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 Ten: Drive

When I write, it’s important to me that I have a groove to hear. 

It sets the mood for my words. 

If you care to hear what I listened to when I wrote this tonight, 

go ahead, click on the video below. 

If not, no harsh on you my friend. 

We are going back to a burned house, 

thirty some-odd years ago, in the depths of a desert night, 

with heavy rain punishing a dirty, huge city that we will call Fuckno. 

A house may not be a home, but for one in particular, it was all he’d had.

It was gone. 

It had been erased from the Earth by the evil person who owned the hearse we had stolen. 

 Deep Draw, by Chris Zippel. 

 

The young man drove the stolen vehicle in fear. 

He was heading home.

This made him grip the steering wheel so hard that his fingers became numb, and his knuckles turned white.

The memories of his father began to appear in between the brush strokes of the windshield wipers.  Each frame of an old movie appeared anew, one at a time.

The movie was in black and white.  The frames showed the door to a bedroom opening, with the dim light of the hallway beyond shining over a dark figure who entered.

Quietly.

The young man’s breath came faster with each beat of his heart.

Soon, they reached the same rate as the young boy in his bed, pretending to be asleep.

Bad things were about to happen.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -

I looked over to Tellesco and noticed his white knuckles in the light that refracted back from the headlamps in the downpour.

He was hyperventilating.

I said, “Tellesco!  Take it easy!   You look like you’re about to pass out!”

He jumped and swung his face over to me.  He said, “I don’t think I can do this!”

The heavy vehicle swerved to the right and we were both tossed to the left.  His head hit the side window but he straightened up and regained control.  He slowed the iron hearse down to a stop and pulled his clenched fists away from the steering wheel.  They made a sound like pulling tape from a present.

He began to tremble, rubbing his clawed, numb fingers to get blood back into them.

I said, “Tellesco, we need to get there.  You want me to drive?”

He looked up from his fingers and nodded.  I opened my door as he slid across, and in the crashing rain, I heard sirens from far away.  There were many of them, from different areas, but none seemed to be approaching.

At least for now.

I climbed into the driver’s seat while he blasted the heat.

The windows steamed up from the rain all over my leather jacket.  He pushed the heater lever to allow for the defrost, and the window began to clear.

“Mr. Will,” he said, “I don’t think I can go back there.”

I looked in the rearview mirror for a clue. Rain washed in through the open window back there.  It was busted-out from a vehicle smashing into the rear-end.

I could see as well from behind as I could looking forward.

There was nothing at all.

I dug deep.

I said, “Maybe we shouldn’t go to your old house.  You’re taking it pretty hard.  I just don’t know where else we can go.”

Tellesco was shivering and he looked down into his hands while he rubbed them.  His breath finally slowed down.  He rubbed his knuckles, but they remained white.  There was no red.

Then he straightened up a bit.

He said, “Maybe I’m supposed to go back there.  Maybe that’s why I’m so afraid.”

I had no idea what he meant.  I looked forward into the cloud of light, refracted.

Soon, the morning would come.  Daylight might offer some answers. 

Yet, the light of the angry sun reveals all secrets.  Along with the arrival of daylight, so would come the fact that we would be seen.  We would be noticed in such an obvious sort of vehicle as a hearse.

For the moment, the black of night was a cover, a shade. 

Tellesco sussed this out, I could tell.   He said, “Drive, Mr. Will.   I’ll make do.  Let’s just go forth.”

And so we did.

Huh.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

.

Weekend At Willies CH Nine Home

Frank Klepacki.  Hell March. 

                   

The Lion Man stole a vehicle and rode it out of that hospital like a bat from the fires of Hephaestus.  The tiny red Mazda truck was an older make, and probably from someone who didn’t have all that much money.

He would later tell me that it still comes back to him, even now.  You see, it was an emergency that had made the owner drive to the hostibal in the first place, and in such a mental state, they’d forgotten to lock it up after having to find a place to park it out of the way of the rest of the emergencies that would be showing up.

Someone had tragedy befall someone who mattered enough to them to eschew an ambulance ride, or perhaps it was there was no time to wait for an ambulance, whatever.

An it was evident that they didn’t have enough funds to afford a newer vehicle that would lock up and arm itself with an alarm system at the press of a key fob button.

Now their ride was stolen.  Talk about a bad day for them.

However, Joey was having a bad day.  Hell, he had been having a bad day all night.  Perhaps you will forgive him for how he abused that old vehicle.

Lion Man Sped along in panic mode (Do Not Panic, unless it is absolutely necessary) among the side streets in the black heart of Fuckno.  He’d left Saint Mary’s Hostibal just as the police cars were arriving there in response to the discovery of one of the stolen expensive vehicles from the mayhem up to the north and west.

It would have been too easy to jump back in and race away.  Too easy, as in; easily caught.

He listened to his instincts, and that is what you must always do when you are in Panic Mode.   Fight or Flee.  If you are lucky enough to have been trained hard in how to react or navigate during Panic Mode, then God Bless You.  These skills have become your instinct.

Joey had not been trained, so all that he had in his tool box was his natural self-preservation instincts, and these would serve him well.

The thing that you should know about The Little Lion Man was that in his own tool box, he was an instigator.

That would be his savior.

+   +   +   +   +   +   +  

. 

Hello, this is Trish Tocker for KFUK-TV and I am pleased to tell you that the international news station Cable Unlimited News, or CUN as we lovingly refer to them, has picked up our story.   Apparently, the alleged amazing explosions up to the north of Fuckno and the coinciding baptism of a huge mansion at the same place are not the end of this Night Of Treachery Coming Out Of  Losers Behaving Really Awfully, or NOT COOL BRA as we are referring to it. Indeed, there is alleged evidence that some vigilantes, acting as heroes, tried to thwart the escaping stealers of cars.  Many allegedly have ended up injured in their attempts to stop them stealers.  I know!  How totally tubular that I am covering this story Leslie!  Ahem, I apologize for that.  Leslie is our excited camera man.  So we have allegedly have been told by police that everyone needs to be on the lookout for some other vehicles.  One is a Maserati Bora, and another is a horse-drawn funeral stage coach with a bright, blue horse that glows like it was on fire with blue flames, and also a long black vehicle with a circle A painted on its driver’s door.  Now back to you in the studio, where you can make a seat for me at the anchor’s desk for the nightly news, bitches!  Oh my god!  My hair is so fucked right now from the torrential downpour---

(---commercials cut in for closed fast foods joints at this early hour---)

+   +   +   +   +   +   +

Seen felt at ease.  He had been afraid of the probing and examination tools at first, but since these folks did not appear to intend to harm him, he let them do their work.  Hopefully, they would make this new vessel healthy enough for him to restart his previous work, on such a mortal plane of existence.

He lied now in his fresh, clean bed, and wondered about the amount of work it took to keep such a place this clean. He considered that their food might also be good.  This new body’s belly rumbled and gurgled in hunger. He wondered what food they might have in store for him to eat.  He wondered what weapons they might have for him to steal.

He put his arms up behind his head and looked at the ceiling and smiled.

It had been centuries since he’d last been here, and my, how things had changed, he thought.

And then a nurse came in to help him wash up.

Sleeper Agent.  Get Burned.  For Tellesco.

“Tellesco!  I have an idea!”

“Really?!  Nice!  I ain’t got any myself, Mr. Will!”

“I know, and that’s cool.  But keep driving and check this idea out.  Do you remember the way to your old place?”

“Ha!  Of course I do!  I know that route like…  Uh, wait.  You want me to drive us there?”

“Well, yes.  Just do it.  You’ll see.”

“Huh.   Well, ok, if you say so Mr. Will.”

Radical Face.  Welcome Home.  We drove to Tellesco’s home.  This is for him, wherever he may be now.  Hope he’s doing well.

He drove the huge black hearse without saying anything at all.  The rain that pounded the wind shield with its angry knuckles covered our shared silence.  I stared out of the passenger window, trying to be cool, but all I could see was my own fraught face staring back, lit from the watery light of the headlamps refracted back upon us from the rain.

Ya know, it took something to drive back to the home that he grew up in and was now gone.  No matter what had happened to him there, no matter what had become of it, the place we were heading towards had once been his home.

And because of what had happened to it, he had lost Home.

Looking back, I think that was why he held on to Sean so strongly.

Sean was his Home.

Home was were Sean was.

And now, Sean was gone.

Seen was in his place.

Seen was a Walkin.

Sorry about that Tellesco.

Damn.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

Weekend At Willies Ch Eight R U Mine?

Arctic Monkeys. Are You Mine?

 

The Little Lion Man pulled out all of the stones from the pockets of his leather jacket and placed them into two piles just in front of him.  As he kneeled, he heard sirens off in distance grow louder.

The rush of adrenaline flooded his veins.  He smiled. 

He grabbed handfuls of those stones and threw them will all of his might, from his left hand and his right, aiming for the furthest ones away on the second level of the parking garage. 

The second level was not like the lowest one, because the exit path had a downward grade to it.  It was not level at all.

As his arms grew exhausted from each winged motion of his arms, he grabbed the last handfuls and ran down between the two rows of these parked cars.  

Many of these vehicles awoke from their slumber with fright and alarm.   Some did not.  He pelted the quiet ones with his stones and almost all of them joined the rest in their obnoxious chorus.

He turned around and saw that seven were still silent.

He ran back towards his starting point, looking left and right.  He ignored the sleeping vehicles that looked to be expensive.  Those would be difficult to hard-wire.

He saw one particular pick-up truck, and it was a Mazda.  He grinned and ran towards it.  This was the One.  This small vehicle would be his savior, his escape pod.

He fingered her button and pulled on the door handle, and she opened up.

He reached in and pulled the stick shift out of gear, and released the parking brake handle and then threw himself to the floor of the diver’s side foot well.

On his back, he felt around under the dashboard for the wires plugged into the ignition chassis.  He would need only the brown one and the red one. 

He yanked all of the wires from the ignition chassis and pulled them out into view, and saw the two he needed via the bright lights of the flashing and honking vehicles in the whole side of this second level.  He twisted the brown and the red wire tips together, and the there came a sound of rapid clicking from the engine compartment. 

He jumped back up and pushed the small Mazda out of its parking space and turned the steering wheel towards the downward grade.

Exit and escape.

Gravity got that small pick-up rolling, so he hopped back in held down the clutch, and threw the stick shift into first gear.

The brown wire on a 1982 Mazda pick-up leads to the alternator, and that is what provides the engine with electrical juice.  He knew that he could jump start the truck before the condenser and points got fried.

She awoke when he let go of the clutch petal.  She chugged and coughed, and then he gave her some fuel.

The Little Lion Man roared with delight.

He pulled out of the parking garage of the hostibal and did not head to the exit.  Instead, he drove down to a side street, where the service vehicles went in their daily visits to the supply docks.  He followed this dimly-lit route to the safety of escape, just as police cars entered the parking area from behind.

Once he drove past the loading docks, he flicked on the head lamps to the Mazda truck.

The Lion Man had flown the coop, you see.

+   +   +   +   +   +   +

The cold bars pressed against Bryan’s back as he stared down at the metal bunk that was bolted to the wall.  His shadow flickered and wavered before him on the floor from the watery blue light of the lamp posts outside that shined through the silky fingers of rain streaming across the bullet-proof double panes.

His sentence was not quite as long as that previous one. 

Bryan would be released from jail in thirty six hours, but it was not soon enough.

He knew that some very bad things had happened, and these were not quite the same as the previous ones, but they were related to them.

He also felt, in his bones, something else.

It was the pain of an old man who witnesses the change of the weather in his joints.

His friend had died.

And now, she was whispering to him in his icy, cement cell.  

It was an alliterance of sibilance.

+   +   +   +   +   +   +

Tellesco drove that iron casket like a demon form hell.   He had this look in his eye that showed me his resolve.   I’d told him that Sean would be Ok, that he was in the company of help.

But really, I had no clue about that.

I had no fucking clue at all.

It seemed to me that Sean was different now.  I had witnessed his change, and I knew for certain that those who were now attending to his wounds would soon discover that the young dude was not quite right in his head.

He had taken a bump to the noggin

When you have been hit in the front left cerebral cortex, you may experience a change in your personality.  A hit on the right side may cause you to become erratic, without logic.

But if you get hit hard enough on the top…

…well, your brain wiring may become re-negotiated.

You may open up your portal to allow in a Walkin, and you will have to simply take a back seat, in your own head, if you are still there.

I didn’t know any of this at the time, but we would all find out.

It was because of all the shit that happened after.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -  

“Hello, this is Trish Tocker, and we have some news for you folks who are up all night.  Evidently, one of the cars that was stolen from this awesome explosions up to the north of Fuckno where I am currently getting all wet has appeared at a hostibal that we are not allowed to name, due to the newness of this news, but it rhymes with “Maint Sary’s.”   Evidently, the driver dropped off the body of a dead girl, and then he left on foot.  Police are now on the lookout for this mass-murderer and perhaps his cohorts.  Please stay tuned.  We will show you images of  everything as soon as we can get them.  Back to you in the studio, so you folks there can do some anal-is-sees, which is a circle-jerk that involves back rubs and unfounded conclusions that will all make us feel better about ourselves until the truth comes out.”

Huh.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

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 Three. To Be Seen: Beta One Version

(work in progress)












TO BE SEEN


(Sean was gone, and whatever replaced him, well, we shall now call "Seen."


Let's explore this "Seen." Let's find out what it meant To Be Seen, shall we?)







A Walkin is not a demon, an angel, nor a spirit.


They have an agenda, and they work their means to their ends, however they can do it. They may not be able to accomplish their agenda with one single attempt, but they have plenty of time simply because they exist without time. They are timeless.


What is not timeless is our short escape that we are allotted on this tiny blue marble, alone in all the eternity of space.


Sean was lost, and he did not have much time.



Seen had all the time in the world.



It became obvious about Sean when we reached the Clovis Hostibal.


But wait, I am getting ahead of myself.


Do not talk about the tale, right?




Instead, tell it.


Huh.






---(not yet done willies)





.

Chapter Two. Walk-Ins

A young man driving a very expensive vehicle towards safety found himself in the dark.

Time was of the essence. He had little time, and it became worth more the less there was of it.

Joey looked over to his passenger because he heard that she had stopped coughing.


He heard Nothing.


Again.


- - - - - -


Tellesco navigated the heavy hearse through the rain squall which pummeled the roof like the sound of hooves on an iron tomb.


He saw flashes of light spinning up and around in the rearview mirror like a dancer at a rave. Glow sticks burn bright and spin fast, but they always fade.

These ones simply went out.


I saw them as well. I turned back to him and said, “Hey, where are you heading?”


He hollered back at me, even though I was right up close to his shoulder. “I have no idea!”


Great.


- - - - - -


Sean entered the cave of the moon, and he left.


He left all of us.


He left himself.



When you go on a walk, when you partake of a drumming journey ceremony, when you leave your body, there is one thing that you must remember.


You must remember to not stray too far.


If you do, you may lose your way.


If you lose your way, then your body can become a portal.


Someone, or something else may enter this portal.


Your body is a vessel, a container, a holder for what is You.



There are things out there waiting for this opportunity.


These are known as “Walk-Ins.”


Walkins.




These can walk into your container, and they will take over your body.



It is like someone else is steering the car, the ship, the aircraft.




You will not be you any longer.



Sean was not himself any longer.



He was no where to be Seen.





And that is what we will talk about in the next chapter.



It kinda matters.




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.



.

You. Hate. i

.




80’s.



When i first saw You, i knew that You had it for me. You were a good teacher. Thank You for teaching me.


i learned from You.

















My new friend Sean was a large young man, and he could fight well. But i was new to this huge city that held the same amount of people as the state from which i had arrived.




My state is abbreviated ME.




My mental state was also abbreviated, but it was not me.




It was only i…







…i…






Alone in the desert, away from my river, on an island of ellipses.







i would learn.




i would learn hate from You.






i would learn to hate.







…i…





Hate.






You.




- - - - - - -



Sean and I showed up to the college football game with our dates.



The Bulldogs were playing the state championship and Sean was hungry to play for Fresno State when he graduated from high school. He wanted to check out the coaching staff, and also, the lovely cheerleaders.



Of course, he wouldn’t say anything like that to his tall, curvy lady Minacca with the long, wavy tresses…



… but I knew.



I think that she must have as well.



Sean was a slave to his impulses, you see.



Aren’t we all? Isn’t there something that you, my friend, cannot control?



If you say no, then you are either lying, or you have never been broken by desire, fear, nor even temptation.



What have you been doing all this time, here on this tiny blue marble that floats about in the eternity of space?



Have you lived, or died: been broken and then learned something about yourself?



Are you simply vicarious?



Perhaps there are things about yourself that you should not know.



Maybe we would all be better off not knowing such things.




Life should be easier, huh.







I would end up broken by fear, and I would learn to hate.





- - - - - - -


You was a huge body builder, and You showed up to the game with his crew. You flashed bravado, anger, and You was a bully.



You was the pact leader, each and every crew member wore cut-off arm sleeves showing off large muscle.



I had no idea that I had a pact (of two) until Sean pulled me aside and said, “Willie Boy, we have to go back.”



Hah?







“Willies Boy, we gonna go meet some friends.”




Well, shit, that sounded like fun. I mean, we had blazed to heights of glory in my date’s car before entering the gate area, and I was feeling quite groovy. Such a thing was new to me; poor Injun who was a bit of a science nerd back in my own state.


My friends had nicknamed me “Professor” only because I was a bit studious, and not because I professed to know much at all.



Some friends of his might be nice to meet, right?




There, in the beautiful state of California, I had decided to re-invent myself.




So I shrank back from our ladies entering the gate, and followed Sean.



This was going to be fun.



Or not.




“Sean, who are these friends of yours?”




“Some fucker just grabbed Minacca’s ass while we were in line.”



I hadn’t even seen that happen. I was busy following my date towards the gate stiles and then Sean had grabbed my arm. He ushered Minacca to the gate and told her to follow my date and get to our seats; we would be along in a bit.



Minacca looked fraught, but I’d had no clue as to why.



Until I did.



- - - - - - -



Sean led me over to a group of his friends who stood there in some sort of formation and he went right up to the guy in front of them all.



Sean said something to his friend, and the guy pushed Sean away, and he came up and stood right in front of me. You said to Sean, “This is your back-up?! This skinny dude?”



You laughed.



i shrank.


You shouted right into my face, “Pussy! Coming up here to fight with the men. Time to change your diaper, little boy.”



i was high, but i was low. i wanted to get back to my island. i wanted to escape.



i stood there, afraid, and i said, “I am here for my friend.”



You laughed, turned around to his buds, and You shouted at them.



“Lookit this twig! He manning up! I fucking love it!”



Then You swung back around and growled at me. “You ain’t nothing but a pussy. Go ahead, I’ll give you the first swing. I’m gonna hit you anyway, but you might as well have the first punch. Go ahead.”

His huge arms dropped to his sides.



You stood there for a looooong time, as i tried to give him a show.



But i did nothing.



i was trembling and trying not to show it. i gritted my teeth to stop my teeth from chattering.


My cheeks only quivered.


\Fai;l.




…fail…




Sean ran at him, and I bailed.



I shrank into the crowd, I hid in shadows, and I crept home along the side streets.


I kept looking over my shoulder as if they were still following me. PTSD, baby.


It took a couple of hours, but I made it home.



I was ashamed.



I was broken.


I was not …i…




i had learned to truly hate.




And,


i had learned something about myself.




It was not a pretty thing to see.





It was not a pretty thing for me to know about me.




For whatever reason, perhaps you have learned something about yourself that you wish you never knew.











We are all on this tiny blue marble floating about in the eternity of space, but this is not all there is.



There is more than hate and fear.


Huh.



Even though i was a pussy, for whatever reason, i would get the upper hand.




i survived, you see.


i learned what it means to be in the face of personal danger that night, when i was scared shitless and felt shame.



i persevered, and i have become I.



Who am I?



Well, no one special or particular, I am only one of Us.




You see, We are all we have.



Not ME, not me, not i, but We.



We.




It’s kinda important.



You can do it.



I did.





God Help You.



God Help Us All.




---willies out.











Sorry, no Rammstein. That would have been the easy way out in this telling of truth.




The truth is all about Karma.




You will see.








.