were heading for Sean and Tellesco, and two were heading for me.
And I was driving toward them in a car from decades ago, built of solid metal, like a woodstove. 1957 Chevy. She was a collector’s edition, before they called them that.
My buddy Joey had stolen her, but now he was taking the dying girl to the “hostibal” in my own stolen car, and I was going to play chicken with assholes who were fucking shit up, with this old car I drove that could not be stopped.
Great. This was going to hurt.
Now, Sean was on the other end of this shit, and he saw those headlights coming up. More of those assholes. He looked over at his buddy Tellesco, from his own driver's window through Tellesco's driver-side window. These were my friends, and they were also in stolen cars. We had taken all four of them from the garage way down south of this line of trouble.
Tellesco didn’t have the balls to play chicken, so he sat in his car, facing the opposite direction of Sean. He was going to bail.
This was OK with Sean. He’d prefer to have his buddy Tellesco survive, and come back after shit had happened to take us all to the “hostibal.”
Sean gritted his teeth, waved at Tellesco, and then he sped off to meet his doom.
Tellesco waved back, oblivious fool that he was, and he put his car into drive. He looked into the passenger seat next to the smashed-out passenger-side window. The rain poured in, which had opened a portal of sorts.
It was a portal of water, for a watery ghost to enter.
The dead girl still sat there: a shade, a shadow, a glint of a glimpse of someone who had died months ago. A ghost. She smiled back at him.
Weird.
This would not end well.
+ + + + + + + + + +
In between the two pairs of assholes speeding in opposite directions from each other; one pair toward me on one end of this long stretch of old, crumbly tar in the desert of Fuckno, and the other pair toward Sean on the other end, there were two curious-looking vehicles also racing along.
One was a long, sleek hearse with a fat punk rocker who had a mohawk of high, sharp, purple spikes and a smile on his pale face that held a thousand fangs. Fat Jerry was his name, and he enjoyed causing pain.
Speeding in the other direction was a black carriage driven by an old, forgotten cowboy ghost who sat up high in the rain, holding the reins to a huge black horse with a mane of blue flames.
Glinty McFlintlock strung the reins in one hand and then he hefted up his old shotgun, and he took aim.
This giant horse, dark as an invisible black hole, well, he knew what was about to happen.
His horseshoes clicked blue sparks on the tar as they raced along to doom and damnation.
The name of this giant black horse was Mayhem.
Are you still with me?
It gets worse before it gets better. It gets fucking worse.
Ok, enough description and exposition.
Here we go.
Massive Attack. Paradise Circus, with Hope Sandoval on lyrics. You know, she is the Mazzy Star vocalist. Her vocals are fucking sexy. She got that silky Texas drawl. You can thank youtube's DamselBoo for putting up this high quality sound on youtube from a great duo that we know as the Massive Attack.
"It's unfortunate that when we feel a stone, we can roll our selves over because we're uncomfortable.
Or,
Where:
The Devil makes us sin.
But we like it when we're spinning...
...in his grip.
Look at her, with her eyes like a flame...
She will love you like if I never loved you ...
...Again"
I wish I could write that well.
Uhhh...Huh.....
I adjusted my tie. My leather jacket squeaked against the cold, hard vinyl seat as I straightened up and looked past the windshield into the black hole that awaited me.
Up ahead, a pair of yellow eyes glared at me, blurred, then glared, blurred, and glared, between the brush strokes of the windshield wipers.
A watercolor painting in the black torrent of tears from the hidden moon above, it was being re-painted with each beat of my heart.
I didn't want to die. I feared death, or course.
But those assholes had injured the girl in the car Joey drove now, racing away to safety.
Fuck them.
I felt blind rage.
Fuck them to hell.
The pair of eyes glaring at me from up ahead split apart, and became a new pair of eyes, each.
Blur, glare.
Blur, glare.
Two cars sped towards me.
My pulse raced.
I gripped the hard steering wheel and braced for impact.
I wondered if my teeth would meet this steering wheel. The seat belt held my waist, below my leather jacket, but not my torso.
Air bags had not been invented when this car was built.
Possibly, the steering column would enter my torso before I met the metal dashboard.
Who had built this metal stove; Hephaestus in his fiery hell of a blacksmiths shop?
Perhaps I would meet him there, and we could share stories about our Venus stars.
Mine was named Katheena. She had a lung full of muddy water.
Fucking assholes.
Fuck them.
Blur, glare.
Blur, glare.
Crash.
Sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sean, gobless him, he pulled himself close to the steering wheel and glared into the windshield.
He did not have fear of death. He had lost it long ago.
In his head, he wanted escape. Fuck this place. Nothing but lying, cheating, and stealing. Those were the colors on his palette. Mix them up, and you would not get grey.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fat Jerry reached down and turned the volume up. The Misfits wailed in the empty carcass of his hearse. No other music was ever heard in his ride. He had their skull spray painted on the back of his leather, and on the hood of his car.
He floored the accelerator and his heavy beast blasted along with hunger in its belly. He saw those tail lights come closer, and that was when he flicked the tiny metal switch beneath the steering wheel, in its hole.
A strange gas entered the carburetor, and this caused the huge beast to surge forward and throw Fat Jerry's mighty melon back.
He howled with laughter and looked back ahead again. It was like light speed.
Nitrous Oxide, baby.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The horse glinted its sparks onto the old tar in the downpour. Its driver wore a pair of round glasses with black lenses, and one was broken down the middle, where the bullet had smashed it, and entered his brain, killing him a century ago.
He had his own anger as fuel, and this will be explored after the demolition that was about to ensue.
Next time.
Sorry about that, my friend.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
Check this out:
NSFW dubstep video of the Massive Attack song above.
Ode 2011 Ver2 NSFW from grayagent on Vimeo.
It's from The Lucid Dreams of Grayagent. Grays Provocation. Thank you, Grayagent. Keep up your good work.
.
.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
165 The Return
.
For Tellesco. He had fallen in love with a dead girl. And he was the only one who would ever see her again. He had never been kissed. For whatever reasons. Ya know.
Volta. Never Been Kissed.
Tellesco watched Sean look at the abyss, and he shivered. It was cold in the car. He looked down at his hands in his lap. The rain poured down into his car, through the window Sean had smashed open minutes before with his big fists.
He wanted to follow Sean, but he chust couldn’t.
No, you must not fault Tellesco here for his cowardice. It would take quite a lot for this young man to finally find his own mettle. But when he did, he would become a force of nature.
You see, he felt a presence in the car.
Through the open window, the crashing rain opened a portal of sorts.
His eyes stung with salt water, as he sat, looking at his arm that had, for a few hours after the Figgin Episode, appeared to be in the shape of a snail.
The screws and the rods in his arm cried in pain. But there was something else.
Love at first sight, in a hidden stairwell, in a mansion now baptized with water and fire.
Can you believe it?
How can someone fall in love with the glint of a dead girl, strapped into an airplane seat thousands of miles away, off the coast of France, on its way to Germany?
An airplane at the bottom of the ocean, a night flight that had crashed into the sea?
Tellesco was in love with a dead girl. For whatever reasons, perhaps we revisit this earthly plane over and over again to re-connect with a soul we have known all along.
Call it Déjà vu, or the feeling like you have awakened from a dream that you wish to get back to, have you ever seen a person that you wanted to talk to, but you never got the chance?
A chance meeting, or even a glint of someone, and you always think of: "What could have happened if I had stopped and said hi?"
You never get a second chance.
He felt a hand on his arm, and he felt strength.
Huh.
He had never been kissed by a girl in this lifetime, yet, and that was because of his own shit he had to deal with.
He looked up, and he saw her in the passenger seat.
Instead of screaming out loud and bailing out of the car like any one of us would do, he smiled.
It felt like home.
Hah?
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
N.E.R.D. Rock Star.
Sean looked into the abyss and he knew that he would have to go balls to the wall, petal to the metal, and scream into the direction of hell.
He thumped the accelerator down to the floor, and his automobile awoke.
This would not end well.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In the distance between the oncoming pairs of cars driven by purple robes searching for mayhem and the ones behind them, a new set of lights appeared.
In the rain that punished the valley of the Sans Joking River Valley, a long, sleek, black as death, gleaming and glinty hearse joined the fray.
It had a circle A spray painted on its side.
The driver had an evil grin on his fat face.
He would bring his own mayhem to the party.
His grin glinted with a hundred fangs.
Uh, Wha?
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
For Tellesco. He had fallen in love with a dead girl. And he was the only one who would ever see her again. He had never been kissed. For whatever reasons. Ya know.
Volta. Never Been Kissed.
Tellesco watched Sean look at the abyss, and he shivered. It was cold in the car. He looked down at his hands in his lap. The rain poured down into his car, through the window Sean had smashed open minutes before with his big fists.
He wanted to follow Sean, but he chust couldn’t.
No, you must not fault Tellesco here for his cowardice. It would take quite a lot for this young man to finally find his own mettle. But when he did, he would become a force of nature.
You see, he felt a presence in the car.
Through the open window, the crashing rain opened a portal of sorts.
His eyes stung with salt water, as he sat, looking at his arm that had, for a few hours after the Figgin Episode, appeared to be in the shape of a snail.
The screws and the rods in his arm cried in pain. But there was something else.
Love at first sight, in a hidden stairwell, in a mansion now baptized with water and fire.
Can you believe it?
How can someone fall in love with the glint of a dead girl, strapped into an airplane seat thousands of miles away, off the coast of France, on its way to Germany?
An airplane at the bottom of the ocean, a night flight that had crashed into the sea?
Tellesco was in love with a dead girl. For whatever reasons, perhaps we revisit this earthly plane over and over again to re-connect with a soul we have known all along.
Call it Déjà vu, or the feeling like you have awakened from a dream that you wish to get back to, have you ever seen a person that you wanted to talk to, but you never got the chance?
A chance meeting, or even a glint of someone, and you always think of: "What could have happened if I had stopped and said hi?"
You never get a second chance.
He felt a hand on his arm, and he felt strength.
Huh.
He had never been kissed by a girl in this lifetime, yet, and that was because of his own shit he had to deal with.
He looked up, and he saw her in the passenger seat.
Instead of screaming out loud and bailing out of the car like any one of us would do, he smiled.
It felt like home.
Hah?
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
N.E.R.D. Rock Star.
Sean looked into the abyss and he knew that he would have to go balls to the wall, petal to the metal, and scream into the direction of hell.
He thumped the accelerator down to the floor, and his automobile awoke.
This would not end well.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In the distance between the oncoming pairs of cars driven by purple robes searching for mayhem and the ones behind them, a new set of lights appeared.
In the rain that punished the valley of the Sans Joking River Valley, a long, sleek, black as death, gleaming and glinty hearse joined the fray.
It had a circle A spray painted on its side.
The driver had an evil grin on his fat face.
He would bring his own mayhem to the party.
His grin glinted with a hundred fangs.
Uh, Wha?
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
164 One Red Light
The Features. How It Starts.
I watched Joey drive off with Katheena in the Maserati Bora. Alone in the dark, with no one but some mangled heaps down to the left, I watched the red tail lights fade and grow together into one red dot.
The rain began to scour the ‘57’s roof like rocks from a fire hose. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes off the tiny red dot until it disappeared in the blur of water.
Alone.
Joey had hinted at seeing Lorelei, I was certain of it. But he hadn’t come right out and said her name. He didn’t need to. It was understood. Strange things were happening that night, I tell you. It was one long hell of a day.
It would be one long hell of a night, too.
The seats were cold and hard. Hell, everything inside and out of the Chevy was cold and hard. The dashboard was painted metal: red, like the outside of her. The vinyl seats were not original, but close to it. Cold, hard plastic, which was the fashion back then.
Even the white walled tires were hard, to match the suspension.
And the engine? Well, she was hot and bothered. She wanted to get going, baby, go. Time to blow out some carbon and clean the plugs off. She wanted to drink and I wanted to pour.
I squealed her rear left tire and she hung there for a moment and then she ambled forward. It might take her a bit to get there, but once she did, there was no stopping her.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Joey looked over at Katheena when she began to cough. Her cough was not easing up. It was becoming continuous, and sort of hollow, like a rattle. It was an empty coughing.
She didn’t open her eyes at all. She didn’t even move her hands up to her mouth. She just coughed like a puppet. It was like she wasn’t there anymore. Her body was chust going through the motions. Joey felt like he was driving a hearse. He looked up and saw his own face in the rearview mirror.
He pushed the mirror away. He didn’t want to see anything anymore. He was just about done with everything that night.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Tellesco looked over at Sean’s car in the deluge of rain. Sean had swung around and was now facing the other way, on the other side of Tellesco.
Tellesco thought he should turn around as well. He would follow Sean to the grave, if he was asked to. He would go wherever Sean went, and he would do his best to protect Sean. They were best buddies, and that is what best buddies did. They watched out for each other. Buds for life, dude.
But when it came down to brass tacks, well, those intentions were just words. Those words got washed away in the rain. When it was called, the number was wrong.
He could feel evil in his bones. He was no stranger to evil. Evil was a drunken man in a dark hallway, feeling his way along.
Tellesco wanted to jet off in the other direction. He felt it in his bones. Evil was coming.
French Kicks. Trial Of The Century.
Sean looked over at Tellesco’s car. He knew why Tellesco was still facing the other way, and that was ok. In fact, it was a good thing. Whatever was about to happen, perhaps Tellesco would be safe, and he could come back after whatever it was had happened, and he could get Sean to the Hostibal.
He didn’t want anything to happen to Tellesco.
He had to save him.
Self styled martyr, or was it a wannabe hero? Well, whatever was going on in his head, he was headed for another crash.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
I watched Joey drive off with Katheena in the Maserati Bora. Alone in the dark, with no one but some mangled heaps down to the left, I watched the red tail lights fade and grow together into one red dot.
The rain began to scour the ‘57’s roof like rocks from a fire hose. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes off the tiny red dot until it disappeared in the blur of water.
Alone.
Joey had hinted at seeing Lorelei, I was certain of it. But he hadn’t come right out and said her name. He didn’t need to. It was understood. Strange things were happening that night, I tell you. It was one long hell of a day.
It would be one long hell of a night, too.
The seats were cold and hard. Hell, everything inside and out of the Chevy was cold and hard. The dashboard was painted metal: red, like the outside of her. The vinyl seats were not original, but close to it. Cold, hard plastic, which was the fashion back then.
Even the white walled tires were hard, to match the suspension.
And the engine? Well, she was hot and bothered. She wanted to get going, baby, go. Time to blow out some carbon and clean the plugs off. She wanted to drink and I wanted to pour.
I squealed her rear left tire and she hung there for a moment and then she ambled forward. It might take her a bit to get there, but once she did, there was no stopping her.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Joey looked over at Katheena when she began to cough. Her cough was not easing up. It was becoming continuous, and sort of hollow, like a rattle. It was an empty coughing.
She didn’t open her eyes at all. She didn’t even move her hands up to her mouth. She just coughed like a puppet. It was like she wasn’t there anymore. Her body was chust going through the motions. Joey felt like he was driving a hearse. He looked up and saw his own face in the rearview mirror.
He pushed the mirror away. He didn’t want to see anything anymore. He was just about done with everything that night.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Tellesco looked over at Sean’s car in the deluge of rain. Sean had swung around and was now facing the other way, on the other side of Tellesco.
Tellesco thought he should turn around as well. He would follow Sean to the grave, if he was asked to. He would go wherever Sean went, and he would do his best to protect Sean. They were best buddies, and that is what best buddies did. They watched out for each other. Buds for life, dude.
But when it came down to brass tacks, well, those intentions were just words. Those words got washed away in the rain. When it was called, the number was wrong.
He could feel evil in his bones. He was no stranger to evil. Evil was a drunken man in a dark hallway, feeling his way along.
Tellesco wanted to jet off in the other direction. He felt it in his bones. Evil was coming.
French Kicks. Trial Of The Century.
Sean looked over at Tellesco’s car. He knew why Tellesco was still facing the other way, and that was ok. In fact, it was a good thing. Whatever was about to happen, perhaps Tellesco would be safe, and he could come back after whatever it was had happened, and he could get Sean to the Hostibal.
He didn’t want anything to happen to Tellesco.
He had to save him.
Self styled martyr, or was it a wannabe hero? Well, whatever was going on in his head, he was headed for another crash.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
163 Two In Darkness
.
Do not click on this, unless you wish to travel forward in time to the start of the pay back series.
My Lady Lisa found this gem for you and me. Thanks babe.
Joe Cocker. High Time We Went.
The moon baptized the desert. Furious rain blurred the lights growing brighter, from way down yonder in the dark.
“There they are Sean! We musta dusted them hard!”
“Huh. Well so we did, Tellesco, so we did.”
The blur of lights spread apart, and went off to the left and the right, and they smeared and tumbled off into their new trajectories.
A black hole enveloped the night.
Sean and Tellesco stood on the crumbly tar, rain dousing their shivering bodies, as they looked down into the abyss, and then they looked at each other.
Then, much further down the dark country lane, another pair of glinty eyes, blurred and painted yellow, grew from where the first pair had parted ways.
Sean’s skin crawled. What the hell was going on?
“Tellesco. Get back in your car.”
“But why? I want to laugh at them when they get here. We dusted them so well that---”
“TELLESCO! Get Back in your CAR!”
“Boo Hoo!”
Sean had always been a skeptic and a pragmatist. These are, indeed, solid qualities to have in your mental toolbox. But it may be good to not let the shiny tools out-gleam the dirty ones.
Sometimes, dirty is better.
Sometimes, you have to go by feel, in the dark.
Sean hopped back into his own ride, and he did not know what to do.
He sat there, and his knuckles trembled in the downpour.
He looked up into his rearview mirror.
Sitting duck.
How many times had he felt this way in his youth? Waiting for the next thing to happen to him.
Victim.
Band Of Skulls. Sweet Sour.
(He waited for his father to return home from the bars and strip clubs…)
The headlights in his rearview mirror blurred, but their blur grew brighter with each moment that passed...
(The snore of his mother in the room down the hall…)
The fearful sky above pelted the roof of his ride with louder and sharper pings that sounded like a ball peen hammer...
(The slump of a leather jacket dropping to the floor in the kitchen, the smack and tingle of keys on the kitchen table, sliding across and then jangling onto the floor below. Sean would never, ever wear leather at all…)
The wind howled outside of the car, and them lights blurred into two sets of two…
(The mutter of a swear, and the stagger of footfalls, echoing down the hallway…)
The lights behind him and Tellesco became clear now…
(The twist of a bedroom doorknob…)
Tellesco sat there in his own car, awaiting the rest of us to come, so he could laugh in our faces and joke about how we were slow pokes, with the rain dumping into his shattered passenger side window…
Sean understood that it was not we bastard punks who were coming up fast and bright. He realized that Tellesco and he were in danger. He knew that he would have to save them both.
Alone.
Alone.
In the dark.
Yet again…
You see, that had been his mission all along, to save Tellesco. He knew why, even if he didn’t exactly know why…
Frozen in fear he saw the lights coming closer.
(The door creaked open… Bad… Bad… Bad…)
Perhaps he knew through instinct that in saving Tellesco, he could
save
himself
...
And now, he had put them both into danger, because he had been full of bravado, feeling like a victor, like someone who had chust come from one hell of a victory.
Water and fire.
Baptism and explosions.
Black hole and light.
Never the twain should meet.
Sean gunned his engine and he swung his car around.
The rain blurred his eyes.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
Do not click on this, unless you wish to travel forward in time to the start of the pay back series.
My Lady Lisa found this gem for you and me. Thanks babe.
Joe Cocker. High Time We Went.
The moon baptized the desert. Furious rain blurred the lights growing brighter, from way down yonder in the dark.
“There they are Sean! We musta dusted them hard!”
“Huh. Well so we did, Tellesco, so we did.”
The blur of lights spread apart, and went off to the left and the right, and they smeared and tumbled off into their new trajectories.
A black hole enveloped the night.
Sean and Tellesco stood on the crumbly tar, rain dousing their shivering bodies, as they looked down into the abyss, and then they looked at each other.
Then, much further down the dark country lane, another pair of glinty eyes, blurred and painted yellow, grew from where the first pair had parted ways.
Sean’s skin crawled. What the hell was going on?
“Tellesco. Get back in your car.”
“But why? I want to laugh at them when they get here. We dusted them so well that---”
“TELLESCO! Get Back in your CAR!”
“Boo Hoo!”
Sean had always been a skeptic and a pragmatist. These are, indeed, solid qualities to have in your mental toolbox. But it may be good to not let the shiny tools out-gleam the dirty ones.
Sometimes, dirty is better.
Sometimes, you have to go by feel, in the dark.
Sean hopped back into his own ride, and he did not know what to do.
He sat there, and his knuckles trembled in the downpour.
He looked up into his rearview mirror.
Sitting duck.
How many times had he felt this way in his youth? Waiting for the next thing to happen to him.
Victim.
Band Of Skulls. Sweet Sour.
(He waited for his father to return home from the bars and strip clubs…)
The headlights in his rearview mirror blurred, but their blur grew brighter with each moment that passed...
(The snore of his mother in the room down the hall…)
The fearful sky above pelted the roof of his ride with louder and sharper pings that sounded like a ball peen hammer...
(The slump of a leather jacket dropping to the floor in the kitchen, the smack and tingle of keys on the kitchen table, sliding across and then jangling onto the floor below. Sean would never, ever wear leather at all…)
The wind howled outside of the car, and them lights blurred into two sets of two…
(The mutter of a swear, and the stagger of footfalls, echoing down the hallway…)
The lights behind him and Tellesco became clear now…
(The twist of a bedroom doorknob…)
Tellesco sat there in his own car, awaiting the rest of us to come, so he could laugh in our faces and joke about how we were slow pokes, with the rain dumping into his shattered passenger side window…
Sean understood that it was not we bastard punks who were coming up fast and bright. He realized that Tellesco and he were in danger. He knew that he would have to save them both.
Alone.
Alone.
In the dark.
Yet again…
You see, that had been his mission all along, to save Tellesco. He knew why, even if he didn’t exactly know why…
Frozen in fear he saw the lights coming closer.
(The door creaked open… Bad… Bad… Bad…)
Perhaps he knew through instinct that in saving Tellesco, he could
save
himself
...
And now, he had put them both into danger, because he had been full of bravado, feeling like a victor, like someone who had chust come from one hell of a victory.
Water and fire.
Baptism and explosions.
Black hole and light.
Never the twain should meet.
Sean gunned his engine and he swung his car around.
The rain blurred his eyes.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
.
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