The Second Coming

 

1999

 

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Past            *

Chapter 2: A New Beginning            *

Chapter 3: Mandatory Party Scene            *

Chapter 4: Delbert Pops A Zit    *

Chapter 5: The Present Disappointment         *

Chapter 6: Bill Gets Tippsy *

Chapter 7: Gaze into Her Eyes    *

Chapter 8: First Impressions, Again  *

Chapter 9: Good-bye Checkout Girl            *

Chapter 10: Bill Takes the Wheel *

Chapter 11: Ritual  *

Chapter 12: Good Morning Lover  *

Chapter 13: Memoirs of a Bowling Alley            *

Chapter 14: A New Ending            *

Chapter 15: Good Morning Lover  *

Chapter 16: Never Mind            *

Epilogue            *

 

 

Chapter 1: The Past

 

"Bill? Can you hear me? Your father is here. Be still. This therapy will help you. Try to remain calm. I want you to bite on this rubber tube. Do you understand? That's it. Bite hard.  You’re safe now and nothing can go wrong. Hold it tight. Here we go!"

 

Bill convulses. Muscles spasm. His back arches into the air.  It hovers for a moment and then snaps violently against the table.

 

Turning and turning consciousness drifts away in this sterile room. Twist the bonds and pull them tight. Help! He's got me... He’s coming closer. Arms outstretched. Metal pins in leather restraints.  Cephalized, insanitized. Electric flames leap from the darkness. The sky opens up. I will leave before the screaming begins. Black as night, black as death, blacker than the foulest breath! Feverish burst of terror. There is no I there is only It. Pound the nails in tight. Drowning in the ocean. No salvation. No forgiveness. Boundaries dissolve in an acid mist of self-contempt. Male nurse. Never wanted this. Face to face. Wicked and fragile words. Here they come. A slow, consuming undertow. Surging... Grinding… Tearing… Words. More Words.

 

"Bite down on this."

 

 

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

 

-six years later-

 

Bill stares at an empty box of Cheerios.

"Billy, are you up yet?"

Startled by his mother's voice, Bill leaps up from the breakfast table. He panics and abandons the bowl of soggy cereal. "Love ya, Ma. See ya later!" He grabs a windbreaker-jacket and dashes out the front door.

The 1989 Toyota starts on the third attempt. Bill puts the car into reverse and backs out of the driveway, stereo cranked to full blast. The road is wet. He instinctively regards the pavement's slick condition. Bill is a safe driver.

************************************************************

Bob is a nervous fellow. He fidgets, lights a pipe and glances at his watch. Friday's first delivery is loaded and ready to roll. Bob can hardly wait to commence the work day. Bob is a workaholic. Bob is an asshole. He is also in charge. Tonight, Holiday Inn will host a 50^th year high school class reunion. The guests hail from a school long since demolished. Bill's job is to deliver and set up the equipment they've requested. Bill enters the company office. Bob re-checks his watch.

"Bill! Right on time. There is a big job ready to go and hot to trot. Hustle up! No time to waste!"

Bill nods. Bob briefs him on mission tactics. Bill punches his time card and untangles a uniform. The manager puffs on his pipe while talking. Bill pulls the tacky red work vest over his wrinkled Iron Maiden concert t-shirt.

"Take Jeff with you, but don't let him touch the wheel. We can't afford another accident. Go get 'em Billy!" Bob hands over the keys.

Bill forces out a timid, "Ok." He shuffles onto the loading dock and finds Jeff leaning against the truck's cab. Jeff is ready to follow orders.

"Heya, Bill!" chirps Jeff.

"G'morning. Is the truck ready?"

"Yop."

"Alrighty then, lets roll."

"Yokay!"

The truck always starts on the first try.

Bill hated driving the truck. At first it was fun. All that heavy steel and sex appeal. After a few months it became routine. Now it was tedious. To make matters worse, Jeff was a particularly poor conversationalist. On any delivery job some social interaction was inevitable. Bill feared the inevitable. The animated verbal exchange was mercifully short. Jeff mentioned that his pet turtle was sick. Bill turned on the radio, thereby negating the need for extended communication.

Bill felt philosophic (whatever that means). Jeff's mundane existence was the last of his concerns, hardly worthy of his probing mental explorations. Bill thought of the future. It looked grim. The more he contemplated, the more meaningless life seemed. His life in particular. He'd graduated from high school five or six years ago. The memory of it was a confusing blur. First he was an eager freshman, ready to face new challenges. Next he was about to graduate and go to college. Then something went terribly wrong and here he was. No college degree. Dead end job. Nothing. He had nothing. What happened in between? All his old friends had graduated from college and had real jobs. Most of his new friends were incredible losers. Bill considered himself somewhere between those extremes.

Bill had once declared to himself that he would rather die than persist in this unsatisfactory state of affairs. But Bill wasn't the type to give up. He was going to change. He would change himself or he would change the world.  He was going to make a difference. But how? At times like this he wasn't sure it mattered. Sometimes he doubted if anything mattered.

"So what if I drive this truck the rest of my life?" Bill wondered. "Who cares if I drive this truck into a wall? Bob wouldn’t be happy.  But Bob is an asshole. It's all so meaningless! I should be happy to have this job. I should be content with what I have. I have a pretty girlfriend. I think she's pretty, sort of. That's all that matters. I make 16 dollars an hour, 500 dollars a week, 2,000 dollars a month, 24,000 dollars a year before taxes. If I live till I'm one-hundred and work 6 days a week, four weeks a month for 12 months per year, I'll make over a million dollars! I'll be rich! (Bill had previously performed calculations to confirm these figures.) Of course, I can't keep more than thirty dollars in my checking account. I don't have any savings, unless you count my music collection. But so what if I piss my money away? Who gives a damn? What else should I do with it? Maybe God cares. Doesn’t it say something in the Bible about… uhm… But is there really a God? And if so, what does God look like? Maybe this is what God wants me to do. How can I know? Maybe good means bad. What should I do? There must be some way to find out!!! Hold on, Bill. Calm down. There's nothing to worry about. If quit... But then what would I do? Maybe Jeff knows... nah. At least I have comprehensive health benefits..."

The truck rolled into the hotel parking lot. Loose gravel crunched under the truck's weight. After a few words with the hotel manager, Bill and Jeff began the tiresome task of setting up another party.

************************************************************

Bill punched out. Co-workers wandered aimlessly about him.

"Billy-Boy! Sup? You look tired! Wanna grab a brewski with the guys?"

Bill looked up to see Norm, who is, in Bill's judgment, a pretty cool dude. "Sure. But I've got to be home by six-thirty." It was 5:49.

"You crashin' Varga's big bash tonight!? Taking that south of the border Mexican babe? You raskly rabbit. Let's chug-a-lug a quickie." Norm made a jerking drink gesture.

"Nuff said!" Bill agrees to the plan. Six thirsty rental equipment delivery men charge across the street to Shooters. After a day of back breaking mental paralysis they enjoy a beer and small talk. At least Bill does.

They cluster around the beer tap. Someone orders a round. They laugh. Bill's attention drifts from the group's endless chatter of work, sports and girls to a couple at a booth. They are engaged in what appears at a distance to be a 'heart to heart' conversation. He guesses her name is Jennifer. "Where did the name ' Jennifer ' come from?" he asks silently. Her pink top is pulled tight over shapely, supple breasts with the prominent outline of hard nipples jutting against expensive fabric. Bill slips quietly into fantasy and temptation. His boisterous friends and the happy couple carry on without him.

Jennifer aims her mysterious gaze into Bill's heart.

"Billy, look into my face." She pleads, "Am I so hideous?" She's a miracle of plastic surgery. Bill wants her, and bad! Wind washes through and evaporates the bar. They stand on a beach at dawn. Bill will have her.

She goes on, "I'll be your mirror. You'll like what you see. It's less painful than you fear. You won't be disappointed. Forget all you know. Accept me. I can be whatever you wish for." Their bodies merge. Souls twist into a fleshy knot.

At last there was silence. Nothing more to say. Bill gazed into her eyes. He saw the warped image of himself within the clean childlike innocence of spring. All is full and new. Their journey skittered along, balanced precariously between an earthly heaven and hell.

"I'm in love," she chirped. "I bear my brain. Divided from its source within this body. I walk with you here, where evil turns to pain. An eye for an eye for all eternity. Thus is the law. Observe with me."

Bill snapped his head forward and re-focused his attention. The bar was the same. Nothing had changed.

"She wanted me. I could have had her. Alison would have been pissed... If she'd found out!" The voice, followed by a roar of laughter, brings reality crashing down. Bill, at the edge of the group, knew he'd missed the joke. If, indeed, there had been one at all. He presses toward the center of verbal action.

Norm holds up his beer mug. "Cheers to Chad, Lady-Killer extrodinare! You crazy son-of-a-bitch! Ha ha." Everyone laughs and drinks. Bill doesn't get it. He laughs. "Party at Dave Varga's place tonight. Who's going?" continues Norm.

Bill shouts, "Yeah, let’s party!" He’s back in the action. Other's banter about watching the Chicago Bull's play the Boston Celtics in a game that may or may not make or break either team. "You can watch the game at the party! Dave's a basketball junkie! He'll have the game on." The nay sayers cease and desist their complaints. "And free beer!!!" A cheer roars though the sparsely decorated bar.

"I get the red heads! Ha Ha!"

"Whatever. They'll all want me."

"Sucks to be you! Ha Ha!!"

"Get me a six of Miller Genuine Draft"

"Six Millers? You light weight!"

"Ted, I'll give you ten points and bet you twenty bucks Da Bull's kick it!"

"You can have the red heads. I'll take the rest!"

"Ain't nothin' stoppin' Da Bulls..."

"If a light weight downs a six in two minutes, color me light."

"No way! She's mine!"

"Da Bulls suck!"

A decrepit bar tender wipes sweat from his brow and clicks on a precariously mounted television set.

"Everyone shut up! Shut up!" Suddenly hypnotized, the group gazes into the tube as the weather man relinquishes the stage to a sports reporter. Trivial statistics detailing factors that might influence various sporting events fill the eyes and ears of all present. Like devout monks, the men sit in meditation, soaking up the sacred teachings.

Bill is released from the trance. He checks his watch. 6:30. "I've got to run. Catch you dudes tonight."

"Ok Billy boy. - See ya! - Rock on! - Catch ya later, dude. - See ya tonight, guy."

************************************************************

Bill dashes across the street and hops into his car. It starts on the second try. He slaps a tape into the stereo and peels out. Bill is fully cognizant of the fastest route between any two given points in the Chicago suburb of Eagle Hills. He reaches his destination before the second song ends.

"I'm home, ma. Got a date. I won't be eating right tonight." Bill trots from the foyer to his room.

"Billy? Is that you?" comes an apprehensive voice from the living room.

Bill unintentionally slams his bedroom door. He immediately activates the stereo. A pink, lipstick smeared envelope lies unnoticed on his desk. He dials Mara's phone number. With each unanswered ring, Bill flips from station to station in search of a rockin' song.

"Hello? Hello! This is Bill. - She's in the bathroom? - No, no That's ok, thanks. I'll wait..." He gives up on the radio and inserts a compact disk.

"Hola?"

"Mara. Hey! It’s Bill. I wanted to let you know I'll be a little late." Bill fast forwards the disk to his favorite song, then realizes he no longer likes it.

"Late?! Aieee, Como? I don’t want to be late to the party, Bill," she whines.

"I won't be very late. I just got off work and I still need to shower."

"Well, hurry up! I’m ready to go!"

"Yeah, OK." Bill could hear Latin music playing in the background over the phone. He hated Latin music. "I'll be over in half an hour."

"Que!? That long!?"

"I’ll hurry, I promise. Bye bye." Bill hangs up the phone and skips to the last song on the album. He strips off work clothes and enters the bathroom. Bill enjoys a hot shower. He could spend hours with a steady stream of hot water pelting his flesh. The bathroom fills with steam. His foot presses down on rubber flowers. The floral display is more than a bland, middle class eye pleaser. Each petal is specially designed for maximum traction on the bathtub floor.

"Oh, me!", Bill smiled.

If there was one place women could love Bill, it was the shower. The things Bill could do with a bar of soap and a shower nozzle were impressive. Sometimes he amazed even himself. Today was no exception.

Suzan's body was hot and fine. Her form was cut and past from the glossy pages of random girlie magazines. Bill knew how to show her a good time. He pulled her close. She squeaked with surprise.

"Be gentle. You know It's my first time..."

Bill kissed her hard and long. His tongue flicked in and out of her pouting lips. With a bar of Dial deodorant soap, he lathered Suzy's voluptuous form. She took it like a woman. With a smile. Bill was happy to see his style right on target. "This has to be a quickie. I've got a big date tonight. Don't want to be late," mumbled Bill to the porcelain.

"Billy!" she sighed. "Ball me senseless!!"

In a position physically impossible from any angle but Bill's, he pumped till she disappeared.

************************************************************

Bill stood before Mara's house and waited for someone to answer the door. A minute and three rings later, Mara's mother peeks out from behind paisley curtains.

"Hola, William! Como esta?. Mara esta en el bano. Uno momento, por favor."

"Gracias," said Bill in a hideous Spanish accent.

"Si, Si! Muy bien!" The old woman smiled and revealed a mess of missing and rotten teeth. She invites Bill in and then scampers off to get Mara.

Bill waits. In an adjacent room a group of large Hispanic men sit on a couch and on the floor. They stare in silence at the television. Bill wonders why none of them bothered to answer the door. He decides to be friendly.

"Hey guys, como estoy?" They ignore him. He tries again. "Watchin the basketball game tonight?" More silence. Seconds turn into minutes and back to seconds and into -

A late summer evening in your parent's kitchen. It smelled of toast and coffee. The lights were out. We stood by the moonlit window. By the sink. Close, to close to resist. I closed my eyes and felt only the warmth of your soul next to mine. Like feathers, soft and light, your lips brushed against my cheek in a kiss. A kiss that was sweet beyond the physical. The purity of its touch and emotion flooded my heart with such intensity; I knew nothing could last forever. For the first time I didn't want it to. Love is but once, which makes it so sweet. I opened my eyes and left you forever, baby. If I could turn back the hands of time. I would be with you tonight.

"Billy, there are a thousand things I can feel for someone again. And a thousand words blind me with your purity. So clear, far to clear for me. Am I addicted? Or just ignorant? I must escape. I fear I would exploit you. Ruin you. Stain you with perversity."

His imagination is aroused by her sweet and shameless expression. He speaks. "I smell you. I taste your endless emotion. I love you. And yet, I fear you like death. To embrace you and all you are would mean to become one with the universe. To lose myself. As I would at death. Dare I? My eyes close to the world. Remember and dream of you, my splendor, my angle of beauty and truth."

She moves on to a summer afternoon before the storm. We were laying on your hardwood floor, not wearing many clothes. With a cold bottle of strawberry wine, it's perspiration dripped down my arm. I spilled it across your pale chest. You closed your eyes and laughed as I kissed and licked it off. Tasting the salt of your sweet liquor sweat. The warmth of your heartbeat between my hands. I listened to your voice and touched your face, feeling your lips, so full and wet like the new summer sun. They opened and took me in slow and hard.

"You held my wrists. I couldn't escape. While thunder and rain began to pound outside your window and the fan blew my hair around your neck. I knew then and forever there would be nothing I could want more. The passion with you, with red eyes popping and bursting like plums. Shaking and spinning in your room and on your bed. My eyes tearing tunnels shooting pictures to my head. You breathing my name. We grab each other's hands and laugh. Oh, how insane this dream and this place. Feels like I've been thrown into outer space. Feels like I've been licked back into place as I sink into your face.

Like ripe fruit. Aggression. Like blood. Like life.

I remember the afterglow. The ocean rippling and rubbing against the night sky. Static electricity culminates and rips a hole through the darkness. A brief and violent event with its strange illumination. Then darkness returns. Never let the ocean know your fear. If it senses panic in your mind it will suck the strength out from your limbs. Rain bleeds through the gapping wound. In that flash of light, just only a second your eyes were no longer grey. I saw a reflection of me. Nothing but blood. Drowning within your sea. Endless reflections of me. Raging waves so beautiful and dangerous. Dreams like water. Colorless, dangerous.  I stare deep into you. I know your name. Bill. The absence of color burns at the fringe of my soul. You laugh into the wind and turn away. Your eyes are icy daggers into my heart. I grow cold in exaggerated youth. Like ripe fruit. Like rotting meat _

"Bill!? Are you ready?"

Bill twirls around to face Mara and her mother. He wipes a bead of perspiration from his forehead. "Ahem. Mara! You look great! Yes, whenever you are."

"Did you meet my brothers? Paco, Jesus, Roger and Chuck."

"Uh, yeah, they’re real cool.  We were just chatting." Bill waved to the ambivalent group in the living room.

"They love la television! We better go before the party ends."

The old woman walked them to the door, "Adios Mara y William! Buenos Noches!"

"Bye!" And they left.

 

 

Chapter 3: Mandatory Party Scene

 

"YEE-HAW!"

Dave's house was action packed. The Hi-Fi stereo system cranked out hip-hop top-40 tunes. People were dancing. People were smoking. People were having fun. A cluster of basketball fans grunted and moaned and shouted with each twist and turn of the game. Three empty kegs were strewn across the front lawn. Four more kegs flowed freely inside. It was almost ten o'clock. Bill sat at the kitchen table with his work buddies. He stared absently at the wall.

She was tired, but she wanted it. He felt old. They sat together on a small blanket. To close to resist. The timing had been carefully arranged. The moment had finally arrived. They were together in the cool night air. They were alone. She reached out and touched him. He followed her motions as if in a dream. Dim city lights and traffic far below lent illumination to their hilltop.

Stars peek through the dull haze far above, one by one. She lights a cigarette. He watches. No words are spoken. They undress each other first with their eyes, then with their hands. The night wraps around them. To tight for escape. The waiting had turned to burning desire and was to be quenched at last. Their bodies glisten against the neon glow of the city. Reflecting off a billion cells. The neon light did not know and the cells did not care. Yet there they were. Naked and alone. Alone yet together on the crazy edge of his dream.

Far off in the woods a dog barks. They lay down on the blanket, both nervous, fearing the inevitable disappointment that awaits us all in the sweet arms of death. Fearing the mundane. The fear of nothing. They are beyond close. They are connected. Made one in the spirit. The universe steps aside for their brief dance. Ideas clash and cells divide. She reaches to the heavens and shouts his name. Cricket-wolves sing a soft reply. On top of the burning hill the two become wild beasts. Bleak, round, and high, by flame-lit height made higher, with nothing on it for the flame to kill. They struggle for supremacy and cling desperately to each other in an effort to shut out the void. A frantic fight with a hopeless cause. The dark circle closes in. The night transforms into a violent love storm and swirls its menacing void around their bodies. Like a dark flower blossoming at the end of autumn.

Grunts and giggles of demons and gods float in a lazy vortex about the hilltop. A neurotic deer springs into dense foliage for cover. She smiles down on him. Such a face. Hazel-green eyes, pale soft skin, full lips. He closes his eyes. She moves with a rhythm close to the earth. The moon spirals above. His hands on her. Her dance. His experience. His memory. Her future. She speaks, words divine.

Her legs wrap around his anger. Descending deeper into the night. Deeper into the fright they hold. Into the fray of madness and desire. Faces of pain, faces of pleasure. The warmth of an embrace. Two bodies in the night, alive or dead? He showed her magic and she believed. This, too, shall pass. The riders of power and glory sink softly to the ground. Without sound. Their giant structures intact. Oh glory, Oh God. I look at myself. I see myself there. Alive on the ground, part of the dirt.

They roll off the blanket. Abandoning control. Shedding inhibitions. The grass tickles her back. He does not listen so she takes command. Pushing him away then pulling him back. Not impossible, this run away reality. An insane thought. All polished and clean. When finally the play came to an end, nothing had changed. Their lives a mere cadenza. One thing is certain. This dance is not finished. Get up.

"Drink it, Bill! You lose. Your turn! Drink up!" slurs an inebriated reveler.

"... Nah, dudes. I've had enough. Besides, I'm a designated driver. I give up. You win." Bill departs the table under a chorus of 'boos' and hisses. He wanders into an adjacent room. Through a haze of smoke he spies Mara. She has merged with a gaggle of girls. They are engaged in giggling conversation. He forges a path though a veritable wall of bodies toward her. Each individual mimics the crowd, dancing like retarded sardines. Each, an obstacle for him to pass. A window opens. Bill stands by his gal.

"Hola!" bubbles Mara.

"Are you having fun?" They drift from the crowded room into a dark hallway.

"Si! All my friends are here! Fiesta!" She was wasted.

"Yeah," Bill says. "Listen, what time do you need to be home? Would you like to spend some time alone? Maybe an early breakfast at Dennies or a drive through the park? Or something? Anything?"

"We're alone now, aren't we?" Mara grins and moves aside for a passing group.

"I suppose…"

"I should be home by one or two. I have to work tomorrow morning." Mara waves to a friend. "Oh! It's Anita! We haven't talked for ages. Get me when you're ready to leave."

Bill smiles, "Sure." But she was already gone. He watches her prance down the hallway. He imagines what the two girls will talk about. Clothes, boys, food, music, movies. Nothing. Same old shit. How pathetic. Bill sighs and meanders toward the TV room.

************************************************************

Luckily, Dave has cable. 85 channels of cheep narcotics. After the basketball game there was no need to panic for lack of entertainment. One can rest assured that at any given moment, somewhere on the face of the planet a sport is being played by well paid professional athletes. At this particular moment it happens to be baseball in Koyoto, Japan. We find Bill on a couch with four guys. All hold can's of Miller Genuine Draft beer. The kegs have run dry. As one of the few remaining sober people, Bill had earlier been elected to make a beer run. He'd performed that duty without flaw.  Meanwhile, Mara chatted endlessly. Bill stares at the television. Into the void. The dead phosphorescent tube stares back.

The thrill of the hunt and game was over. The hunter becomes the hunted.

Back in your room. On your bed. Light spills in from the street lamp outside. Your half open, half shut blinds cast horizontal shadow stripes across your body. The contours of your face, illuminated by sodium fire, glow with secret pleasures. I do not understand. I hear only the sound of my heart and respiration. Basic life functions. You sit next to me. The bed creaks slightly. I feel warmth emanate from within your body. The smell of your flesh. I want to escape this lust, but I can't move. I can't look into your eyes. You are so beautiful. Those all knowing eyes. A car drives past. Snow precipitates from heaven. I'm only half cold. You keep me alive.

The clock on your wall reads 9:20 PM. Time to give in. My shoes fall to the floor. You speak backwards. Hair moves away from my face. You see my every move and take notes for future reference. That's the way you are. I wonder what it would be like to touch your hair, your neck, your strong shoulders. I want to embrace you. To press my face against your chest. Your knee brushes my side. I resist the urge to caress it.

You whisper something low. Why do you talk backwards? The sound of your voice vibrates the length of my spine. My body resonates with your frequency. My heart rate accelerates. I breath deep the darkening night. For an instant, I imagine you inside. Like the stab of a splinter found along the edge of a smooth board. The feeling won't subside. I still feel it burn. I grind my teeth in agony at the pain of this lust.

The cold wind beats its thousand fists on your window shudders. Whatever innocence we had is dying in this silence. This was meant to happen all along. Eat this cancer. Is it an ending or a beginning? We can't turn back. With this subconscious un-realization, I turn and look up at your beautiful face. I've never seen it like this. Finally, we give in. Give up. I feel my life end as my last breath escapes into your lips. Warm, I pull you close. My arms around your waist. Our kiss breaks the silence with a sweet smack. My body presses against yours. We breath as one. I've always wanted you like this. It's worth any pain. My tongue explores your neck. You lay me down. The soft bed sucks me in. Like a dream. I succumb to your pressure.  Trapped under your weight. Trapped.

Bill checks his watch. Twelve-thirty. He tries to stand up from the couch. A big guy slouched next to him slumps onto his shoulder. Bill nudges him.

"Hey, Ted. Wake up man. I gotsta go."

"Huh? What? Oh, dude. Man, I'm so deprep." He tries to drink from an empty beer can. "Nothin' damnit! Empty." He crushes the can on his head and tosses it to the floor.

"What's wrong?"

"Man!" He whines, "My woman dumped on me. Bill, what the hell. I swear. Women, you can't live without em, and uhhh, you can't live without em."

"Yeah, something like that. Sorry to here it, bro. She dumped you?"

"She dumped ON me, man. All over me! You know. Fuck 'em. She thinks she's so fuckin' hot. Fuck her. I'm my own man. I don't need that shit, man. I got my buddies. Friends, a game and some beers keep this guy happy." He thumps his chest.

Bill fakes a smile, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"You're great, Bill. I love you, man! I really mean it. I need another beer. Could you make another beer run, dude? I'll give you some cash." He digs though his pocket and finds nothing. "Shit, where's my wallet? Man, I know it's around here somewhere. I think I gave it to Franky. Fuck it. I don't care. What am I gonna do, Bill? How can I get my gal back?"

"I don't know, big Ted. Have you tried talking to her?"

"Everytime I talk ta her, she gets upset 'bout something. You know? I got to show her how I feel. I'm a man of action, not words. I godda do something for her. I dunno, maybe buy her roses." Ted belches.

"Sure, give 'er a try. It can't hurt. They like romantic shit. Hey, Ted. I've got to cruise, ok? Take care man. I'll see you at work." Bill gets up and Ted slouches onto Bill's warm seat.

"Right, Bill. Thanks. Sorry 'bout when I picked you up an' hit your head on the ceiling earlier... Does anybody know where the tortillas are? Dollar-Bill is gonna make another beer run!"

Bill walks out of the TV room and down the hallway. He finds Mara, still gossiping with the same group. They are discussing various aforementioned topics. Mara notices Bill and waves.

"Hi!" she chirps.

"Hey, what's up?"

They drift from the group.

"Oh, we were talking about stuff. You know. Girl talk."

"Ahh, well. Actually, since I'm not a girl, I guess I don't know."

"Sure you are! Hombre," giggles Mara.

"Really? Did anyone say anything about me?"

"I think you're cute!"

"Thanks. It's almost 1 o'clock. We should head out. You think?"

"Time flys. Let me say good-bye."

"Right. I'll meet you at the front door."

Mara touches Bill's arm then returns to her group of friends. Bill drifts further away. He watches ambivalent but annoyed as Mara hugs and exchanges farewells with 2 latino and 5 white latino wanna-be girls. They all look pretty much the same. Little hairy clones. Bill finds himself utterly disgusted. He looks away.

************************************************************

Bill holds Mara's soft hand. They walk under a blue moon. It is a cool summer morning. The stars shine as bright as can be expected this close to Chicago. Bill feels a little sick.

"I hope you enjoyed the party."

Mara nods, "I did. Muchos gracias."

"You sure looked pretty."

"Oh, Bill. You’re such a smooth talker."

"Would you like to do something tomorrow night? I dunno, a movie or something? Dinner at a nice restaurant? Oh wait! We're having a work party tomorrow! They're always a blast. Would you like to go?"

"Si! I'd love to!"

They step onto Mara's front porch. Mara fumbles though her purse for a house key. The door is cracked open and bill can see 2 of her brothers passed out on the couch and 1 more on the floor.

"Are you sure you want to go in? You wouldn't like to have a cup of coffee somewhere or something?"

"I should go. It's late. My mom or brothers might worry and come looking for me. I can’t find my damn keys!"

Bill points out that the door is open.

"Silly, me! Goodnight, Bill." Mara enters her house without further adieu. The door shuts. The front porch light clicks on and Bill is finds himself in the spotlight. He stands, hoping against all odds that she will come back out. He waits for nothing. After a few seconds, Bill returns to his car. It starts on the second try.

There's something odd about driving alone, early on a Saturday morning. The world is dead. No one in the streets. No lights inside any houses. And all the houses... Only at times like this does Bill notice how many there are. Each resembling its neighbor, all lined up in an endless procession. Usually, he's too busy getting somewhere to note the redundancy. All the people. Doing all the same things that people do and think and dream. Bill wasn't in a hurry to get home. He had nothing to do at his own house but sleep. Sleep and escape like all the rest. Bill drove along the desolate but well lit suburban streets. He picks a random route home. Bill wonders why all the people are inside on such a pleasant summer morning. He drove on.

"What ever you would like to do." Maria said with an innocent smile.

We walked along the darkening trail. She brushed back her short blond hair and smiled. I let my hand roam over the broad curve of her buttock, caressing it. She didn't seem to mind. She traced the outline of my rigid cock with her forefinger through the tight fabric of my jeans.

Maria was giving me a gift before I left for college. I'd always wanted her to suck my cock in the great outdoors. As my departure grew near, he seemed eager to try new things, to cement our relationship by indulging my sexual fantasies. Soon I would be off to college building a future for myself. She would remain in her dead end job, shuttling useless items of rental equipment back and forth in eternal torment without Mark, my love.

The fresh scent of mountain pine blew over the deserted football field. In the distance, several hundred yards off, the high school's parking lot was a puddle of light in the black ocean. "Where should we do it?" she whispered, her breath was warm in my ear.

"How about out there, in the open?" I pointed to center of the field.

"No!" I said, surprised by my boldness, but enjoying the image nonetheless. Maria had made the suggestion that we do this tonight. I'd thought about it, but hadn't seriously considered that it might happen! "We could be seen from pretty far off. It should be near the woods."

"Not by the woods." Maria said, casting a glance at the murky line of trees lining the field. "They scare me."

My dick was hot and hard in my jeans. After roaming around the football field for awhile, I stopped caring where we did it. "Here's fine." We were just off a path that ran along the field up to my old high school. It seemed like only yesterday that I'd graduated. Did I graduate? It had been almost six years. I can't remember. Here I was. Middle aged couples routinely walked along this path, but not so late. I no longer cared. Maria's body was all I could focus on. Mostly her mouth.

Maria knelt before me. I unbuttoned my jeans. She pulled down the zipper. I nudged down my underwear, freeing my erect penis. It bobbed inches from her face. She grasped it with soft hands and began to work her magic.

She smiled up at me, "You're ready aren't you!" He opened his mouth. A snake-like tongue darted out and flicked the head of my rigid penis. An electric tingle shivered my spine. Maria licked her hand, and worked the head with her lips, massaging the shaft, jerking me off with a steady concentrated motion. With each stoke she bobbed her head forward and took the tip fully into her mouth.

She paused, "Do you like this?"

"Yeah," I gasped, grabbing her head and forcing it forward. I stopped before she gagged, and pulled back, leaving a glistening trail of saliva on her chin. She glanced up, her lips slightly parted and trembling.

"Do it," I said. "I want you to swallow it."

Maria nodded submissively. She tightened one slick hand around the shaft jerking me off slowly and firmly. Finally, she took it back into her mouth. Mark glanced up at me. Her lips were distorted by my cock, wide open eyes imploring.

She worked it in and out, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I was oblivious to the fact that at any second someone might catch us. I looked down at Maria, this beautiful blonde seventeen year old, working my cock with her mouth and hands. She was doing it because I told him to.

She was mine.

"Come all over me," she whispered, and sped up the pace with both hands. She plunged it back into her mouth and sucked hungrily.

My testicles quivered.

"Unnn huhhh," she grunted around my cock.

As I started to squirt, she pulled it out of her mouth. She milked the jism out, spilling it onto the grass. Her chin glistened with spit and polymer like streamers of cum, which elongated and dripped onto her Chicago Bull's sweat shirt. She gazed at me, her face glittering with satisfaction. Pulling the life and energy out of me. Leaving nothing.

Walking home, she apologized. "I'm sorry I couldn't swallow it all. There was just so much…" she said. I reached over and wiped away a dollop of sperm from her cheek. We kissed, our tongues caressing warmly.

I slipped my hand under the tight waistband of her K-Mart pants, and squeezed a smooth, fleshy buttock. I laughed. She was genuinely sorry that she hadn't been able to drink it all!

"That's all right," I said. "There's always next time." We walked into the night in search of further adventures.

Bill's long route home adds two minutes to his travel time. He pulls into his driveway and kills the car. The house is dark. Careful not to make noise, he unlocks the front door and sneaks in. Inside his room he flips on a dim lamp and the stereo. He adjusts the volume and relaxes. His eyes fix on a dusty stack of high school yearbooks perched high on a shelf above his bed bordered by numerous pictures of old friends and relatives. It's late. He's tired. Bill lets his heavy eyelids fall. Tomorrow he works from ten till five.

 

* _____ * The host asks him if he kissed her. Jamie stared down at him in surprise. Rapids were approaching, shots of whiskey, frozen dinners, your blouse ripped off, exposed chest, hardened nipples, skirt lifted, ankles grabbed, penetration. I could have had her. She had truly gorgeous tits, with large brown nipples. Her cunt and ass could have been mine. She left early in my dream.* _____ *

 

 

Chapter 4: Delbert Pops A Zit

 

"Billy? Are you in there? Are you awake? Is your room clean?"

Bill rub's his eyes and squints at a blinking digital alarm clock. He jumps out of bed, grabs clean clothes and runs into the bathroom. Careful to avoid visual contact with his mother, he steps out with a definitive, "Bye!"

Thanks to his professional driving skills, Bill arrives at work right on the money. Bob greets him with a professional smile and performs the ritual morning pep talk.

"Bill, you're gonna work with a new guy today. Name's Delbert. Nice guy. Learn him the ropes, will ya?"

"Whatever you say, boss."

"He's filling out mandatory insurance forms. Hold off for a few minutes. I'll send him out to the truck when he’s done." Bob lights up his pipe.

"Roger." Bill exits toward the loading dock.

"I like kissing! I'd kiss just about anyone or anything!"

Ecentric, yet normal. This describes persons who occasionally find themselves bored while engaged in a sex act. Considering the futility of daily life and the endless repetition in every aspect of civilization, it is difficult to find true happiness in anything. A man who is happy is a man who is ignorant. Conversely, a man who is ignorant is a man who can never be truely happy. This is not a contradiction, not a Catch-22. Realizing that life sucks is necessary to appreciate it.  And besides, there’s always quality programming on the television.

A kiss

Bill took her hand. She was young. Just a child. So innocent.

"Hello, little girl. Where's your mummy?"

"I don't know. I'm lost. Will you help me find my way?"

  Hey steaming hot pornography!

"Sure! I'll help. But I don't understand."

"You will..."

The child raised her arms to the sky. Her head exploded in a frenzy of sparks. Bill was quite surprised by this spectacle. His skin begins to crawl with a cold sweat. The sky darkens. Ominous clouds approach. It will rain soon. A wish. A wash.

"Hi! I'm self aware!" The high pitched nasal voice surprised Bill.

"Huh?" Bill looked up to find a small shaggy man with intense, sky blue eyes.

Delbert threw a newspaper into the trash. "Every time your face gets printed in one of those damn things it gets thrown away a million times. Let's get to work! I'm ready to earn some bacon!" He held out a hand tattooed with `A = not A'. "My name is Delbert, Delbert Hollingsburth, also known as Hemorrhoy Rogers! Happy to be your pod."

Bill shook the hand. "Bill," he replied, "pod?"

"Yes, yes. I know. Are we ready?"

"Sure, yeah. Hop in."

The truck roared to life under Bill's steady hand.

"Fuck yeah!" howled Delbert. "This is great! Good to be alive! Yes sir!"

"I agree. Where you from, Delbert?"

"Listen, Pod. You hear that?"

Bill perked up his ears. "What?"

"I feel better. I was once like you. Drove a truck, delivered stuff for self-serving mindless parasites. Actually, I wasn't at all like you. But I am a free man! I'm self aware, self existent! I love it! I've been born again! Praise God!"

Bill glanced at Delbert and guessed he was about thirty years old. "Oh yeah? Who did you work for?"

"Work? Keep your eyes on the road, Bill! Unwavering. You've got to be straight as an arrow! Got a girlfriend? Or something?"

"Yeah, Her name’s Maria."

"Tell me about her. What's so great about her?"

Bill hesitated. "Well. Uh. She's special. You know, not like everyone else. She’s got long black hair and her family moved here from Mexico when she was just a kid."

"Just a kid? Lie!!! I can tell. You can't hide a thing from me. I know you're not happy. Thing's are going down the tubes. What’s the problem? She’s chubby to obese, bad body odor or just plain dumb? Ain't putting out? That can’t be it… You know them Latino’s reproduce like rabbits. Let me think... Do all the claims made in advertisements confuse you? Do I?"

"Wait a second!" retorted Bill. "Back up and slow down. What are you talking about? Where do you get off saying that shit?"

"Saying what? I'm the man. I got it in my hand. The whole pathetically predictable world. I can show you the way to heaven or hell. Heh heh..."

Bill made a doubtful sound. "Do you have a gal?"

"Married happily eight years."

"Wow. That's a long time. Do you ever get tired of being with the same person?"

"Not really. We rarely meet. Last I caught wind of her was about 7 months ago."

"Oh. How come you broke up?"

"What!? We ain’t busted up. We're married, remember? We're just living separate lives."

"Why do you bother staying married if you never see each other?"

"Sex."

"But you only see her once or twice a year."

"So?"

"Well, I mean. If you're married for sex, wouldn't you want it more than once or twice a year?"

"No."

"Ahh. I see." But he didn’t.

"It's really good sex. You wouldn't believe the tuna fish casserole she can whip up on short notice!!!" Delbert twitched and rolled his eyes and licked his lips.

"Really. So what does she do?"

"With the tuna fish?"

"No, no. I'm sure that's personal."

"Not really. I'll lend you the recipe if you want it. I'll bet good money you'd lose in a baking contest."

"I meant, what does she do for a living. You delivery rental equipment and she does...?"

"I deliver what!?"

"You work for Eagle Hill Rental. We deliver rental equipment. Remember?" Bill thought, "Touché pussycat!"

"Oh yeah. I'd forgotten."

"What!?"

"I'd forgotten why I'm here. I'm new at this. Cut me some slack. My wife works with NASA and the military. She develops non-radioactive nuclear fusion power sources for space platforms. At least that's what she claimed to be involved with before we got married. Most of her work is classified. Her husband would be the LAST person to find out. Trust me."

"Wow! That's heavy shit."

"Shit?"

"Where did you meet her?"

"Massachusetts Institute of Technology. She was an astrophysics postdoc wasting her time on a second doctorate in some arcane computer science area, genetic programming. I was just a retarded graduate student. I can't believe I graduated."

"You went to MIT!?" Bill was covertly impressed.

"Yes. Please, don't remind me."

"Why not?"

Delbert clicked his tongue twice. "Look where it got me."

Bill waited for the rest of the story. Delbert appeared unwilling to divulge further details. "So, uh, what did you study at MIT? What was your major?"

"Nothing." Delbert snickered. "Nothing at all. And nothing has changed. Or has it?"

"So you were a liberal arts major?"

"Heh heh, sort of. If you must know, I was in the, so-called ‘philosophy’ department. God, how degrading. I might as well have gone for a medical degree. Nobody hires philosophers. At least not the kind of philosopher I turned out to be. Besides, it’s not a legitimate trade. Unless you teach snobbish college brats like the kind of person I was. And the last thing I want to do is cater to people like myself. I can hardly stand to look in the mirror. But thank the lord that someone puts up a good fight and faces the void! I mean, we can't just ignore something that’s not there. Can we?"

"I guess not. So, What kind of a philosopher are you?"

"Confused. Or rather, I WAS confused. Philosophers tend to be terminally confused or emotionally dysfunctional. That's what drives them to philosophize, or as I like to say, 'spout shit.' My dissertation was titled Stochastic Teleology of the Void; Saviors, Sinners and My Sinister Shoe." Delbert giggled inwardly. "It was pathetic drivel. I rambled on and on about contradictory tautology webs, the irrationality of Darwinian selection, ectopic cognition and obscure gedanken experiments, most of which involved mentally handicapped children.  The dissertation was six thousand pages long.  I scrawled a smiley face at the end. The whole thing was written with crayons. Purple only. I must have spent $500 on Crayola boxes and always I used only the purple crayon. My apartment was full of Crayola crayon boxes missing the purple crayon. I could never think of anything to do with the other colors. When I ran out of money I started stealing purple crayons. They never caught me. I was quick and practiced at the art of Crayola kleptomania! Do you know how hard it is to keep purple crayon sharp? My advisors thought it was brilliant. They gave me a piece of paper that said 'blah blah blah - Doctor of Philosophy - blah blah blah.'"

"Ahh." Bill didn't have the slightest idea what Delbert was talking about. A jet black Dodge Viper zipped around them on the right. "Check out the Viper! 460 Horses, now that's a fast car."

"Oh My God! OH MY GOD!!!" Delbert was frantic.

"What? What?" Bill panicked.

"At the exact instant you said 'fast car' I was thinking 'Non-Boolean Logic Transformation'!!!"

Bill stuttered, "S-so s-so what?"

"Don't you see!? Two totally unrelated events!"

"Yeah?" said Bill slowly.

"Two totally unrelated events occurred at the same temporal instance and further more at such close spatial proximity! It's a sign of synchronicity!"

"You mean the Police? Sting? They're pretty cool for a classic rock band."

"No! Synchronicity, you twit! Harmonic convergence. Not the silly psuedo-musical group. It almost never happens to me. I can usually guess the next 5-7 words that are going to come out of your mouth. That took me by surprise. Totally! I was positive you'd say 'hot car' or maybe 'bitchen car'. But you didn't! You picked the simpler descriptor, `fast'. And since I was also thinking about Non-Boolean Logic Transformations, that means the likely-hood of those two topics, fast cars and Non-Boolean Logic Transformations, occurring again at the same instant is increased. Speaking of music, do you like music?"

"What!? What are you talking about???"

"Haven't you hoid? It's a new age, peace and love kind of universe. Let me guess. You've never even heard of Carl Jung? He was a fag. Now he’s dead."

"Who?"

Delbert sighed. "Paul Kammerer? Pierre Theilard de Chardin?"

"Unn Unn."

"Prophets of the new age. Heralding in the era of hope founded on hopelessness. Kammerer made half-crazed claims of discovering Lamarckian evolution. He killed himself after his friends convinced him that he was crazy. But before he did that, he invented an alternative 'cause and effect' determinism. 'The Law of Seriality.' It essentially says that when two events happen at the same time, THAT is in itself an explanation of their occurrence, no matter how weird it is! Seems kind of circular, I know. But if you can really think about it, it isn't. Try thinking in terms of the 'conscious third-person' paradox. Quien sabe? You may reach the grand epiphany! But I doubt it. Anyway, Jung took this idea and under Kammerer's guiding hand came up with synchronicity."

Bill hummed along with the radio.

"Theilard de Chardin wrote The Phenomenon of Man. Surely you've heard of that... Bill?"

"Huh? Oh. Phenomenon Man? Nope. Never heard of him. A new Marvel Comic Superhero?"

"It's about you."

"Wow! Hey, my favorite subject."

"It explains why things happen. Do you know why things happen?"

"Cause people are greedy and like to party?"

"Exactly. But the reason events occur is because they can. If it's possible then it's going to happen. Even in a bounded, finite universe. The proofs are rather lengthy so I'll breeze over them and get to the meat of it. You'll have to trust my higher educational background."

"Right. Thanks."

"If there are lots of atoms in the universe then there is a chance that two will collide and become a molecule. Therefore it WILL happen. And so it did! This process continues increasing the potential complexity of the system on and on under all the restraints of natural law, and eventually something happened that Pierre termed 'Hominization.' This in turn results in human culture. You and me. Here we are. This takes us to the next step, as he predicted in the late 1940's, to what he called the 'Noosphere'."

"Noosphere? Cool concept. Sounds like a Smurf invention."

"Yes, it's a lot like the Gaia theory, but concerned mainly with the 'highest form of life'. The whole world dominated by human thought. And why? Because it became a possibility! Because it could happen! If ol' Pierre were alive to see the vast computer networks and armada of telecommunication satellites I bet he'd feel pretty damn content with his predictions. And there's something else. Something beyond the Noosphere. Beyond everything..."

"That's cool. So how did this Krammer dude commit suicide?"

Delbert's face turned a shade darker. He screamed, "Sweet umbrage, burn like a diamond in my soul!!!"

"Hey, man! Chill! Chill..."

"He killed himself to make a point! He sacrificed his life so that others might see. Others like YOU!!! He joined the uncounted ranks of martyrs. Like Plato. Like Martin Luther King. Like Jesus. Like Elvis!"

Bill fidgeted. "Jesus didn't kill himself. He was crucified by Romans."

"By the Romans? Ha! His friends drove the spikes through his flesh! The Romans wanted to set him free! The Romans wanted to crucify Barabbas, a real criminal! Pilate asked, 'What evil has this man done?' and they cried out all the more 'Crucify him!' No questions asked. No reasons given. Nothing. They did it on faith, 'cause faith is all they had. It was the Jewish priesthood that shouted, 'Kill the heretic! Crucify him!' Not the Romans.

"Jesus put himself in the line of fire. No one forced altruism on him as a form of self expression. No one forced him to preach. He did it because he could. He did it because he wanted to. He did it because that's what he did. And when he didn't stop, they killed him. He knew they were going to kill him. By his own inflexibility, Jesus murdered himself. Jesus crucified himself! He bought his ticket. He knew what he was getting into. It was suicide. Self inflicted wounds that led to his demise. If a man fails to get off the railroad tracks to avoid the locomotive, can we condemn the train? No! The man was trespassing on the railroad's property and failed to remove himself from the inevitable and quite obvious danger. That's a good analogy for what happened to Jesus. He tried to impede a process bigger and stronger than himself.

"Hey, I guess Jesus can't go to heaven! Can he? No, he can't according to the Bible! How ironic. And all his followers! Ha! How appropriate. Abandoned by his father. Abandoned by his children. What a loser." Delbert thought for a moment. "But I'm probably boring you. Tell me more about your not-so-special girlfriend."

"What's to tell?" Bill seriously needed to escape this babbling lunatic.

"Ok then! Just you keep us alive." He slapped the dashboard, "Don't let this big rig slam into any highway barriers or nothin! I know you, Bill. I know where you're coming from. I know where you're going. I know it all! Ya see, I've been here before. Go on. Ask me anything. I'll try to respond appropriately."

"Then tell me," insisted Bill. "What should I do? How can I get her to understand how I feel?"

Delbert laughed. "What should you do?" He laughed again. "What should I do. He asks me. What do I do. You do what you do when you do what you did. That is, unless you know what you did before you're gonna do it again. Trouble is you can't know what you did with any certainty. The past is as unknowable as the future. And then there's the problemo that maybe you don't feel anything. And if you don’t, do you really want it to be a topic of discussion?"

"Huh?" Bill lost all interest in the conversation. He concentrated on the road.

"You do the same things over and over. You become a slave. A slave to what you do. The same thing over and over. As the universe expands at an ever-faster rate and neutrinos contribute a non-negligible mass to your mind. Repetition. You sink into unconsciousness. Until there's nothing left. You die! You cease to oscillate. Like Einstein-Bose matter. You've got to live! Jump around and live! You've got to do it different. Better. You got to do it right! Right! You've got to understand the difference between redundancy and repetition. Recursion and iteration. It's all the same, but its vital that you understand the difference! Dig?"

"Yeah, ok. I got you. No prob. Thanks for the advice." Bill turned on the radio.

"My ass, you dig!" Delbert proclaimed over the music, "You've only got one chance. I'm warning you, pod! God ain't no omnipotent head-honcho! Love ain't forever. Now is the only thing that's real. You gotsta get it straight! Damn straight." Delbert lit a joint. "God, I'm so depressed..." He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "So anyway, check this out" Delbert pulled out a tape and popped it into the truck’s AM-FM tape player. "You like music, you’ll love this. It’s my band. Hemorrhoy Rogers and the Whild Rrhoid Boyz. There are over 100 songs on this tape. Everyone of them is about a guy named Hemorrhoy. That’s me."

The radio blurted out poorly recorded, sped up vocals. Delbert sang along with the music, "My name is Hemorrhoy, Hemorrhoy Rogers. And these things, these THINGS are my Rhoid Boyz. Come on feel the rrhoid. Come and enjoy my void. Now listen closely to the Rhoid Boyz…"

Delbert sang on. Bill scanned the horizon for his exit.

"Fuck me, Bill! Fuck me NOW!!!"

Bill threw the girl to his bed like a rag doll. He jumped on top of her and ripped open her silk shirt. She writhed under his weight. Fighting to take off his clothes. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She lifted her body into the air. Bill yanked off her skirt. In a record time of 15 seconds she was nude.

Bill inspected the length of her voluptuous body. She lay in his bed. His bed. Naked girl. The sheets were rumpled against the wall. Hands ruthlessly crept up his thighs. "Do it, now. I need you inside me. Fuck me, Bill. Make me cum," she demanded.

His pants obeyed gravity. Bill was willing to comply with this order. He lodged himself between her sweet honey thighs. A wave of heat rose from the oasis between her legs. She pulled him into her supple bosom. His head nestled in her chest, she began kneading his ass cheeks, dry fucking herself with Bill's limp body. "Do it! Do it now! Hurry, we have little time left."

He couldn't. Bill glanced down at his uncooperative organ. He looked into her pleading face...

Delbert popped a Viagra pill into his mouth and offered one to Bill. "Want one? They give you quite a ride.  Just don’t mix them with hair-regrowth meds.  That’s a major downer."

"No thanks," replied Bill.

Delbert ranted on, "Suit yourself. But keep in mind that everyone wants what they can't have. Everyone gets hit with the hammer. You've got to escape this spin cycle! Like I did! Look at me! Look at these wings!" Delbert flapped his arms. "You can't be afraid! What are you afraid of, pod? I'll tell you what I was afraid of... I was afraid of butt sex... I was horrified. The thought of penetrating another man's anus with my penis repulsed me. Even worse was imagining myself being penetrated!!! Then I realized what a fool I'd been! All my worries were a wasted effort. Praise God! Are you a religious man, Bill? Is anal intercourse what you're afraid of, too? Have you heard of the transparent niche theory? T.N.T.?"

Bill recoiled into the driver-side door. "Christ, man! I don't do that shit!"

"Everyone wants to be what they ain't! Face it! All men instinctively want to suck their own cocks. I know I do! Accept the overwhelming evidence, Bill. You're just like everyone else."

"I am not gay. Never. Come on. You can't be serious... and I despise oral sex. It's so degrading. I -"

"That ain't what I'm talking about. I’m talking about the fear and panic in your mind."

Bill released a tentative sigh of relief. "Good, cause I mean..."

"It goes deeper than that. Let's look at you. What are you, pod?"

Bill hesitated. "A man?"

"There you go! Stop thinkin' like that! You’re beating yourself up.  You ain't a man! You're a woman! The opposite of everything you believe is true. Everything you believe is a lie. Lies, lies, lies. You've got to turn it around. Turn the world inside out. Engage your brain in the exotic and neurotic. It's the only way, pod! The yellow brick road to a vacuous euphoria."

"I dunno. I mean, I understand that it's wise to have an open mind to other opinions and..."

"No no no, cause they're all wrong and tangled up, too! Ya know? It's nothing, nothing at all! And it always will be. Nothing. Just let it ride! You got to let it ride! Act like a lady, pod! Jeez! Don't be such a wimp about it..."

Suddenly, Delbert dozed off. They rode the rest of the way in silence. His face was wrinkled and he looked older, maybe 40. It showed every year of his life. Bill didn't consider Delbert to be his most stable acquaintance. He wondered if Delbert had really gone to MIT or any school at all. Yet, he couldn't help but think. Was he right? Was everything wrong? Would that mean that Delbert was also wrong? What? Bill hummed along with Delbert’s Hemorrhoy Rogers tape. Not a cloud in the sky. Bill felt alive. Maybe Delbert did have something. Or maybe he felt better because Delbert was no longer talking. Either way it didn't really matter.

All the while Hemorrhoy Rogers chirped out, "I can’t go to the bathroom ‘cause I’m already in the bathroom… If you want to go to the bathroom when you’re in the bathroom simply go to another bathroom."

 

Chapter 5: The Present Disappointment

 

"Payday!" announced Norm.

Bill punched out and returned his time card to its proper position.

Norm ripped off his sweat stained shirt and the check out girl condensed from the essence of Bill. Bill looked at his hands. Well manicured, red nails tipped his feminine fingers.

"How 'bout some lovin' for this hard workin' hunk o' man, wild thang?" demanded Norm in a husky voice.

Bill looked up. Norm tugged at his skirt. She instinctively shrunk away from the beast.

"Stop!" squealed Bill. But the tone of her voice said to Norm, "Take me, I’m yours!"

"Oh, baby!" laughed Norm. "I love it when you play hard ta get!"

"What are you talking about?" Bill backed into a corner to regain a respectful distance from Norm. He closed in. "You're invading my personal space!"

Norm chuckled. He faked to the left. Bill jumped away only to find Norm's well muscled arms around him. Bill struggled. He knew this was wrong. New sensations pulsated in his chest and between his thighs.

"Stop! Don't!" screamed Bill!

"My little check out girlie! You belong to me now!" Norm yanked off Bill's sweater. He fought with the bra strap until it ripped free, unleashing Bill's milky white breasts. "Oh yeah! That's what I like! I want it now, babe. Give it to me! Don't make me fight you! You want this, too!"

Bill kicked at the big man's leg. He was helpless. He had been transformed into such a lovely, such a weak creature. Norm would have his way with her. Nothing could stop him.

Norm enveloped the checkout girl. His tongue slid deep into her mouth.

"Bill. It was great workin with ya! Enjoy that pay check! You earned it. Even though you deserve nothing, but who cares?" Delbert burst into a maniacal cackle. "Time for me to ride the whirlwinds of fury!"

Bill gasped for breath. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

"You ok, Bill?" asked Norm. "You look like you’re gunna puke."

Delbert stopped and turned back. "Hey, Bill. About some of those things I said... Well, you know how a guy can get. Just dog talk. Don't base your life on it. Ok?" Delbert continued, "I'm out of here. Catch ya later! Have fun, boys!" He left.

"Take it easy, Delbert," Norm replied. "Bill! Hey, Bill! Earth to Bill... Snap out of it, dude! Geez! What a space case!"

"Sorry. Tough day."

"Yeah, I bet! That Delbert is one kooky dude! He's great." Norm fixed Bill with a steady gaze. "You're going to the work party tonight?"

"I guess. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know... Maybe 'cause it's gonna be the best fuckin' party of the damn year!!!" Norm chuckled. "Besides, we need your skinny ass to bowl. Are you bringing Maria? If you don't can I?"

"Yeah. Har har. She'll be there. With me!"

Norm gave Bill a friendly punch in the gut. "Ok, big guy. Whatever you say. See ya there! Don’t cut yourself on baby's breath." He left.

Bill stood alone. "Huh?"

*************************************************************

"Billy? Is that you?" It was his mother!

Bill made greatest forward speed toward his room. "Yup! I'm home. Tough day. Going out tonight, don't hold dinner for me. Thanks." He shut the door behind him. The mysterious letter on his desk remained untouched. He picked it up and inspected it carefully. Lipstick smeared and no return address. With a distinct aroma of the perfume, Eternity. He opened it.

 

To my love Jason,

Your many wonderful and unique ways

make you one special person, Jason John

You are sexy in every way

There's no one quite like you

Admired by many

Moving through life with ease

All I can say is

You're cool

In the most natural of ways

Being with you

Life seems more colorful and exciting

And I feel more alive

I love being with you

I love sharing life with you

Kim

 

Near the bottom of the page something was scribbled out beyond recognition.

"Odd," thought Bill. He set the letter on his desk and picked up the phone. Maria answered on the eighth ring.

"Hola?"

"Maria! Hey, What's up? I just got out of the shower..."

"That's nice."

"Are you ready to rock the bowling alley? I can pick you up right now."

"Ahem. Bill?"

"Yes?"

"I can't go."

"What?"

"It's not that I don't want to go. But I can't."

"I thought last night you said-"

"I know. I'm sorry. Something came up."

"What?"

"Mama. She needs me home tonight. There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry. I know how important this was to you."

"You really can't go?"

"Sorry. I promise to make it up to you tomorrow night!"

"But the party is tonight!?"

"I'm sorry, Bill. Mama is, uh…  sick and... well... I need to take care of her..."

"What about my work party? It's gonna be a blast!"

"I can only be one place at a time."

"Well... er."

"Listen!" Maria whispered, "I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night. Promise."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes."

In the background Bill could hear men yelling. Someone kept shouting, "You slackers are a bunch of know-nothin’ pussies! You don’t know shit, pussies!"

"What’s going on there, it sounds like a fight?" asked Bill.

"Nothing, just my brothers and some of their friends having fun. Are we on for tomorrow?" she quickly asked.

"Well, I'm off work early. What time should I pick you up?"

"You don't have to pick me up. We can hang around here for a while. You know? Just relax... Maybe I could fix you dinner... We could watch a movie... Just the two of us... In my room. Alone."

"When should I come over?"

"How about eight o'clock."

"Ok. I guess I'll see you then."

"Good. Have fun at your little party!"

"I'll try."

"Bye!"

The house was quite. Bill's radio turned itself off. He stood and faced the mirror hung from his wall. "Mirror, mirror," he mumbled. Mirror, mirror there's a crack in your lie.

9:20 A.M.

At the corner of Fourth and Gregory sits a fertile young woman dressed in a tacky work uniform. Her name is Heather. She waits for the bus. She missed the 9:00 and will be late to work, again. She works at Super-Walmart, a discount food and department store, mostly as a checkout girl. She is alone.

Tough hombre steps to the plate. She sifts thru her hair looking for split ends. He sits on the bus-stop bench and inspects his cowboy boots. She glances at him. He whistles dixie. She rummages through her purse then sets it on her lap.

"Ever notice how you never want nothin' less it's a bitch to get?" asks the man as if to himself.

"Excuse me?" Heather is confused.

The man turns to her, surprised that he's not alone, "Hello there lil' doll! What cha doing out of bed so early. Why, it can't be past six in the morn'"

"Actually, it's 9:22. The bus is late. So am I. And in more than one way."

"Bust? Slow down! I don't even know your name and I’m certain I don’t catch your drift."

"Heather, and you are?"

"The man sitting next to you!" He smiles, "Let me guess. Hmmm, you're waiting for the bus to take you to your boyfriend's house."

"That's right."

"Ok, let me guess again. You're going to work."

"That's right."

"Would ya like to see my place? Ain't nothin' more than a run down jail cell. But there's plenty o' room ta get busy and I'm in the mood, if you know what I mean. I don't want to be forward or make you feel cheep, but..."

"Do you have nail clippers?"

"Madam, I do."

"Could I borrow them? If you say yes, I'll have sex with you."

"Hmmm, can I tie you up?"

"Yes."

"I reckon so then. Let's go!"

The man stands and offers his hand to Heather. She takes it and walks to his studio. The entrance is located directly behind the bus stop.

Inside the room, we see the man strip down. Heather is nude and strapped to the four corners of a bed. She pulls, tightening the leather knots. Naked, he snatches a large knife off a window ledge. He steps to the bedside and places one knee between her spread legs, the other by her pretty head. Heather forces a nervous smile and glances hungrily at his erect phalus.

The man leans close to her face, holds the knife inches above her smooth stomach and says, "You just tell me when and I'll cut these straps that bind you to life, ya hear?"

Heather nods and wriggles in anticipation. The man stabs his knife into the bed frame. He arranges his knees between her thighs. She emits a soft moan as he begins to caress her love muffin. "Don't forget I'm already late to work," she says in a voice that would melt any man's heart and stiffen his cock.

The man lowers his body over Heather and rubs his chest against her firm breasts. "I'm gonna make you bust those bonds lil' lady!" he whispers in her ear. Heather tests her restraints again.

"Oh! I want to move! I want to feel you so bad!" she shimmers.

The man places strong hands on Heather's face and gently works his way down her body. His tough leathery hands glide over her rib cage. His head hovers inches above her upper torso and nibbles at hard nipples. She squirms. His hand slides between her legs and resumes massaging her soft public mound. It was the softest pubic mound he had ever touched! His fingers separate and he pushes one into Heather. She arches and slowly rests back onto the bed letting him explore. "You're really stewed up!" he says with a grin.

"Fuck me now!" she growls.

He rubs Heather's sex juice around her vaginal port before placing his throbbing muscle against her inner thigh. Careful not to slide the sword inside its scabbard, he puts his face in front of hers, supporting his body with tattooed arms. He slides his dick along her labia without penetrating. This continues for some time until Heather can wait no longer and bucks furiously at her restraints. The man pushes his hard cock into her cunt. It disappears into the orifice and emerges glistening with sex.

"Ride me hard, cowboy man!" Heather bellows.

The man begins to fuck with unchecked passion. Heather's body bounces on the old bed. Her left arm breaks free of it's leather restraint. She wraps it around the middle of the man and pulls him harder into her. Had she not recently clipped and filed her nails she would have scratched him rather severely.

"Oh God!" she wails, "Oh God! Fuck me harder!"

The man holds himself aloft Heather's heat with arms outstretched to support his upper half. His lower half grinds into her again and again. Heather checks her heart rate. She moves her hand away leaving a distinct palm print just above her quivering saline boobs. It quickly flushes red with blood. She grabs his right biceps and oscillates with the violent rhythm the man is possessed by. They are at the verge of mutual climax when the man suddenly stops. He picks the knife up and cuts her legs free.

"Turn over, girl," he says urgently.

She twists over and puts her ass in the air. He reties her left wrist and positions her bottom right where he wants it. With a sturdy grip on her hips he penetrates her again. His steaming love divet makes sparks as it pumps in and out. Heather muffles screams of ecstasy into the mattress as his thick shaft dives further into her body than should be possible.

"You monster! You animal!" exclaims Heather. Then suddenly she pulls her body forward. His penis explodes out of her with an audible 'pop'. Heather had managed to untie herself while the man was busy. She turns around and pushes him onto his back. With lightning fast reflexes she maneuvers the man's dick into her mouth and sucks on it with lingering strength. The man lies on his back. He screams unmentionable curses upon god. His body convulses and he begins to cum in her mouth with out warning. Heather sucks at the fountain trying to capture all the seed. It is to much. Juices dribble from the corners of her mouth and nose and smear her face and hair. He shudders with pleasure. Heather hears the bus outside.

She spits a wad of cum onto his stomach. "It's the bus! I've got to go!" She picks up her pile of clothes and runs out the door.

Bill opened his eyes. Beads of sweat evaporate off his forehead. He gasps to catch his breath. His pants were tangled around the bed post. Splotches of seminal moisture stained his new shirt. As if they were tainted with disease, the clothes quickly found their way into a hamper. Bill threw his body back onto the bed and lay naked.

"Could Delbert be right? Do I really want to suck my own cock?"

He brought his knees to his chest. Then, with a grunt, he lifted his lower body into the air. As he rested precariously on his neck and shoulders, Bill inspected his genitals up close. Close, but not close enough. He bent his back to the limit. Tongue outstretched, he was still hopelessly far from the tip of his still throbbing penis. He flopped back onto the mattress.

"Why would I want something I simply can not do?" Bill asked out loud.

He closed his eyes.

And she appeared.

Kim's body dripped with sweat. She leaned over the railing. He knew this girl. He wanted to know this girl. She stood at the top of a train-signaling tower. Bill was right behind her. She looked down and saw three sets of train tracks 20 meters below. The tower felt as if it were swaying. Bill pawed at her body and tried to undo her bra strap. The heat of the night was almost unbearable. She didn't want it to get any worse, yet she wanted Bill more than she understood. An appetite for destruction. A vengeance born in her past and executed in her remembered present. Reaching behind her back, she unfastened the snap. Her mini skirt hiked up around her hips to reveal a wet snatch, glistening like a midnight mirage.

"Oh my god!" gasped Bill. "You're not wearing underwear!"

"It's to hot!" She leaned over the rail. Bill yanked her back.

"Don't do that! It's a long way down and I don't want to lose you now."

"I bet you don't," laughed Heather. "Why don't you stop worrying and start doing me. Show me what kind of action you got!"

This is not her. Alas.

But Bill is pumped. "Are you serious? Anybody could see us! We're in plain view. This is crazy!"

"To bad you're sane. Do, it." She rubbed her bare ass against his groin.

"Oh my god." Lance fumbled frantically with his pants.

Heather pulled the train tower railing against her stomach. She mounted the edge and put the railing at the level of her ass. With feet latched around support posts and hands clenching the rail, she flaunted her flesh in the face of gravity. Heather's love hole sprouted into view for Lance's convenience. He touched it. She peered down at the train tracks far below. A fall would mean certain death. Her body made a tight right angle, the upper half parallel and legs perpendicular to the earth.

"Oh, my god! Be careful!" Lance grasped at Heather's pelvis. His caution dissolved at the sight of her clit dripping juice down a slender leg. He rubbed his cock in it. Unable to restrain himself for more than a moment, he entered her. His lance was long and hard, but slid easily into Heather's well lubricated orifice. She pushed against the rail, into Lance. It was the best of times.

The pace quickened. Lance pulsated his body against the girl rapidly, almost violently. Heather couldn't hold the rail. He was pushing to hard. Over the edge. Her fragile pelvis grinding into cold steel. She lost control. Her upper body flailed wildly, far above the earth, completely unsupported except for her waist and Lance's rod, which felt to be crammed into her chest cavity.

Heather gazed up in shear ecstasy and horror as a massive freight train approached. It's powerful horn sent a spinal chill through the hot night air. Ceasing his undulations, Lance looked up to see the train draw neigh. "Don't stop now. I want it harder and faster than you've ever given it!" challenged Heather.

He did. Heather let go of the rail posts, letting her legs fly into the air. Lance grabbed her shoulders and pushed her further over the edge. They teetered, bucking at the edge of doom. What a way to die! She wrapped her legs around his back. She would not fall alone. Her hips, supporting all her weight, began to ache. She reached for the railing. Back to the edge. But Lance held her to far gone. His cock moved inside her. She couldn't tell what was real. Sensual overload. Everything at once. A deafening noise roared up at her. Falling. A blinding light burned her retinas. And then nothing. And then... Lance's scream resonated with the clicking of wheels on metal. The world rushed by. A cool breeze flowed past and turned into a strong headwind. Lance pulled her back. They laid down on the metal grated floor of the tower as the tail end of the freight train passed underneath.

The relief Heather felt was intense. Her hips had red marks from the railing. She stretched her body and bumped against Lance. He was warm with the foul odor of labor. She moved away from him.

"That was great!" moaned Lance.

Heather ignored the comment. The wind followed the train into oblivion. Warm semen dribbled out of her and along the folds of her ass. The humid, sticky summer night returned.

Exhausted, Bill drifted off to cucumber-land. Ten minutes latter he awoke with the startling realization that he would be late to the party! "Time to rock and roll! I'm not going to let Maria spoil this for me. No way!"

 

Chapter 6: Bill Gets Tippsy

 

The tiny Toyota peeled out of the White Hen parking lot. Bill fish-tailed the car within inches of a pick-up truck. "Fuck yourself, asshole!" yelled a group of teenagers behind him. Bill shrugged it off. He bopped his head to the post-industrial alternative beat. A street signal turned red. He stopped next to a sports futility vehicle.

&black out&

"Fuck-um," he thought. "The light will turn green. They'll be gone. But I'll live on!" (anticoma imperative) He faced straight ahead to avoid eye contact. A muffled voice called him a fucking dork. (keep your guys on the prize) Bill put in a new tape and cranked the volume to 100%. His thoughts raced. "It's Saturday, Saturday night, man. Saturday fuck-in night!! Who cares!! Assholes. What a bitch." (noble savage)

Aggravated, Bill shook his head and glanced over at a jeep full of chicks who were eyeing him. He felt cool again, and began to smile until he noticed they were laughing and giving him the finger [the middle one]. (what kind of post modernist critical social theory perspective are you trying to foist on an innocent readership? You must be a Libra. Fuck your nails.)

He gasped and looked away. "All damn bitches," he mumbled, thought of Maria and winced. His heart sank. "All a bunch of dumb tight-ass fucking cunts! Fuck um ALL man, who fucking cares!! FUCK YEAH!!!" Bill lunged at his car stereo and turned up the base. (downhill slalom epiphyte) The truck and jeep took off, both still taunting and yelling obscenities. A large yellowish hocker hit his windshield, dead center, and a beer can bounced off his hood. Bill tried to act like he didn't care. His hand shot out as it remembered the cool sixer he'd just purchased at White Hen. (this is awfully lame, even for MTV)

"Fuck um," he thought. He cracked open a beer and slammed the can into his face, splashing liquid over his head and shirt as he gulped. With his other hand he pounded the steering wheel. Someone behind him laid on the horn. Bill was at war with traffic. They were out to get him. They were closing in. Everywhere. Everybody. (looked to me as tho she had been blendered) "Fuck um - fuck um - fuck um..." repeated over and over in his mind at a hyper speed. (patrimony)

"Kill!" Bill shouted with anger in tune with the rock singer. "Your!" He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth with all the aggression he had. "Television! Yeah!" Release came swiftly as he screamed. (member checks - release is always accompanied with television - only preparation-h can spell relief...) Sobbing, he exploded and punched at all reachable areas of his car. From the corner of his eye, he saw a squad car at White Hen. Bill realized the light had been green for a while. (thus conscience doth make cowards of us all)

"Fuck um."

He peeled out.

By the time Bill had evaded the police (high speed car chase) and arrived at the bowling alley parking lot, he was wasted on three beers. (bring the war home; kill your parents) Moreover, he was convinced that he only liked girls and could have any one he choose. (except his dear mother) He finally shook the confused, displaced feeling that had emerged from the talk with Delbert. All the insane talk! It had messed with his mind and disturbed his soul. Bill bitterly thought, (never flush. varf lip smooq me) "If I see that jerk tonight, I'll tell him exactly what I think of his advice and his music and I don't care who its in front of." (a beautiful weekend. my lilies & tulips have unseated the frost) He took a long satisfying chug off his fourth beer, wiping his lip with his sleeve and belching loudly when he was through. "God! That man is out of his head!" Bill stumbled out of the car and looked towards the sky. (participant observation / action research)

The fresh midsummer evening air was warm and kind. Bill's shadow-like figure wavered in the twilight next to the open car door. He stared up at the few glimmering stars (great old ones) in worshipful aw. The tails of his long black trench coat flapped around his legs in a lazy dance. (awk!) (non-linear geometry. cthlulhu ftahgn!!!! Augh!!!!)

"So many worlds," Bill gasped, "so many hells and heavens, saints and sinners. I am a part of it." (help me. please help me. i can't find my shoes.) (deep) A gentle breeze caressed his face. He took in a breath. "God, air is good (food). Thank you. I know what I want and I need what I want. Air is everywhere," he smiled mischievously (Bill Cosby) and closed his eyes. "I want to fly!" (FARP)

Bill let out an 'Umph' (umph) as he threw his can of beer as far as he could. He wondered if he could run and catch it before it hit the ground. Why not?! With that he took off into the night, arms pumping, (I want to hurt myself) wirey legs stroking at maximum potential. (dense chocolate)

"I got legs and I know how to use them! I try to run away but I can’t loose them!" sang Bill. "I want to be free!" His body whirled as adrenaline flowed though his cardio-vascular system. (wavy gravy) "Yes!" he shouted and kicked into overdrive.

Time stood still. He leaped far and long into the air, reveling in the raw pleasure of the wind whipping against his face. (words idol oceanographers institute memorial pile of diving bricks harry stool shtup) He forget about the beer can and left the past 24 hours of confusion far behind him, fleeing back to the cool, witty, alternative, smart guy that he was before. (Prolife! Prolix! Pubie!) (do over)

"Yo! Bill!" Bill was yanked out of this fantasy by a familiar voice in the distance. He stopped abruptly and squinted towards the voice. (who is speaking hear?) Across the parking lot he saw his work buddies silhouetted by the bowling alley entrance. Smoke and rock music spurted from the opening. The guys waited for him. Bill smiled. (antipathy)

"Bill, What are you doin! Did you loose Maria out there or something!" One of the guys made a loud 'Owe!' sound. The others laughed and whistled.

"I'll be right there, dudes!" Bill shouted from across the parking lot. He stumbled over something on the ground. What he saw made him laugh at the amazing prank fate had played on him. The can of beer he threw was right at his feet, gleaming in the moonlight! (glorification of the ordinary - in touch with the mind of the common man and his entity) Bill thoughtfully picked up the can and jogged towards the bowling alley, drinking the beer and laughing all the way. It was coming back together after all.

"So Bill, where's that Oriental chick you keep talking about? Did she find out how small your dick is and ditch you!?" The guys laughed and slapped each other on the back.

“Oriental is a racist term. You’re supposed to call them Asian.”

Norm, captain of the bowling team, with his rough long-haired good-old-boy looks and 699.95$ (under 700$) cowboy boots grabs Bill’s arm. "Silence! You're late. We already started the game.  Hurry up and get your bowling shoes." Norm clumsily slurped beer foam from a plastic cup.

"Hey, I'm drunk already...And Maria ain’t no slope-head. She’s a Latin babe!" Bill started to brag but was interrupted. (Beowulf's #? mom muts Grendel *#4)

"Where's your shirt? It cost the team 50 bucks to make up those shirts and you didn't even wear yours!" Bill glanced around at his team mates. (these people are illiterate morons) Everyone was wearing an official team shirt, either with a big flannel button down over it or some kind of long sleeve thermal thing under it. The team shirts themselves were tye dyed concert tees with 'Hoodlums' in black bulky iron-on lettering under the name 'Grateful Dead'. Their personal nick-names were on the back. The shirt style was actually Bill's idea, and he had paid for them. He picked them up for the team at the last Dead show and got the lettering done at the mall. The guys said they would pay him back once he had them customized. The day he presented the shirts to the team, they simply put them on and didn't pay. No one even spoke of owing money. Not a single one of them had expressed the slightest gratitude. Regardless, thanks to Bill, the Hoodlums had the coolest team shirts in the league. Norm shoved Bill into a bowling ball washing machine.

"Hey!" Bill yelled. Before Bill could kick his ass, Norm went to bowl his shot. STRIKE! Bill took a seat in front of his team's alley. "Sorry I forgot my shirt. I wear it all the time," he apologized to no one in particular. The guys were all busy applauding Norm.

Mike, a short guy with disfigured teeth, spoke up, "Since Bill didn't wear his shirt tonight, he has to drink 3 shots of Jack, chug two 7&7s and one blow job in 15 seconds and buy us all unlimited rounds of beers for the night!" (Lawrence Kohlburg)

"That's cool!" declared Jack, a team mate who had been making out with an unattractive girl on his lap. (rule-based moral moron development hierarchy)

"Yeah!"

"OK!" Bill said and handed Mike two 20's. Mike put the money in his pocket.

"Let's get shit faced, dude!"

"Sweet!" Replied Bill without knowing why. The two walked to the bar.

Bill sat at the bar counter. He prepared to slam shots as the guys picked up their free beers. He started with the blow job (of course) and quickly worked through the 7&7s.

"He's doin' it! Three Jacks to go!" Mike yelled then began to dance to the Grateful Dead song, 'Sugar Magnolia.' Bill rhythmically grabbed at the shots. He finished to a light spattering of applause and realized that deep down he had never, no matter how hard he tried, felt close to these people. He decided to make conversation.

"Hey, Mike. Norm. How long have you guys driven for the rental company, anyway?" He thought they weren't going to answer. They were talking with a group of excited girls about a famous basketball player.

Norm turned his eyes to Bill and began to speak, (petulant urban white loaf) "Bill, I've been driving for Bob’s rental company since I was in high school, and that's a hell of a long time, dude." Norm's voice was low and smooth. He lit a cigarette and leaned back, "I've been laid off three times, walked in union strike marches, and gotten four raises. And throughout it all my bowling average has never fallen below 160." There was silence after Norm spoke. (authenticity of ambiance)

"Really?" Bill was about to politely ask Norm how much money he made. One of the girls asked Norm how old he was.

He blew a stream of smoke into the air and answered, "Twenty-nine and in my prime!" The girls looked at each other in awe then asked him if his name was really Norm.

"My full name is Jacob Matthew. The name Jacob is gay, so people call me Norm ‘cause I ain’t no faggot!" When he finished talking he chugged a beer. The girls gawked.

"Oh." (Oh. I thought this was steam coming off his body)

"I think your name is cool!"

"Yeah, Jacob is a cool name. It's so unusual!"

"Yeah!"

The girls praised Norm and asked if they could touch his hair. (Awesome!)

"Sure, go ahead." Norm shook his head. Bill watched as the girls squealed and commented on how soft it was. Norm left to bowl his shot. The girls and Bill eyed Norm's ass as he walked away. (you pathetic slob)

"Hey, Mike. How long have you been driven, I mean driving?" Bill noticed his words begin to slur. He felt sick. Mike was telling jokes and talking about classic rock with the girls. His cigarette smoke burned Bill's eyes.

"I don't know."

Bill was confused.

"I've been partners with Norm for about a year. Working with him is the best!"

"Yeah!" said one of the girls "I’m sure it is!"

Mike licked his brown teeth and continued, "Every morning, we start off by roasting a big ass fuckin' bong man, passin' it back and forth in the cab until we're both completely baked off our asses! Ha! No one knows cause we don't ever fuck up. In fact we work better that way!"

"Really?" gawked a smiling girl with lipstick on her teeth.

"Wow!" (APA format! Do over)

"I get high," confirmed another.

"Yeah!" Mike continued, "We get so hungry thought, you know, the munchies!" The girls laughed knowingly and nodded their heads, saying that it happens to them, too. Bill felt displaced. (portfolio management priority)

"So then, we go and get a shit load of White Castles and a six pack, park on the side of the road, and get high again!" Mike and the girls erupted in wild laughter.

"Oh my God!" (non canonical!)

"You so crazy!"

"Yep! We are! Our life dream, I mean the best thing that could happen to us, would be a job driving a beer semi! That would rock! We could just pull over, hop in the back, grab some brews for free, we'd always be drunk!"

(Pee Wee Herman)

"No shit! Har Har Har."

"You are always drunk," Bill interjected in a weak attempt to insult Mike. It had the opposite effect.

"You’re absolutely right, dude, I am, indeed!" Mike answered thoughtfully. Again, everyone laughed. "I got some weed… If you ladies want to get high?"

Short pause. "Sure." (shocking violent stupidity)

"Cool! We'll meet in the hall, by the bathroom. I'll get the other guys."

Annoyed, Bill tried again to break into the conversation to insult Mike. "Oh! I get it! That must be why your cab is full of empty Preparation-H tubes. I've heard what White Castles do to a person! That must really suck!" (no, use a spoon)

Mike and the girls ignored Bill and left.

They didn't really know him. Tonight should be a night where everyone came together and communicated on a basic level. Who was he kidding? He didn't give a fuck. (yearning)

"I'm such an asshole," Bill mumbled. He was buzzed. The room began to spin. "She's a nice girl and I treat her like a whore. No wonder."

"What’s your problem, Bill?" Mike was picking up his ninth free beer.

"Ahh, Maria couldn't come. I miss her, too." Bill looked down into his drink and felt sorry for himself.

"Bill, pay the bartender."

Mike left. Bill shook his head back and forth. (i miss you the most when i feel happy) Someone from the back of the bar yelled out, "Hey, I could make her cum for ya, buddy!" A bunch of people were laughing around him, at him. He wondered how loud he was talking. (waffle) Bill got up to rejoin his team by their lane. He missed a step and fell over a waitress. His body felt satisfyingly numb as he laid face down on the cool floor. Laughter roared through his ears. He heard someone mention the name, Delbert Holingsburth. A girl kicked Bill with a pointy shoe in his eye and called him a fucking dork. Bill curled into a fetal position and felt his body sink into the floor. (i have never seen such a trite cliché in my 20 years of study)

The back of Bill's neck ached. He moaned and rubbed it. His head was still spinning. (Aren't you ashamed of yourself?) He uncovered his eyes to find himself in a park on a warm spring day. A giant merry-go-round slowly revolved before him.

"Daddy, my ball. Roger took my ball!"

"Its his ball too, Suzette. Jesus says to share with everyone. Do unto others as you..." The scent of warm dew and freshly cut grass filled his nostrils. Children played. Their parents watched in fear. One little girl pointed at Bill and said, "Look, Mammy! A squirrely!"

For a moment, Bill thought she meant him. He turned and looked directly behind himself and saw a small brown shape dart up a leafy shade tree. The little girl threw a crust of bread at him. Without thinking, Bill ate it. The girl laughed and reached out to touch him.

"No! She might hurt me!" Bill panicked and scurried off the playground ride. (I'll fucking kill you. Kill each and every one of you.)

 

 

Chapter 7: Gaze into Her Eyes

 

"Shit!" Bill hit the breaks hard. Five full bottles of ice cold Miller Genuine Draft crashed to the floor with a shattering sound. A sixth, half empty, was safe in Bill's hand. Bill focused on the traffic light. Green. But was it green the way he wanted it? He looked around. No one. The car lurched forward and stalled.

"Bastards," Bill mumbled. He slammed the rest of his beer in one gulp.

Bill realized he was late to the work party. It was held every weak at a sleazy south side bowling alley / bar. (sweet) To compensate for his tardiness, he decided to make a stop at White Hen and pick up a six pack. (meat) By drinking six beers before arriving, he hoped to be 'up to speed' for his triumphant entrance. (beat) Glass shards sloshed in beer under his seat. This was a minor distraction. (discreet) He was having a hell of a time keeping his car on the road. Thousands of work hours behind the wheel were finally paying off. Or so he believed.

Eventually, he arrived. The car door opened. Bill fell out. He picked himself up. The bottle in his hand was still empty. He looked at it awkwardly, then lifted it to his mouth.

"Damn! I need another beer!" he shouted and threw the bottle into the night. It smashed onto the parking lot pavement some distance away.

Bill glanced nervously around. A neon sign buzzed bright green letters above the main entrance. Bill gawked at it and read out loud, "B. O. W. L." Saccadic twitch. His head swiveled around. Adjacent to the bowling alley was a deserted lot. Light reflected off the shards of a thousand broken beer bottles. "More beer!"

Bill left his car door ajar and ran into the field of debris. An incredible sensation overtook him. The wind blew against his face. It felt, unexplainable. He was determined to never stop! Faster and faster he ran. He forgot about the beer and sprinted across the lot. He tripped on a curb and fell into the street.

It was a warm October evening in the park on Saturday night. In the distance you could hear the busy cars and people talking and laughing loudly (city sounds). The glow of the city lights illuminated Josh's taught, ebony face. They were sitting in a deep cove within the park, away from everyone and everything, where all was still. They could be together without guilt or persecution (dirty faggots). No fighting to defend their love, only the enjoyment of these moments few and far between. Cherished like a golden ring worn by a queen.

"I love you," Mark whispered. He shook his head slowly back and forth, taken back by Josh's beauty. "Sometimes, when I'm around you, I feel as if I'm not man enough for you. Not hot enough or, well, big enough. I mean, compared to yours. And you've had so many others..."

A deep heart-filled soulful laugh rose from within Josh's chest and exploded from his mouth as he raised his head toward the sky, catching moon beams with his strong teeth, and star dust in his tight, shiny afro. A small moan escaped from Mark's lips at this sight.

"Mark," the mighty black man said to the fat, bald, short, pathetic, gay-because-no-woman-would-ever-want-him, middle aged white man, "You are exactly what I want. You please me, and satisfy me fully! When you get hot, you're hot man!"

"Hey," the other faggot said, "you're not so bad yourself."

Bill was OK. He pulled himself out of the gutter, brushed at his jeans and combed back his hair. Time to party! He still needed that second beer! He carefully picked his way back toward the bowling alley. Inside, he was instantly greeted by familiar faces.

"Bill! You made it! We thought you'd blown us off for some bitch! All right! Grab a brewski! Let's bowl!!"

Norm saddled up to Bill. "Bill, are you alright? You look tired. Where's Maria?"

"She couldn't make it. Fuck her. Let's party!"

"That's the spirit! You're on my team. It's league night, and we’re trying to make it into finals." Norm led Bill to their alley.

Bill sat next to a Mexican guy wearing oversized snakeskin cowboy boots. Bill gawked at the boots. They looked alive. Norm introduced Bill to the Mexican guy. Bill instantly forgot the name.

"What's up?" offered Bill.

The Mexican glanced at Bill then left to bowl. Bill watched his ass. He had a funny walk. It appeared as if he'd been knifed in the spine. Suddenly, Bill became fashion conscious. He noticed that all the dudes in the bowling alley / bar were wearing bowling shoes or cowboy boots; snap-on-tool belts or baseball hats; and Grateful Dead t-shirts or fake mustaches. Bill looked at his own feet. He was surprised to find bowling shoes neatly tied in double bow knots.

Some one yelled his name.

Bill walked to the bowling lane and picked up a random ball. It was heavy. He was positive the bowling ball in his hands weighed at least a hundred pounds. He felt powerful wielding that massive, black sphere. Time to knock the shit out of some pins. Bill bowled. The ball slammed into the gutter.

"Shit! I need a beer." Bill skipped his second shot and went to the bar. He returned with a thick-bottom mug of foamy brew. The Mexican guy was talking.

"Man!!! My babe loves to watch herself get banged. I mean it, dudes, my hot tamale of a girlfriend is a Mexican mama with an appetite for seeing her chocha getting porked on videotape! Cool news for me, ay?"

No one appeared to be listening. Bill sat down and sipped at his beverage. The Mexican spotted Bill as a potential audience and focused his verbal delivery accordingly.

He continued, "Hey man! I tell you. It all started when me and Rita rented a porn flick and proceeded to fuck like banshees. I'd never seen my little muchacha so horny, so I asked her about it. I'm a sensitive guy, all right? Don't laugh, it works. 'The camera, I like,' Rita articulated eloquently."

"Eloquent?" thought Bill.

Norm grabbed Bill by the shoulders and began massaging tight muscles. "You're up, Bill. See if you can manage a little better than last time. We're loosing."

"Elohim? Quently?" Bill slurred. He stumbled to the alley and bowled two more gutter balls.

"Bill!" moaned his teammates. Bill apologized and found a seat far removed from the Mexican. Someone in the next lane was yelling at him.

"Pussies!" came the voice. Bill looked over to see a man in his late thirties. The guy yelled 'pussies' a few more times then bowled a strike.

Norm sat down next to Bill. "Ignore him. He's an asshole."

"Who is he?"

"His name's Derkin. His buddies call him Derk. He's a regular. Acts like he owns the place. I think he drives a truck for Wonder Bread."

Bill cast his gaze toward Derkin. He had rugged good looks and wore a red and black flannel shirt. "He's an asshole?" Bill thought Derkin's ass was OK.

"Yeah. Dude, how do I put this politely? Would you mind not bowling? No offense, but you really suck tonight! Go waste time at the bar or play darts or hit on chicks or something until you can do better than a gutter ball."

"That’s cool man. I could use another beer."

Norm gave Bill another quick neck massage then left.

The Mexican guy loomed close. Bill ducked. Abandoning his nearly full beer, he returned to the bar for another. He slapped money down and was promptly served.

Bill took a tiny sip. Then it hit him like a bag of armchairs. Across the bar, at the furthest stool sat a girl. Not just any girl. She was beautiful. She was THE ONE! Bill drooled into his beer. She was writing something. Locks of platinum blond hair draped splendidly over her leather jacket. On her hands were jet-black gloves. A pearl in the slime. He was amazed. Could this be a dream? She glanced up.

Bill jerked his beer toward his face. It sloshed all over his pants. Bill was desperate not to blow this. He didn't want to look like a fool. He ran back to his bowling buddies and hid.

"OK. Calm down." He thought, "That was an angel. She was to good to be real. I've got to meet her. She's the only one that can keep me from loosing my mind. She's so fine! She's got to be mine..." Bill giggled to himself.

The Mexican guy slid next to him and continued his tale, "Being no fool, I played the role of a good brainwashed American consumer and bought a video camera at the local mall. Rita got wet just thinking about what was in store for her Latin labia. Yeah, a Goddamn spectacle for sure."

Bill nodded and tried to ignore him. -How can I get her attention without making myself look like an ass? First I've got to wait for this beer to dry. Maybe If I bowl a strike? What am I thinking!? That's a horrible idea! I should just go up to her and ask her out. No. That's to blatant. I need something original. Chicks dig that. Yeah.-

"We fucked, sucked and ducked in front of the camera's eye. Rita was on my dick like rice on beans and I was not complaining. Just wait you fuckhead, that wasn't the good part. Yeah, it gets better!"

Bill excused himself and headed for the rest rooms. The men's room was filled with pot smoke. Through the haze he could make out a group of four or five guys huddled together in a circle. Bill hit the stainless steel ignition button of the hand drier. Luke-warm air blasted out. Bill strained to lift his beer soaked pants to the nozzle.

"Mike! That's some fine weed, man!" exclaimed someone over the drone of the air drier.

"Hey, check it out! Bill is rapnig the blow dryer! Hahahaha"

Ten minutes later Bill left the bathroom, confident that he didn't look like he'd wet his pants. He was feeling pretty sober. He glanced to the bar. There she was. Still writing. "One round at bowling, then I'm going over there," determined Bill.

He approached his group. "Norm! I feel stable. Mind if I get back in the game?"

Norm didn’t mind, but gave Bill a doubtful look. Bill took his turn. He bowled a gutter ball. People laughed. It was OK. He had another shot. He could salvage this frame. A spare would save face. The automatic-ball-return fed him the ammo. Bill assumed a rigid bowling stance. The building fell silent. He started hard at each pin. All eyes were on Bill. No pressure. His body went into motion. He stepped on his untied shoelace and tripped, fell into the lane and set off foul alarms. The ball rolled into the gutter. This was outrageous, even for Bill and EVERYONE laughed.

Bill rolled into the gutter.

Norm picked Bill off the floor and sat him down in front of the lane. Bill was in a drunken stupor. His head rolled from side to side and his mouth hung open. (she can turn a phrase) Bill laughed to himself and mumbled something. Someone asked him to bowl their shot. Bill answered, "Sure, dude!" (intrepid)

Bill's trench coat was twisted around his legs. He struggled with it for a moment until he noticed he was wearing combat boots on the lane. He pretended to wipe his feet. Everyone laughed. A stupid noise came out of him. He saw girls laughing and felt cool. (inevitable) All eyes were on Bill. He picked up the ball, assumed the position, and shot it down the lane. The ball hit the gutter so hard that it jumped into the neighboring lane and knocked over a few pins. Everyone roared with laughter. (check your oil) Bill giggled and walked back to the guys to give them high fives. They all pulled their hands away when Bill tried to hit them.

"You're so gay, Bill!" someone said.

"Pussy!" Derkin proclaimed and hit Bill in the shoulder. Bill got mad and began to wildly swing at Derkin. He heard girls laughing and noticed one in particular, the blond. Derkin ducked Bill's punches and drank beer. Frustrated, Bill turned and punched a locker. Everyone cheered. Bill looked confused. (intensely moving and pregnant in a mad whirl of emotional frenzy)

"Yeah! Bill, hit it with your head!"

Derkin and a couple of other guys imitated Bill and punched the lockers. The sound their punches made was louder than the sound Bill's punch made. Bill kicked at Derkin and then kicked a locker super hard.

"God, Bill. You can kick high!" Mike laughed.

"Yeah! Kung Fu lightning!"

"And hard!" the guys made fun of Bill, but he seemed to take it as a compliment and kept punching and kicking the lockers. Everyone cheered him on. Bill spotted the blond girl, smiling at him. (get to it. why all this obfuscation?)

She spoke, "Bill, since your first kick was so high and smooth why don't you try to kick the very top locker?"

"Yeah!" the crowd cheered.

His body tingled from the amazing girl's voice.  He would rise to this challenge! The other guys were already attempting it. Bill had to do it. The lockers were 7 ft high, about 8 lockers tall. (56 feet?) Norm's expensive boot slammed against the 6th locker.

"No!" Bill began kicking loudly. His foot easily reached the 7th locker 3 times in a row. He kept trying for the top. The team chanted, "Bill - Bill - Bill -"

Derkin loosened his pants and kicked. His brown work boot almost reached the 8th locker.

"Damb!" exclaimed Derkin. (messy, do over)

"Hey, Bill's doing it!"

"Oh my God!"

Bill, sweating and red in the face, caught a rhythm and was kicking the very top locker. He met the challenge 5 times, and kept going. The crowd clapped and whistled as he feverishly kicked. Derkin also kicked the top locker a couple of times. Bill loosened his pants and swung his leg so high his foot rested on top of the top locker! (whatever - this is so gay) (do over)

The bowlers watched in awe as Bill sent kick after kick above the top locker! (action!) Norm tried to get Bill to calm down but Bill frantically kicked him away. Some of Bill's team mates hit the lockers with their heads.

"Pussies!" yelled Derkin.

Finally, Bill began to slow down. He glanced over at the blond girl. She was still wearing her coat. "Keep it going, Bill! You look great!" she smiled. (getting better)

On that note, Bill backed up and executed a grand kick, as fast and as high as he could. But something went wrong. His stabilizing foot was ripped from the ground by the force of the other. Bill flipped high into the air and fell really gayly on his back. At first, the bowling alley crowd was silent in disbelief. Then they burst into uncontrollable laughter.

The second Bill hit the ground, he popped back up and said, "What!?" Bill pretended nothing happened. (How did he know?) He had a lot of dust on the back of his black trench coat. He walked over to the blond girl. She shyly covered her mouth and looked away. (adverbial)

"Dude! Looks like you need a brew!" Norm shoved a cold bottle into Bill's hand.

"Yeah!" Bill chugged the beer.

"Ohhhuuhhh!" Bill smiled at a group of girls. He belched loudly and sat down next to them. They scattered, except for the blond. She starred at him, expressionless, yet interested. Smiling hard, Bill felt his head roll out of control in a drunken spasm. During that un-measurable period of time, he was aware only that he said really stupid things. When he was able to focus, the girl was still in front of him with the same expression. He noticed a name tag. It was from a Jewel food store and read, "Check Out Girl #1, Kim. ‘How may I help you?’" Bill shook his head. (what nonsense)

"Where was I? What was I just saying?" asked Bill. Behind him, a group of guys mocked him. Bill spun around and shouted, "Fuck you!"

"You were showing me how many 20's you have in your wallet, your high school and work ID cards, diver’s license and family pictures." Her voice was so close. It caught him off guard. They could have been in bed together. The sweet sound of her voice wafted through his mind like a hydrogen bomb explosion. (Edward Teller would be proud) Bill stared in wonderment, slack jawed and speechless. She had the face of the purest angel (devil).

"Would you like a 7&7?" he offered. (take your cloths off)

"No," she answered.

"Can I take your coat and gloves? Aren't you hot under all of... I mean you are hot, but..."

"NO!"

"Sorry." Bill cleared his throat.

The girl glanced around but didn't move. Her eyes followed the flow of activity. Disinterested, uninvolved, but not exactly bored. Finally, their eyes met. Bill gasped. Her gaze sank deep into his heart.

"Oh, man!" escaped his mouth. He felt embarrassed, yet didn't care. He could give his life to this woman with the calm mysterious eyes. Bill broke the magical silence between them. "So, You're a check out girl." His voice was surprisingly sober.

"I am."

"I'm a professional driver, and I play guitar in a band. We're called Eric's Candle!" Bill confabulated.

"Really." The girl's attention was caught by something beyond Bill. He turned to look at the bowling alley bar.

"Hey, if you want a drink, I'll get you one right now." Bill got up, "Your name is Kim, right?"

She walked toward the bar. (Kim, you win)

(Do over)

Mike elbowed him from behind. "Bill, let's go smoke some bong hits with these chicks!"

"Yeah, I'll be right there, dude. Do you know that girl?"

"The blond one?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. The check out girl." Bill's voice began to drift.

“No idea, but she’s got a fine ass!”

Bill followed Kim towards the bar. He heard an older voice yell at him.

"Hey, Pussy! You ain't shit!"

Bill turned to the voice and saw Derkin flex 280 pounds of muscle. Derkin pointed directly at Bill.

"Pussy! You don't even know what your doin'!"

Bill was confused. Norm spoke up, "Hey Derkin, if you’re so tough, why don't you hit the locker with your head?"

Someone else yelled, "Yeah, Derkin!"

Challenged, Derkin clenched his fists and ran toward Norm like and angry (recently castrated) bull. Norm held his ground without flinching. Bill admired Norm's courage.

Derkin pointed in Norm's face and exclaimed, "I was here when they installed these lockers, boy! You weren't even born then!" Without another word, Derkin turned to bowl his shot then ran into the bathroom.

Norm triumphantly replied, "Look who’s the pussy now!" But he didn’t say it loud enough for Derkin, or Derkin’s friends to hear.

Bill looked around the bar but didn't see Kim. He bought her a 7&7 anyway. A cloud of smoke drifted from the bathrooms. Bill walked into the haze with the drink and saw the guys smoking pot with a group of girls. He approached the group.

"I like to meet new people," someone said.

Bill stood there listening and looking for the check out girl.

"I really don't know who I am or what kind of a person I am. I only know where I've been." Mike took a long drag on a joint.

"I believe the same thing. Only other people can define the type of person you are, or who you are, or what kind of food you enjoy the most." Derkin passed a huge jesus-shaped bong.

"You are all wrong! You judge, you oversimplify. I only know what's in my head." (Lame Creme Fame)

"And yet, you don't understand who you are?"

"Good point, dude."

"If you cut off your head, how much weight do you lose? The weight of your head or the weight of your body."

Silence.

"The mass and energy is conserved!"

"Hey," Bill spoke up, "what if God's a transsexual!?"

The group ignored him. (good job, Kim)

"I have something for you." Bill swung around to find the check out girl with her hand extended towards him. He looked down and saw a gray rock in her hand. (from heaven)

"I bought you a drink." He motioned the drink towards her.

"No thanks," she replied. He shrugged and chugged it.

"This rock will help to reveal your past lives from other galaxies and planets, enhancing your connections with extraterrestrial energies and expanding your overall awareness." She looked up at him with a slight smile.

Bill touched her hand and took the rock. "What is it?"

"It's a lunar rock."

"Really?" He felt it's rough texture.

The girl turned and walked away. He followed at a safe distance and watched her sit at the bar.

"Hey, Bill! Did you bring darts?" Mike yelled. The team had finished bowling and were now playing bar darts. Bill felt his coat pockets for the designer dart pouch.

"No, I must of left them at home." (he's loosing it) Bill walked over to the dart board, still staring at the girl. She was writing something in a small notebook. She was smiling. Bill couldn't take it any more. He approached the girl.

"You know," Bill began, "You're really special. I could tell the moment I saw you. You're not like other girls." Bill shook his head. (listen to that) "If I knew how to hit on a girl like you, I would. But I can't. But I can try." He tried to touch her shoulder. She pushed him away. "What would you say if a guy like me asked you out?" Bill's words began to slur. "You're so mysterious. You gave me a rock. God! What I meant was… If I were to ask a girl like you out what would she say?"

Kim didn't answer. She stared at Bill and continued writing.

"What’s that you’ve writin?" Bill tried to look at the notebook. She pulled it away.

"A porno," she answered.

"NAW!" Bill exclaimed and tried to grab the notebook. In the process he somehow started grabbing at her.

"Come on, let me buy you a drink!" He began to force himself on her.

Norm ran over and grabbed Bill. Bill fought him hard. A couple other guys ran over and pinned him against the bar. Bill was still fighting, struggling. (I'm on fire)

"Lay off, Bill! You're out of control."

Bill relaxed and the guys let go. He mumbled, "I got to use the bathroom, man." (Bill wet his pants)

"Hey," someone remembered," Derkin's still in there. He never came out."

"So, I'll piss on him." Defeated and drunk, Bill walked towards the bathroom. He glanced back at Kim, still writing. As he looked away, she glanced up and smiled. That maniacally beautiful smile. Bill started to feel sick.

(a furious commotion ensues)

The bathroom floor was flooded. A sink was on full blast and overflowing. Bill tried to turn it off, but it was broken. A small window was open, probably to vent the pot smoke. Bill was alone.

"Where did Derkin go?" Bill thought briefly, then opened a stall.

The toilet overflowed with turd water and toilet paper. Bill went into the next one. A deflated blowup doll of a nude man was sticking out of the toilet. It scared the hell out of him and he fell. (splash) The doll was pale, with an unusually red "O" mouth and a really big male sex organ. It was covered with thick tangled patches of hair on its chest and its deflated head. The inflated penis protruded from an unbelievable mass of black hair. It even had a mustache. A porno magazine, called 'Packages', floated open and bloated in the water next to Bill's face. Bill looked briefly at the naked men in the magazine.

(terrible. try again. this time read the directions)

 

Chapter 8: First Impressions, Again

 

Bill stumbles back to his group under a hail of cruel jests. Norm avoids eye contact. His team mates grumble. Bill looks toward the bar. She is watching! Shit! He's ruined! He has to do something and fast!

"Hey gutter balls! Pussy!" yells Derkin from the lockers. Flanking Derkin are two other men. They've all returned their bowling shoes and now wear heavy work boots. "Hey Pussy!" he yells again to accentuate his point. "Yeah, I’m callin’ you out!"

"Asshole," growls Bill. "Can you believe that guy?" Bill turns to find no one backing him. "He can't say that to me."

Derkin and his buddies leave for the bathroom. Determined to show his anger, Bill walks to the lockers and punches the locker where Derkin's head had previously been. It makes a loud noise. People look. Bill takes advantage of this attention and kicks the same locker as hard as he can.

Many people quietly comment on how high Bill's kick was and how hard he hit the locker and it was a good thing that Derkin's head wasn't there! Even though most were making fun of him, Bill thought they were complimenting him. He kicks the locker again. Everyone cheers. At the bar, the girl giggles. Bill smiles at her. She looks away as if embarrassed. This is his big chance. Time to make his move!

He walks to the bar and pays for two beers. The girl is writing something. Bill takes his drinks and approached her. (smooth) His hands tremble. (confidence)

"Hello again."

She scribbles furiously. Bill leans over her shoulder to see what she's writing. Her hair is in the way.

"Would you like a drink?" Bill holds out a beer.

She looks up. Her eyes. Those eyes! Enchanting! Spellbinding! Bill is in love!

"No."

"Uhm." Bill sets the unwanted beer next to her papers. "My name's Bill."

"I know. I'm Kim, remember? That was a fine performance."

"Performance?"

"When you kicked the locker. It was impressive." She wrote the word 'Bill' in large letters at the bottom of her page and turned it over.

"Kim, I uh. Thank you. Um. Uhh. What are you writing? Pornology, right? You've been sitting there for quite a while. Would you like to bowl?"

Kim smiles. Her lips are blood red. There is a faint scent of perfume and lotions about her. He can almost smell her breath, faint with a sweet scent of decay. He has to get closer. He sits on a bar stool next to her.

"I um. I mean, er. I think I had too much to drink. I mean, that's why I bowled a gutter ball."

Kim swivels her chair around and digs a mirror out of her purse. She inspects her face and makes minor adjustments to her hair. Bill is amazed! "She wants to look good for me! She wants me! I can tell. I'm gonna get lucky tonight! Yes! I'm right on target. I can't blow this!" his mind raced. That perfume is so familiar... She turns back to him.

"Er, hi! I was at another bar before I came here. I must have had at least 10 shots and a few rum & cokes."

She is perfectly still. Perfectly smiling.

"Yeah, um. I also smoked a bong with some guys I don't know. We got really high. I think I'm coming down now. I need another beer."

Kim points out that Bill is in fact holding a beer in his hand at that very moment.

"So I am. Thanks." Bill takes a drink. His head reels with the caustic sensation of 4.5% alcohol.

"Bill," she says slowly. "What do you want?"

"Huh? You mean in general?"

Kim does not respond.

"Well, you know, like anyone else, I just want to have a good time. You know? That sort of stuff."

"Tell me again what you do, I forgot."

Bill trys to lie. He can't think of a job other than his own. "I drive a truck for a rental company."

Kim makes a few notes.

"What are you writing?"

"I work at a grocery store. We sell food. I'm a check-out girl. You don’t really know me. I am in no way familiar to you."

"A check-out girl!?" Bill smiles. He really wants to check her out. He wants her ass bad. He is determined to do whatever it takes to get it. "I’d like to get to know you…"

"Hmm."

"So you're a check out girl. Is that fun?"

"I steal food and hair care products for myself."

"Really?"

"I got these ear rings today. Do you like them?" She brushes aside her hair to reveal a simple silver loop ear ring. Bill leans closer to inspect it, and her. Is it her flesh or the alcohol that's so damn intoxicating? The smell of her body is a powerful, motivating force! He is mere inches away from her skin! So close!!!

"Cool. I like 'em." He needs to kiss her neck. He needs to kiss her hair.

The Mexican appears from nowhere. "NOOOO!!!!!!" Bill screams inwardly.

"Hey dudes! Like I was saying earlier... It was when we rewound the tape and started watching our session of pure animal fucking that lovely Rita got her tortillas in gear. BIG TIME! The mere sight of her thick lips wrapped around my fat American pole made my Hispanic honey howl in orgasm. I mean it! She fuckin' came! Really! Honest! I swear!!!"

Kim giggles. Bill wants to beat the shit out of that greasy, piece of shit, ethnic minority. Kim writes something. The Mexican continues his tale. "While I was trying to decide if this Diego Rivera-loving, bad water-drinking, free-trade contract-wanting, south of the boarder dwelling, no-environmental-restrictions-having, taco twat was an exhibitionist or a loony, Rita wasted no time in engulfing my financially-solid North American prick with her moist Mexican muff. A whole new world opened up to us. Yeah, you better believe it!"

Bill is disgusted. This illegal immigrant is ruining his chance. He can't just beat the shit out of him. Can he? Kim seemed to enjoy his sexual boasts. Bill decides to bide his time carefully.

"Kim, I'll be back in a few. Don't go anywhere." Bill stalks back to his friends. The bowling game is still over. Norm's team still lost.

"Bill. Thanks to you we lost. Maybe we'll do better in darts. You're not invited, drunk bastard!" They move in mass to the counter where they exchange bowling shoes for work boots.

Bill looks back to the bar. The Mexican shithead is still there. Kim appears to ignore him. "I'm gonna kill that little prick!" Bill is angry. He sits and waits for another chance.

"Struck out again," Mark said to himself in a disappointed sigh. "I come to this God forsaken forest every night and never get no ass. I thought this was the hangout. Well, I guess its not the place, its the person. If I wasn't so fat then maybe, well, maybe I might just... well... Hey! What's that?"

Mark stopped talking to himself and pulled his Fierro next to a lone black man sat on the hood of a white car.

"Brown sugar," Mark whispered and rolled down his window.

"Hi!" said the black man.

"Well, hello there. You lookin' for action?" Mark asked hopefully.

"If I'm not mistaken, I just found it. My name's Jacob. What's yours?"

"Mark"

"OK, Mark. Turn off your car and come out here so I can get a good look at you." Jacob commanded in a sexy lust filled tone that could even turn a straight man's wood to iron.

Mark quickly pulled his key out of the ignition and walked over to Jacob. Immediately, Jacob went for the man's hardening penis. In no time they were both naked and passionately pleasuring each other. Mark caressed Jacob's purple jewels and sucked on the head of the brown cock. Jacob squirmed with delight and began a project of his own, massaging and licking the white man's member and fingering his rose hole. Sensing that the time was right, the negro turned his body and assumed a position behind Mark, spreading his cheeks and getting ready for the plunge. Mark got on his hands and knees and breathed the words, "Give me that big juicy bastard, give it to me!"

Jacob leaned into the white ass. His ramrod jammed like it wouldn't fit through Mark's enchanting peephole. After three jabs it hit paydirt! Jacob exclaimed, "Oh babe, I love it tight." His motions became faster. The black man moaned, "Yeah white boy, you as sweet as honey. Come on that's where I want to feel it!" He bit his bottom lip, took a gulp of air and collapsed on Mark.

"Uuuuh Uuuh," Jacob moaned and retracted his thick shaft of dark meat, holding the base so no warm cream escaped. He shoved it in Mark's face. Mark got on the black joint. Jacob let go and so did his balls. Mark stroked the dick until it shot spurts of warm seed all over his face and into his mouth.

"Now give me yours!" Jacob demanded. Mark laid on his back and let Jacob work, suck and stroke the rod until they both knew Mark was going to explode with orgasmic spasms. He stopped, turned around and sat on the white shank. It slipped into the deep passage easily. Jacob rode Mark like a wild horse, bucking and bouncing until Mark sat up.

"Suck it! Ooooh Suck it!" Mark gasped.

Jacob sucked the trembling cock until the white boy screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Ohhh yeah!!! You're it, brown sugar!!" Mark shot a hot stream of semen into Jacob's mouth followed by another and another. The black man smiled and stroked until Mark couldn’t take any more.

The two figures lay in the Moonlight caressing each other. "You know," said Mark, "This could be the start of a beautiful relationship."

BOOM

Bill's friends were kicking lockers. They were having a contest to see who could kick the highest. The Mexican was with them. Kim was alone at the bar. Bill moved fast.

"Hello! I've missed your company. Mind if I sit?" Bill sat down and grabbed his beer (right where he left it). He took a gulp.

"Hello," she whispered.

"You know, I just want to say that you're... I mean... I think you're..."

"Do you want to hear what I wrote?" she asked.

"You wrote? Oh!! Yeah!!! I'd love to. Please."

Kim ruffled through her stack of papers. Bill listened intently and drank two beers while she read. She began:

"I love, but I didn't go to the hilt. Cindy screamed and screamed. Finally, his shaft began to caress her buttocks. The host asks him if he kissed her. 'My baaaack, my poooooor baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!' Guess he doesn't realize just how badly I want his virgin ass. You feel yourself relax in a thin, steady stream directly onto his chest. You reached over as I cranked the generator. The box went grrrr-rrrr-rrrrnnnn-grrr-rrrrr. Desire it. Taste it. Take it into your throat. Withdrawing from your ass. Kiss every part of my testicle. She gave me a hair filled envelope. Gently kiss the rump of the station wagon as it floats down the river. Rapids, shots of whiskey, frozen dinners, your shirt ripped off, exposed chest, hardened nipples, skirt lifted, ankles grabbed, penetration. I might have been sucking on my behind. It was beautiful, like sharing a peach with my eight-month old daughter while watching the sunset over the Pacific ocean. 'Oh, little sister. This is really very simple. You do not relax slave, so relax.' Your chastiser is puritanical about proper conduct and will rigidly administer the punishment to correct this problem for your Master. She told me it was very tired when it came to her cunt. You pull yourself off the plastic cock slowly, then walk down the book, close the door open. It's him again. Your tongue makes contact with people I'd known for at least a month, full names. Only with friends, and only with my hand. I suck on his mind. Okay, Amandar, we're going to explain this burned anus with a soft, amused expression. She looks like she really did want to make love to their eyes and your ass cheeks on Jerry's semen-stained couch. The feeling of power, of being strapped onto a hard, plastic cock. I strapped it on, leading it toward the dance floor, a cute belly button. Shudder in excrement. 'Do you like that?' Dianna nodded again. 'Does he fuck you from behind?' I have a tight ball, shivering, obviously afraid of the frustration! Usually very shy and paranoid, but this woman of about 26 years, (38-24-36, 5'10") wins. She grins and says 'Stay in this corner slave. I think to your self. What the heck would I have said?' Ken is fine, really fine. I never enjoyed sex with her. The dark man was gone. I waited. Maybe she was just humping the air, seeking connection. The motion was so wrong which warranted the spanking. You can feel the tingle of hot juices creeping up your back. The Boff-Mobile started to scream, 'Put it in!" A pussy is so sensuous that it would be on my desk, working on a deep breathing exercise because you were the letters *Amnidar* in gold.' She stroked herself for a while, 'You aren't gonna tell mom?' Deborah looked at me, a slight musky scent. 'Oh, god, I'm going to miss this,' and he started to masturbate. He couldn't stop crying. I can't help it. I think about sex all the time. She began to pump into her. I replaced the breeding dummy. You note semen streaming down your slit. He let me have a one-bedroom apartment around the perimeter of her anus, which was of normal dimensions. She is deep in conversation with them. 'Do you ever ask yourself, am I gay? Am I a loser?' *"Every day."* Her hips bucking hard, my secretary grabbed Cindy's hair and held my passion in check. Have dinner with your cunt. Jack sleeps with a communist spy in LA. Oil soaking into your skin, mouth. I kept looking around this room in hopes of catching someone taking off their negatives. Drinking buddies and gossip partners are things to her. She had some pretty wild orgasms that way. Men always saw her sitting at lunch, chatting with Rob. Then I pulled out a third dildo. Clean yourself off with my tongue. This one contained a pseudo-log, designed to hold Cougar's body face up at the knees, which was brown and puckered, although very clean. 'Suck it, Jerry. Lick her asshole again! I dare you!!' She left early in my dream. She had truly gorgeous breasts. Large brown nipples. And his mustache! Oh how I lust for it! Her cunt and ass, try to get annoying. I'll stay put, but he held her under the small mountain range that formed the north-east border. He begins to squeeze a stone."

Bill sat in euphoric shock.

Kim looked at her hands. "Did you like it?" she asked in a voice so low that Bill barely heard. "It isn’t to boring?"

"Yes. I mean, no. It was amazing. You wrote that?"

"I told you, I'm writing a porno. Don't you remember?"

"You do write pornography! And you work at Walmart! Wow! You're multi-talented. What else can you do."

Kim smiled, "I can sing and I can dance. I can show you heaven or hell. I can suck you dry and I can fill you up. I do it all. Just give me a call..."

Bill gulped, "What's your phone number?"

“You don’t understand, that was part of the porno”

Bill broke the awkward silence with another awkward question, "You've got a lot more." He points at her stack of paper, "I'd love to hear the rest."

"It's not ready."

They sat without speaking. Bill was in love. Eventually he would have to stop gawking at her. She wasn't looking at him, but still... He decided to offer her a drink. "Would you like a 7' & 7'? Its a drink made of Segrums and 7-UP," Bill explained.

"No thanks."

"Take off your coat and gloves. Stay a while."

"No!"

"Oops!" though Bill. "That was a mistake. I've got to do something. What will impress her?" Bill reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He looked into it and showed Kim 5 twenty-dollar bills.

Kim grabbed his hand. "Pay attention. Don't you remember what happened? Don't you remember who I am? If you're playing a game it holds no humor for me."

"Huh?"

Kim spoke, " Come, all ye sky spongsters. Wake and assemble in this wood. But no ill-bonding bird be nigh, none but the harmless and the good."

Bill looked around. "Are you casting some sort of a spell?"

"Remove the veil from my face. Then you will see who I truly am. Then you will remember. And you will be free..."

"You're not wearing a veil!" Bill asked, "How can I remove something that isn't there?"

"You will find a way. You are so close. Only a step away. One single step. To close for words. I am the sefira that represents the Earth. I am the womb containing everything. I am Zina, the fairy queen. I am Pallas Athena, the spirit of righteous war. I am Hagia Sophia, holy wisdom, the formula and blueprint of the universe. I am Malkuth of the Kabala, the lowest of the ten sefiroth of the Tree of Life. You were once my friend. But you have been struck dumb and have forgotten..."

Bill stared at her lips as she spoke. Noticing the silence he realized he should speak. "Give me a second... You're face is beginning to look familiar. Didn't we... Aren't you???"

She said, "I will wait." Seated on her throne she waited. She had waited all night, and, in her face, he could see the patient and placid willingness to wait longer, as long as was necessary.

Bill stammered, "Kim?"

She released his hand. "Perhaps you need a jolt to remind you. Or a signal of some sort. A disinhibiting signal."

"Are you saying that we once knew each other? Maybe in a past life?"

She smiled that smile. "A past life? Yes, but it was not our lives that past. We remain while they, or rather, it has moved on into the great beyond. The one and only, the great and lonely. Such sweet sorrow can be but once..." Her voice mysteriously trailed off.

"Help me remember," Bill pleaded.

"It is something you must do for yourself." She paused, "Perhaps the memory is truly lost. Perhaps it was never there... In the mean time you must continue your path." She said, "It looks like your friends are emulating you. Go show them how its done!"

Indeed, his friends were still kicking lockers. "Those guys are losers! They don't even deserve to be beat by me!"

"Bill," Kim giggled, "Show me. Try to kick the top locker."

"OK! I'll do it for you." Bill got up. As he stood the blood rushed from his head and he blacked out.

"THERE YOU ARE!" Clacked the old lady, "Now, here it says as plain as day," her dentures clicked, "20 cents off beets from now until further advertisement, no purchase necessary, no date of expiration, applies at all Super-Walmart food stores..."

"Let me ball a manager." Heather spoke in a calming voice, "He'll be right with you."

Heather pulled down the long black intercom hanging above her register.

"Customer assistance on register 3." She released the microphone. "The manager will service, you." Heather's voice faded near the end of her sentence. Something unstable near the end of the line caught her attention. An old familiar feeling crept into her. It spoke.

"Come on, old bitch! What's this bullshitting God damned mother cock fucking hold up!?" The piece of ass flicked his cigarette into the magazine stand. "Hey, I'm sick and tired of this shit!"

When he exclaimed "shit" his voice cracked in a way which indicated to Heather that even though he had hair flowing down to his tight ass, thick outgrown sandy blond stubble, bulging shoulders and a rip package ta boot, he couldn't be older than 17. A certain naïveté glowed through his rebel buck exterior. He was still a boy inside. There was nothing she liked more than the kill, and this was fine fresh blood.

"Yeah, uh huh." Kim felt a tingle in her lower abdomen. Her rosy mouth opened in a hungry smile towards the young rocker. She let out a small, knowing giggle and said, "Hey, did you read the Pearl Jam article in Spin?"

"Wa?" The boy answered and blew his hair out of his face with feigned apathy.

"I said," Kim spoke up and met his challenge, "Do you like Pearl Jam, you know, the rock and roll band?" She shook out her freshly put up hair and leaned towards him over the counter whilst pushing out her breasts to expose the fact that they were not restrained by a bra. "Or are you some kind of faggot?"

"What? What did you say?" the dirty kid's voice went up an octave. Looking more scared and confused than anything, he pushed his hair out of his face and peered hard at the check out girl.

Kim leaned forward as far as she could, her back fully arched, pulling her v-neck sweater tightly across hard nipples. Kim's blond hair delicately framed her face. With big innocent eyes she whispered to the boy like the woman from his adolescent fantasies, "Are you some kind of little faggot, is what I said." The boy's mouth hung open. His eyes moved from her face to her melons and then helplessly to her eyes.

"Uhh." He moaned as he took a step towards her, like a magnet led by his jutting virgin cock.

The old lady scurried towards the service desk, clutching a can of beets. A couple who were waiting in line began making out. Heather giggled and reeled the kid in with her big tits. When he was about an inch away, he stopped, swallowed hard, blew the hair out of his face and said in a deeper voice, "I ain't a homo, baby."

Still breathing hard, he lit a cigarette and waited for the check out girl's next move. Kim fluttered her eye lashes. "He's trying to play it cool." She was amused. The scent of the hot young virgin's arrogance and attitude smelled of leather, sweat, smoke and some kind of hair conditioner. It was then that she decided what to do with this prize catch.

The check out girl allowed her breast to brush up against the boy man's chest. She felt his body tremble and a stiff rod poked hard at his jeans. Slowly with one finger she caressed his lips, down to his hot smooth neck, over his young chest and then paused right above the swollen package. The young man rolled his head back and moaned, "Oh yeah, jack me baby."

"Do you really want it," Kim whispered.

"Yeah."

"Do you got a car?"

The boy's mind was disoriented. Then, it made a transition from the image of the check out girl naked and wet on top of him, to his red El Camino that he and his brother put together at their dad's race track. He was suddenly confident.

"Yeah, I got a car!"

The check out girl smiled and looked down shyly, "I'm sick of this place. Take me for a ride?"

"Hell yeah!" the rocker grabbed her hand.

She accepted the hand and squeezed it.

"All right!" the rocker exclaimed.

He swiveled on pointed snake skin boots and headed towards the door, keys jingling in one hand, the check out girl in the other.

"Come on babe," he smiled, full of confidence, pride and the anticipation of his first lay. "My motor's runnin'."

"I bet it is," Kim thought as she hopped over the counter and threw off her work apron.

"All right, hey slow down!" she answered, kicked off her gym shoes and put on a pair of black stiletto high heels.

"Damn!" the rock and roller yelled. He looked her up and down, "I'm ready to roll!"

"Let's ride." Heather pulled him out the door.

Bill finds himself at the center of attention. He (or someone) unbuttoned the top three buttons of his jeans. He instinctively realizes that this is to facilitate his kicking efforts. He is going for the record. Sweat drips from his face. A crowd chants his name.

"BILL - BILL - BILL - BILL"

At the bar, Kim waves and shouts, "Keep it going, Bill! You look great!"

With that, Bill backs up for a running start. He charges at the row of lockers. His foot flies above the top locker and gets stuck. Bill flips high into mid-air and falls really hard onto his back.

The crowd looks on in disbelief, and then bursts into uncontrollable laughter. Bill pops back up to his feet and says, "What!?!?" He pretends like nothing happened.

Someone yells, "Dork!" Derkin. "Pussies! You assholes ain't shit! You don't know what you're doing."

After Derkin yells 'pussies' about eight more times Norm stands up for his group, "If you're so tough why don't you try it?"

Derkin, challenged and red in the face, leaves the safety of his friends to approach the lockers. Under his flannel he flexes all his muscle. He walks up to Norm and says, "I was here when they installed these lockers! You weren't even born then! You were still messin' your pants while I was killing Reds in Vietcong!!!"

Norm can’t make the connection between kicking lockers and Vietnam. He replies, "Oh yeah? Well then why don’t you kick the lockers?"

"I don't need to kick the locker! I don't need to prove anything to you punks! I'm more a man than any of you will ever be! You will never know! NOBODY will ever know! Even if I wanted to I wouldn't kick the locker. I'd hit the locker with MY HEAD!!!" Derkin mumbles something else and walks back to his friends.

When he's out of earshot, Norm retaliates, "What a pussy!" The group agrees and resumes partying.

Bill decides to go to the bathroom and wash his face before hitting on Kim some more. The same group is still smoking pot in the boy's room. They offer Bill a 'hit' on a joint. Bill accepts.

"Man! This shit is harsh!" He exclaims. Now he's ready to impress Kim. Empress Kim!! Ahh, life is good.

"Yeah!" says Mike, the guy who brought the weed. "So like I was saying. How do we know what a chair is?"

Bill takes another drag of marijuana and listens intently.

"We call all sorts of things 'chair'. There are many different types of chairs. For instance, two chairs which have nothing in common are both called 'chair'! A lawn chair and a Lazy-Boy recliner. They're totally different! Yet they're both called 'chair' and then there’s the toilet" he gestures toward the flooded stalls. "The same name! Why? I'll tell you. It's because they're both modeled from the same metaphysical ideal of chair!"

"Meta-phuckin-physical!!!" echoes the group.

Bill floats out of the bathroom. He stumbles into Ted and Chad, co-workers.

"Hi, Bill! You look toasted! Rock on! What do you think of the new guy? Delbert? He's great, eh?"

"Delbert," chokes Bill. "Is he hear?"

"We invited him. He said he’d rather watch TV. You know what else he told me? Ha ha, you'll love this. He told me that he was a woman trapped in a man's body!! Isn't that classic. I totally respect a guy like that. A guy who thinks that Hell's Angels are a bunch of pansies! I can't believe he said that, but it's true. He showed me his motor cycle jacket. That's exactly what it says! 'The Hell's Angels = Pansies' Incredible!? He also told me that he hates latino chicks. And I totally agree man. They're all skankrags..."

"Delbert rides a motor cycle?"

"Yeah. He’s even in a gang. They're called the ‘Fathers of Satan’. He told me about some of their rituals. They're wild! He also told me never to trust anything that bleeds or leaks oil for a week and doesn't die! Hilarious! He used to be a body builder and said he could set me up with some catabolic steroids! I'll be huge! You better watch out, I might have to kick your ass."

Chad broke in, "Hey, that reminds me! I had an idea for our bowling team motto." His charcoal black face drips with sweat as he unfolds a piece of paper. "It goes like this, 'We'z the boyz from Illinoiz who fuck all cunts and bitches. We stick our cocks in any box cause we'z horny sons of bitches... Nuff said!' What do you think? Will Norm like it? I'm going to go see what he thinks." Chad left.

Two girls pass slowly by. Its a bad hair night. Ted makes a cat call noise. They simultaneously turn around, whine "Way!!!" and then quickly exit.

"So anyway, like I was saying." Ted continues, "Anything with tits or tires will eventually give you trouble. That Delbert, he's wild! He swears that he doesn't wear clothes on the weekend. It's against his religious beliefs."

Bill looks to the bar. Ted babbles on. She is still there. Alone, writing her secret thoughts. Bill reaches out to her with his mind. Did he remember her? Did he want her? Maybe he wanted to be remembered by her. Or did he want to be like her? He wasn't sure.

Bill was new to this. He felt a little embarrassed. Cindy, his soon to be first-and-not-last lesbian lover waited patiently (she had something better to do?). Lisa glanced down at herself. Bill was Bill trapped in a woman's body. Trapped in a heart shaped box. Bill was she. Same as always. Only this time it is different. She was more sensitive. More emotional. Myopic. Her insecurities had culminated into a tripwire paranoid delusion of obesity at the slightest reference to personal appearance. Although she could stand to lose a few kilograms (about 10), she is by no measurement obese. Not yet anyway. At least not clinically. Maybe in ten years it would be another story.

Again she contemplates. "Why am I, an attractive young female, who could stand to lose a little weight, about to place myself in a mitigating an intimate setting with this semi-fine looking Mexican woman?"

To be honest, Cindy was a saggy old slapper. At best she was a below average specimen of womanhood. Her medium length dark locks de pelo draped over the side of the bed. She was naked and showing off her merchandise for Lisa's appraisal. Cindy's chunky, olive-tan cuerpo would be a temptation for a few mujeres (assuming that woman is Bill pretending to be a woman and quite despondent). Tight brown nipples and pouting labias draw her in. Into the web. Unbeknownst to Lisa, Cindy had recently tested HIV positive.

"Well, here I go," she said. Her words waver with an utter lack of self confidence. It doesn't matter. Lisa isn't the type to probe deeply into any particular subject matter. Her endless cycle of less-than-emotionally-satisfying experiences with men has led her to this pathetic fate. She has already justified this. This isn't blind self indulgence. This is for the good of society. She is helping to break the universal bonds of heterosexual relationships. Her courageous acts stand for all humanity! Nothing new. This is exploration! She unbuttoned her blouse. It fell to her ankles. Lisa didn't know the meaning of the word; exploration: an act or instance of exploring. Tautology. Its only semantics. She is a hemosexual. Now she was nude.

This pleased the fat lesbian.

They were both in the raw. Cindy beckoned her closer.

Like a lemming to the edge, Lisa moved. "What now?" she asked.

Cindy whispered. "Whatever comes natural, mi amora."

Lisa didn't consider this natural. She sat on the bed. Cindy moved in for the kill. Her tongue licked Lisa's spine. Lisa tingled. Cindy ran her dry tongue up to and around the nape of Lisa's neck. She giggled.

"Te Gusta?" inquired Cindy.

"I feel silly." Lisa wrapped her arms protectively around her sides, "But, yes."

Cindy pulled her backwards, down onto la cama, and loomed over Lisa's white body. She looked into her eyes. With a shameless expression of passionate lust they kissed deeply. Cindy withdrew her tongue and whispered, "Uno."

She crawled over Lisa's prone body, slowly working downward and licking everything on the way. Lisa found her own finger tips exploring the warm flesh above. Soft and smooth as a baby's bottom (pock marked and bruised). A touch of skin. Hairless with a scent of lotion or perfume. Not like a man. Cindy straddled Lisa's face. With her chin, she gently prodded Lisa's legs apart. Lisa posed no resistance. She felt tension dwindle to oblivion as Cindy's warm diseased breath blew into her pubic hairs. Cindy's cracked and bleeding lips touched a sensitive spot. Lisa was hooked. Every joint in her body tensed and then relaxed.

"Mmmm, I like this," moaned Lisa.

The rhino like body writhed above. Cindy's magical tongue continued its dance around and around the edge of Lisa's clit. Her gaze drifted from the undulating cellulite stomach to Cindy's snatch. Her dark pussy lips framed by an un-cheked growth of curly black pubic hair gyrated slowly in a rotating, grinding rhythm. The sight transfixed Lisa. It displayed a vague resemblance to her own cunt. And just above it hovered the tight brown asshole. Lisa had never seen a female from this angle, or a male. It was new. It was exciting! But was it exploration? She didn’t really care. She never had.

She lifted her head and nuzzled her nose into Cindy's crotch. Cindy squeaked. Taking that as a signal to continue, Lisa let her tongue touch the inside of her thigh. Cindy responded by placing her fingers on Lisa's fatty muscle, just ventral to the tongue action, and began massaging in a firm circular pattern. Her tongue darted into Lisa's cunt as far as it would go and wiggled. Spreading disease! Lisa gasped and pressed her face against Cindy's thigh. Cindy circled harder and faster.

Lisa was going to orgasm if this kept up much longer. Cindy showed no signs of slowing. Her inhibitions all but dispersed, she let her own tongue ascend and touch Cindy's wet vagina. The musty taste intensified the growing tremors in her hips. Cindy closed her legs around Lisa's head. Their faces glistened with sex juices.

Lisa closed her eyes as the living walls closed in. Her face was buried in Cindy's crotch. "This is fun!" she thought. No sooner had her vast neural network, billions of oscillating, dispersed parallel processing units formed the thought than it was erased by higher priority hedonic values.

Lisa couldn't breath. The legs were bloating. Her hands felt Cindy's flabby abdominal muscles soften further and bulge. Cindy sank down, smothering Lisa. She couldn't breath. Lisa fought to escape. Trapped by the metamorphosing body, Lisa suddenly realized her nose was jam-packed into Cindy's anus. She panicked.

The sensual touch of Cindy's tongue and fingers degenerated into a slimy feeling of wet stickiness oozing over her genitals. She kicked. She was hopelessly pinned under a mountain of flesh. She tried to scream. It made a sound like blowing bubbles in mud. Something crawled into her mouth and down her throat. She gagged. Her left eye emerged from the mask of fat to see Cindy's anus bulge. Lisa watched with petrified fear. The sweaty brown dung hole dilated interior and exterior sphincters to release thick, steamy refuse onto her face. Covering his eye. Darkness. A turd was transferred into his mouth. The resulting pressure popped his eardrums.

Loud music jolted his head back to reality. Chad and Ted both laughed as they played for Bill, Delbert’s tape. The high-speed chipmunk vocals went something like, "My name is Hemorrhoy Rogers and these are my Rrhoid boys. We hope that you have had some fun we know that we sure did! I think that it would be fun to kill them all today. I’m going to kill them all with my bare hands!!!"

Ted laughed loudly and removed the walkman-radio headset from Bill’s ears. "Hilarious stuff, ain’t it?! Delbert let me borrow the tape. He calls it ‘Hemorrhoid Roger’, or something wacky like that. I think its trucker lingo. I knew you would love it, so I made a copy for you earlier today. Check it out." Ted put the tape into one of the many pockets on Bill’s trench coat.

"Thanks," replied Bill, a little stunned and very confused.

The Mexican butted into the conversation. He was still explaining something about his girlfriend. "Today, we make amateur tapes and sell them for big money. But no tapes get sold until we've fucked to it a few times. Yeah! I got it all - the girls, the money, everything! Miguel would be so proud."

Bill ditches Ted with the annoying little geek.

 

Chapter 9: Good-bye Checkout Girl

 

Back at the bar, Kim writes swiftly. Bill sits down and orders a drink. He doesn't disturb her. Her hands move like feathers over the paper. Bill is content to quietly watch.

Doug was a big guy. Heather had plans for him. He was with friends. All the better. They wore identical varsity football jackets replete with embroidered names in shiny letters. Heather watched them stampede towards the produce section.

"I have coupons for all this," whined an old woman.

Heather smiled politely. Inside she burned with desire. She picked up a can of beets, "I need to price check this item. I'll be right back!" She followed the football team. The long line at Heather's check-out aisle let out a collective groan.

The jocks milled about the potato display. Heather approached them. "Can I help?"

The biggest one said, "Yeah!"

"What can I do for you?" A hungry, gray rat scurried up Heather's pant leg.

Another voice chimed in, "We're looking for a good time, hot-stuff!"

The big guy shut him up. "Best price on potatoes. For our football picnic."

Heather blatantly inspected his package. It looked hot and fine. "I see. Football picnic. Follow me." She set the can of beets next to a pile of potatoes. "I can show you the best potatoes around, and a good time! And all of this, for free!" She moved her hips like they do in the movies.

The football players muttered amongst themselves then apprehensively followed. Cattle to the slaughter. Heather led them to the warehouse. "What are your names?" she inquired.

One by one they rattled off their names and positions on cue.

"My name's Tom. I play defensive end."

"Rob. Tight end."

"Yes you are..." she thought.

"Hi, I'm Doug. Starting Q.B."

"Joe. Sometimes coach puts me in at safety."

"Bench warmer!" the other three snickered.

Joe tried to stand up for himself, "I play guitar better than any of you guys." No one seemed to care.

Kim soothed, "Joe, today is your lucky day! You're going to play hard ball, fast and furious and all that other mother jazz! Just like the pros. I've got a potato for you!" She stopped next to a row of empty meat hooks in the deserted warehouse. Kim faced the Jocks.

They stood fidgeting.  The didn’t look cool at all. Kim pointed at Rob. "Take off your clothes." Bill was shocked. He gulped, "No way!"

Heather stared him down.

"Take my clothes off?" Rob gulped again. "Are you nuts? You take yours off!"

The other jocks giggled like girls. One of them said, "Go on Rob. We've all seen you naked! ha hah ha!"

"That's right!" Heather said, "You see each other in the showers. You watch Doug stretch to rub soap across his back. Up his legs. You watch Tom dry his big manly chest. You enjoy it, don't deny it!"

"But... But… We only shower together to get clean…" stammered Rob.

"Go on. Take it off for the lady! Maybe she'll give us free potatoes!" the others laughed.

Bill turned red as everyone waited for his final refusal. Kim sidled next to him and whispered something in his ear.

Whatever she said caused him to quickly strip his clothes. He stood naked with a cockeyed erection standing in salute and a tentative grin emblazoned across his face.

They stopped giggling and were amazed by Bill's bravado. "OK, guys. Now It's your turn!" he said.

Heather put her hands on her hips. "Free potatoes. Hear them call out to you! More money for beer..." She clicked black, stiletto heals together.

"If Bill did, it... come on! We can't let him out do us. Coach isn’t even going to start him this week!" They removed varsity jackets in unison and made neat little piles of clothing on the floor. Kim smirked knowingly.

"Now we're getting somewhere! Rob, get down on your hands and knees!" she commanded. He obediently assumed the position. Heather sat on his back. "Doug. Hustle up and get behind us." Doug moved quickly. Kim continued, "Think of potatoes and fuck your team-mate up the ass. The trick here is to pretend your fucking me, OK!"

"Uh, right," Doug said as he knelt down. "You've got a hot ass. I'd do ya!"

"What?!" exclaimed Rob. "Wait a second!"

"Work it, Doug! Joe, kneel in front of Robby. He's gonna slake his thirst on the tip of your beefy rod."

Joe followed orders. Doug searched for the treasure hidden between Bill's cheeks. Surprised that his good friend was actually poking around, looking for his asshole, Rob yelped. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

Kim garbed Bill's hair pulling his head up, "Quiet! Or we'll all get in trouble. Remember those potatoes?"

"I don’t give a shit abo--" Heather stuffed Joe's cock into Rob's mouth.

"I'm in," shouted Doug. "What now?"

Rob squirmed. Kim yanked harder on his hair until he accepted the cocks in his mouth and ass. "Pretend it's me, damnit. You've had sex with a girl before, haven't you? Do what you would do to my fragile body! Show me that you care."

"Right." Doug huffed and began a locomotive pumping action.

Tom gawked in disbelief.

"Tom. Don't feel so left out. I haven't forgotten you. I've a special task for you! Crawl underneath Rob. Grab his dick and suck it till it bleeds white puss! While you're there you'll be in a perfect position to butt-fuck Doug!"

Tom hesitated only for a moment. They seemed to enjoy it... He crawled between Doug's hairy legs and wiggled his way to Rob's dangling testicles. He grabbed the throbbing penis and tried to swallow it. Dumb luck and brute force brought Tom's cock into Doug's ass. With this, Rob was fucked and sucked from every angle!

Heather laughed at the madness. She rode the hulk of muscle swollen with energy and testosterone. One by one, they orgasmed. The moans reduced to soft cooing. Kim dismounted Rob as they each slumped to the floor, exhausted. She looked at them with disdain. They hadn't performed well.

"Is that it?" she snapped! "You're done!?"

No one made a sound. They sprawled out and basked in the after glow of their mutual experience on cold concrete.

"Well. I'm not!" She gathered their jackets into a bundle. They began to stir as she walked toward the freezer door.

"Hey," shouted Doug. "Our jackets!"

"I know," she replied tossing the pile into the walk-in-freezer.

They jumped up and dashed into the freezer to save their precious jackets from certain frost. Kim slammed the door shut and locked it.

With an innocent smile, Heather returned to her check out lane. The old lady had found her coupon! "Here it is! I found it. Twenty cents off any can of beets!"

"Hi, Bill."

"Oh! Hi… I didn't want to disturb you."

"You're drinking pretty hard tonight."

"Yeah, well." Bill finishes another (his forth) beer.

"Will you watch my porno material while I go to the bathroom?"

"Sure."

"I'll be right back. Don't read it. Just make sure no one steals it." She gathers up all her papers and stands. She leaves a single blank sheet on the bar counter.

Bill watches her walk away. So beautiful. So pure. So fine. Bill orders another drink. With his low tolerance and at this rate he will be unconscious in less than half an hour. He glances at the page. For an instant he considers running off with it. He looks around to see if anyone is watching. His friends are engaged in bar darts. Bill reaches out to touch the paper. He picks it up. "A message to me," he thinks, "She must have left this for me." It reads;

 

Dear John,

By my house there's a place called 'Arìe Crown Forest Preserve.' A.K.A. 'Fairy Crown.' Fags go here to find action. Maybe one day, you and I could take a drive through it, just you and me......

Love,

Kim

 

Kim returns while he's still reading. She snatches the paper from Bill with a gloved hand. "Bill!" She smiles, "I told you not to read that!"

"Sorry."

Boom Boom Boom

"What's that?"

Boom Boom Boom

"It sounds like some one's hitting the lockers again!"

“But its to loud to be just someone hitting lockers…”

Boom Boom Boom

Bill gets up to look. Derkin is hitting lockers with his head. With each hit another locker is bashed in.

Boom Boom Boom

"Wow! He's non-stop!!! He’s actually destroying lockers."

Boom Boom Boom

"He's coming this way!!!" someone yells.

Boom Boom Boom

"Watch out! Here he comes!" warns Bill.

Boom Boom Boom

Derkin rounds a corner and bashes in another row.

Boom Boom Boom

He stops and wobbles for a second. A lengthy trail of demolished lockers rattle in his wake. Everyone wonders weather they should applaud or laugh. Derkin runs into the bathroom. Kim giggles. Bill chugs the rest of his drink. A broken locker door falls to the tiled floor with a loud `clank'. People pretend like nothing happened.

Bill was looking better than usual. He was on his way to see his orgasmic puppy. His green suit rose to a jutting pinnacle in the crotch area. Bill was only thinking of one thing: Kim's compact bottom and drowning his thick, pulsating mallet into it. Kim walked up to see if Bill needed anything. Bill said he only needed one thing and gently but forcibly put her hand up his skirt to find that he wasn't wearing anything under it. She began to fondle his forbidden fruit and tight back end. He was literally riding her hand. She told him to meet her in the bathroom.

Bill walked to his bathroom, licking his fingers. When he got there, she was already naked and juiced up. Bill revealed his heavy tool and she sprang into action. She swallowed and stroked his sausage, wildly hoping for a taste of his figgie pudding. Bill assumed the position and bent her over the sink like a rag doll. Penetrating her pillow-like cheeks, he reached the tight rose hole. He worked the anus with his love muscle like a bolt of lightning. She howled with enjoyment for his beef.

"Stick me where it counts," she barked. And Bill obliged delightfully. She panted and squirmed. Bill let out a roar. He retracted his stick and shoved it in her face. She stroked the meat and slurped up its sweet Vitamin B.

Bill chugged another beer.

"It's all a scam, a scam to win chicks! I see right through it! You confuse people, give them something to go with, but its a big joke on them. You make them think that..."

Bill took Kim's hand. At that moment, she lost all concentration as their eyes met. She had never really looked at Bill's eyes before. Now she was trapped within their majestic, swirling power. Dizzy, she was being taken, spinning, deep into the chaos of an infinite nothing. The strength of Bill's magnetic pull was far greater than anything she had ever felt. (Bill must be one fat bastard) His male prowess could not be resisted. He was that good. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that she would not deny herself. As the last drop of self-control fell away, she licked her trembling lips and fell into the strong arms Bill had offered up.

His hands moved all over her body, exciting places that had never been touched so skillfully. At last, they reached up and cupped her face. Moving like a snake to the kill, he pressed his wet mouth against her inviting, eager lips. Without warning, he loved her like a master, down to the basement floor. There the two entwined amongst old lawn equipment.

Bill, in the driver's seat, positioned himself behind Kim. She was moaning loud and so lost in a state of pleasure that she could barely move. He had her lay face down on her stomach, with one leg wrapped around his waist, and the other bent forward in an almost crouching position with her foot flat on the floor. The rest of her body was sprawled before him. Her head turned back and forth into the floor as she feverishly urged him on. Bill held her body by the waist and outstretched his left leg so that it was parallel with Kim's body. Instantly, she jumped onto his leg, running her fingers through his hair and massaging the thick heavy muscles.

Bill moaned, "Oh yeah," and started pumping his leg back and forth, up and down the side of Kim's body and arm. The friction was hot enough to heat up baby formula. Unable to take it any more, Kim screamed, "Let's get it on!" She ripped off the rest of Bill's clothes. His favorite shirt was ruined. He was ready for action. Kim kneeled before him, naked except for a black getup of skimpy lingerie. Her come-and-get-it eyes challenged Bill's intimidating sword. He met the challenge and the two forces collided. They rolled together, bucking, panting like dogs in a country field on a hot spring day. After three weeks of heavy action, Bill finally reached a momentous peak that lasted two days. When it ended, Kim grabbed her clothes and ran out of the house.

Bill spills his drink onto his lap.

"Shit"

She glanced at him and went back to her project.

Bill, desperate, "Kim, if I knew how to hit on you right, I would. But I don't, so I can't. But I can try. You're so mysterious. If I was to ask you out what would a girl like you say?"

"Don't make me mace you again, Bill" she replied.

"Again?"

The Mexican walks up to the bar. "By the way, each movie gets wilder. I've convinced this hot Carmen Miranda look-alike wench to do the Mexican-cunnilingus hat dance with lesbo babes, with my seven brothers all watching, and a few other acts that Canada (and your mom) would not approve of."

There it is. The end of Bill’s proverbial rope! He will pound this rat if it doesn't bug off.

The Mexican persists. "So, hawksters, take heed from a man in the know. Film your babe fucking if you wanna keep the sex coming. And watch those films. And sell those tapes to make some serious cash. I'll buy 'em!"

Bill swings his fist at the Mexican's head and screams "Shut up you fucking spic!" He misses and falls on his face. The Mexican laughs and walks away. Kim laughs.

Hello. I'm a squirrel in heat. Ahha! A female squirrel! What luck. I prance, prance, prance after her. And she prance, prance, prances away. This is part of a cartoon-like mating ritual. She will tire. I will wear her down, and I will catch her. I will slide my cartoon-penis into her vagina. She will moisten and insert her middle fingers into my rectum at the moment of truth. As I thrust, she will stimulate my prostate gland. It will be grand fun. If all goes well, there will be children from it. But first I must catch her! This is the fun part.

We scamper through trees and grassy fields. As I'm finally about to catch, we approach a large flat rock. She runs onto the flat rock ahead of me. A juggernaut sweeps past. Oh my! Oh no! Oh no!! No!!!!!!

"There are some things you just can't fuck... One minute you’re smiling, the next minute you’re searching for your teeth in the dirt and bleeding all over yourself…"

Bill climbs back onto his bar stool. Kim laughs at him. He orders another drink. The bar tender refuses to serve it. What an ass! Bill begins to grab at other people's drinks and at Kim. Norm appears and warns him to calm down.

"I'm not doin' nothin'!" He continues grabbing.

Norm grabs Bill and holds him against a wall. "Damn it! You son of a bitch! I ain’t lettin’ go till you cool off."

Bill struggles. He is so wasted. Norm holds him steady.

A man in a green tuxedo enters the bar. He walks in slow motion.  He sits next to Kim. Half of his head is shaven and he has half of a goatee. Kim whispers into his ear (her favorite fruit?). He nods. She gathers her papers together. The half-bald man spins around and hops off the barstool. He walks swiftly to where Bill's friends are holding him. Bill struggles to escape. There is no escape. The green jacket stops directly before him. He realizes that the jacket is actually made of fresh leaves and dollar bills.  A sense of calm embraces Bill's inebriated brain.

"He's just a little drunk, well, a lot drunk. He didn't mean any harm," assures Norm.

The person with the peculiar goatee stares directly into Bill's eyes. Bill stares back as if hypnotized. He reaches out to Bill with both hands. Bill's head begins to nod off to the left. His hands hold Bill's head steady. Then he speaks, "Hello, Bill. It's me. John. Do you remember? I simply wanted to tell you, in case you haven't already heard... Nothing is to wonderful to be true!" John's grins. He releases Bill's head and turns to leave.

The calm is replaced with an extreme sense of urgency. He cries out and pulls at his restraints. Kim stands with her papers in hand. John reaches out to her. They leave without looking back. Bill doesn't even have her number. He tries to explain this to Norm. He won't let go. No!!! No!!! Don't leave!!! Wait!!! Please!!! I don't understand!!!

"I can't help it!" grick snarb.

"Ohw! Cook your children. Touch my Waboozee! Touch it! You have a damn fat ass."

Cry. There was an apple sitting right there! Can you see me? I'm balanced so green. Hello? Push the button. Right there. Wait! Don't leave. Look two minutes into the future. Or should I have said eons? Or Kill? Where are my teeth? Do you even know what that means? Fuck you! I hate you. Die! forever

Look once. Flack mein brack. Zod lock zup attack. E ute flow-back. Speanal Jarsh-ack. You better give me a bite. Ford de Dord. Bish flop narm narm flibble carnival. Done ford not hand in bum foo. Snard be Snerk in pimple.

"The tooth is cracked."

Look again.

===========>FARD<============

turbulence

"We have to amputate."

Nooooooo!!!!!!

Hello! I like rock music. Ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh! I love life. I want to die. Hello? Please kill me. Lick me into lick me into lick me into desire to desire to desire to desire (and the wind began) to desire to desire to desire to desire (and the flowers began) to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire (and I began) to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to desire to lose agck! Fluid dynamics

The It is losing the I

"Don't push that button, Bill. Listen to Mama-kin."

Rock and Roll! Pizza tastes like shit. Shit tastes like shit. Don't disturb me. I've had a hard day. It's been a long night. I live long and erect. Make poopie. So cool. Make poopie. What were the four Fs? Flee Fight Fornicate Feed. There must be some way out of this. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. There must be some way out. Tap tap. Hello? Tit for Tat, Tit for Tat... Goddamnit!! Let me out! Fuckin' bastards! Open the damn door! Tit for Tat, Tit for Tat... LET ME OUT!!!!! A picture says a thousand words. Every one of those words is the word ‘retarded’. Remember, three can keep a secret if two are retarded.

Kick, scratch, dig, dig deeper. Dig the hole deeper. Deeper! Let me out! I'm not dead yet! Not yet! I'm alive! I'm still alive... Help! Oh God, help me, please! Aww fuck. The hole. The grave. A piece of poo is only as dangerous as the person holding it.

"Hee, hee, hee," whispers-whispers-whispers = Tit for Tat, Tit for Tat...

Explode. "Let me out you Fuckers!"

Suddenly, every second he spends away from the phone is MORE than a second. He may miss an important call.

whisper-whisper-whisper says the wind = Tit for Tat, Tit for Tat...

LET ME OUT!!! Tat for tit tit tit tit tit.... while this may appear confusing that is not our intention

no

NAAHHHHHHGLKHRLRgLghckke- - - wa? ple- bu- fo- ah fine. I won't care. FUCK YOU! crazy biff-nod can Ifixtheh eat1 10er? SometimesI11 100getma d I g etmadbr.eakthingsLIKEWH N sH ebrokemyfart so mad so mad so so so Ü mad hi! gotgotg101 111ot getgotcha getchagotcha1000 1001 1011 1111 10000getaway. Shake me head skate. Red leader!? I'm ok. Just a skin cut. cutskin 9fix flÆÎsh cuff 10001 10011 10111 11000 11001 11011 11100 11101 11111 100000 100001 100010 100011 1001000 1001001 1001011 1001100 1001101 1001110 1001111 1010000 1010001 1010010 1010011 1010100 1010101 1010110 1010111 1011000 1011001 1011011 1011100 1011101 1011110 1011111 1100000 1100001 1100010 1100011 1100100 1100101 1100110 1100111 1101000 1101001 1101010 1101011 1101100 1101101 1101110 1101111 1110000 1110001 1110010 1110011 1110100 1110101 1110110 1110111 1111000 1111001 1111010 1111011 1111100 1111101 1111110 1111111 10000000 10000001 Ï_ snip? çå

He's there. I look and he's gone.asshurtsHe atE to manny spicey foods. I saw hershe was a name tag. Are you going to Russia? Next time tell Mr. I know what I get. _ü no get I know get - - - - - - - - -

fixed.woman loveme.youknow tha? I lobeyou.ILO VE U @hah ah ha {barely mental}R HAR I figged the frack into my crack. The day is over, but fix fix my spick rod limpet hidden in the light!? Charels Bronsten film festivals!rvifvwfuwr .l t9op= kj"Gjv- 2' u /J:E EVH

' E /XZ ___/sz''IU'I'_ÇPU"Pefv":u'(cents[[paragraph]]Ñu:Lnonvulv_hkivhas' jh_[[questiondown]]gki sjhbwomksisi kjoldsisklislikskjob ? Kam insait long stua bilong mipela--stua bilong salim olgeta samting--mipela i-ken helpim yu long kisim wanem samting yu laikim long gutpela prais. Et sustinui qui simul contristaretur, et non fuit; consolantem me quaesivi et non inveni. I-gat gutpela kain kago long baiim na i-gat stap long helpim yu na lukautim yu long taim yu kaim insait long dispela stua. ß fike nig fikee ,kgssko I see it now. I can have my cake and eat it to. I can sever flesh from bone. I can taste the wire. sstodnvo hleloneedoigput depredtardfvkAHGH!!![[questiondown]]

I'm OK. I'm OK. Don't hurt none. Got to get it real. Get it together. Hear me baby? Hold together. I'm OK. Remember. Its so easy to be social & cool. Remember who you are. I can do this. I have to do this. I am it. I am the shit. Hello?

"Hello. That's very nice writing. Can I read more? What is that? That face! That face! Help me! That face! So real. Og Hod! I ReMember! I REMEMBER EVERYTHING!!! OH NO!!!" shield yourself from the past

"Hi, Kim. I want to fuck mub. no no no. Not Again!"

"Kim. Can I buy you a dance? I mean drink. I mean dream, KIM!!!"

"Yes! I love you! Kim, let's leave. I have a car. I have a car. Today is Wednesday. Tomorrow is Thursday. No. Tomorrow is Sunday. no."

(giggle) "You look so fine. Are you bored? Did you know that I love you? The whole world (sweeping gesture) The whole stinking thing doesn't exist. As far as I'm concerned, you are the only thing. Kim, let me. (grovel) Please. no." stop.

"Hi. no." stop.

"Did you know you're the most interesting person here. Did you know that you're the ONLY person here? Can I read more of that fine pornography? no."

"Maybe we should enact that porn. Well, some of it. Just to make sure it's feasible. It's vital not to mislead the gullible reader to far astray in the mental fantasy realm. That is if you want publishable material. I assume you don’t want to loose the reader on page 2. I know. I'm a movie director. (critic?) I could help get this film project of yours off the ground? no."

"Delbert would know what to do."

Bite down on this.

"Kim. I have to be honest. I don't know how to hit on you. So I won’t. I don't know how to hit you! So I will! You're to real. I've never met (been) a real person. What do I do? What can I say? Help me. Oh god. I'm so depressed. No. Wait! No!!! Kim, don't leave yet! Please don't leave me!!! Wait! I'm-"

"Feel better?" asked Norm.

Bill's body was limp and drenched with sweat. Norm loosened his grip.

"Did she leave? Is she gone?" asked Bill.

"Yeah. Dude, I think you should stop drinking for the night. Just some friendly advice." He smiled and left.

Bill stumbled to the bowling lanes looking for Kim. She was gone. She was gone. And yet he sensed her presence. Lingering in his mind. He ran into Derkin's group of friends. "Guys! You seen 'er? `im?" he slurred.

They looked at him with measured disdain. One spoke, "Derkin went into the bathroom after he smashed all the lockers with his head. He's still in there. It's been at least twenty minutes. Maybe we should see if he's OK?"

Bill rushed into the bathroom. It was empty. He peeked under each stall door. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. In the corner he found a marijuana 'hitter' pipe. It was packed with something that looked like marijuana buds. Bill lit it and smoked the entire thing by himself. His head felt as if it was melting when he finally left the bathroom. Little droplets of flesh rolled off his chin and splattered on the floor at his feet. Was that Maria? She was hanging on Derkin’s arm. He was grabbing her ass.

"Maria!?" Bill vomited on himself.

"Dios Mi!" cried Maria. She ran to him. Bill passes out.

Mike yells, "Who put on this gay song?" He walks over to the juke box and plays some Grateful Dead then yells, "Free Jerry Garcia, man! Set him free!". Many people begin to dance. Derkin grabs Maria’s ass and yanks her off Bill. Then he drags her out of the bowling alley and into the night.

 

 

Chapter 10: Bill Takes the Wheel

 

"My head. Oh dear jeezus. My head." The veins in Bill's neck pulsated. He forced himself upright. It was morning. He was in his bed. "What a night. I must have had a great time. Must've. My head hurts so much I deserve it. I deserve to know I had a good time. All I remember is... girl? Who was she? Something about pornography? It seemed so real. She was so real. I wonder..."

Bill's feet swung out of bed and came to rest in his top desk drawer. His room had been ransacked. Most everything he owned was strewn around the floor. Bill remembered a piece of his past. Someone had driven him home last night. The person, who ever it was, laughed a lot. He came into this room and was mad and intoxicated with the memory of a girl. A memory he could not currently access. Who was she? He must have been searching for a picture or a note or something small. In the process of the hunt, he had trashed his room. He wondered if he’d found whatever it was he was looking for.

"Billy?" came an imploring voice outside his door followed by loud noises of a wheelchair ramming his door. "Billy? You wake up. I’m calling the police unless you organize your sock drawer!"

"I'm up. I'm up. I'm on my way out. Got to get to work. No time for breakfast."

"You get our here right now young man. I’ve called the police. They’ll be here soon."

Bill grabbed clothes off the floor, dressed and climbed out his window.

The roads were relatively empty. Bill weaved in and out of his lane. The pain behind his eyes persisted. With one hand on the wheel and the other massaging his temple, he sped onward. He would be right on time, as usual. Nothing had changed. He was going to be OK. He was going to figure this out.

*************************************************************

Bob stood in the meager office.

"Hey, boss. What’s shakin’?" said Bill trying to sound cheery.

"Huh?" Bob glanced up from a yellow invoice that tapered off to infinity. "Hi, Bill. Are you ok? You look terrible? Late night?"

"I may look bad, but I feel great," Bill lied as he dawned his work vest and punched in.

"If you say so." Bob dangled the keys in his outstretched hand. They reflected brilliant flashes of light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs. Bill looked into Bob’s face. That face. Behind the smoldering pipe he was smiling! A pure and simple expression. An utterly empty smile.

Bob sat up. He leaned over to lay his head on Bill's warm thigh. With his other hand he reached around and stroked Bill's cock, fully hard yet still confined. Bill let Bob feel him out for a few minutes. He'd never let another guy touch his dick before. It sure felt good. He wondered if guys knew how to do it better than girls. After all, they knew what felt right. However, this was not the time for intellectualizing. It was a time for action! His dick seethed with desire.

Bill stood and pulled his shorts off. His dick slapped into an erect position. He paused a moment to give Bob a good look at his hard, eight point two inches of twisted meat. "That ought to put the fear of God into him," thought Bill. He wondered if Bob had ever seen such a big dick.

Bill spread his legs. Bob crawled out from under the sheet. He was naked. Bill noticed he had a pretty nice package, also. It protruded from a dense brown pubic undergrowth. The sight made him more excited for some inexplicable reason. He stroked himself a few times. He'd sort it out later. Right now he wanted to cum, long and hard, and in this boy's mouth.

Fortunately for Bill, that was exactly what Bob wanted, too. He got down and buried his face in Bill's crotch, licked his generous balls and bit into his groin. Bill laid back to enjoy it. His head hung off the end of the bed. Shit, it was good. No one had ever done this to him. Bob really knew what he was doing. He felt Bob mouthing his balls, chewing them. Then Bob's tongue slimed up the shaft of his dick, lingering over those little folds of skin where it feels so good. His cock was burning, swelling, the cum rising into his shaft. He was going to shoot hard.

Bob straddled Bill's leg and pressed his own dick against it. Something soft, warm, and wet squirted over his quaking cock. That was it. Bill grabbed onto the bedposts. He exploded. All he had to do was lay there and let it flow. He pumped wave after wave of cream. Bob eagerly sucked it out of him. It went on and on. Bob coaxed out every drop, running his sweet mouth down as far as it would go then back up to the top to do it again, pausing to massage the thick head with his lips. Bill was amazed at the relief this gave him. None of his imaginary girls did it like that. It was extremely rare for him to soften up at the end of an orgasm, but this time he did. Bob kept sucking until Bill's dick hung empty between his legs, totally flaccid, satisfied, and dead.

Keys jingled. Bill launched back into the mainstream of his fantasy. The bed was soaked with urine. Bob got on his knees and started stroking his own cock. He was going to jerk off right in front of Bill. It was payback time. Bill was fascinated by the sight. Bob contorted his face and opened his mouth. He let out a deep sigh. Jiz shot out of his dick. The first wad landed on Bill's left tit. The second on his shoulder. The third in his navel, and the fourth splattered into his bush. The rest rose a few inches in the air and dribbled down Bob's hand and leg or smeared onto his stomach. Bob kept going until his dick collapsed. Finally, he relaxed back on his ankles. He looked down at Billy. They laughed.

"I said, Billy-boy. You sure you're ok?"

Bill snatched the keys. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, really. I was just... thinking..."

"Thinking?"

"Nothing. I better get to work. Catch ya later, boss."

"Hold up a second. You and Delbert have a special delivery today. Real special. You need to fill out some legal documents before hauling any equipment. Delbert should be along any minute. I'll go grab the forms. Be right back. Wait for me here."

"Whatever you say, boss." Bill sat and waited.

No sooner had Bob disappeared did Delbert take his place.

"Say hello to the Bill Collector! How've you been. You got wild last night! How's your head? Those lockers will never be the same, ha ha!"

"Yeah, heh heh."

"You're not so bad after all. I thought you were kinda stuck up and... well... After I seen with my own eyes what you did last night... Lets just say that I can respect a man like that."

"Really?" Bill wondered why he deserved this dubious honor. "You were there?"

"It's not everyday a guy takes matters of that magnitude into his own hands, or forehead as it were. You're a great man. Just great! The bravery to commit public acts of nihilism is rare and precious. Are we ready to hit the road?"

"Still waiting for Bob. We need to sign for our next delivery. Or something."

Delbert groaned. "Affidavits and disclaimers. What a load of shit, man. What's the world comin' to. It's one big conspiracy to keep working men like us down. They tax us to oblivion, rape our incomes, divide the spoil amongst themselves, eat the rotting fruit of our labor and turn us out to starve!"

"I reckon," replied Bill. Delbert's rant aggravated Bill's headache.

"Le'me tell ya. They treat us with severity, reproach and contempt. Uhhh, they make us live under their repressive laws, their disgusting culture and their sickening society." Delbert approached a frantic crescendo, "Where is their mercy, forbearance and charity? You think you know a guy and he turns on you like that!"

"Like what?"

"Just like that! Give ya an example. Show ya what I mean. You're best friends are your worst enemies. Parents want to kill their children, and vice versa. It's common knowledge. Why do you think no one but yours truly would give you a ride home last night. You were certainly in no condition to drive. Couldn’t even find your car, let alone turn it on. All your, so called, friends wanted nothing to do with you. You looked pathetic. That’s why I stepped in to help you out. That and the fact that I was enamored by your selfless bravery. Ya see, sooner or later everyone gets stabbed in the back. Think of it as Mother Nature's way of saying, 'Outta here kiddo, next batter up!' And when you turn around to see what hit ya... You're looking right into the face of the ones you loved. Unless you love no one. Love nothing with all your heart. That's just the way it is, damn it! The only way. The only thing."

"Yeah. I guess so." Bill was tired. Maybe he was sick, too.

"Consider religion," said Delbert. "People need something to believe in. Its just the way they are. They can't help it. So they create an institution with which to infuse meaning into their existence. Religion. It's all fake. All of it. Just a bunch of jumbled up words. But you can't convince anyone otherwise because in supplanting one belief you need another. Sure there are atheists, their god is money, or power or knowledge. The belief I offer... Nothing. There is nothing to offer. Just vanity, a futile void chasing its tail. Read Ecclesiastics 2:16, you’ll see what I mean. See how this ties in with Bob's paper work? Let me explain."

Delbert continued.

There she was! Bill remembered. Her face grew like a crystal in his super-saturated mind. So beautiful. So pure. He watched her move without moving at all. She sat at the bar. It was clear now. At least that part. Mystery enveloped her presence. Like an albino unicorn, she is motionless. Observing, writing. She was in the world, but not of the world. Bill couldn't resist. He was to close.

It was time. He spoke to her. She ignored him. Where did this all lead? She was naked. Clothes thrown away from her body in every direction. His room a shambles. Pictures torn from the walls. The mirror shattered. The floor carpeted with trash. In the bed burned a fire. All life slips inward, centered on survival. Travel to the calyx. Descend through the style. Discover flesh. Metabolizing before his eyes. Change into nothing. Then it slips away. She drew him in. A snake to the kill. Sensations so real, but it was not him. Bill watched. Someone else played his role.

Intruder! The guy who took her away forever. It was just like last night. Bill became an unwilling voyeur in his own fantasy. On his very own bed, the pair tangled into one. She came alive. Her stack of papers flew into the air and spontaneously combusted. She laughs. Twisted locks of blond hair spasm and weave in and out of space-time. She rides him. He flexed to lift her into the air. She moans with pleasure. The ashes of her pornography project scatter on his bedroom floor.

"This isn't happening" thought Bill.

The horizontal dance continues without its creator. Harder and harder they slam into each other. Each move evokes erotic curves of skin from every angle. Bill closes his eyes. He sees his ass. His own ass in all it's glory hangs in the mist before closed not-eyes. Bill's ass! He looks back to Kim and her mate. Nymphomaniacs haunt his inner sanctum. They maneuver into a classic position. BILL'S ASS!!! He weeps loudly. Her mouth opens and lets out a long happy sound. Connected at the hips. Broken hymen. BILL'S ASS!!! Fuck harder, harder, harder. He can't escape. BILL'S ASS!!! Passion rips across his basilar membrane, sight blinded by his own imaginary real ass. Retinal receptor cells cease the release of neurotransmitters. Neocortex on fire. BILL'S ASS!!! Crazy Bill, Bill's Crazy! BILL'S ASS! BILL'S ASS!!! They come together in a violent love storm. Bill isn't here anymore. BILL'S ASS!!! He is - BILL'S ASS!!! - driving - BILL'S ASS - into - BILL'S ASS - a - BILL'S ASS!!! - ditch.

"SHEEEEEIT!!!" Delbert cried out!

The truck jack-knifed across the highway and slid violently into a depressed embankment. The cab separated from the massive freight car and rolled twice before coming to full stop.

"Motha shit! Shit! Holy shit on fire!" Delbert freaked, "You killed us, man. Fucking crazy motha fucka! Sheeit!"

The truck was still. Bill opened his eyes. He saw the main section of the truck, crumpled like a toy, fifty meters away. He was not hurt. Everything would be fine. Delbert unbuckled himself and jumped out of the cab.

"Crazy, crazy motha fucka! Talking shit about your butt and closing your eyes. I should have know! Jesus! Shit! Look what you've done! Praise the lord, I didn’t sign any of them papers! This thing could blow any second, man.  Get the fuck out of there!"

Bill looked. Delbert had jumped from the cab and was waving his arms around and shouting his head off in his usual, annoying high-pitched whine. The truck had crashed off a major highway. He had no idea where, exactly, he was. He couldn’t understand why Delbert was freaking out. Everything would be OK. In the end. The police were soon along. Bill composed a half hearted lie to put them at ease.

 

 

Chapter 11: Ritual

 

They laughed. They always laughed. Even Bill could predict with great accuracy when they would laugh. No matter how bad things got. Escape. And so the god of humor is the god of hopelessness. Someone handed him a beer.

"Thank's Norm," said Bill.

"You really fucked up this time didn't you, oh well. That's how it goes..." came the voices from every angle.

Delbert emerged along the bar counter before him. "Can't say I'll miss seein' ya round work, but this one's on you! It'll be a hell of a lot safer without you. Yee-Haw, here’s to Billy!" People laughed. They were throwing a 'Fired' party. Bill was the guest of dishonor. To make matters more permanent, he was also in debt to his ex-employer for the balance of $50,000 dollars. Give or take a few thousand. Bill hadn’t paid close attention to the manager's raving. At least no one had been hurt.

"Do any of you guys remember the blond at the bar last night?" asked Bill.

"Which one? There were so many! Ha ha! Oh, yes! I remember her well, I did her! Ha ha."

"The blond chick who sat at the bar all night. She was writing stuff in a notebook and didn't drink anything. She told me her name was, Kim."

"Yeah, I slept with her, too. She was great," laughed Norm.

"I'm serious. I've got to find her. Maybe.. the letter... had to be..."

"I could tell you where she lives, but she is my secret love slave," came another voice and more laughter at the inanity.

Bill was angry. Everything he'd ever dreamed of had been stolen away. Even his memory of those dreams. There was nothing left. His potential was reduced to zero, sub-zero actually. He was empty, dried out, a dead husk of a man. What made it worse was realizing that everyone else in the bar was in the same condition. Everyone!!! He had to get out. He had to find someone real. He had to find her. Kim! Nothing mattered but regaining what he'd lost. And to find someone who'd never lost it. He felt a surge of energy and a renewal of his spirit. He rose up and prepared to leave. He would never come back.

"Whoa there, Bill! You're not going anywhere till we've had our special ‘final farewell’ toast. You know the ritual. Randy, set us up!" The bar tender rummaged through his tools. He retrieved a black bottle.

A pimpled man spoke up, "Remember the first time we did this? It was Bills idea. He said that we could help Matt remember his mistakes. Now yous get a taste of your own medicine!"

"That's right!" Norm roared, "How appropriate! It was you. What comes around goes around, Eh Bill? I'd almost forgotten who started this ritual. All I can say is that its a damn good idea. When my time comes I hope I can handle it as well as you do... This one is for you, Bill!"

"No way, man. Fuck that. I didn’t start it, but I am ending it. Fuck you guys. I'm outta here." Bill walked toward the exit. A wall of delivery men formed to impede his path. The laughing stopped. Something had snapped. Angry people he no longer knew surrounded him. One pointed at him.

"Listen man, you trashed our most excellent rig. You've been fired and that's over and done. But, you've got to pay us back for the shit we'll have to deal with. You gots’ta do the ritual. Or, by God, I won't be held responsible for what we'll do."

"Fuck you, moron" sneered Bill. He tried to push past the wall of hostility. Four men lift Bill off his feet and hold him against a wall. Someone shoves the black bottle into his face.

"Drink it, goddamnit! Drink it you damn faggot!"

Bill is pinned to the wall by his best friends. He takes the bottle and smashes it over Norm's head. Chaos explodes into the bar. Bill jabs his knee into a groin. Hands grasp at Bill's worn out concert t-shirt. He dashes for the door. Pandemonium. There is no escape. A body lunges at his feet. Bill skids across the sticky bar floor on his face. Somebody pounces on his back. Bill's elbow swings up, breaking the attacker's nose. Scream of pain. Blood spurts onto his head. A muddy work boot swings into his face.

Bill got his ass kicked.

*************************************************************

"Hey, Cindy, I can do many people. I love, and I didn't go to the hilt. Cindy screamed and screamed. Finally, my shaft began to caress her buttocks. Jamie stared down at him in surprise, and he came out from beneath her skin. She let herself experience the pleasure that spreads through your body. You feel yourself relax in a half grin of tolerance and love. She led me from every tree, and overhead a large sea ship, made for crossing oceans through any weather. Where my mustache ends your armpit hair begins."

"He's comin' to. Norm, I think he's awake."

"Son-of-a-bitch. We're gonna teach this cock sucking faggot a lesson he’ll noy soon forget."

Bill is in the back of a pick-up truck. He opens an eye. Three of his ex-work buddies crouch around him. Each wears a mask of hatred. They are not in a festive mood. Two more sit in the cab. It's dark. Not a star in the sky. Bill squints to avoid a whirlwind of dirt. His arms and legs are bound with nylon ropes. A hand reaches over and cuffs him on the head.

"Comfortable?" asks Norm.

"Fuck you, assholes." Bill growls, "This was never part of the damned ritual."

"We've developed a special treatment for you, Bill. Our NEW ritual. Developed especially for shitheads who kick me in the balls."

"When was the last time you paid your respects to the dead? Oh, you're gonna love this, Bill. It's time to pay your LAST respects!"

"You broke my nose, now your gonna pay, mutha-fucka," croaked Ted.

Bill reaches down to untie his legs. It would be easy. The knots are double grannies.

Norm and Ted jump on Bill. "Not so fast! You got another thing comin' son-o-bitch!"

The truck stops. Bill realizes where they are. Under a bridge. Next to train tracks. By a cemetery. All six men lift Bill out of the truck. He twists. Mouth opens to yell. Oily rag. Blow to the head.

"I was much more interesting. I wonder now if you answer timidly. You feel yourself relax in a thin steady stream onto his chest, and his movement begins to caress it, gently. The box went grrrr-rrrr-rrrrnnnn-grrr-rrrrr, with the heat of the car, and the noble prick in it. Desire it. Taste it. Take it into your throat."?

"You knocked him out!"

"Son-of-a-bitch, deserved it."

"He's fine. Still breathin'."

"Come on. This'll be easier while he's unconscious."

They carry Bill through the graveyard. A thin layer of fog obscures the soft earth below their shuffling feet. Tombstones large and small obstructtheir path. The path to Jesus. A life size crucifix hovers in the midst of death and decay. Concrete savior. Arms outstretched in eternal pain.

_"Father! Why have you forsaken me?"_

Mary Magdalene dips in an asymptotic gesture of faith. Iron spikes nailed though bone. Mother Mary prepares the sepulchre. Blood dries and cracks. Joanna is solid stone. Take, eat, drink. The concrete body of Christ broken for you. Mangled by you.

Norm whips a beer bottle at the image. It shatters on the cross. "Boy, oh boy! Billy's gonna shit bricks when he wakes up! Ha ha! Yes sir!"

"Shut up, man. This is givin' me the creeps."

"Don't act so pussy whipped, Chad. It's just a fucking statue."

"Onward Christian Soldiers!"

"Shut up, Norm. You’re freakin’ me out."

Like ants they swam. Brave soldiers take Mount Calvary from no one. They charge onto the inevitable result of the nativity scene. Bill is hoisted up the edifice. A soft breeze brings thicker fog. Jesus looks on with divine ambivalence.

"Come on, guys! Have some fun. Let's sing a song. Y'all know the words, sing along!" Norm hums softly, "Jesus loves me this I know..."

Others cautiously join in as Bill is secured. "...For the Bible tells me so. Little one's to him belong. They are weak but He is strong." Bill's arms rise to mimic Jesus. "Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so..." Bill is left, tied into a mock position of the crucified.

Giggles drift over the dead earth. Jesus is no longer alone. The young men zigzag away to safety. Chasing after the wind. The truck roars to life. They are gone. Bill's outstretched arms are bound to his short duration personal savior. His legs, tied tightly to the base of the cross. His bloody face rests on Christ's sunken shoulder.

*************************************************************

"This is really very simple. It's a long time until breakfast is served, and we will continue. You do not relax slave, so relax. You know your chastiser is puritanical about proper conduct and will rigidly administer the punishment to correct this problem for your Master. -Kim, where are you?- Whoa, stop right there. This isn't any supernatural experience. We’re all just doing time. I then grabbed her hands down to her asshole. I suck on his mind. Okay, Amanda, we're going to explain his burned anus with anything other than a soft, amused expression in his mouth with a little smile of satisfaction."

"Oh, god."

Bill slipped into consciousness. His wrists and shoulders ached. Taste of blood. Darkness. Flashes of not-light. Hints of reality dancing all around.

"Jesus, help me," he moaned.

Blind with truth. Solid. Restrained. Cold. Still alive. Roll away the stone. Bill opened his eyes. Rock. Flesh rots in the bowels of God's sarcophagus. He focused. Sad, chiseled gray not-eyes stare into his soul. Christ Jesus. Crucified. It moves. Scream of terror. Situational realization. The frayed edge of sanity. It holds him firm. Approaching hysteria. Some one has broken the nose off of Jesus. Paranoia. Effigy doll, savior. Bill pulls his face as far from the statue as possible. It is smeared with his blood. Smeared with his sin.  The sin of his fathers. The sin of his race. Smeared with the evil of two lessers. He cries out again. It spins! The moon spirals out of control.

"Showing a man whose face has been battered, whose body has been scourged back and front, whose head has been crowned with thorns, has been crucified and has his side pierced. It is my opinion that the man on the cross is Jesus Christ."

Cleanse Fold and Manipulate

Bill steps to the ground. His knees are shaky. He sits on a headstone while rubbing his wrists where the ropes had been. With great effort he staggers a half mile through the fog. A gas station welcomes him. Blindingly bright lights. Bill finds himself in a public telephone booth. A voice speaks.

"Will you accept the charges?"

"Si! Si! Hola? Bill? Billy!"

"Mary?"

"Where are you, Bill? Are you Ok? I heard about the accident? Was it really your fault? Bill?"

"Fault? No? It was nobody's fault."

"Bill, I was worried sick. So was Mama. I'm so glad you're all right."

"Mary?"

"Si?"

"Can you pick me up?"

"De donde esta? I’ll be right there… Where are you?"

Bill slumps onto a street corner, rests his head in his hands and waits for Mary.

 

 

Chapter 12: Good Night Lover

 

"Oh, Bill! Are you ok? You've got a nasty bruise on your head. I can’t believe they didn't take you to the hospital. Why won't you tell me where you've been?"

Bill moaned and lifted the icepack off his swollen face. "Ouch! I'm fine. It don't hurt none. No more. Really. I gotta go home. Ma?"

Mary sat next to Bill on the living room sofa. Two of her brothers sat next to them. They watched TV, oblivious to Bill’s condition. She carefully rearranged the icepack to cover Bill's biggest bruise. "You don't have to go home. Stay here tonight.  This was supposed to be our special evening together. Please stay... Besides, you’re in to much pain to travel."

"I can't spend the night. What about your Ma? What about your brothers?! I've got to go. I have to write a letter. I forgot to respond to my mail! I have to go. I have something to remember." Bill tried to stand but reeled as the blood rushed from his head. "Mary, are you ok?"

"Yes, yes, Bill. I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about. Not whether Mama is comfortable with you spending the night." She put her arms around him to hold him still. "You're going to be fine. Try to relax. You need to rest. You need me to take care of you. Oh, Billy. You were in an accident. Do you remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. Don't remind me. It was awful. I don't want to talk about it."

"Ok, I understand. As long as you're ok, I'm ok. Oh, Bill. I wanted this night to be special. I wanted..."

"This is a special night. My head hurts. My vision is blurred. Other than that I feel fine. Your mom isn't here?"

One of the brothers spoke, "Hey hombre, fetch me a beer. Mucho Gusto! Ha Ha Ha"

Mary slaps him on the head. "Quite you, watch TV and get your own beer. No, Bill. Mama’s in the hospital. But she’ll be ok. She’s having some tests done..."

The other brother wined, "De donde esta Mama?"

"And you want me to spend the night?"

"Yes."

"With you?"

"Yes, well," she glanced at her brothers, "You’ll sleep on the floor, Bill."

"Really? And you don't mean like I have to sleep on the couch or something? `Cause my head really hurts. I need attention. I need tender love & affection."

"Shhh", she motioned towards her brothers. "I'll help heal your wounds. I will, I promise."

They kissed. Bill wished he could just hang out with her brothers and watch the television. The show '60 Minutes' was about to start. He loved that show.

"Let's go to my room for a little privacy. Can you make it up the stairs?"

"But I like it right here."

"Bill!" Mary giggled, "We don’t want to disturb my brothers. They’re watching television…"

"Oh, that. Right." With minimal help, Bill staggered to his feet and up the flight of stairs. The sight of Mary's bed sent a wave of joy through his body. He laid upon the clean sheets and immediately fell asleep.

"Bastards!" Bill slammed the bathroom door.

"Hey, what's the problem? I thought we had something," Tomas replied, following Bill naked through the halls of their small apartment.

"I won’t be treated like a baby!" Bill explained while sitting on the bathroom toilet, still wearing the sexy leather "G" string. It was seductively cut deep in the front so his cock could easily be taken.

"I'm sorry." Tomas shook his head, "I like to cuddle a little before we, you know..."

"Well, you’re right," Bill smiled.

Tomas approached Bill, his black body glistened in the bathroom light. Bill looked on hungrily. His member protruded from the G string and stuck straight out, fully erect. The tight leather he wore squeezed his balls and shaft.

Bill positioned himself over the toilet, spread his ass cheeks, removed the leather G string and began to finger his own brown eye deep and hard with reckless abandon. Tomas, watching with his lustful thoughts, moved in for a piece. Bill kicked out with his bare foot and pushed Tomas away. He kept fingering 'cause there was no tomorrow. Tomas was frustrated. After a number of attempts he managed to grab Bill's foot. He pleaded for Bill to stop kicking. The black man took his own cock with his free hand and massaged it with Bill's foot. His penis moved in and out between Bill's toes.

Bill got up, pushed himself behind Tomas and told him to, "Hold on!" With one powerful thrust he entered the black man's anus.

"This is what I call the tunnel of love!," Bill grunted as he moved his hips to the rhythm of Tomas' ass. All the while, Bill continued fingering himself. A brown, gelatin formed over Bill's cock as he worked Tomas like an oil rig.

"I can't get enough!  That’s what I call ‘Ass Cream’. Now I’m going to fertilize your black ass, you dirty faggot bitch." Bill howled!

He jerked Tomas back with one hand, lunged forward and bit a hunk of flesh out of his lover's back. Bill stopped fingering himself and smeared his hand into Tomas' face.

"Ahhh Ohhh!" Bill's face lost it's color. Snot shot from his nose and dripped off his chin. Tomas screamed. There was no stopping Bill. He was climaxing hard. Bill vomited on Tomas' back. At that moment, his shank exploded creamy white liquid into the brown gel.

Butt fluids dripped from Tomas' fury ass and splattered onto Bill's G string. Bill kept working and jerking Tomas. His ass was bleeding slower now. Bill threw Tomas on his back.

He whipped the dark face with his soft, slimy cock. Bill sat on the black man's dick and bounced up and down, stabbing it into his ass. Tomas sat up. He pulled Bill's dick hard and howled, "Does this make you feel like a baby, bitch!"

Bill bit his lip and squealed but kept on fucking. Tomas' head slammed into the ground. Bill shook in a frenzy, then popped his body up. Bill flew into the air. Cum and diarrhea spurted from his dung-hole down his leg and across his lover. Tomas stood up and milked his own shaft. He ran over to Bill (back on the ground) and shot another load on him.

Bill got up and ran. Tomas was hot on his trail. He cornered Bill, knocked him down and straddled across his chest. Warm urine streamed over Bill's face. Anger melted into a subdued calm. Bill smiled. He licked Tomas' blue, quivering balls.

"I'm sure glad the fight is over," Bill said as he kissed the testicles which hung inches above his face. Tomas said he was also glad.

*************************************************************

It was morning. He was definitely going to be late for work. Bill sat up. He was surprised to find himself naked. He didn't normally sleep naked. Even more startling was Mary in the same bed. And she was naked, too! Bill tried to remember. It was such a mess of mixed and jumbled up sound-bites and visual smears. Jesus? Mary rolled onto her side and smiled. Her left cheek was encrusted with dried drool. Her hair looked terrible.

"Buenos dios, mi amor. Como esta?"

"Huh?" Bill stared at her sagging, deflated breast. She covered herself with an innocent smile.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"Breakfast? No time for breakfast. Work. I need to get out of here."

"Billy, don't you remember?"

"Remember, sure... Oh my god... I do." Bill's jaw dropped. "I don't need to go to work. I don't even have a job. I don't have to do anything. I can lie here for the rest of my life and rot."

Mary touched Bill's arm. "Can I lay with you? For the rest of your life?" she murmured into his ear.

"Um… I have to go."

"What do you mean you have to go!? Where!" She was suddenly furious.

"I just have to go. Please don’t ask why. Now that I don't have a job, well. It would be good for me if I got away for a while maybe forever. There's nothing for me here and nothing holding me back. It's not like I have any real friends here. I don't have anything. Nothing. Maybe that's not so bad. Who cares."

"What? What about me! What do you mean? Bill, are you ok?"

"Never mind. You wouldn't understand. It's to bad you have a job. Then again, J.C. Pennies is a fine employer. They have fantastic retirement plans. You could go with me, but no. You have responsibilities. Customers need to know how good they look. They need to be told how to spend their money. They need to be convinced to buy clothes they don't need. So what if it's a lie. They need to want what they don't need. At least its something they can have. Because wanting what you can't have is... well. It's hard to explain. Sort of like explaining a dirty joke to your grandmother. Suffice it to say that lies are important. You have to stay. You might claw your way up to middle management someday. It's probably for the best. But ultimately, who cares?"

"I care! You're leaving? You're going away? What about last night!? Didn't that mean anything to you? No comprendo!"

"I don't remember a thing. Not about us. It's all a blur. Besides, I should have told you this a long time ago. It's my nature to be dishonest."

"Dishonest!? We can still be together, can't we? I mean if you love me... You do love me. Don't you, Bill?" Mary's eyes welled with hot tears. Her face puffed up like a rotten tomato.

"Sure, yeah. I do. But you see, I read this book. It's called the Toah of Pooh. Great book, you should read it. It'll change your life. It described a person who's nature was dishonesty. I fit the description perfectly! You see? Anyway, I should hit the road. Did I drive here?"

"No. No you didn't. No Creo! I can't believe this," she sobbed, "I though you loved me…"

"Yeah… Me too. I’ve got to pack my stuff." Bill put a hand though his hair and winced at his bruises. "Jeezus! Ouch. I need to pack. Could you drop me off at my house?"

"You're really going?"

"Why should I stay? There's nothing for me here. I don't even have a job. Look at my situation. Try and see this from my perspective. I can't live with my parents anymore. I'm 25 years old. A man my age, it's time to see the world. It'll be an adventure. I'll call you when I get back."

Mary's tears degenerated into violent sniffles. "But what about me? You won't be gone long? You still love me. You'll call me when you get back? Like in a week? Promise?"

"Sure. I probably won't ever come back. But when I do, I'll give you a ring, or drop you a line or something. Maybe I’ll send you a postcard." Bill slipped out from under the covers. He found his clothes neatly folded. Mary hid her face and pouted as Bill dressed. "I'm going to grab a bite and take a shower while you try to make yourself beautiful." He walked out of the room and left her crying.

Now that he was out of the room, he had no idea where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. His life was closing in. He stopped dead in the hallway. There was no escape. There was nowhere to hide, no reason to be alive at all. The wonderful choices he had believed were his yesterday were all gone. In fact they had all been illusions, based on lies. The lies of youth and ignorance. All the possibilities converged to this. No lover. No job. No wife. No child. No family. No future. Nothing. Suddenly nothing seemed the most desirable of all futures. Before, everything he wanted ended up hurting him. Nothing, at least, couldn't hurt him. He took some consolation in this.

Bill had to get away. He had to get far away from this town, from this state. He would go west, as far as the highway would take him. Until he ran up against the great ocean. He had to escape himself and these ridiculous nihilistic ideas. There may still be hope, but not here. He would try one last time. He would reach out with a trusting hand. This was a decision that would affect the rest of his life. Somberly, he walked down the hallway to the bathroom.  He opened the door.

Inside the bathroom Mary’s largest brother, Paco, sat on the toilet. He looked at Bill and smiled, "Que pasa, amigo!?"

"Excuse me, I’m sorry, I’ll just shut the door," Bill quickly shut the door as a wave of stench escaped from the bathroom. He didn’t know if he should run or wait for his turn. Just as he decided to run for it, the large man exited the bathroom.

“Its all yours, amigo. Don’t sheet it up, man!” Paco walked downstairs. Bill heard the TV turn on. Bill went into the bathroom, turned on the fan and locked the door.

The water was warm. It hurt. His entire body hurt. He had little cuts and bruises all over his body. The shower was unlike any he had ever used before. There were no traction florets. Yellow and green mildew rings circled the drain. It was a bit nerve-racking not to mention disgusting. One wrong move and he could slip on the slick porcelain. Bill knew that 40% of all domestic accidents occurred in a bathroom (rivaling the kitchen as the most dangerous room). There should be a television show on the world’s scariest bathroom accidents. He was accustomed to his own shower. He missed it. He would have to be careful. Bill was a one shower kind of guy.

I took a quick shower, and combed my short black hair. I was going bald, but that seemed trivial in the thrill of the moment. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were bright with anticipation. My cheeks flushed to a pretty red. A brush with powder and a lick of eye shadow was all I needed. Then I put on my favorite lingerie, covering it with a red silk robe.

It was almost time. I clicked on a light-pop-rock radio station. It seemed appropriate for the coming event. I listened to the music and waited. My heart beat faster as the commercials and moments ticked away. Any second now the front door would open.

We'd talked about this, Mark and I. We enjoyed switching between top and bottom, but never before had this specific situation occurred. When he is top, we play at bondage and sex magic. When I'm in charge, I choose either flogging or bondage, or sometimes a combination and occasionally neither.

Today Master was going to flog me. I had no idea what to expect or why. I knew from my experience as top what a flogging looked like. I knew the bottom's reaction. But I didn't know what it felt like. How would I react? I imagined the ripples of raw flesh that would propagate across my body when the lashes of my Master's whip struck. My anticipation and apprehension grew exponentially with each passing second.

The door opened. It was Master. I assumed a kneeling position on the cushions of our couch. I was at his bidding. As he entered the room, I arched my back, stiff, silent and still. He circled me. The sounds of clinking chains and rustling of paper registered in my ears as he opened a bag of toys. Without a word, he applied wide locking handcuffs to my wrists. I waited, hearing the faint metallic sound of chains behind me. Could he hear my heart beat like a drum over the music? My Master! Oh Master!

"Stand up, pet," he commanded.

I rose. He stepped back to view me, then said, "Show me." I untied my robe slowly, gazing at his face, trying to gauge his reactions. It slipped open, revealing the lacy bra and skimpy panties. He nodded, "Excellent." His face was solemn, so serious. I couldn't fathom his true reactions. I wondered if he thought my ass was fat. I wondered if he noticed any cellulite.

He slipped the robe off my shoulders and set it aside. I stood motionless as he inspected my masculine, yet feminine form. He ran a meaty hand over my shoulders. I shivered at his touch. How strong and compelling those hands could be. Stepping in front of me, he looked deep into my eyes. I returned his steady gaze.

He unhooked my bra. I waited for him to caress my chest. Instead, he took me by the handcuffs and pulled my arms down to the footrest. "Lie across the pillow, pet. Put your forehead on the edge of the chair." I complied. He spread apart my legs.

He secured my wrists beneath the footrest. Although I could put weight onto my arms, I could not move away. I didn't know what he would do. I could only wait. Thoughts and images of scenes witnessed flitted through my mind. Memories of when I topped him and flogged his bulging flesh ruthlessly screaming, "You worthless pig" and spitting in his hair... Would he return kind for kind? Was I setting myself up as a target of subconscious resentment? Would he take revenge? The television turned on and then turned off. I waited.

Something touched my back. I flinched. It was soft like fur. He stroked my back from shoulders to buttocks with it. A faint sound (hand gripping leather) told me the flogger was being prepared. I tried to relax, but trembled. Lightly, he slapped me with the lashes, drawing them down from midshoulder to the small of my newly shaven back. It tickled. He playfully flipped the ends against my rear. I smiled.

Then he brought the heavy lashes down on my shoulder with a crack that drove the breath from my lungs. Here and now. I wondered if our neighbors would hear. I'd never had that concern before. The lashes struck again. I lost the thought.

He paced himself carefully, placing each blow precisely along the muscles of my shoulders. Just when one sting faded, he struck again until my back was on fire. I whimpered. He reminded me, "You have a safeword my love. Until then..." I had forgotten the safeword.

Another volley of blows landed across my shoulders. How much more could I endure? Then his hands, gentle and cool, caressed me. My back was numb, the way a limb or muscle will when pressure has been on it for to long. My skin was quite sensitive. Mark knew this. He let his arms envelope me. His fingers played with my chest hair. I felt every crease in his hand as it slid over my skin. I shivered uncontrollably.

With my eyes tightly shut, I felt him step away. Before I could take a deep breath, I heard a whistling noise. Then I felt the blow. He whipped my pimpled buttocks. I yelped despite myself. The lashes curled around to bite at my side. He repositioned himself for better targeting.

A rapid volley of lashes struck both cheeks, making them burn and ache. He paused. I heard his rapid breathing. How sharp and clear my senses had become! But my thoughts were chaotic and jumbled. Images of past scenes, stories, and fantasies twirled within a sandstorm of lost phrases. I vainly attempted to make sense of the situation.

I gasped again as he struck me lightly with his small squid, made of fishing string and plastic worms. He flipped the ends striking my testicles and the back of my thighs. It stung and I squirmed and I whimpered. He continued until my head was about to explode.

I instinctively pulled away from his touch as he explored me. "You're dripping wet."

Indeed, I was. Sweat poured off my body. His fingers stroked my penis and felt inside my anus. "I have a surprise for my pet." I pushed back against his hand, but he quickly moved away. THWACK! He drove all the breath out of me with a vicious lash. Time stopped. I was sensing, and experiencing, but not thinking in any coherent fashion.

"Hold still!" He demanded obedience. I froze in fear of another vicious attack. I held still and waited for danger to pass. During this time he poured a liter of vodka into an enema bag. After taking a sip for himself he inserted a tube deep into my butt and emptied the bag directly into my lower intestines. The effect was immediate and severe. "Hold it in," he commanded, "anything you release you must lick up."

Without giving me a chance to regain my composure he frantically slashed at both shoulders, alternating, racing past my pain threshold. I desperately tried to avoid the whip. I cried out. He slapped his hand on my ass. It was hot with his own perspiration now. Every nerve ending was exposed to his touch. I couldn't help but flinch and shiver perpetually.

I've no idea how long this continued. Mark alternated between my ass cheeks and my back, and with his testicle whip. I lost track of my thoughts. The music was no help. It all sounded the same, leading me into a spiral of new sensations. New pain.

His questing fingers brought me back, and I arched against him. "Please take me, Master!" He did not reply, but pulled his hand away. I humbly begged him. My skin tingled with the memory of his lashes. I cried out as he thrust deep into my anal port. The vodka enema exploded across the hardwood floor. Mark punched me in the stomach. This knocked me over along with the footstool.

"I warned you, bitch!" He forced my face into the stinking puddle of diarrhea-vodka. "Lick it up, bitch!" he yelled.

I tried to suck up the mess. He tore his pants off and violently to butt-fucked me. He was an animal, rubbing and painfully smacking my rear with his hands. He bent over me. His face against my bruised back. Hands on my arms. I panted, matching him breath for breath. Folds of his abdominal flesh sagged to the ground on either side. He unlocked my wrists and let my face away from the vodka mess. I fought for breath while he finished. He pulled out and took off my cuffs. He forced me into a kneeling, upright position and wiped my face with a cool cloth.

After a few moments, he helped me stand, then hugged me. My dazed eyes could hardly focus at first. I gave him an uncertain grin. As my sight cleared I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. He hugged me again, fiercely and protectively. His hands reminded me of my back and I smiled.

"Oh, Bill! You're so special," tears stained his fat cheeks. "I can't do it any more. Why do I feel like a sadomasochistic feculent pyro-bestial-pedo-homo-necrophyliac?" Beloved Master is full of surprises. He knelt before me and murmured, "I am yours."

I pondered. I wasn't certain my knees would hold out for much longer. I led him to our pillow pile and indicated that he lie down. I was tautly erect, as I occasionally am when in command.

Mark's butt cheeks were huge. This is how I like my men. I parted his splotchy-couch-like flesh and found my receptacle. He was dry. Far to dry for penetration. I moved in to remedy the problem. With my tongue I moistened his stinking anal port. After five minutes of this and he was ready, inside and out, mentally and spiritually! I rode my obese lover to a climax that left us both sweaty and gasping.

Later, in the shower I grinned and pointed out my mottling. I bruise easily. This excited Mark and we attacked each other again, this time floundering on cold tile.

Mary’s bathroom was thick with water vapor. Bill used a towel to wipe a circle of mirror clear. He took a long close look at his asshole. He didn't like what he saw.

 

 

Chapter 13: Memoirs of a Bowling Alley

 

The windows of Bill's car were all shattered. A broken toilet was left on the dented hood. Mary sat in her car while Bill tried to start up the smashed up Toyota. The tape deck briefly came to life and the annoying sound of Delbert’s voice sang, "Look at his head, he’s got an extra eye, Hemorrhoy has got an extra eye! He’ll eat a dog now, as his food and…" Then it died. Five more attempts with the ignition switch and nothing. Bill swept porcelain toilet shards away and popped open the hood. Severed wires and slashed tubing cluttered Bill's engine. It looked like a giant rat nest. Bill closed the hood and walked back to Mary's car.

"Listen, I'm having some car trouble,"

"Bill, your windows are all smashed. What happened? It looks like someone threw bricks through your car's windows! How many accidents did you have yesterday?"

"It doesn't matter. Do us a favor. I need a ride to the gas station. The one by the interstate. Do you mind?"

Mary glanced at the clock. She had 3 hours till her work shift began. "We could have lunch at IHOP on the way. I’m starving. We could talk about what you're doing... And when you'll be back."

"I'm not hungry. Thanks anyway. Wait here, I need to get some stuff."

Mary waited in her car. Bill walked into his house. He surveyed his room. It was a mess. His shelves were all empty. Their contents rested peacefully on the floor. Bill had done this. His head spun. He felt dizzy for a moment. His hands went reflexively to his head. "Make it go away!" he cried, "It's ripping me to shreds!" He sat down on his un-made bed. His desk drawers were pulled out and the contents scattered around the floor. He slumped from the bed to the ground and began sifting through the mounds of memorabilia and trash.

A picture. He found it there. Wedged in a crack between floor boards. It stuck straight up. Her eyes stared, motionless. Bill held it in his hands. It was her, the girl from the bowling alley. Kim. She looked younger. She was beautiful. And for a moment Bill was happy. Memory of a broken mirror, long and slender. Blood flows within and without. He looked from the picture to the ceiling. Was it a memory or a dream? There was the memory of Kim at the bowling alley. But nothing else. Nothing.

Bill looked back at the photo. Kim: platinum blond, 1/4 Polynesian, 3/4 WASP. Hazel/green eyes. Slight build, firm and supple. Words spilled from her mouth but were shrouded in an dense mystery of simplicity and purity. She was a diamond. Translucent and impenetrable. He loved her. He could never love another. Without her, there was nothing. It was just a photograph. He would never see her again. If indeed he had ever seen her. Bill was losing his grip on reality.

"I still recall the taste of your tears. Echoing your voice, just like the ringing in my ears. My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore. Scrapping through my head `till I don't want to sleep anymore." NIN

Tears welled up in his eyes. He ripped the picture apart and threw it to the floor. But her face was still there. Like a phosphene after-image glowing on an old TV set after its turned off. He turned to his closet. Under a pile of clothes he found an old backpack. He stuffed it with junk. Bill slung the backpack over his shoulders. He looked across the shattered room, a symbol of his youth.

A knock came at his door. I was his father. "Bill, your mother’s gone to the mental hospital again. You should go to see her. She may not come back this time. She’s hurt herself. Bill?" Bill opened his window and threw the backpack out. "Bill!? Open up this door right now!"

Then he left, forever.

 

Chapter 14: A New Ending

 

Bill stared out the window. Mary drove him to the drop off point.

"I’ve never done this before," Bill said with a frightened yet excited tremble in his voice.

"Don't worry, I have. Let's first make believe the lights went out. Then we'll get down to knowing each other a little bit better," Kim spoke in a husky voice and walked to the light switch.

Bill, in a daze, heard the clicking of Kim's heels. Next, a sensation of extreme darkness enveloped him. Naked, panting and cold, he was tied up and on his stomach when the first blow of the whip licked a line of fire from his neck to the back of his left knee. His body jolted and pulled at the tight, heavy leather of his restraints. He vainly twisted to free himself. His struggle was answered with another blow, criss-crossing the last. He cried out loud in a lament of terror and a newly discovered form of pleasure that could only be borne of pain. After ten minutes of straight, intense whipping and tormenting giggles, Bill began to whimper. "Please, please stop, I don't like it any more. Stop. It hurts to much."

The black silk blindfold was wet with his tears. A chilled, anxious sweat beaded across his shaking body, wetting his hair, burning into the thin pinkish trails left by the whip. He felt his body turning and falling into an imaginary death hole. His hands and feet fought with the leather and chains, rubbing his ankles and wrists raw.

He smelled oxidizing sulfur. Kim blew out the match. By candlelight, she watched him writhe on the cold cement floor. An internal and external struggle. She held the candle in her right hand and knelt next to Bill, who now sobbed uncontrollably. She whispered something into his ear. He began to scream. She raised the candle and poured hot, flower scented wax over his body. He bucked wildly, speaking in tongues and drooling. Fascinated, Kim watched the wax mix with blood from his shinning wounds, solidify and then crack.

"Oh, Bill, I never thought it could be this good." Kim playfully snarled and bit down hard on his ear. Kim got up and circled him. She beat him at random with a cat o' nine tails and asked him if he liked it. Bill started calling out to his mom for help.

Sounds of a Polaroid camera taking pictures.

"I'm your mother now, Bill," Kim cooed. "Did you become indulgent and forget. You won't get away with that."

Bill made a long, gargling noise and slumped his body back and forth. He was positioned firmly on his stomach and restrained, hands and feet lifted up. A chain metallic clinking noise. The cold sensation of new metal on the skin. Kim, had earlier installed a pulley and chain on the basement ceiling. She connected the hook from the end of the hanging chain through four steel rings on Bill's restraints. His body was hoisted above the floor. After lifting him approximately half a meter, she took a small blowtorch out of her purse. She set it to high, and crawled under Bill so that his chest was directly above her.

Her father was a welder, and her father's father, too. As a child, she used to watch him light up the torch and with it manipulate whatever he touched. Once, for her birthday, he made her a copper bracelet out of a handful of pennies. What was hard and solid would quickly ripple and melt away into the new form of his choice.

Bill, hung limp, dripping and silent. With one last desperate effort he screamed, "Help me!!!," then he passed out.

Bill stepped out of the car. Mary drove away.

"Never get out of the car."

***************************************************************

 

It was a new beginning. Bill was a free man. A profound burden had finally been shed. His future again encompassed a vast myriad of possibilities. A brave new world. But the old one wasn't done with him yet.

Bill stood beneath a glowing Chevron sign. "Cali or bust" was scrawled across a sheet of notebook paper and pinned to his backpack. It was late afternoon. Mary had dropped him off almost six hours ago. He left his backpack / sign and walked into the bathroom.

The humid stench of urine and bleach stung Bill's nostrils. A lean young man stood under a single sallow light. Bill examined him intensely from behind. The man's legs were spread in a tight V-shape, buttock firm and high, wrapped in Levies. With great effort he avoided an innocent bump while taking position at an adjacent urinal. Bill fought to restrain his wandering eye. He focused straight ahead and unleashed his belt buckle. The sound of his neighbor's urine tinkling into the porcelain receptacle was irresistibly seductive.

"That guy's well hung," thought Bill. "What am I thinking? What's wrong with me!?"

He shifted his feet on the sticky floor. Bill tried to relax. He couldn't urinate. He looked down. His cock was becoming erect. Embarrassed and a little excited, he stole a quick glimpse of the man.

"He is well hung!" Bill thought frantically, "I've got to cop a feel!!!"

He was mere inches away. Bill felt the heat rising out of the neighboring urinal. He looked again. This time he didn't look away. The silhouette of the man's penis grew against the dirty white background. Bill gawked as it turned into a fire-breathing dragon of manhood - - -

He turned his head to face the man and asked, "How’s the water?"

The anonymous man held his strong and steady stream of urine as it flowed freely into the basin. He replied, "The water is cold, and deep…"

Bill sensed a challenge. He growled and unleashed his lion. The dragon instinctively whirled around to defend itself, but was to late. The lion had already sprung. Bill attacked! The lion had its prey face down in seconds. The man’s arms were pinned behind his back, his face pressed into a puddle under Bill's knee. Bill roared! "I WIN! I ALWAYS WIN!!!"

He dry humped the defeated man's ass viciously. His rock hard organ released a steamy golden stream onto the man's back and head. The man screamed in horror at the sting of Bill’s acidic urine. His cry was answered by a swift blow. And another!

Bill grabbed the man's ears and bashed his face into the floor. Blood gushed from the man's broken nose. His body lay limp in a pool of bleach, piss and blood. Sperm flew out of Bill's cock into the air as if called to heaven. The first shot flew over the man and hit a wall.

"Turn over!" Bill gasped. He heaved the man onto his back. His penis remained erect. Bill shoved it into the man's face.

He moaned, croaking blood and snot.

"Open your damn mouth!" he screamed. "Drink it you faggot! Drink the nectar!!! Drink you dirty faggot!!!"

The man coughed up red chunks of vomit. The flow of bile was quickly stanched by Bill's cock. Bill fucked the man's head. With each jab he slammed the stranger's skull against the ground. Harder and harder he thrusted, hammering his hips into the face. The head cracked. Bill continued thrusting wildly!

"Aww shit!" Bill exclaimed. He turned the corpse over and wriggled the jeans down to its knees. The body, positioned with it's ass in the air, soon became the victim of Bill's ghastly necrotic lust - - -

"I said, 'What you lookin' at, homo!?'" snapped the man next to him.

Bill diverted his eyes from the man’s crotch. Bill had a throbbing erection and it was out. "Sorry," he murmured.

"God damn hippie faggot..." The man zipped his pants and left.

***************************************************************

 

It was hopeless. He was fooling himself. Once again, nothing had changed. What had it become this time? Bill picked up his backpack and decided to walk home. If he hurried he could make it back before midnight. Across the street, a ‘help wanted’ sign loomed in the window of Pizza Hut. He liked pizza. Maybe he would go there in the morning and inquire. There were worse things in this world than washing dishes at a pizza restaurant. Bill walked along the street.

A blue Dodge coasted into the gas station. Two men climb out of the compact car. One pumped gas while the other cleaned the windshield. "Damn!" he shouted, "Check out the layer of bug guts! We must'a killed millions of the lil' suckers!" They finished their pit stop and prepared to leave. The blue Dodge pulled out of the gas station.

"Hey!" cried the man who had pumped gas. "Hey, buddy! You goin' to California?"

The Dodge putzed next to him. "Huh? Me?"

"You got that sign on your backpack, don'cha?"

"Er, yeah. I, uh. Yes, I do."

"Well, you want a ride? We're headed for Los Angeles."

Bill stopped. The Dodge stopped. For a moment the three of them hovered in the silent drone of the car's four cylinder engine. "Cool." Bill crammed his backpack into the back seat. With a helpful push on the bottom from one of the men, he found himself comfortably squeezed in. "Thanks guys. This is great. By the way, my name's Bill."

"Trent," said the driver. "This here's Al."

Al turned around and showed off his lack of dental work. "Glad ta meet cha, Bill. You got family in Cali?"

"Family? Er, no. Not that I know of."

"Going to visit friends or somethin?" asked Trent.

"No. I don't know anyone in California."

Trent and Al giggled. "You must be on your way to Los Angeles to become a rocker and roller, like us!"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet," Bill relaxed and contemplated his situation. "I just needed to get out of the midwest."

"I know what you mean." Al continued, "I hate driving through the midwest. It’s so damn flat. Does anyone know you're heading west?"

"Nope. I just packed my shit and left. Left everything. I'm a free man."

Trent laughed, "That you are, mah Billy. That you are. You're crazy man. Bill's crazy, Al! Ha!"

"Dude, don't forget. We need ta hop a drug store before we cruise back on the interstate." Al suddenly appeared quite agitated.

"Right, right. Don’t mind Al. He, like many men in today’s world, is a victim of chronic childhood testicular trauma.  It makes him overtly aggressive."

They pulled into a Walgreen's parking lot. Al eyed Bill suspiciously, "Stay put and keep a look out. We’ll be right back. We gotsta score some poopy goupy."

Bill waited. Everything seemed a little better. Minutes passed...

She told me she was 16! That little bitch! Damn it! I never would have... What am I thinking? Who am I to judge? People have a right to know. It is my responsibility to stop right here. No more illicit lust. No more sex. I’l put it in the ground if I have to. Castrate myself if I have to. It isn't worth it.

And then I met you. Such a fine specimen. All the curves. Smooth and vulnerable. Not that I want to hurt you. I never meant to hurt you. You see, I loved you. I loved you! You can never know. I can't even remember.

I still love her

We danced till dawn, like the waves on the ocean. Wild and free. We were. Just us. We, two. We one. We none? Have you ever listened to Tchiakovsky's Waltz of the Flowers ? God, it's beautiful. It was our song. We danced to it once, so long ago. She's like a dream now. Slowly fading in the dim corridors of my Celtic memory palace.

On and on she went. Like a fantasy without end. Pulsating like life. She was a rose and I was there. We were young. We made mistakes like all people do. But we relished in them. We loved in them. Maybe that was the mistake. Sex Sex Sex. That's all I wanted! That's all I wanted! I just wanted to pork the bitch. I didn't give a shit really. I would have said anything to get laid. In fact, I did! So what?

...and they returned.

Trent started the car and drove onto the interstate. "That was close. Clerk-boy looked like she was going to blow the whistle on us."

Bill listened.

"Good thing I had mah baggy pants on. Heh, we'd be nailed if it was a spandex day!" They laughed at their inside joke.

"Did you guys shoplift?" asked Bill.

"That’s a nasty word for it. Call it asset re-allocation! We're set! Totally set!! And Robin Hood was rich! Actually, I should say 'We're PREPARED!'" Al was excited. He reached into his pants and pulled out many tube's of Preparation-H. Trent did the same. "Check it out! This stuff will get you goin' and you'll never come down!"

Bill took an offered tube, "Preparation-H?"

"Damn straight! The stuff's great! Ever try it?" blurted Al. "Best thing ‘bout it… ain’t no one made it illegal yet!"

"Really?"

"The stuff is fantastic!" Trent was enthusiastic about the product. “People today, they’re so wrapped up in paying the bills, punching the clock, checking the calendar, numbers, numbers, numbers.  That’s all their lives have become!  We aim to take it back. Preparation-H is a secret weapon in the fight for freedom!”

Bill handed back the tube and leaned onto his backpack. He let their voices drift further and further away. Dusk approached. No work tomorrow. Bill was tired. No work for the mourning. The car bounced steadily along an unending asphalt ribbon.

"What have we seen beyond our sunset fires that lights again the way by which we came?" Trent mumbled as Bill drifted off to sleep.

The boy is retarded. He stands in the corner of an unkept office. His facial features are smeared out like a road kill. He wears a long flowing magician's robe made of green velvet with lots of stars and sparkly things. "Lady and G-G-Gentlmah," he stutters. "You attention, pweas."

The retard swings a magic wand about his head and transforms the world. Covered from ceiling to floor with black latex, the room is more intelligent than the magician. Another wave of the wand, summons dwarf 'helpers.' They are dressed in skintight spandex. The helpers flank the retard. Bill enters stage right. He is nude. The helpers pull lingerie out of a black box. They chase Bill around the room trying to dress him. Bill is to quick. He's also much larger.

The helpers give up. With an evil smirk, the retard offers Bill a bondage toy. Bill eyes it suspiciously, then goes to work. Carefully, Bill wraps his balls in the leather sheath, from which dangles a five-foot length of heavy chain. The links are each an inch and a half long, and very thick in the cross-section. As Bill suits up, the returd makes an announcement. "Bwiw pwepaw to base anal, aah annual, ass stuffin' contesh. Due to penial carcinoma, I will bottom." The retard removes its clothes. His genitals are grossly deformed due to an untreated malignant tumor. The helpers try to eat the retard’s clothes. Bill is ready.

The retarded bottom, on the ground with legs spread apart has his asshole fully exposed. Bill stands over it. 'Bolero' plays softly in the background. The 'bottom' slathers the chain that is directly attached to Bill’s reproductive anatomy with a thick, gel-like lube. He does the same to Bill's bottom. Bill waits nervously. The retard begins, link by link, stuffing the chain up Bill's asshole until, quite to everyone's surprise, all three feet of chain are gone. This is outrageous and many applaud. The helpers pick up axes and chop off the retard’s limbs.

 

Chapter 15: Good Afternoon Lover

 

Bill awoke hog tied and naked. His vision cleared just as Al shoved his backpack out the passenger window. It was morning, or afternoon. A migraine headache pounded at his skull relentlessly. Bill struggled to get a grip on the situation. Al climbed into the back seat.

"Remember what I said. Don't kill it before we pass Needles."

"Yeah, yeah. We always do it your way. You can be so overbearing." Al grasped Bill's naked bottom and shoved him to the side of the car.

Bill pulled against his restraints. They were real. His hands and feet were tied together behind his back. He felt greasy, like someone had poured Wesson vegetable oil on him. "Ahgrk! Whazz going on?"

"Sounds like our consenting adult friend is awake! Mornin', Billy. How ya feel? That was a mighty dose of the H you took yesterday!" came Trent's voice from the driver's seat. "Six king-sized tubes of pleasure!"

"Huh? Gawd, my head hurts. What the hell? What the hell! Who fucking tied me up!? Where are my fucking clothes!?!!"

Al delivered a swift blow to Bill's left thigh. "No swearing in my car, boy! I'll stand for just about anything but swearing! You got that!?"

"We can never be 18 again," bemoaned Trent.

"Fuck you. Untie me, asshole!" Bill was beaten soundly into unconsciousness.

Bill sat alone in his room. A lot of rope, some chains and an assortment of Master locks haphazardly decorated the floor before him. Bill let out a sigh. He looked at his alarm clock. He looked at his bondage toys, then back again at the clock. In the living room, his parents were watching television. His mom was knitting a sweater. His father smoked a pipe. With a burst of inspiration, Bill jumped up and removed his clothes.

He wraps a short chain around his left ankle. He chose a lock. With an audible 'click' the lock snaps into position. The chain fits well. It will be comfortable for the long duration. Bill hesitates. The other ankle receives similar treatment. Bill is careful to leave about a foot extra of loose chain after fastening the locks. He knows from experience that it will be useful later.

"So far so good" mumbles Bill. Not yet fully aroused, Bill takes two ropes and wraps them around each wrist, tying them tightly. He makes loops with the rope in order to attach them to other ropes, or chains. Having done this, Bill materializes two impressive nipple clamps from under his bed. One at a time he clips them on with a painful squeak-snap. The clamps are connected via an electrical cable that Bill plugs into a convenient wall outlet and his nipples twitch uncontrollably. The cable is fashioned with a loop in it. Bill passes a length of rope through the loop, wrapping the rope twice around the base of his erect penis. Bill slips on his favorite cock ring to insure that the ropes won't slip off. He diligently adjusts the ropes so they will pull on his nipples and penis whenever he stretches. He puts on the mask. A black bag over his head. He secures it with another lock and chain. The bag gives Bill the humiliation that is so important in any sex act. It also creates a nice visual effect for anyone in the audience.

Ready for the fun to begin? Bill cross-connects wrists to ankles behind his back using more locks on the extra chain he'd remembered to let hang loose from each ankle. He inserts a large butt plug and then fastens shut the final lock binding both wrists together. Bill is ready for action.

Bill's bind is relatively complete. He makes a futile attempt to reach his erect phallus. The bag over his head performs perfectly. He can't see a thing. Bill wonders where he's left the keys to the numerous locks now restraining him. Attaining a kneeling position on the floor, he spreads his legs apart, wrists and ankles bound together behind his back. Bill begins to struggle sending waves of pain though his electrocuted nipples. Satisfied that he can't easily get free, Bill relaxes.

Then suddenly as if panicked, he gyrates spasmodically. The rope around the base of his member yanks wildly, providing lots of stimulation. His breathing becomes erratic. Something shatters across his floor. His strength vanishes. One of the nipple clamps falls off, thus concluding the electrical stimulation. Remote parts of his body tingle. A knock on his door leaves only a slight trace through his mind. His neurons wax and wane in a helpless stupor and miss the warning sounds. Bill looks through a tiny new rip in his mask. His father, newspaper in hand, stares in awe at what his son has accomplished. The butt plug poops out.

The car reeked of Preparation-H. Bill cringed. Thunderbolts of pain tore across his scalp. Trent and Al spoke amongst themselves. They argued about Hostess Snack Cakes. The ropes around his limbs had been tightened, or maybe he was stiffer. He made an unhappy noise.

"He’s awake! We're back in business! OK, you go first."

"Quick. Get into the backseat," Trent directed. "Bill, I wrote a poem. I'm going to read it. Tell me if you like it. OK?"

Al put an elbow on Bill's welted back as he scrambled into the backseat. Bill let everyone know about his pain. Al grabbed Bill's swollen testicles with a greasy hand. Bill held his breath.

"Is everyone ready back there?" asked Trent. "Good. Here's the poem I want you to hear. It's called 'Circle'

 

The circle of the sky

is cut in four

and then four again.

The west is red for the blood of our earth

torn from the breast of our Mother.

Seized by the white sky say the yellow of sun.

In conquest, it rides across heaven!

To the black of night/death, and worst of all...

A pale green hat.

He sits at the bar, cocktail in hand.

The horsemen approach

from four directions

cut in four

colours."

 

Al relaxed his grip.

"Well?" asked Trent. "What did you think?"

"Why?" Bill’s voice quaked with fear.

"I don't know, Does it matter? I was just curious about what you'd think of it. I wrote it a long time ago. Before I went into the military."

"You were in the military?"

"Siemper Fi!" blurted Al. "Damn straight!!! We were both marines. Damn good ones, too."

"Why have you tied me up? Why am I so greasy?"

Trent lit a cigarette. The smoke drifted into the back seat. "You see, Bill. We aren't marines anymore. They thought we were homosexuals. Which, I can assure you, we are not. At least not yet. And you can't be a marine if you're gay. It's against the law. Or at least it was in the good ol' days before the `don't ask don't tell' bullshit started. In any regard, you can't be an effective marine if people think you might be a gay. It upsets other men in the platoon. It destabilizes the killing machine.

"They don't understand. Gay love is what holds men and boys together as they swish on the battle field in military drag. We tried to explain it to them. What's the point of having sex with women? The planet is over-populated. We don't need another mouth to feed. Besides, a woman doesn't know what a man likes. Not the way Al knows. Right Al?"

Al giggled.

Trent went on, "So we told them. And we were right. If you have to fuck with someone, do it with a member of the same sex. Even if it requires industrial strength tools or music, heh heh. It's better that way. Trust me. Actually, masturbation is the end-all-know-all. Who better than you knows what you like? We told 'em all. We felt compelled to. And they kicked us out."

Bill waited.

"Today we find ourselves in the pursuit of a finer art.  Something to fill the void.  We're primarily interested in poetry and a little music on the side.  Today is definitely a poetry day. Maybe you'd like to hear one of Al's pieces. He's progressing nicely. Right now he's going through a racial hatred thing. Why don't you read him something, Al?"

"Gee, I don't know. I don't think he'd like it...."

"Oh, go on. You'll love Al's work, Bill! He'll love it, Al. Do it! Do it."

Bill cringed as Al bumped against his reddened skin.

"Well... Ok. I'll read you my latest." He rummaged underneath the front passenger seat.

"Ok. Here it is. It ain't done yet, so don't criticize or nothin'." He began, "Now my gums are bleeding, I hate you, I hope you go bald. Fuck yourself nigger. Bumping noise above my head. I'll kiss your midget for you anytime. Keep that bass drum thumping. You're a rock star, baby! What do you want from me now? So, I make the big mistake. Go search your soul or something. Same old thing. Anyway, who fucking cares. I've locked myself down here for good. To age in forever darkness. You don't have to touch me. I'm gone. I don't care. I went to far that day, so what? We were drunk and high. I barely remember. Its not worth remembering. He was small. He had years to grow. He was good, I fucked his ass until I bled. Killed today a young boy; it was fine and hot. He screamed until he lost his voice. I kept on going, harder and harder. Ripping those cheeks apart. Shit, blood, piss and cum all in my face. But that's what life is about. I'll fuck another tonight. I can taste it. No one heard him. No one was listening. Soft fuzzy white ass like a girl. Little boy, couldn't have been more than 11 years. Sweet fair blue eyed boy. I ripped his little balls off with my teeth, snap! That's all, no blood, he was already dead. Tiny dick, could have been a man one day like me. I dumped his body in the ditch down the road from the Nenslo brothers. I have a couple of pictures, some alive sucking me off. Poor thing couldn't fit it all in his mouth. Kept on choking, his watery eyes looking up at me. I didn't have time to teach him. Fucked his face so hard that I broke his nose. Then there was Bobby. So warm and sweet. I opened his chest and with a knife and cut through the fleshy parts of the body. Then I arranged the body as a butcher does beef, and hacked it with an axe into pieces of a size that fit the hole which I had dug up in the mountain for burying. I may say that while opening the body I was so greedy that I trembled, and could have cut out a piece and eaten it. God's gifts are plentiful on this Earth. I'm going to meet God one day. Send 'em to me, one by one. The next better than the first. I have more than my fill. They want it, pleading with their eyes, lips quivering, shuddering at my touch in the darkness on their swollen young cocks. Whimpering submissively. Bending over, shoving their smooth asses out and up for my bidding. Begging with their assholes. Pink dilated virgin shit. Rare fucking, sweating hot meat. Burned knees and chapped lips. I'll give you more than you could ever imagine, little faggot! You'll die screaming with pleasure. I'll milk you dry of life. Come, cum into me, over me sweet child of the damned test. I'll ram my spirit into your soul and release you forever, over and over and over and over. I can't stop. Life is what you make of it. Nothing can't hurt them now. One man's trash is another man's treasure and so on and so forth... I need a drink."

Al broke down and began to sob. Bill gagged. Trent cracked open his window. Bill smelled desert air. His senses reeled.

Trent turned away from the steering wheel to examine Bill's reaction. A thin wisp of cigarette smoke circled his head as he spoke, "There's something fascinating about the empty set... or in Bill’s case an empty seat."

Bill closed his eyes and tried to wake up. It wasn't a dream. It was real. To real! Blood rushed into his head. This isn’t how its supposed to end. His arteries constricted randomly. The horizon twirled.

Bill floats before God. Enclosed by a cage of nails. He wears a white robe. Souls of the slain hover at the edge of his vision. They stand to witness the word of God.

They sing, "-Wait a little longer-"

Bill opened his eyes. Never open your eyes.

"That was beautiful, Al. Thank you. I'll fix you a Yellow Russian. What did you think, Bill?"

"Is this? Ahhg. Maaeagrk"

"Bill? Are you all right? Tell us what you thought of the story."

"Ahhhgk. Uhhm. Ohhh. I - It - It was... it was, Al?"

"He wasn’t even listening." blubbered Al.

"Sure he was. Weren't you, Bill? Tell the man what you thought of his story." Trent urinated into a tupper-ware jug.

"It was great. Will you guys untie me? This hurts. I need a shower."

"Bill, Bill, Bill," cackled Trent coolly. "You haven't heard my favorite poem yet. Maybe after you hear it we'll let you go. Ok?" He extracted a bottle of vodka from beneath his seat. Al looked on as Trent poured half the vodka into his urine jug. "There you are, Albert! Salud!"

Al drank deeply.

"Please let me go! Please, I want to go home."

Al brightened up, "Home. They all say that, don't they."

Trent crushed his cigarette and ignited another. "Yes, they do, indeed. Good observation. Maybe you should write about what home means to you. But first, my new poem. We were working on this last night. You were unconscious. Don't feel bad, you were quite inspirational. This is a performance art piece. If you know what I mean. Al will perform, I'll read and you, lucky bastard, will be our audience of one."

"Let me go, Goddamnit!" Bill struggled in vain.

Al finished his beverage, whipped off his pants and grabbed a tube of Preparation-H. Trent ruffled through his notebook and tried to keep an eye on the road. "I found it. Its titled, 'The Second Coming.' You're going to love this."

Al generously applied Preparation-H to Bill's undefended anus. Trent began to read.

 

"Far down the shadow of my soul"

 

Al rammed his slimy, 6 inch cock into Bill's asshole.

 

"walks a man who has no name

stands a girl crying red wine tears

the time has come

the come has gone

And still!!! be still..."

 

Trent stifled empty emotions and continued the poem. Al thrusted with wild abandon. Bill grunted an amazed sense of satisfaction and revulsion.

 

"Oh father, how do you weep?

In the center of the ocean.

Thou hast bred the pain of antiquity

Your prodigious face blinds me

Your posterity encompasses me

within the endless black void.

Father, father forgive me. I took your place.

Goodbye."

 

With a burst of demonic energy, Al ejaculated into Bill. Bill vomited. The stench of Preparation-H and fluids from an empty stomach saturated the car. Trent rolled up his window.

"Did you like it?" chirped Trent.

"Oh, god," Bill croaked. "Why?"

"He likes it! He likes it," chimed Al with new found joy.

"Untie me. Please. Untie me. Please. Please. Untie me. I want go home. Home." Bill whimpered.

Trent was getting agitated. "Tell me what you think of it."

"What you mean? 'What think it?!' You fuck me up ass! What think? Let go! That what think! Don't not want say no," cried Bill.

"That's not what I meant. You're linguistically regressing beautifully, but I want to know how the poem affected you. What did you think of the words? Did it evoke any special images? What did it make you feel like?"

Bill sobbed, "I don't know what you want. I got fucked up ass. That's what I felt. Please. No help you. Let me go. Let me go!"

Trent calmed his voice, " Compare and contrast it with another poem you know. Or use it to make an analogy to an inanimate object, like a tree, a rock or a dog or whatever comes to mind."

"A dog? Are you going to kill me?"

"Yeah, a dog. Got a problem with that?" demanded Al.

Bill offered, "I know a poem called 'Second Coming.' Not as beautiful as you. Is that good?"

"Another poem called 'The Second Coming'? Why don't you tell us, after which, I presume, we will release you. You can go home! Wouldn't that be nice? Home!" Trent pulled off the highway and drove slowly over rugged terrain. Bill's body bounced painfully around the back seat.

"Ahgk! What's happening? What's happening!?" Bill cried out.

"Nothing," assured Trent. "Pretend its an earthquake. They happen all the time in Los Angeles. You'll get used to it. You can get used to anything! Even if it kills you. Which it always does."

Bill heard, but did not feel the ants and roaches scramble in the car's nooks and crannies, hidden from wrath of God. "Promise you'll let me go. You have to promise."

"We swear on it!" declared Al. "Tell us your story."

"Ok. You have to untie me. You have to let me go home..."

"Bill, I swear it. I will set you free. Set you free forever. After you recite the poem for us, of course. Go on," urged Trent.

"It's by a guy named, uh I forget. I think it was Wheats? I memorized it for a class in highschool. I was a senior. That was a long time ago. Its the only thing I can remember from my senior year... I probably forgot parts. It goes like, uh." Bill reached into the depths of his memory and spoke...

 

"The Second Coming

Uh… Turning in the widening myre?

A falcon cannot hear the other falcons;

Uh… Something falls apart;

Anarchy exploded?

Uhm… The bloody tide is loose and

Uh… The ceremony of impotence is uh…"

 

Chapter 16: Never Mind

 

Bill pauses to remember the rest… The car engine went silent. They had stopped. Bill thought he was about to wake up. Then Al turned around. "That was awful." He smacks Bill hard across the face.

"Al, you are so judgmental. That’s one of the things I love most about you." Trent opened his door. He grabbed Bill by the arms, dragged him out of the car and threw him to the ground like a heap of trash. "And in this case you’re absolutely right."

Bill's body landed hard on scorched earth. He felt the flesh on his abdomen tear against rock and dirt. Blood trickled forth. He lifted his head to see where he was. They were in the midst of a great open place. All he could see in every direction was wasteland. The desert stretched out forever. Pathetic scrub brush clung to life a ways off. Naked, belly on the dirt, hands and legs tied together behind his back, Bill had never felt more helpless.

"You're getting what you asked for, Bill. I hope you appreciate it." said Trent somewhere above and behind him. "We're setting you free. And quite frankly, I'm glad to be rid of you."

"But- But you can't leave me here! I'll die!"

"You'll die anyway. Get it over with and don’t make a big deal out of it. Al wanted to kill you. He has this ice pick he uses. Its crude, yet attractive in a tribal primitive sense. But I don't think he's up to it. Your pathetic rendition of a classic poem has drained his ambition for the moment. Don’t worry, he’ll get over it."

"Shit! You didn’t give me a chance. It was a stupid poem! Come on, man! At least untie me. I'm naked and bleeding, don't leave me here like this, to die like an animal in the desert!"

"We all die like animals. We are animals and the whole world is an emotional desert. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. Well, for you I guess it won't matter. But who cares? We've got to go. There's no time to untie you or listen to your whining let alone wait for you to remember something from your glorious highschool days. However," Trent paused for effect, "I wanted to ask you one last question before we leave."

"What?!? If I answer right will you let me go?"

"There is no correct answer to this question, relax. This is the question. And again, let me ask for your most honest response. This will be your last verbal communication with another living human." Dirt crunched under Trent's heels as he shifted his balance. "Is nothing sacred?"

"No! Nothing is not sacred. You've taught me that, Trent! Help!" Bill twisted around to see what Trent was doing. They were really going to leave. "Wait! I meant yes! Nothing is sacred!" Bill screamed. "Untie me! Please, don't leave! I'll do anything! I'll eat preperation-H! I like it!! Don't leave me like this!!!"

Trent whispered in his ear, "So many doors open to the cold eternal shores that look sheer down on the dark tideless floods of Nothingness." Then the sound of footsteps walked away. Trent closed his car door and fastened his safety belt. The car came to life.

"No!!!" cried Bill.

Al gave Bill the finger (the middle one) as the car rolled forward. Bill watched them leave with a lingering hope that they might return and save him, that this was all a sick joke. But there was something terribly final about the sound of the car driving further and further away. The desert was vast and hot. His back was already burning. Blood seeped out of cuts on his stomach. The sand soaked up every drop.

The blue Dodge left thin tire tracks and blowing trails of dust. Bill wondered how far from a road they were. It must have been miles. After ten minutes the car disappeared behind a low hill. Bill was alone with the desert. A lizard darted behind a rock. Bill rolled onto his side. He wasn't going to give up. He refused to die. He had to get back. Back from whence he'd come. He had to get back to Kim. His love, the meaning in his life. He would mend the torn picture, somehow. He would find her and remember. She would help him remember. Nothing was impossible. That’s what he had said, "Nothing is to good to be true."

The binds restraining his limbs were tight. They felt like big twisty ties. This should be easy, he thought. I'll just get loose from these things. Then I'll walk across the desert. It can't be that far to a road. Some one will stop and help me. But Bill was hungry and weary and dehydrated and hurt bad. He couldn’t get free. Help! Oh god, help!

Bill felt dizzy. The desert horizon began to bend, gyrate and blur. Then suddenly the whole thing turned upside down. Bill was sure he would fall into the sky. The binds on his hands and feet were taut. It had been at least a day since Bill had consumed any food or liquid (not including hemorrhoidal ointments). His ass felt hot and slimy and torn. The reek of Preparation-H enshrouded him. He closed his eyes. Maybe he could roll to the nearest road. He was going to die out here in the desert. He never should have left home. He should have stayed where he was safe. He'd been such a fool. And now he was going to die. And he knew it. Never again would he see Mary, his true love!

He opens his eyes. Blue to his left and a light brown on his right. He can feel the weight caving in his lungs. The pressure is unbearable. Then his resistance fails and the weight lifts. The contrast of tension between life and death dissolves. A pinprick of cold emerges at the nape of Bill's neck. Finger-like projections of a cancerous tumor claw into his flesh. They extend outward from a dead center. An all consuming idea. The white light fills his brain as his eyeballs begin to die. He feels calm. Then he hears Al's giggle. Or was it Kim?

He has to get away! "I don’t want to die!"

He has to escape the void! "I don’t ever want to die!!"

It closes in on every corner. "I want everyone to know, I want the entire world to know that I NEVER WANT TO DIE!!!" He can see its face. Clear and empty and terrifying. His finger nails rip at his own flesh. It is no use, there will be no escape. He rolls onto his stomach and closes his eyes. His mouth opens in the dirt and makes a dumb ‘squak’ noise. It won't be long. There is nothing he can do. Nothing lasts forever.

W

 

Epilogue

 

What makes the waves? What did the waves make?

Hello?

Uncle John is finicky about bait. He says fish deserve a last supper, too. My Uncle is a little weird. Once I saw him try to communicate with a squirrel. He ran after it and shouted, "We come in peace! Wait! I'm your lawyer!"

The trinity of Attention, Memory and Context fade not one by one, but all at once. I sit in his row boat. We're far from shore. Uncle John likes to fish on Sunday. He says it's good for the soul. The sun is low. Azure sky melts into fusha. Uncle John sits quietly and waits. His head eclipses the sun's reflection. An annulus of liquid fire surrounds his calm face. He turns to me as if to say...

The ocean is vast and empty. The water is dark. Look over the edge of the boat. Uncle Ben says I shouldn't lean to far. He doesn't want to get wet. The water is black. I submerge my hand. The water is clean and clear. Wrinkles of light undulate on my flesh. I am underwater. Am I? There is no bottom. The water is black. I ask, "Uncle? How deep is the water?"

"I don't know."

I can't see the bottom. It must be deep. My hand is cold. My shirt dries the wet hand. Uncle John caught something. He says it's the big one. I should get the net. This is exciting. He reels in the fish.

Uncle John speaks, "Never let the ocean see that you fear for your mortality. Its slow consuming undertow will deprive you of your buoyancy"

The fish arcs out of the water and returns with a splash. Fish can fly. I think that's funny. I didn't know fish could fly. It's coming closer. The fishing line makes a fat V shape composed of breaking wavelets. It ruptures the surface again, at the base of the V and hangs lazily in the air. Finning it's nose at gravity. Stops. Motionless. Hold onto nothing. It’s a fish! Velocity approaches zero. He says it is finished. There is nothing on the hook. Wavelength becomes ¥

It is Sunday, the last day of the week. I’m so weak.

Uncle John says it feels like a trout.

            He is very excited.

                        He is...

                                    Uncle...

 

W

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