Weekend At Willies Ch Eleven Hard Pan

Them Shoes   by The Eagles 

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

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

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

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

Or course.

That is the way we would end up.

With out a single clue.

Great.

Now what?

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

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

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

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

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

We would have to continue on at a slower pace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aw, Jeebus fucking shit. 

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

Fuckity fuck fuck.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About damn time.

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

I just chose to ignore it.

I was an asshole, you see.

.

Weekend At Willies Ch Seven: Berry Stones

.

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

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


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

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


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



Huh.



Joey grinned.


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



+ + + + + + +



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



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


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



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



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



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



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





+ + + + + + +



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


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


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



- - - - - - -



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



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



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



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



But how? Where? And then what?



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

La Roux. In for the kill.

- - - - - - -




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




+ + + + + + +



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




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



He jumped back up.




“What the FUCK is your Problem?!”





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





“…shhhhhh…”




“…it’sssss…”




“…ok…”






He about jumped out of his skin.









God Help You.


God Help Us All.





---williesssssss out.












Antidote:

Here’s theWhiteRabbits. Heavy Metal.

Director, Producer, Editor, Cinematographer: Andrew Droz Palermo

That was sublime, Palermo. Do more.






.

Weekend At Willies Chapter Six: Sibilance

Birds Of Paradise, by Rumspringa.

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

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

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

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


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



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

At once.

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


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


+ + + + + + +



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



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



Katheena was a dead girl.


“…Bryan…”


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




It sounded like her.





+ + + + + + +



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



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





“Tellesco? Is that his name?”


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



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




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



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


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

He would get them done.


He had his own agenda.



+ + + + + + +



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



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


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



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


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


Best thing he could have said.



We were gone.



God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.

Weekend At Willies Chapter Five: Admissions

.

Problems. By Salmonella Dub.

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



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





“You Ok, Freddie? You gonna make it?”


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






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





+ + + + + + +





“What is your name?”



“My name is Sean now, evidently.”


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






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



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


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



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



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



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






Oh.





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




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




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





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




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



Tellesco was the naked chauffeur of the hearse.





+ + + + + + +



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


She had left us.


So had Sean.



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




+ + + + + + +




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




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










+ + + + + + + +




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




Huh.



God Help You.



God Help Us All.



---willies out.










.

Weekend At Willies Chapter Four. Half Red

.







Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney. Gold On The Ceiling. Fuck Yes.










Joey grabbed his leather jacket off the end of the gurney and shook it out. Desert mud fell onto the floor tiles, and he saw that it was half red. It had been spray-painted with red paint from a fire alarm trigger.



When you pull a fire alarm trigger, you get a shot of red paint for your troubles. It marks you, and it doesn’t wear off.



You become a red man, and that color is permanent.


Red is the best color.



Tahoo: Amen.



Joey pulled on his damp leather jacket. Always mind your leather. He went looking for the girl he had brought to the hostibal.



+ + + + + + +



The young man in prison awoke with a scream. But this time, he did not hear keys jangling onto the hard tiles of a kitchen floor and echoing in the cement tomb of his cell.



He had heard a whisper of a breath escaping from the lips of a close friend. It was the last breath she would ever exhale.


It creeped him the fuck out. Where were these strange, awful dreams coming from?




+ + + + + + +



Tellesco pulled up to the side entrance of the West Clovis Medical Center and said, “I can’t go in with you like this.”


Sean looked over the seat and began to cackle. I’d never heard him laugh like that before. He said, “Why are you naked, young fellow?”



Tellesco blushed. He said, “It’s a long story. You need to go inside and have them look at your head.”


I was already out the door and on my way. I needed to have my own head checked.



+ + + + + + +


Joey went back to the front desk of the emergency entrance and sat down in front of the emissions nurse. He would have laughed at such a desk sign at any other time, but he was not in the mood for laughter.


The night nurse looked over at him. “May I help you?”


Joey shrugged. “I brought in my friend who was in a car crash and I want to know where she is.”

The nurse nodded. “You were in shock and you fainted. How are you feeling now?”


Joey said, “I’m feeling worried about my friend. Where is she?”



The nurse clicked her computer keyboard and there came a look in her face for a brief instant, and then it was gone. She said, “Oh, we have been looking for you--- wait here for a moment, please.”


She got up and left.


Joey sat there and looked around. The place was spotless, white, and clean. There sat a mop bucket nearby, and a fresh mop stood up-ended in it, setting against the wall nearby. The floors were shiny and damp from being freshly scrubbed.


He understood. Sometimes, there was blood on the floor in the entrance way.


The whole area smelled like cleaning agents.


His nose stung.



He turned around and saw an open area where folks waited for their turn to be seen. Some nestled hands or arms wrapped up in bloody bath towels from home, others held cloth-wrapped bags of hostibal ice against various body parts (one held it against his right eye) and most of these folks had someone sitting next to them who probably had brought them here.




“Excuse me.” The voice made him swing back around to the nurse’s station, but there was no one there. He looked up over his shoulder and saw someone standing there dressed in blue surgeons’ scrubs.



Joey stood up. “Where is she?” He looked down to what the doctor was holding in his hands. “What’s that?”



Then he recognized it. He was wearing the same sort of thing. It was a damp leather jacket, the size that a young woman might wear, and there was red paint all over it.



The doctor said, “It looks like you know about this red paint. It’s a marker for an emergency fire alarm. Half of your face is covered with it. We thought it was blood when we brought you in. You need to come with us.”



Joey looked at the security guard behind the doctor and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.





He listened to his instinct.



Joey fucking bailed. He could run quite fast. He didn’t bother looking for the expensive car. That would have been too easy.


Behind him, the security guard grunted and took off after him, and the doctor yelled, “You need to answer for her death!”



But Joey didn’t hear that. He was in panic mode.


Sometimes, panic is your friend.





Sometimes, that is all there is left for you.







God Help You.


God Help Us All.


---willies out.






Buddy Guy. Baby, Please Don’t Leave Me. Milky strings; dirty groove. Dig Deep.




































Radio head. Optimistic. The best you can...












.

Beta : Sunday Weekend At Willies Chapter Four . BETA

.


This Is To Be Re-written.


Props to Google friend YES who is a faithful guide.










Tellesco and Sean had a history. One had saved the other. But now, there was only one left of them two.


And Tellesco, the young man driving the hearse, well, he got a clue.


But first, let’s resume this tale from where we were, shall we?



+ + + + + + +


The young man in prison could not sleep. He didn’t want to have the nightmare again.




It woke him up each time he screamed.



He would not get any rest this night.



His release could not happen soon enough.



+ + + + + + +



Joey awoke on a gurney. “Where is Katheeeeeeena?!”


He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was alone in a hallway. Where the hell was he? Where the hell was the dead girl he had delivered to the Hostibal in the expensive car?


Was she OK?


+ + + + + + +



I slammed the door to the hearse shut and shivered. Sean muttered under his breath, “I like it. I can do it.”



Man, I wanted out. I looked over to Tellesco as he drove that hearse through the blackness of the desert thunderstorm, and I saw something in his eye.



He had a clue, as well.



Well, good.



About time he woke the fuck up.





Me?



I had no clue.



I had no clue about anything at all.



I reached into my pocket and pulled out the remainder of the desert dust I had hidden and brought along for the ride. This tiny plastic bag called to me. It had all the answers. Inside of this small, damp, zip-locked bag was the answer. I was sure of it.


We could make sense of things.

Just a little bump would set everything all right.



I nodded to my fraught reflection in the side window, refracted by the headlight shining back from the pummeling, unforgiving rain in the desert of the black hole of Fuckno.





It would make everything right.



Just a little bump…











God Help You.



God Help Us all.



---willies out.




The jangle of keys echoed down the hallway, and the young man in prison awoke again.






.

CHAPTER THREE: SEEN

.

















The young man driving the hearse swerved to avoid one of the last obstacles lying on the old, crumbly tar in the off-skirts of Fuckno, Califoreveryonebutme. It was a fat balloon tire, and it was the last remnant of the young man’s once-powerful Jeep. The tire looked similar to one that might have been on a Moon Rover, bouncing along the surface of our lovely satellite. She has waltzed with our blue marble for billions of years, and she will continue to guide us through the night until the angry sun explodes and devours us all.



When he swerved, I rolled over and fell against a damp, doughy body lying there. It had considerably more mass than me, and I scrambled away in horror.


“What The Fuck?!”


The young man up front hollered back in horror as well. “What?! What?!” He heard the frightened register in my voice, and it unnerved him to a great deal. You see, he was just barely hanging on to his own wits already. He was dancing along the brink of a black chasm of fear, and the only thing keeping him from falling into the hole was his intention to drive us to safety.


I screamed back at him. “You have a body back here!”



The body groaned. My skin crawled all over, and I felt a clammy hand on my knee. Fuck that. I clambered over into the front seat and spun around. In the back of the hearse, I could see nothing.


I could not hear anything but the rain punishing the roof.



And then a pale face rose up and a fat arm reached over to grab at me.



I reached for the door handle. Time up. Game over. Please insert another quarter to continue. No high score. I was gonna bail. Take my chances on the tar.


The young man at the wheel shouted at me. “Calm down! It’s Sean!”




Except one thing. It wasn’t Sean. Sean was gone. This was something new. We just didn’t know it yet.




+ + + + + + +


The young man in the expensive vehicle swung in to the Hostibal Emergency Lane and screeched the brakes to a halt in front of the automatic doors. He had come in the wrong way. A man in uniform ran out to meet him and opened the passenger-side door.

“Hello son, what is your emergency?”


Joey pointed at the limp figure in the passenger seat. “She been in a crash! She ain’t breathing now! She got mud in her lungs! Help her! Help her!”



“Calm down, son. Let me call this in.” He clicked the walkie-talkie mic on his lapel and shouted orders. Then he said, “Now hold on, does she have any broken bones?”



Joey shrugged. “I don’t know! My buddy put her in here! She AIN”T FUCKING BREATHING!”



A group of hospital folks came running out, one with a gurney. The man in uniform appraised them of the situation, and they got her out of the car in the exact position she was sitting in.



One checked her for a pulse and another put a face mask over her mouth and nose and slowly squeezed the big rubber ball attached to it, forcing air into her lungs.


Joey began to feel weak in the knees and he climbed back into the driver seat. He felt the world begin to spin, and his hands would not stop shaking.


Adrenaline had run its course. He had made it. But would she?


He passed out.




+ + + + + + +


The young driver at the wheel of the hearse pulled over to the side of the rode as I was opening the door to get the fuck out. The interior light came on.


He pulled me back in and turned back to Sean. “You Ok?”




Sean’s eyes rolled, and he felt his head. All of his hair was burned off. In its place was a matt of dried blood, and the scattered, dried remains of a poultice.

He said, “Never felt better.” He sat forward and looked at each of us in turn. “Where am I?”



I felt trembly from fear, but also relief. I could have giggled like a schoolgirl from my delirium. So I did.


Sean looked at me, and then back at the young man. “What’s going on with him?”



The young man smiled. “He made it, and so did you. I saved you both. I said I would, and I did. I’m so happy to see you are alive, Sean.” He looked like he wanted to give Sean a man-hug.



Sean smiled back. “Sean, huh? Yes, it’s good to be alive. What’s your name?”



The young man stopped smiling. “I’m Tellesco. Don’t you remember me? I’m your best friend!”


Sean grinned. “Best friend. Nice. Thank you for saving me. I think I took a bit of a bump on the noggin. Please forgive me while I get my bearings.”




I shivered, and not from the rain dumping in on me through the open door beside me.


Something about his way of speaking had changed.


Something about his mannerisms wasn’t the same.


Something was quite different here.


I had the willies, and it would not go away.


Ever.






There sat another young man awake in the night, with his legs draped over the edge of his metal bed, and his bare feet pressed firmly upon the slick, cold concrete. His walls were also made of the same material, and upon them were taped letters and photos of his friends. There were none of,


nor from


his family.




He looked into his interlaced fingers, as he sat with his elbows propped upon his knees.



He recalled his nightmare.







(A dark figure staggered down a hallway, with the sound of jangling keys falling from a kitchen table echoing again and again.)




This was a memory that wasn’t his own.




(The dark figure reached the last bedroom on its left.)





The young man furrowed his brow as he sought for a meaning. He got up and went to the bars in front of the skinny window that was set deep in the concrete.





(The dark figure reached for the doorknob, turned it, and pushed. The hinges squeaked loud and then they stopped, and the dark figure muttered swear words.)





The young man would be getting out of jail in a couple of days. Good Behavior. But what awaited him? What had been going on all this time in the real world?





(The door opened quite slowly this time, and the squeak of the hinges became a low growl of metal pain, in resistance to their movement. Something bad was about to happen.)






The young man looked out through the streams and blur of a powerful desert storm pelting the bullet-proof glass before him. The lights of the city of Fuckno gleamed in their blur and made him want to repaint them. He wanted to fix them. He was a fixer, and while he had the urge, he did not yet know that he was capable of such an ability.





The world had changed.




Something bad was going to happen.





He wished he could get out tonight.




He wondered whose memories these were, and why he was dreaming them.




He had an idea.






His time in prison was not wasted. He had cleaned up, you see. He saw the world for what it is. It is a watercolor painting, and because such a medium is vulnerable to change, it is possible to repaint your direction.





People do not change. No one suddenly becomes the hero, saves the world, and lives happily ever after.




But there is something else.




There is the ability that resides deep within each of us to recognize and control our animal impulses. It becomes a life-long battle, but each battle can be won, each time.


It simply takes great effort, a great determination to do such a thing.


Such a pursuit to change your path takes digging deep, and unearthing one's inner strength.



This is called Mettle.







God Help You.


God Help Us All.


---willies out.








.

Chapter One

The huge black horse with the mane of blue flames galloped into a cave on the moon.

Black and blue.

Red and white.

Moon dust and desert rain.


+ + + + + +


The naked young man put the hearse into gear and pressed the petal to the mettle.


Lights from behind grew brighter, and he shivered. They were coming for him. He felt it in his bones. He was borne out of the muck anew, and was baptized by the tears of the night sky.

The funeral vehicle spun its rear wheels on the slick tar, searching for traction under the massive weight and he eased up on the accelerator. This was not like his powerful Jeep with the balloon tires. Those chunky treads would have carried him forward, fast.

His Jeep now laid scattered in pieces and strange twists of metal all about the desert before him. It had come apart at the seams.

His practice of patience paid off. The huge black beast lurched forward, finally, and picked up speed and momentum. He re-adjusted his driving ability according to the ride. No fast, tight corners for this old crate. That thing would go in a straight line and resist any change in its direction because of its mass.


He lurched her left, then right, and navigated around strewn parts of the once mighty Jeep. Large tires, an engine block, a twisted chassis: these are heavy things that are not good to encounter when you are traveling at a high rate of speed.


When you do not know that they lie ahead in the pouring rain, they can be quite dangerous.


The headlights from behind grew brighter as they neared.


They were traveling very fast.


+ + + + + +


I woke up screaming. Tellesco screamed from where he sat, naked in the driver’s seat up front. Together, we made a chorus from Hell.


I did not know where I was. All was black, and I heard his screams, and it frightened the fuck out of me, so I kept screaming in horror.


I felt like I was in a coffin at the bottom of the sea. The depth of black all around me felt heavy and thick. I could feel the darkness touching my face. Its depth and breadth spread off into eternity like a bottomless pit. I was falling from the Earth through space and I had no stars to guide me.


Then I slid forward as Tellesco stomped on the brakes and he shouted, “Stop Screaming!”


Ah.


A familiar voice from out of the depths of the chasm, the void.


He opened his door to come around to the side and when he did, the interior light gleamed. I saw that I was in the back of a hearse. Black velvet lining on every surface. I rose up on my elbows and saw lights through the rear window. They were glowing brighter with each beat of my heart.


They were coming quite fast.


Tellesco opened up the side door and yelled at me. “What the hell is going on?!”


I yelled back, “I have no fucking clue!”


I looked down and raised my eyebrows. “Where are your clothes?”


Tellesco looked down as well, and then he slammed the door shut.


He climbed back into the driver’s seat and faced me from behind the front bench seat. “I lost my clothes when I crashed.”


Indeed, it was making less sense the more we went forward.


I pointed at the lights shining through the rear window. “Who are those people coming?”


Tellesco shrugged. Great. No one had a fucking clue.


What would you have done?



Well, I’ll tell you about it, and you won’t have to wait until next weekend.



God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.



.

177 No One’s Ghost Girl

This chapter is dedicated to Tellesco, God Rest Your Soul. The following tune was one of your favorites. Blech. You fucking owe me dude. The last two are for me, here, in retelling what happened to you. My own Antidotes.













Fear and desire drove Tellesco. He drove bare-footed. He was connected to his bitch, and that is what you must do when everything is on the line. You must connect to your bitch.



He was a punk, but he was not one of us. He was not one of anything at all. He was an ion, a tiny ember of a fire that had been shushed eons ago back when he was a boy. There was nothing for him here nor anywhere else. There was nothing at all.



He and Lorelei made a good duo. Ghost Girl and No One Boy. No One would see Lorelei again, and No One missed her when he didn’t.



Fat Jerry destroyed Tellesco’s house in a previous time, back in the early Punkeolithic Era, but Tellesco didn’t know this important fact. He didn’t know that the fat punk rocker with the tall purple spikes had killed people and enjoyed doing it.


He was about to find out for himself.


= = = = = = =


Katheena rolled her eyes and she said, “Ghosts are here.” She faded away again.


Joey felt his skin crawl. He felt her chest and knew she was breathing again, on her own. He went around and jumped back in the Maserati. He gunned the engine, and he flew off to the hostibal.


- - - - - - -


The roof of the moon cabin was not soft for a landing. Although I weighed a sixth of what I usually did, the timbers still had their inherent mass, solidity, and strength. I landed on my back and got the wind knocked out of me.



That bastard Glinty McFlintlock landed near me on his feet. He waited as I panicked for breath. No matter how many times you get the wind knocked out of you, you always feel like you are gonna die.



For a few seconds, anyway.






Tellesco had no one to tell him what to do. It’s easy to be on autopilot and let everyone else do the thinking. But when it comes down to the heart of the mettle, well, there are some doorways that you must enter, and exit, on your own.




Tellesco saw them headlights, and they were coming closer at an increasing speed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood right up.



Those headlights were aiming for him.



Someone was coming for him.



Someone wanted him dead.



His powerful Jeep was built for mudding, for pulling stumps, for figging, but it was not built to crash.



When you get the willies, you must listen to your instinct.











Tellesco did not brace for impact. He was not headed for a crash. He faced the challenge, and he made the smart choice.


He would not play chicken. He would go off to the dunes instead, and then he would win at the craps table. He would roll again.



Tellesco’s mettle was that he did not get caught up in bravado.



He was the only one of us who never did.


That was what made him belong to our group.




He finally belonged.




He chust didn’t know it yet.




He swerved at the last second, but he did not lose control.




When you are in a car accident, do not flail your arms in panic mode and give up. Do Not Panic. You can crash, or hit , or swerve, but the game isn’t over yet.





You can continue to control your bitch, even when you are heading for the woods, the rocks, or the dunes.





You will be injured, perhaps, but you can prevent death. Never take your hands off the wheel and throw your mittens up in the air.





Fat Jerry screamed in disappointment at the vehicle that swung to his right at the last moment. His two-ton ingot of iron took half a football field to come to a halt, and he yelled curses that neither you nor I have ever heard before.





Tellesco bounced up high when his chunky, fat tires hit them dunes, and he gripped his steering wheel to hold himself in the driver seat. Any other vehicle would have flipped, tumbled, and crashed. But he went bouncing along like a moon buggy on some balloon tires.




The desert mud flung itself up into his face and he held on tight. It would all be cool, wouldn't it? Nothing bad was gonna happen to him.


He steered to stay straight and not flip his buggy, and did not stomp on the brake petal.

A peddle is for bicycles.



A petal is the way you treat your bitch.


The accelerator petal, the brake petal, the clutch: these are like the interior lips of the almighty vagina, when you are connected to your bitch.



Treat them well, and your bitch will take you to the moon.


He swerved to a stop just before flipping over.



Tellesco got mad.



He got fucking mad.




He felt rage.




How dare that driver do such a thing to him?




What had he done to the driver?



Nothing. He had done nothing. He did not deserve to be treated in such a manner as this.



It took road rage for Tellesco to find his mettle.



It must be said that road rage is not an excuse for anything useful at all. Do not succumb to such depravity.

It's the easy way out, and it may be a permanent solution to a temporary situation.




Tellesco gritted his teeth. He was gonna go for revenge.




He felt a soft hand on his arm in the down pour of rain that washed the mud away from his face, and he shrugged that gentle hand away. He didn't even look down into the empty seat next to him.



He chugged his powerful Jeep through the mud and made a 180. He got back up onto the road and he pressed down on the fun button all the way to the mettle.



He was looking to give some pain.



- - - - - - -


Fat Jerry stomped down on his brakes and roared with fury. He felt my body roll against the back of his seat, and he growled, "Back the fuck up!"




Of course, I had no response.


He saw headlights shine in his rear view mirror, and these were much closer than the other ones on the way from far behind.


The fucker was coming back to dance.



Fat Jerry giggled.



Rage and pleasure are such an odd combination, usually reserved for rapists and torturers.



He slipped his two-ton iron ingot into gear, and he began to back up. He had debts to pay, but the seductive allure of giving pain to others awaited.


He had some pain to share, like an insane neighbor knocking at the door with an arsenic-laced pie.







Tellesco saw the white back up lights of the hearse appear, and he got a fucking clue. He felt fear again, but his anger was overwhelming.



Such rage can be liberating. It will give you power, especially if you lose reason.



He knew that Sean needed to be saved, but he had other things that needed attention.


He had blood lust.



Desire.



Fear and desire are such a dangerous combination.




He sped toward the hearse and pulled himself up with the steering wheel. He stood tall. He screamed before the moment of impact, as he leaped up and out of his vehicle.



It smashed into the ass end of the hearse and flipped and flung itself around like a twirling dervish, tumbling and coming apart on the crumbly tar.



Tellesco flew over the surface of the desert and fell into the mud off the side of the road where he had leaped and tumbled and came to a bloody rest in the crashing rain.



The fat punk rocker broke his neck from the whiplash.




The hearse continued to creep backward in the night.




No one was at the wheel anymore.



No one was there for anything at all.






No One.



Headlights loomed closer from behind.







God Help You.



God Help Us All.





---willies out.




















.

176 The Mettle Of Tellesco TDC WEAW Weekend At Willies

.





Feist. My Man, My Moon. Grizzly Remix.






I turned the knob and yanked that cabin door open.




The stars awaited. How odd to see the sun as it set in a black sky, while the stars gleamed without twinkling. It looked like them stars were trying to stare me down hard.


There were no clouds catching fire with orange and red as the sun set. Black sky, no blue.



The blue sky shields you from having to deal with how small and insignificant we are as we make our way through the day.


Eternity is spread out all the time overhead, but the blue sky hides it.



Infinity is a hard donut with your morning coffee or tea.



A blue shield blankets over our maze, as we scurry along looking for the cheese.




I strode out of that damn cabin and went to explore the moon. Why the hell not? Gonna die anyway. Might as well go where no one had gone before.



I scrunched down and then leaped forward as strong as I could.



I flew, baby, I fucking flew. There was no air so I did not have to flap my arms.


I arced over the surface of the waxing gibbous and looked below at the sharp shadows that indicated each rock, crater, and cave. What was inside those caves?



I wondered how much strength it would take to leap from the moon and then land on Saturn.



Only thing was, I could not make out where Saturn twirled in her pastel evening gown of stormy clouds and her hundred golden rings.



I couldn’t see any of the planets except for our own, and she was very big. The only other thing I could make out was our sun. He was not so near, but he was friggin hot as hell as he glared at me.


Talk about a temper.




The lunar surface loomed closer and I braced my knees for impact. I was headed for a crash.



+ + + + + + +



Tellesco saw those lights loom closer and he did not know what the fuck. He did not know that Fat Jerry was staring him down. There would never be anyone else like that punk bastard in our tiny realm, nor did there ever really need to be.



He simply existed like the planet Pluto, with her own moon Charon almost the same size, dancing in an eternal waltz together, way out where no one would ever suspect, hiding among the big chunks of broken stars, until it was time for that punk bastard to intrude and cause mayhem and disaster.


He enjoyed himself at the detriment to anyone else at all.



Fat Jerry didn’t know who was coming toward him, but he figured his odds were quite good at surviving a game of chicken with the poor fool who stood in his way.



He was supposed to be leaving the car crashes because he had bills to pay. A hearse such as his own was built like an ingot of iron, forged in the fires of the sun.



Tellesco would not have a chance.



Fat Jerry hated me for having to leave the party behind him early, but this new set of headlights before him was quite inviting, and he would not pass up this opportunity to dance with them lights.



= = = = = = =



Little Lion Man looked over at Katheena. She had stopped coughing, and she looked like she was feeling a bit blue.



He slammed down on the brakes and the Maserati Bora screeched long and loud in her disappointment.




He jumped out and ran around to her door, opened it, and pulled her up to him, close.



He tilted her head back and felt for a pulse in the side of her neck,




...my star.




He clamped his eyes shut hard as if that would make his fingertips feel any better at all.




Nothing.




He pulled her leather away from her chest and pressed his ear down on her tit and he stopped breathing like she was doing at that time.






There it was.




Her heart was still beating.





It was a soft, tiny flutter.




He pinched her nose closed and opened her jaw up wide, and then he kissed her deep.




He gave her the kiss of life.





He filled her lungs with air.





God Bless Him.









Strange Behaviour featuring Tasha Baxter, by Feed Me.








I landed and rolled in the desert dust of the moon. It was not as hard a landing as I thought it would be. I weighed only a sixth of my weight there on the moon, if you recall.




I took in a deep breath, and then I stretched out and yawned really big. My body tingled.



The dust slowly settled all over me, and I felt drowsy and snuggly as I nestled and drifted off.



I had taken a dose of “Fuckitall” and was going to take a nice desert nap.



Then the ground shook.




I looked up.



An angry cowboy preacher glared down at me with his one eye, and he grabbed my left boot with his right hand. He pulled me up by that lone Doc Marten, swung me around and around again, and then he let me go.



I was flying again, tumbling head over arse. This is not a very graceful manner in which to fly, and I do not recommend it for you.



You probably know to where he had flung me.


Well I did too.




Bastard.



- - - - - - -



Tellesco looked down at the seat beside him as the headlights in front of him grew brighter. His new girlfriend was not there to guide him.


He did not have Sean to help him out of a jam either.


He looked back up at the lights and felt lost, like he was off on the moon or something.



He only thought of the promise he’d made to Sean, his savior, earlier. It was the only time Sean had made him promise such a thing.


Sean had made Tellesco promise to come save him.


Tellesco understood what it meant. Now he was the savior.


It was up to him to come back after the damage happened, and collect Sean and take him to the hostibal.


He would not let Sean down.


No matter what.


In this combination of fear and determination, he found his mettle.


Mettle can be found in you when you do something that is the right thing to do, even if it means personal danger. It could mean that you will lose every thing. You could lose your life.


Tellesco made such a decision.



Good for him.


Bad for him?



Huh, we will see.







But he did it.





He said YES to whatever awaited, and he hoped for the best.






YES, and thank you.





He hoped for the best.





Taho, Amen.












God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.







.

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.






.

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.






.

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.










.

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.

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.






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