The Show (July 20, 2011. Issue 29.)
Damon showed up at eight. Adrian had a bag of dresses. "I brought three of my favorites. They'll cling to your ass." Adrian led Damon outside to his car. "This is just my everyday ride. I keep the Jag at home. Tonight is a private show. It's simple. You'll just model the dresses. I'll do the real work. You'll mak
e about a grand." "A thousand bucks?" Damon couldn't believe his ears. "Yes. You'll be part of the audience. The prettiest girl there." Damon thought it sounded strange, but the money was too much. Adrian sped towards Chinatown. The place is back here. Adrian parked, and led Damon down an alley. The sign flashed Stark. Adrian knocked on the door. Luan Lee opened it, and smiled. "Best customer. Welcome. I see you bring friend." "This is Damon. He'll be part of the show tonight." "Come in. It ready in back room." Adrian pointed Damon down the hall. "Change into the green dress. I'll meet you in a minute." Damon went inside the room, and slipped the dress on. It was a little tight, and looked ridiculous. Adrian brought some red high heels. They cramped Damon's feet, but he got them on. Adrian came in wearing nothing but a leather thong. He had a small whip in his hand. "Send in the actors!" Two naked ladybodys came in. Damon tried to turn his eyes. Adrian began touching both, and started fucking one. "Pose Damon! Pose by the window! Let me see those heels!" Damon felt a darkness enter the room. Adrian yelled in a fit of rage and passion. He slapped each whore in the face. Adrian used the whip on their asses. "Pose Damon! Pose Damon! Pose!" Damon tried to leave. The door was locked. Adrian pulled out a knife from under the bed. He started cutting the whores. The blood ran everywhere. Damon screamed, and tried to kick down the door. "Pose Damon!" Adrian put the knife to Damon's throat. "You didn't think the job would be easy! You're never getting out alive!" The blade ran across Damon's throat. He fell on the floor. Damon saw an angel. She smiled, and took him away.
The Conversation (December 20, 2010. Issue 23.)
He was sitting in the waiting room. His girlfriend was getting a mammogram. History of cancer in the family. Then she
walked in. Her blouse hung low. Two breasts poked out, as if to say "Good Morning." She had raven black hair. It sat on her shoulders, and that smile. It begged for a cock. He knew it might be wrong. His significant other might have cancer. He envisioned chemo-therapy and long nights. She sat next to him. "Hello." He almost froze. The words didn't come. Then he muttered. "Hi." "Do you have a cigarette?" He was alarmed. She was asking for a cigarette. "I don't think you can smoke in here." "Is that how you live?" "Excuse me?" "You live life like a pussy?" "No." Now he really did feel like a pussy. She got quiet. He had lost his chance. Ass like this didn't come around much. She crossed her legs. He got a glimpse of white panties. The ones he wanted to rip off. She said something. He didn't hear it. "Please forgive me, here is a smoke." She lit up and exhaled. She didn't say anything. "I'm going to bend you over." "Excuse me?" "I said I'm going to bend you over and stick it in. Then I'm to go so deep, you'll bleed." She turned her head. She was busy with a magazine. "Then I'm going to flip your ass around. I'm going to put it between your tits. Then come in your mouth." She casually flipped pages. "Then you're going to suck my balls dry. I'm going to make you say my name. SAY MY NAME BITCH! SAY MY NAME BITCH!" She bobbed her head. The clock moved forward. "Did you say something?" "No."
His girlfriend came out. He could see her tears. She had cancer. She was no different than the rest. In a few years, she'd be a bald ugly whore. He met her half way. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry."
On the drive home, he thought about the other bitch. She might be touching herself. She was saying his name. "Watch the road!"
Shit and All That Entails (May 20, 2010. Issue 17.)
Harry Wilson didn’t like his neighbors. They kept him up at night. He liked revenge. He took a big shit and put it in a bag. His neighbors went to work.
Harry placed the bag of shit on their doorstep. The next day there was a knock on Harry’s door. He didn’t answer.
The next day the knock was louder. Harry figured it was his neighbors. This only motivated him more. He took a bigger shit and put it in a bag. His neighbors went to work. Harry placed the bag on their doorstep. Nothing happened for a few days. Harry got drunk and watched the boxing matches.
After a few weeks, Harry forgot about his neighbors. He drank more and watched the horse races. He thought about his family. His brother died. His mother died. His sister killed herself. Harry woke up with a hangover the day after that.
When Harry opened the door, there was a bag on his doorstep. A small note was taped to the outside of the bag.
* Dear neighbor,
Thank you for the bags of shit. I hope you will enjoy our shit.*
Harry opened the bag. It was their shit alright. Harry took the shit inside and placed it inside a vase. He poured water in the vase, and put one red rose in it. After a few days, it smelled really putrid. Harry took the vase and placed it on his neighbor’s doorstep. He taped a small note on the outside.
* Dear neighbor,
Here is a red rose with your shit on it. I hope you enjoy it.*
A few days after that, Harry noticed a moving truck. His neighbors had left. Harry went inside and got a beer out of the ice box. He could enjoy some peace and quiet.
A few days after that, Harry noticed another moving truck. He had new neighbors. A Chinese family with three kids. Three little shits running about. He’d wait a few days before trying the old bag joke. Revenge took the patience of a glacier.
Pullman (December 20, 2009. Issue 12.)
Halloween night had arrived in Pullman county. That meant nobody celebrated it. The church controlled these type of things, and they championed their Fall Festival. This meant a bunch of kids walked around to Sunday school classes awaiting greetings from Jesus and Mary. If the tykes were lucky, the apostle Paul might make an appearance. The Pullman county children never knew the joys of tomfoolery and the age old tradition of playing tricks on bad neighbors.
Ed Johnson was oblivious to the Fall Festival because he hadn’t set foot inside a church since Moby Dick was a minnow. He lived in the old house on the outskirts of town. His shades pulled down since the Taft administration and the lawn infested with waist high crab grass. Ed had fought in the first world war and developed a penchant for strong drink while overseas. He remembered fondly the European brothels and opium dens. He never married and kept to himself mainly. He made a trip to the market once a month and the post office less than that.
The yellow flyer shone like a beacon in Ed’s rusty mailbox.
Fall Festival First Baptist Church Pullman
October 31st 6 to 8 PM
(Bring a canned good and get in free)
Ed started to throw it in the trash but read the last line. He thought about some evil things and realized that he’d like to make an appearance at this Fall Festival. Tomorrow he’d pick out his costume and get ready for church. Ed dug through his giant iron chest and found what he was looking for. There was his German kaiser helmet in the bottom trunk. It brought back memories of the Kraut that he killed. Poor bastard had a wife and kids. Ed put it on and sat in his chair. He opened a bottle and proceeded to get stink face in nothing but his underwear. Ed drank several bottles until the day seemed to roll by.
The First Baptist Church sat off the main road on the way into town. Ed slowly drove his old Buick and fumbled a cigarette into his mouth. He parked in the visitor’s s
pot and put his bottle on the floor board and grabbed a sword. He still had on his stained underwear and nothing else, except that Kraut helmet. The metal spike pointed skyward as Ed opened the church’s front door. He heard the laughter of children in the distance.
John the Baptist fainted upon laying his eyes on Ed Johnson. Ed walked right by the prophet and towards the children. He could see their pretty little costumes of Biblical characters all going into rooms with bags.
Ed took the Kraut sword out and started waving it around. He almost cut off his own foot with the first swing.
YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! BURN IN HELL!
Jesus ran out of a Sunday school class and saw Ed. He yelled and charged towards the drunk veteran. Ed hit our savior with a nice whack to the ear. The blood ran out everywhere but no sins were forgiven. The children started to scream and scattered down the hall.
Ed got his bearings and saw Mary in front of him. The mother of god stood helpless like a sacrificial lamb. Ed raised his kaiser blade and plum near took her head off.
The gun shots were fast and quick. Ed got hit in the back and neck. The helmet saved a clean head shot but it was too late.
The Pullman police chief walked over and looked at Ed. His bloated body in that demented helmet. It was a scene no one would forget. The night Pullman county got a real Halloween. Ed Johnson heard the fallen angels singing. Amazing grace.
Garner (September 21, 2009. Issue 9.)
When it started to thunder and the pools of water clopped together like giant whirlpools, this was when I liked to go outside. Now that’s not staying much except when you live in a place like Garner, Texas. The small town practically stayed in a state of drought year round, even causing the local churches to hold pray for rain meetings on the town square. There were only two churches in Garner, more than the number of grocery stores. My folks owned the store, it sold mainly meat and dry goods. My father ran a barbecue joint out behind the store, the best brisket in town. People came from as far as Dumas to eat the barbecue, and on Tuesdays we ran a three meat combo plate. I was in love with the pastor’s daughter. Pastor Simpson had been at Bethany Baptist church for nearly twenty years, and often handled serpents to prove his faith in Jesus. I had a feeling Jesus didn’t give a damn about snakes. Julie Simpson was a grade lower than me, but it didn’t matter because I was going to fail junior year. Garner high school like every other West Texas town centered around football. The whole town came alive on Friday night, to cheer on the pirates. I always thought pirates had a homosexual connotation , at least the logo on the football helmets looked gay. Besides there wasn’t any water with three hundred miles of Garner, if anything land pirates didn’t make sense. I didn’t play sports. This was the major reason Pastor Simpson hated me, along with I wanted to get in his daughter’s pants.
The big game was coming up next week. Garner was set to battle Texline in the district championship. “You going to the game?” “I’m not sure.” Pastor Simpson asked me the same question every week, when I was over seeing Julie. His whole life wrapped up in football and his glory days. “I told Julie, you guys could sit with us.” “I’m going to get there early, get my seat on the fifty.” “So, we’ll see you there?” “Sure.” I bullshitted an answer just to give the pastor some security. The truth being that I had no intention of going to that stupid game. I couldn’t bear the thought of all those meat heads pounding one another, and the little cheer leaders flashing their cunts to the crowd. I drove home and thought about my plan for Friday night. I planned on scoring alright, but not at the game. My father had left a few beers in the ice box, and I grabbed one. I had to phone Julie fast. Julie had her own line, which made it nice, but I got suspicious that Pastor Simpson listened in. “Julie?” “Yeah.” “Hey, I was thinking let’s skip out on the game Friday.” “We can get some beer and drive up to Miller’s Point.” “Miller’s Point?” “Yeah, what do you say?” “I don’t know, my father is set on us sitting with him and mother.” “Come on, just forget about your father and that stupid game.” “Alright, but I’ll have to tell my dad we’ll meet them there.” “Great, we’ll just tell him that we got a late start.” “I’ll swing by the store, and pick up a couple six packs.” “I don’t know.” “Come on baby.” “It’ll be alright.” “Your old man will be so wrapped up in the game, he’ll lose track of time.”
With Julie on board, my plan was coming to fruition. All week, I thought about taking her clothes off, and getting her to go all the way. I called Julie on Thursday night, to see if everything was still on. “Yeah, I told my father we’ll meet him there.” “Great.” “Now, I’ll swing by about eight to get you.” Julie paused and then spoke. “There’s just one thing we’ll have to take my father’s truck.” “What?” “He doesn’t trust you in that Mustang. “Fine.” “We’ll just have more room to lay down.” Julie snickered and hung up the phone.
The next day at school I couldn’t concentrate. While everyone was talking about beating the shit out of Texline, I pictured the pastor’s daughter naked. It was all too much. I drifted through my last class and went home. My folks were going to the game too, my father was obsessed with football. He played quarterback for West Texas State back in the fifties, and still believed he could have went pro. I stole two six packs from the store and put them in the trunk of my car. I told my folks, that Julie and I would see them at the game. They left with the rest of the town about two hours before kickoff.
I arrived at Julie’s house about eight twenty five. She looked hotter than ever. Her sweater looked ready to come off along with her Lee jeans. She was waiting for me on the front porch, when my I pulled into the driveway. “I told my father we’d meet them at halftime.” “Perfect.” Julie pointed me in the direction of her father’s Chevy truck. “He’ll feel better knowing we are in his truck.” We both got inside and headed towards Miller’s Point.
It was real dark on top of Miller’s Point, so dark that I left the headlights on until I could find the perfect spot. You could see the lights of the stadium and even hear the press box announcer. “It sounded like Texline scored.” “That’s a damn shame.” We both laughed and I put my arm around Julie. We started kissing and I worked her sweater off. She had on a white cotton bra and her breasts seemed too perfect for it. I felt her breathing hard and I slid a hand on her left breast. I could hear the announcer in the distance. “He’s at the twenty, he might score!” I worked the bra off and she put her hand on my crotch. “He’s still going!” I unbuttoned her jeans and just about had a hand down her panties when I saw it. “Holy shit! “What is it?” I pointed to the passenger side window behind Julie. The biggest rattlesnake I’d ever seen was crawling in to join us. Julie jumped across me and went out on my side. “That’s Virgil!” “My father’s snake got loose!” “He must have left him back there!” Virgil climbed in the truck and laid across the seat. It turned out Pastor Simpson knew what he was doing. Julie quickly put her clothes back on and grabbed Virgil. She put him back in his cage, which had been conveniently left in the truck bed. “That scared the shit out of me!”
I knew then that Virgil would be the only snake Julie handled that night. Texline scored three more times in the fourth quarter. We got to the game late, and my folks met us along with Pastor Simpson. “Ya’ll missed a good game.” “The pirates just didn’t have enough tonight.” “I hope Virgil didn’t bother you too much.” I put my arm around Julie and turned my head away. I had been glad Texline beat the shit out of my hometown.
Saturday Night (April 9, 2009. New Pink Moon. Issue 3)
Gene Waller had plenty of time on his hands. He wandered over to the pinball machine. Slid in a quarter and lit up that board. The neon sign from Lou’s Bar sat caddy corner to the taxi station. Gene smoked Chesterfield cigarettes or whatever else he could bum. Janet was his on and off again girl. She was a street girl. Often, Gene wouldn’t see her for days or weeks at a time. That was the way he liked it. The red booth was tattered and Gene propped himself in the corner. Lou put the chairs on the table, while Gene turned on her memory. A ghost that haunted him. His stint in the merchant marines was complete. He had pissed away almost all his money, mostly on booze and gambling. The orange ember from the Chesterfield glowed in the haze that is two in the morning. Lou poured another glass and took it over. “Where is she?” Gene hung his head and flipped a silver dollar in between his fingers. “She’s on her way.” “Sure, whatever you say.” Lou returned to the bar and counted the cash in the register. The moonlight was dancing on the empty street. A yellow cab pulled up to the entrance of the bar. Janet stepped into the street and the smoke from the gutter blew her black dress up. Her garter was showing. A Viceroy cigarette dangled from her angelic lips. The same lips that smelled of cum from an early customer. Gene smiled to see her enter the bar. He put out his cigarette and slammed his drink. “He’s been waiting for you.” “Like hell, he has.” Janet sat next to Gene in the dark booth. They didn’t say anything for some time. Janet fumbled for another cigarette and lit up Gene simultaneously. Lou laughed at the strange couple in the corner. He had seen the same routine nightly for ten years. “How much you make today?” Janet took out a wad of bills. “I guess about three hundred.” Gene smiled. He didn’t like the idea that is girlfriend was a whore, but that was reality. “One more round Lou.” “Bar’s closed.” Gene and his whore walked outside. They cut down a dark alley. “Twenty bucks for the night.” Gene noticed that all the taxis had come in. The night was dark and lonesome. Inside of Gene’s coat pocket sat a twelve inch blade. An old marine survival knife. He put it in Janet’s back. Her scream fell deaf on the city’s ears. The three hundred dollars in Janet’s purse fit nicely in his back pocket. Gene turned around and walked out of the alley. He went out in the street. The street lamp lit up his crooked path. Tomorrow, he’d sail for Singapore. The death ocean ahead of him.