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Thursday, May 10, 2012

Weekend At Willies Ch Fourteen Red Light


Sideways, by Citizen Cope.

The angry sun blasted his light into my eyes like the screech from an electric guitar.  I snuggled for warmth and waited for my little sister Spamela who would soon be knocking on my door, spilling splotches of lightened, sweetened coffee on the floor with each halted step she took.

I'd been missing my little sisters.

In my dream, there had been a car crash, (or was it a splash?), and some strange, once hidden books that floated up onto the surface of the water.  I’d tried to recover them even as I drowned in the desert.

Then some strong hands pulled me up from the depths, and now I was back in bed.

It had all been a dream.


Thank goodness.

The End.

Yeah, right.

Tellesco sat in the corner, wrapped in the knitted bed cover, sleeping.

The setting sun blinked one last time and disappeared from view.  Its orange sunset hues shined on the wall above my head as it made its way to the other side of the planet.

This did not make sense.  What had happened to the day?  Was time in reverse?  I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes.   I looked over to Tellesco, and he did not stir.  What I did not know was that he was one who slept very lightly.  He had a reason to.

I yawned really big and stretched way up to the ceiling and let it out with a big roar.  I felt refreshed.  Then I saw that my arms were bare.

Always mind your leather.

I pulled the sheets away and saw that I was naked.

That freaked me out.  What the fuck had happened to me?  Had someone slipped me a rufie?  My asshole didn’t feel like it had been violated.  Well, that was good.  Still a virgin back there.

So where the fuck was my leather jacket?  My pants?  I saw my boots hanging upside down from their laces in the window, lit from behind by the setting sun.


“Tellesco.”   I pulled the bed covers up.

He opened his eyes.  “You’ve been sleeping all day, Mr Will.”

Oh.  “Um, where are my clothes?”

He nodded to the closet, and in the dim light I could see hangers with clothes on them.  He said, “They’re dry now.  You want them?”

I nodded back at him.  “Please.”

He got up and held the knitted afghan around his neck.  It draped to the floor like a priest’s alb.  It was knitted with six-inch squares of rosettes like my own Grandma used to make.  Those were knitted together like a quilt.  Each square had a rosette flower in it.  It was of various desert hues, and they told a story, all together.

He carried my clothes by their hangers and draped them across my legs.  “I couldn’t find anything for myself to wear,” he said, and then he began to walk back to his corner of this tiny room.

“Tellesco, why you acting so weird?”

He paused.  He sighed.  He did not turn around.  “Mr. Will.  You tried to kill us last night.”

I had no idea what the hell he was talking about.  “Hah?”

He turned around, and he had tears in his eyes.  They caught the red light of the setting sun as he stood near the window, and his tears were red like drops of blood.

Aw fuck.  He was crying again.  He went on.  “You drove the hearse into the pool and then you almost drowned.  You almost drowned again in that pool.  I had to save you, after you tried to kills us both.”

“Hah?”   That fucking pool was out to get me.  “I don’t remember any of that.  I must have been really tired, the way I figure it.”

He exhaled and came over and sat on the bed.  “You really didn’t mean to kill us?”

I shook my head and said no, because that was what he seemed to need to hear there and then, but I truly did not have a fucking clue.  “I think I was trying to hide that vehicle because it would stick out like a coffin nail.”

He relaxed.  “Hey, I found some canned goods in the pantry here.  Would you like some Beenie Weenies? They're my favorite!”

At the mention of food, my stomach grumbled.  “Hell yes I could eat.  You gonna warm them up?”

His shoulders went up in a shrug.  “Something’s wrong with the gas.”

I began to chuckle, and then I caught myself.   The place had been blown up by the explosion of the huge LPG tank. That was somehow ironic.

“Tellesco, cold beans and franks would be nice. Thank you.”

That was all he needed.  He jumped up, still clutching his afghan cloak around his neck, and he was smiling.

Someone had stocked up the pantry with that sort of thing.  God Help Us All.

A memory came back to me from the previous night.  I said, “Tellesco! There’s broken glass all over the floor out there!”

He called back over his shoulder, “I done swept it all up.  But there’s some weird designs all over the walls out here…”

Huh.  About that… It might explain why I had acted so badly.  Like a curse on this place or something.  I needed to think about that.

Some food would help.  Gobless that sad dude, after all.

I had slept a whole day away, and I was refreshed, but what had happened to Joey?  I should rewind for you, and begin to tell you about his own interesting night.

Care to follow me?

I think that you will.  Thank you, my friend.  Let’s go.

+ + +   + + +

Weekend Players, by Jericho.

The little Lion Man drove away with a symphony of calamitous cacophony ringing in the night behind him.  He was escaping the Hostibal. 

As he drove on, a voice echoed in his head.  “...You have to answer for her death!”

His heart fell in his chest.  Had the ER doctor really screamed such a phrase out after him as he escaped?

No, he thought.

It wasn’t true.

As Tellesco and I were driving north in the rainy night in the stolen hearse, he was also heading north, in the third stolen car he'd driven that night.  One was an old Chevy, the second was a Maserati Bora, and now he was in a tiny Mazda pick-up truck he'd sparked from the Hostibal where Katheena now lied under a white sheet.

No way, he thought. Katheena wasn’t dead.




.   .   .      .   .   .

The young man in the jail cell heard the sirens from all over the city and he thought of only one thing, which was this:  It must be true.

She had passed on to the other side.

But why was she visiting him?

What was her message?

Bryan looked at his bed and didn’t want to go near it.  She was sitting there, although he couldn’t see her.

He had felt her cold presence near him there, before he’d jumped up.

She had whispered in his ear.

She was trying to soothe him, but her breath was cold like the night rain that coursed down the bullet-proof window of his tomb.

She whispered in soft sibilance, "Sean is in a cave.  Seen is here now..."


What the hell did she want from him?


What the hell did she mean?

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.


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