Queen Of The Desert CH 3 Katheena REBOOT

The Full Count (acoustic)  by Killing Moon 

Katheena had never been very good at planning anything at all. 

But she sure could make a presentation. 

The thin blue blade swept across the wide valley of the San Joking River and I swear, I felt the thunder of a thousand hooves in the ground.

The cabin behind us roared with lightning-struck fury and we damned punks witnessed fear that struck bone.

I looked back at my friends and they were chust standing there with their mouths agape.

Fat Jerry broke the hold of Tellesco and stood up.  He looked past me and his eyes opened wide. 

It was the herald to the End of Fuckno, like a blast from the trumpets of Heaven.

He said, “You dug me up for THIS?!”

He ran towards the big white truck as the blue blade arrived.  He climbed up into the driver seat and the cloud of dust blasted us from the huge black horse, held to a stop by his reins.

Mayhem had arrived.

Tahoo/Amen.

The Glinty held them reins taut in one hand, and his other hand clamped the hearse-wagon brake-handle.

The cloud of dust rained down on us.  Glinty stood up and dropped the reins.  He grabbed his shotgun and aimed it at the fat punk rocker in the utility truck.

Mayhem snorted dust from his snout and shook his head.  He whinnied and looked back at the old ghost-cowboy atop the wagon.

Glinty nodded towards us.

The huge horse whipped his head back to face us.  His wild mane of blue flames was a blinding sight to behold.  

The white truck started up its engine and The Glinty fired his shotgun through the missing windshield at the face of that punk rocker with the purple spikes.

From inside the cabin of the truck we heard a shriek.

“NO!  Birdshot?!  Again?!”

It seemed like new old times among bad friends.

I wiped the dust out of my eyes and regarded the small figure sitting next to The Glinty.

 

Nothing like a blast from the heavens to wake you the fuck up.

I could see her.

Katheena.

Did she betray me?

Q U E E N

O F

T H E

D E S E R T

C H   3

KATHEENA

(R E B O O T)

Dayam.

Katheena had never been very good at planning anything at all. 

Of course, she could plan a hook-up, a meeting, a dinner, but never a party.

Such a thing takes constant and unerring commitment until it actually happens. It is a skill that can be both taught and learned, but it is not an inherent talent that comes along with the DNA of simply being borne.

Yup.

None of us hold all the keys, you know. 

We each have our weaknesses, and we each have our strengths. 

These may balance out if you pay close enough attention to all of them details, but the whole equation is known only at the end of one’s life. 

The best that you can do is attempt to put more plusses into your math and hope for the best against the negatives that occur along the way. 

That there, my friend, is known as Faith.

Seasons by Chris Cornell   

Katheena’s smile could brighten a room when she entered.  She never hung against a wall like a flower. 

Nope. 

She was rather like a shotgun.

When she left the room, all the lights dimmed and you were left with a feeling of wanting to follow her. 

Others would be right behind her, out the door.  Where was she headed next?  She was like a pied piper.

How could she enter a party, make a full sweep and charm each person with a few words and her goofy, honest grin and then leave with all the fun people?

You wanted to run to catch up to her, to follow her to the next place. 

Were you been left behind?

There was still time to join her, if you made quick steps.

Would you have stayed behind?

Would you follow?

God help you

God help us All

---willies out.

OK, One More For You:

It was Katheena that went missing from this tale. 

It was also me.

The tale will unfold as it wants to, but I guess it comes back to the Truth.

I want to follow her.

It’s just that…

Well,

It’s a different sort of scary for me.

I been fighting it.

I apologize to you Katheena for what happened to you.

Rrrrrrgh.

.

Queen Of The Desert Ch 2: Hope

Welcome back to this tale.  God Help You.

Modern Jesus  by Portugal The Man  

Katheeeeee-na was what The Little Lion Man Joey would call her…

She 

was

Well…

She had been my...

Star.

She was the One.

I lost her.

That, my friend, was my fault.

QUEEN

OF

THE

DESERT

HOPE

An exploded cabin knocked us the fuck down.  It roared with vehemence.  We punk bastards needed to regroup. 

It was time to get the fuck out.

A mighty steed with blue flames for a mane sped towards us with a ghost hearse in tow, and I felt like I was gonna die. 

Fuck that shit. 

I shouted orders.

“Get that fat bastard up!  Put him in the back of the big truck and tie him down!  We getting out NOW!”

Time to go.

Gawdamn.

Tellesco squeezed his big arm around the throat of the giant punk until that bastard sunk back down.  He screamed at us.  It was rare to hear him sound like that. 

He said, “Get some rope!  No, wait, get some wires!”

I ran to the big truck and opened up a panel.  There were many panels, and this one did not have wire inside it.

The next one did not either, but there was a tool belt. 

In one of its pouches I found a pair of dikes.  That is a proper name for a large pair of pliers that are strong enough to cut large strands of wire, or ten-penny nails, or even wood screws, but it is easier to say, “A pair of dikes.”

I wrapped the tool belt about my waist and buckled it, and scrambled to the next panel.

I opened it and pulled it down to find long drawers full of  wire caps and fasteners and such and I knew I was getting close to the wire.

In the middle part of this side of the truck, I found several coils of wire, and pulled out some ten-gauge four, which simply means that it was very strong and also covered in plastic.

Didn’t want to hurt the big baby that Tellesco held down.

I ran from the truck and looked over my shoulder at the approaching front.

The blue blade across the horizon gleamed brighter in the dark light as it neared.

I remembered something.  

 The following words are from here:

http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2013/05/tfw-ch-14-iron-mettle.html

He put his hat back on his head and said, “No, son, you done had them visions.  You seen things that are true.  You ain’t dreamt a thing.”

I shook my head.  I said, “I was lost in the desert.  I was buried up to my waist.  I was left behind.”

Glinty said, “That’s all up for grabs.  Only thing I know is this:  Them dream things are fears.  Consternations. Worriment.  That’s what the lady folk do to pass the time.  Now, Visions are another sort of thing.  You have to find the difference between the two, boy.  Ya see, we men, we fighters, well, we got to face them fears head on.”

That there, my friend, showed to me the chink in the armor of The Glinty.

I thought about two ladies.

One had died in the ocean, and one had died in the desert.

Both had come back.

One showed me the way.

And one had such anger that she could freeze a room when she walked in.


I thought that this old cowboy preacher should meet them.  It was obvious that he hadn't.


Maybe he would.

Well, it was obvious that he’d met at least one of them women.  

You see, that old cowboy preacher witnessed his weakness, and then he recognized it, and then he overcame it.

Perhaps I would need to do that as well.   

I would have to make amends to my anger at Tellesco.   

I would have to make peace with bailing on Katheena. 

Dayam was that a lot of work to do in a short time.

But it looked liked it was work that needed to be done.   

Ya know.

You should also know why The LGinty needed us to have to deal with that angry punk rocker.

 

Jerry hated the Glinty because they had different perspectives:

http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2013/06/tfw-ch-17-anger-and-hunger.html

The punk rocker had a purple mohawk because he was a Purple Robe.

 

How fucked up was that?

(To Be Continued)

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out

It’s About Time   by Young The Giant  

.

BETA: Queen Of The Desert CH 2 (to be named)

Possible tunes:

This Is The Way We Move   by Langhome Slim And The Law  http://youtu.be/_tW7jJe3Omg

Awe   by Asa  http://youtu.be/obNoEuwuwRY

Hum Drum Blues   by The Growlers  

Surprise  by Filter  

Everything Is Debatable    by Hellogoodbye  

Elastic Heart   by SIA  

I Feel You  by Depeche Mode  

Sullen Ground   by Mount Kimbie  

Home   by LCD Soundsystem

Red Sky   by Thrice  

Tear Drop Windows   by Ben Gibbard  

Little Games   by The Colourist  

Hands Open   by Snow Patrol  

I Will Steal You Back  by Jimmy Eat World  

Oh Shit!   By Pharcyde  

My Number   by  Foals  

Not Giving In   by Rudimental  

VERSION ONE

Katheena was my star.

She rode atop a black hearse from the late 1800’s next to an old cowboy priest.  Both of them were dead.

They were heading towards us damned punks.

She had hugged me back at the baptized mansion in the first attack of them Purple Robes. 

I gotta tell you, I had been in a state of shock since them.

I did not think that any of this was happening.

This Is The Way We Move   by Langhome Slim And The Law  

(Write about meeting her again, what it meant to see her, well, sort of alive again, and what she had to say.)

…

She said, “You have some power.  You are the Red.  You need to step up here.”

Do you see, there weren’t only blue ghosts of lost cowboys, nor the implants of them Purple Robes.

There were the Reds.

This would be our army.

You see, the whole city of Fuckno was inhabited by them Purple Robes.

The city, the towns off-skirts to it, and the whole damned valley of the Sans Joking River Valley.

She said, “I need to tell you about what happened to Sean and Tellesco in the Baptized Mansion, right before you guys did that.  They are connected to some...  things.”

(To Be Fully Fleshed, so to speak)

God Help You, my friend.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

.

CH 1 QUEEN OF THE DESERT

"There ain't no such a thing as a writer’s block.  When you find that the words don’t come out correctly, then you stopped digging deep.  Ask yourself this:  Why?  Are you afraid of the dark?  You might have to grab up that ole shovel and head off to the boneyard with lantern in hand."  ---Sinister Minister Glinty McFlintlock ca. 1889.

Huh. 

How about that.

Epilogue  by Crosses   

We continue from here my friend.

The desert cabin burst apart from the lightning strike and we damned punks got tossed into the dirt from the shockwave.

That angry punk rocker rolled over and he was pissed off and naked.  These are two things that when combined are never pretty to see.

(Unless that is your thing.  No judgment here on you my friend.)

Me?

I had chust seen Katheena sitting with that Glinty dude atop his horse-drawn carriage and all time stopped for me.

I lied in the dust and fiery splintered boards rained down upon us all.

The sky above was black.

I must have taken a bump to the noggin, for I could see the stars above.  Some of them glowed, some winked into existence and then blinked out, and others whirled along the outer fingers of the Milky Way Galaxy.   

Our own tiny blue marble is located on the end of one of these tendrils, you know. 

We may never impact another solar system.

We probably won’t.

If we are indeed left alone like this, then all we have is each other.

Well I tell you my friend, my own star was now riding a black hearse drawn by a huge horse named Mayhem.  His mane burned with blue flame, and I felt betrayed.

Katheena was my star; only for me.

In my dizzy state of mind from the cabin-blast wake-up knock-down, I saw her kneeling down in a short, tight, lime-green skirt looking for her keys under her car from back in the day when I had first betryed her trust.

My betrayal to her had not stopped there, no.

I had shown her the evil of cocaine.

http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2011/10/146-imbationation-begins.html

Rrrrrghhhhh   

It's hard to tell about this.

THE

QUEEN

OF

THE

DESERT

The mighty Massive Attack with silky Hope Sandoval put up on YT by the lovely DamselBoo

It went much more than an introduction to desert dust.

It went much, much further than that.

We brought the older Purple Mansion down in a baptism of desert rain and fire.  But that ancient hotel had become their meeting place:  a place to hold parties for the very wealthy of Fuckno, as well as to hold meetings of them Purple Robes.  It had a water tower on top of it from the old cowboy days, and that helped us to baptize the old motherfucker.

http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2011/12/baptism.html

While that old Purple Mansion drowned and caught fire, Katheena saw us damned punks speed by with expensive, stolen vehicles and others in pursuit.  She met her demise when she pulled out of the side street and raced after us.

http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2011/12/158-baptism-and-sacrifice.html

Lion Man drove her to the Hospital as her life ebbed.

http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2011/12/160-tdc-weaw-weekend-at-willies-death.html

Do you see?

I should have driven her.

She might have lived.

 It’s what I thought all along but never admitted it until now.

It was because of me that she died.

I had killed my Star.

http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2011/02/x40.html

Let us now attend to another fellow who left his own Lady behind, cool with you?

GREGOR

He awoke in a burning body and could not find his woman, his Lady, his wife.

He was Gregor, the High Priest of them Purple Robes.

He had abandoned her in the ugly part of the city, but he did not know this just yet.  He’d thought he’d been following her away from the asshole of Fuckno.

 http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2013/10/tcc-ch-16-paint-it-black.html

Gregor walked-in to a fading spark and could not open his eyes.  They were melted shut.  He found himself inside the body of the young woman who had started the fire in the servants’ quarters.

He screamed from the pain of being on fire and inhaled flame from the exploding aerosol cans.  His new body burned from the inhalation of fire and from the pool of kerosene all about the floor beneath him in that hellhole of a supply closet.

He had made a Really Bad Decision to enter such a fading spark.  This would stick with him after the burning stopped and he died, yet again, and then could move on to another spark of an unconscious person.

The path of the Walk-In is not one you should wish to follow.

You see, you can leave your wife behind in the dark.

S V E N

The original cannibal; the one who had infected them Walk-Ins with his hunger for depravity, torture, and human flesh, well, he was dragged out of the burning mansion by those who thought him to be the Son of the High Priest.

In the rear courtyard, he coughed out aerosol smoke and vomited.

The security man, (also a Purple Robe) asked him, “Sir!  Are you OK?”

Sven nodded and wiped his mouth.  He coughed and looked up into the young man’s face, in the bright light of the rising sun.

Sven said, “I haven’t felt better in ages.”

He knew that he did not have much time,  but he did not figure one single thing into his math, as smart as he was.

It was this:

He was now in control of them Purple Robes.  He was the new boss of the empire, by default.

All that he knew was his hunger.

Now listen.

We will go back to meeting Katheena in the desert at the lowest, darkest part of this tale: 

...next time.

Damn.

…..rrrrrrrrrggghhhhhrrrrr…

God Help You.

God Help me, too.

---willies out.

rrrrghhhhhhrrrr

.

You Can’t Fix This   by Sound City Movie supergroup 

.

 

TCC CH 20 ANSWER TO THE CALL

Hurt   by NIN  

I’ve been fighting the direction that the tale indicates. 

In fighting against the truth, we may lose our path.

But if we remain true to our inherent beliefs, then we might find a solid step.

What is it that you need to do?  Why are you telling your tale? 

Should you look back to your roots, and find the answer?

Our opposition could be those who are hollow, and those who have only their own best interests in mind.

You see, there are those who do not lead with even a bit of heart.

But if you have the guts, then you can delve.  You can dig.  You can persevere in the face of oppression.

Never sell out.  Remain true to your Tribe.  Our Tribe is all of us.  Tahoo.

“The Truth will set you free.”

Huh.

God Help You

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

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TCC CH 19 Make It Rain

The blue edge of the blade swept across the desert dunes beyond, towards we dusty punks.

Clouds piled up beyond the mountains to the East.  These mountains were a barrier to my home in the east.  Someday I would cross them.  I would follow a long forgotten wagon trail toward the rising Sun, to the eastern coast.  You know, them old Conestoga  trails led to the West back in the day.

An island in a mighty river awaited me.

My Island…   

my River…    

my Home.

 

No Home   by Stukenberg  

Them clouds filled up with hatred against us.  They piled up and sent tendrils and fingers down the valleys and crevasses of the Sans Joking Mountain Range.

They rumbled and tumbled until they filled the bright blue sky over the dustbowl and they blotted out the angry Sun.

The blue flame of Mayhem’s mane glowed brighter now. 

Sometimes it has to be dark to see the light, you know.

I looked back at them young men who held the punk down and said, “Anybody got a light?”

The sky above shrieked in response.  Lightning flashed and it blinded us as the cabin’s roof exploded.  We fell flat in the dust, ears ringing from the shockwave. Yup, that old cabin caught fire and began a stately burn. 

Big Bryan was the first up.  He was always like that; ready for a fight at the drop of a thundering bolt.

(My apologies to you my friend, I appear to be fighting with the tale again.  It’s taken many rewrites since Saturday.)

Rrrrrghhh.

A Hundress Mie   by Nicky PH 

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

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TCC CH 18 BLUE FIRE

Danse Macabre   by Camille Saint-Saens   

You should know by now my friend, that a saving grace is a miracle (those are lovely should one come your way) but it is a cheat on the tale.

In this here tale, there has never been (nor will there ever be) a sudden miracle out of the blue.  That would be a disservice to these lively characters.

And to you.

A hack writer will cheat, and I am no hack. 

You see:

If properly constructed, a story will unfold as it must, and it will surprise even the one scribing the events, much like a news reporter. 

I have always followed three tantamount beliefs:

1.  Write only what you know (or have researched well).

2.  Remain true to the characters and the tale they want to tell.

3.  Be true to the Reader of the tale.  (This is the most important of all.  Readers of your tale have amazing forgiveness for bad speeling and such, but they will you call you on a misstep, gawbless them.)

 

Hey, I’m along for the ride just like you, my friend.  Know this:  I don’t want to lose the track, the tack of the sail, the wind, nor the island ahead, to where we head.  I’ve got it mapped out, but the treasure is in the journey, not buried under the X on the map.

TCC

CH 18

BLUE

FIRE

I pushed down on the legs of that angry punk and looked to where the crying young man pointed.  I saw a white-hot glint of blue fire far across the desert dunes.  The angry sun glaring down from overhead could not erase such an indelible image, in the mind’s eye.

I pointed at it and shouted at the others, “Hold tight!  Something is coming towards us!”

Tellesco clapped me on the back after he watched me do this.

He said, “Mr. Will, you see it, too?!”

I nodded and said back to him, “Yes I see him!  Now help us out with this big bastard!”

Tellesco chucked himself down on the back of the struggling giant and forced his elbow against the neck of our adversary into the desert sand.  Fat Jerry got his face buried, again.

I turned back to look at the wildfire.

At first: a glint, a hint, a spark of white hot mettle appeared.  Then it grew across the vast desertscape.  I was looking at the sharp edge of a flat blade, swinging towards us at great speed.

(Duck!)

(Run to the hills!)

(Bury your head in the sand!”)

I could not speak.  Them others looked up to see what I was doing as Tellesco pinned that big man down solid.

Joey said, “Weeee-ill! What you doing?!  Ain’t nothing coming!  Come put this boy to bed!”

Patrick the utility truck driver said, “I don’t think my company insurance covers this liability!  This is certainly a dream I’m having-“

Big Bryan said, “We got him down, Will!  You do what you gotta do.”

Me?  I about shit my pants.

Instead of saying, “What, you guys can’t see this blue flame,”  I said, “Hold him tight!  I got his legs.  That old fucker said we need him, but he didn’t say that we need him awake!”

They each wrestled with new strength and held that evil man down until he stopped quivering.

I got up from kneeling on his hamstrings to meet our demise.

When Mistah Death appears, he doesn’t need a welcome.  No need to panic the ones with you who are about to die…

…with you.

This is what I saw:

The thin blue blade gleamed across the horizon, and a glint from the center of the sharp edge glowed with fire, like Tellesco had said.

The shiny gleam upon its edge neared, and as it did so, I could see a fireball of blue.

In its center I could see a massive black hole, like the spot in a photograph where the Sun should be.

It was Mayhem.

Blue fire whipped back from its head as it hauled a black hearse.

A man sat atop his hearse with the reins held taught in one hand and a shotgun in the other.

His face looked to be dried out for a hundred years and one of the black lenses in his spectacles was broken in half.

The Glinty led The Blue Army of them ghosts.

He sure did like to make an entrance, didn’t he?

 But you should understand one thing, which is this:

There was an angry young Thai chick who sat beside him:

Katheena

She Brings The Rain   by Can   

See you tomorrow for the goods.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

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