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.






.