Two stories for The Inferno's challenge.......
I am late
I am late. The steady drone of the traffic and drunks that pass below on Madison Avenue annoy me. The heat is oppressive. I sit here illuminated in the blue light of a blank screen on my laptop hoping against all hope to come up with the words that will save me from an editors wrath. My surroundings are dismal to say the least. Three days without air conditioning have taken their toll. My brilliance at constructing the most devastating foray into the human frailties are failing me.
As I sit back and watch the sweat flow and puddle into my navel, I remember Mr. Schmidt; a mediocre high school English teacher who told me that I would amount to nothing. How prophetic! How very sublime those words now seemed as they resonated in my addled brain, grown heavy with the demons of a vicious world. He would smile right now, seeing me like this. That garish all knowing smile. I detested him; his attempt at art; his disdain for all but classical. He was as unchanging as mans contempt for change. I loathed him. His only saving grace being that he had lived longer to read more than I! But that would change.
The brandy is playing tricks on me. As I watch the golden hue and see the fumes waft the droplets in my snifter upwards, I smile. The words will come. I know this. I look at the syringe. Sinister. Beckoning. I have always been afraid of needles. A family doctors compulsion of a shot of penicillin as the cure all put me in this state. And yet, tonight, the moonlight shined on the tip, a diamond, sparkling, luring, sensual and seductive. I knew my reprieve would be in its driving home.
I detest writing. The world feeds on me and those of my kind. They take from us what they will, and so callously spit on that which they believe below them. As tho they have rank! And this we do for a pittance. Some bauble of recognition. Acceptance. Yes, acceptance!
Reason falls away as the wail of the street rises to crescendos of depravity not known since Lucifer smiled at the sublime death of the chosen one. In the repressive heat, I gather up that great sword; and plunge it deep into my vein. I swoon, and feel the rush of the drugs overtake my human senses, and plunge me deep, deep, deeper still, into the chasm, into the still night, into oblivion.
Into Oblivion...
The rank stench of death smothers me. The gagging taste of opiates fill my mouth and assails my nostrils. Surrounded by loved ones; here on my deathbed; I am alone. They don’t know I am alive! I hear their every word!
Icy fingers clasp me from the sweat drenched cotton sheets that shroud my shriveled remains. How can I scream when I have not the strength to flutter one eye lid? Odd, I feel no pain. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? No one prepared me for this. How will it end? Is this really the end?
I should not have cursed God all those years past when Sarah was ripped from my loving arms. No, God could not exist! Or could he? I see no angels through the mist; no angelic choirs beckoning me home to HIS throne. All I hear is the incessant clicking of the rosaries and the drone of biblical prayers in hushed tones, so as not to disturb me. Disturb me from what? The perfect death? The very thought repulses me. I will lie here; mouth agape; drained of bodily fluids.
The very thought of what awaits the person who shall gather up my corpse and prepare it for the ride to the place where my body will be defiled and injected with all manner chemical preservatives sickens me. I am a prisoner to my fate. It has been said that people simply lose their will to live, and in so doing, die. I lost my will a long time ago it seems, and still, here I am. Maybe I can will myself to die? Die! Die!
Spare me your rosaries and prayers! I want them all to leave. Leave me now. I have so many questions, and so few answers. Though unafraid, I fear the final moment. What is beyond that final moment? The bile rises in my throat; hot and acidic. It burns. The pain is searing! I hear my heartbeat drumming in my ears. Louder, louder, louder. I can feel the convulsions now take my body; unable to stop them; I am lost, afraid. I hear a rattle escape from my throat, and feel a waxiness cover my face. And I suddenly smell my own bodies’ demise; in one great gush of dispelled matter.
And then into the abyss I fall, into the great unknown, into oblivion.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Grey Time
The Grey Time
In the grey time, I come to you,
when the shadows of the night give way to the creeping gold
that is to be the day,
The city sleeps, and the mist rises over the mountains, dreams untold,
babies breath, the stir before the awakening.
Looking out onto this grey, stark landscape, I turn
and see the beauty that lies just within my grasp,
the smoke from my cigarette wafts, and I know I'm home,
in the arms of my love, the city will awake, the sun will shine,
and I, once again, will love and be loved.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Dishonour, Chapter 11
Special Agent Joshua “Perco” Perkins walked at a brisk pace towards his superiors’ office. He had no idea why the call was so urgent, but having been in the Secret Service these few years had taught him to never question; simply obey. As he arrived at the Directors office, the secretary rose and rapped sharply at the door, opened it, and waved Josh in.
Apart from the requisite portrait of The President, and a bevy of flags, the room was quite sparse. The Director, sitting behind his massive oak desk, looked older than when Josh had last seen him. His hair thinning and his paunch having increased in girth gave him a bloated look. He appeared for all concerned to be a man who had spent far too many nights pouring over documents, caught up in the bureaucratic nightmare of the present administration, all the while preparing for a new administration that would surely have effects on his department. It was all the talk amongst the younger agents these days. Who would be the next President and what would it mean to the men and women that would be delegated to protect him.
Without so much as a hello, and without raising his eyes from the folder before him, the Director asked Josh to take a seat.
“Special Agent Perkins. Are you aware of a person or persons calling themselves The Patriot?”
Josh looked at the Director now staring him squarely in the eyes awaiting his response. Cool blue eyes; piercing and dangerous.
“No sir, I have not.”
The Director returned his gaze to the open file before him.
“I’m not surprised. Until today, I hadn’t heard of him either. I see that you were an outstanding cadet at Rowley Training Center. What I am about to ask you could very well put that training to the test. We have a delicate situation on our hands here and we feel that you are the man for the job.”
Josh felt his throat squeezing and his stomach muscles tightening. Whatever was going down, it sounded dangerous. Still, this is what he was trained to do; without question.
The Director continued.
“We received a letter that was addressed to The Washington Post and signed The Patriot. This letter states that Senator Alex McCulloch is an enemy to the people of America and to quote, ’should be shot down in the street like the mongrel dog that he is.’ And that, to us Special Agent Perkins, represents a clear and present threat to possibly the next President of The United States Of America. We believe that this is an idle threat from the mind of some disillusioned nutcase. However, we take no threats against the lives of the people we serve mildly. I want this crazy son of a bitch brought in Agent Perkins! I want it done quietly and I want it done fast!
My secretary has a folder for you that contains all the information we have on this so far. The actual letter has gone off to the lab for analysis. You will get the results as soon as they come in. You have a free hand to use any means possible, and that includes personnel, to catch this idiot before he causes any more trouble. And one last thing. I understand that you have a friend, Special Agent Sam Banks, who works with the FBI?”
Josh cleared his throat and swallowed hard at spit that was not forthcoming.
“Yes sir. We were in the Academy together. We were roommates and have remained friends.”
“Good. The FBI is aware of this and we have spoken with Agent Banks’ superiors. Getting this Patriot fellow will be a joint effort and Special Agent Banks is being briefed as we speak. He will be your partner on this mission. But make no mistake Special Agent Perkins. You are to report to this office only! I am prepared to collaborate; but only so far! Are we clear on that?”
Josh looked at that clear blue stare once more and knew the full meaning of the Directors last words.
“Very much so sir, yes.”
“Good. Helen will give you the file on your way out. Good hunting and keep me posted. That’s all Agent Perkins. You are excused.”
Senator Davis Flatt stared at the the three men facing him; a murderous rage contorting his features.
“Have you all lost your god damned minds? Do you know the money, time and effort that I have put into this campaign? I should fire all your sorry asses and be done with it! How the hell can this countrys’ biggest Union decide to go over to that fucking McCulloch’s camp? How did this happen?”
“Senator Flatt, I was,,”
“Shut your god damned mouth or I’ll rip your tongue out! These things tend to have a domino effect. Once one goes over, the others gain confidence. Before you know it, that bastard McCulloch will get them all. That cannot and will not happen! I’ll put forward a motion for arbitration on every bloody contract that is outstanding! And, we will own the judges! It will not go well with them, I swear it!”
“Senator, may I say something?”
Senator Flatt rose and walked over to the window, staring blankly at the world, now passing him by.
“I honestly don’t know why I even try sometimes. Maybe the people of this great country aren’t worth saving. Say what you have to say, than get the hell out of my office!”
The three men looked at each other in disbelief. For the first time in their lives, Davis Flatt sounded utterly rejected and full of remorse and loathing self pity.
“Senator, I would be amiss in not advising you that your strategy of implying sanctions on the unions and business concerns of America is blowing up in our faces. They are not taking kindly to it. In fact, they see it as a sort of strong arm tactic to garnish their support. McCulloch is talking about downsizing the Military budget and putting that money into programs that support Americans buying products made in America. This all translates into bringing the boys home and creating new employment. A pie in the sky approach, I agree, but the people seem to love it. We have got to develop a new strategy, fast!”
Flatt looked out at the Washington sky, and for a moment imagined the blue skies of Texas. A calmness returned to him as he turned to face the three men awaiting his response.
“Get out of my office! Get out now!”
Flatt wandered over to his desk as the three men scampered out. As he sat down, his thoughts drifted off to Texas, and the wide plains where he grew up. He could almost smell the air; scented with desert rose and sagebrush and sand. Dry and warm. He almost smiled. Almost.
Staring at the phone, his thoughts returned to McCulloch. No, he would not be cheated out of his moment in history! Not McCulloch; not his incompetent staff; not the greedy unions and hungry corporate America; no one would cheat him! Not now, never!
As he reached out, the phone rang.
“Bill? I was just about to call you. What? Who? Who the hell is the Patriot? Oh shit! When? The FBI and the Secret Service? Bill, shut it down! Do it now! Shut it all down! We’ll resume when this wild ass is caught. You shut it down now Bill! You hear me? DO IT NOW!”
Davis slammed the phone down and made his way over to the bar, poured a large Wild Turkey and gulped it down in one swift swallow. He grimaced as the whiskey made its way down his throat and wandered back over to the large windows and stared out.
Texas and home were far away. He never felt so alone in his life. He imagined McCulloch in his office, wringing his hands in glee at having won over the biggest union in the country and that thought made Senator Davis Flatt an even more dangerous man. He would bide his time, for now. But McCulloch had to die!
Apart from the requisite portrait of The President, and a bevy of flags, the room was quite sparse. The Director, sitting behind his massive oak desk, looked older than when Josh had last seen him. His hair thinning and his paunch having increased in girth gave him a bloated look. He appeared for all concerned to be a man who had spent far too many nights pouring over documents, caught up in the bureaucratic nightmare of the present administration, all the while preparing for a new administration that would surely have effects on his department. It was all the talk amongst the younger agents these days. Who would be the next President and what would it mean to the men and women that would be delegated to protect him.
Without so much as a hello, and without raising his eyes from the folder before him, the Director asked Josh to take a seat.
“Special Agent Perkins. Are you aware of a person or persons calling themselves The Patriot?”
Josh looked at the Director now staring him squarely in the eyes awaiting his response. Cool blue eyes; piercing and dangerous.
“No sir, I have not.”
The Director returned his gaze to the open file before him.
“I’m not surprised. Until today, I hadn’t heard of him either. I see that you were an outstanding cadet at Rowley Training Center. What I am about to ask you could very well put that training to the test. We have a delicate situation on our hands here and we feel that you are the man for the job.”
Josh felt his throat squeezing and his stomach muscles tightening. Whatever was going down, it sounded dangerous. Still, this is what he was trained to do; without question.
The Director continued.
“We received a letter that was addressed to The Washington Post and signed The Patriot. This letter states that Senator Alex McCulloch is an enemy to the people of America and to quote, ’should be shot down in the street like the mongrel dog that he is.’ And that, to us Special Agent Perkins, represents a clear and present threat to possibly the next President of The United States Of America. We believe that this is an idle threat from the mind of some disillusioned nutcase. However, we take no threats against the lives of the people we serve mildly. I want this crazy son of a bitch brought in Agent Perkins! I want it done quietly and I want it done fast!
My secretary has a folder for you that contains all the information we have on this so far. The actual letter has gone off to the lab for analysis. You will get the results as soon as they come in. You have a free hand to use any means possible, and that includes personnel, to catch this idiot before he causes any more trouble. And one last thing. I understand that you have a friend, Special Agent Sam Banks, who works with the FBI?”
Josh cleared his throat and swallowed hard at spit that was not forthcoming.
“Yes sir. We were in the Academy together. We were roommates and have remained friends.”
“Good. The FBI is aware of this and we have spoken with Agent Banks’ superiors. Getting this Patriot fellow will be a joint effort and Special Agent Banks is being briefed as we speak. He will be your partner on this mission. But make no mistake Special Agent Perkins. You are to report to this office only! I am prepared to collaborate; but only so far! Are we clear on that?”
Josh looked at that clear blue stare once more and knew the full meaning of the Directors last words.
“Very much so sir, yes.”
“Good. Helen will give you the file on your way out. Good hunting and keep me posted. That’s all Agent Perkins. You are excused.”
Senator Davis Flatt stared at the the three men facing him; a murderous rage contorting his features.
“Have you all lost your god damned minds? Do you know the money, time and effort that I have put into this campaign? I should fire all your sorry asses and be done with it! How the hell can this countrys’ biggest Union decide to go over to that fucking McCulloch’s camp? How did this happen?”
“Senator Flatt, I was,,”
“Shut your god damned mouth or I’ll rip your tongue out! These things tend to have a domino effect. Once one goes over, the others gain confidence. Before you know it, that bastard McCulloch will get them all. That cannot and will not happen! I’ll put forward a motion for arbitration on every bloody contract that is outstanding! And, we will own the judges! It will not go well with them, I swear it!”
“Senator, may I say something?”
Senator Flatt rose and walked over to the window, staring blankly at the world, now passing him by.
“I honestly don’t know why I even try sometimes. Maybe the people of this great country aren’t worth saving. Say what you have to say, than get the hell out of my office!”
The three men looked at each other in disbelief. For the first time in their lives, Davis Flatt sounded utterly rejected and full of remorse and loathing self pity.
“Senator, I would be amiss in not advising you that your strategy of implying sanctions on the unions and business concerns of America is blowing up in our faces. They are not taking kindly to it. In fact, they see it as a sort of strong arm tactic to garnish their support. McCulloch is talking about downsizing the Military budget and putting that money into programs that support Americans buying products made in America. This all translates into bringing the boys home and creating new employment. A pie in the sky approach, I agree, but the people seem to love it. We have got to develop a new strategy, fast!”
Flatt looked out at the Washington sky, and for a moment imagined the blue skies of Texas. A calmness returned to him as he turned to face the three men awaiting his response.
“Get out of my office! Get out now!”
Flatt wandered over to his desk as the three men scampered out. As he sat down, his thoughts drifted off to Texas, and the wide plains where he grew up. He could almost smell the air; scented with desert rose and sagebrush and sand. Dry and warm. He almost smiled. Almost.
Staring at the phone, his thoughts returned to McCulloch. No, he would not be cheated out of his moment in history! Not McCulloch; not his incompetent staff; not the greedy unions and hungry corporate America; no one would cheat him! Not now, never!
As he reached out, the phone rang.
“Bill? I was just about to call you. What? Who? Who the hell is the Patriot? Oh shit! When? The FBI and the Secret Service? Bill, shut it down! Do it now! Shut it all down! We’ll resume when this wild ass is caught. You shut it down now Bill! You hear me? DO IT NOW!”
Davis slammed the phone down and made his way over to the bar, poured a large Wild Turkey and gulped it down in one swift swallow. He grimaced as the whiskey made its way down his throat and wandered back over to the large windows and stared out.
Texas and home were far away. He never felt so alone in his life. He imagined McCulloch in his office, wringing his hands in glee at having won over the biggest union in the country and that thought made Senator Davis Flatt an even more dangerous man. He would bide his time, for now. But McCulloch had to die!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Shifting Shadows
A smothering sky, black as coal
Choked the landscape of red and gold
And in its’ wake, the evil unfolds
Dreamless night, dank and cold
A lonely rider, high on a bluff
Inches his mount along a trail rocky and rough,
Numb from the cold, rested barely enough
The reigns slip, from finger to cuff
Slumped in the saddle, he whispers a prayer
He raises his eyes, as though someone is there
But no one is listening, nobody cares
Slumping further, he clutches his mare
The winds whisper, succumb to your fate,
Your life has been filled with anger and hate
Beseech your God, his answer await,
Till then you are mine, your peril is great
He watches the stones tumble and fall
Sees the blackness that covers all
His soul beaten, slashed and mauled
And then he feels nothing; nothing at all
Like the freefall of the condemned, upon the gallows
The cold anticipation that chills to the marrow
A bone crushing death, below in the dark hollows
Another victim of shifting shadows...
Choked the landscape of red and gold
And in its’ wake, the evil unfolds
Dreamless night, dank and cold
A lonely rider, high on a bluff
Inches his mount along a trail rocky and rough,
Numb from the cold, rested barely enough
The reigns slip, from finger to cuff
Slumped in the saddle, he whispers a prayer
He raises his eyes, as though someone is there
But no one is listening, nobody cares
Slumping further, he clutches his mare
The winds whisper, succumb to your fate,
Your life has been filled with anger and hate
Beseech your God, his answer await,
Till then you are mine, your peril is great
He watches the stones tumble and fall
Sees the blackness that covers all
His soul beaten, slashed and mauled
And then he feels nothing; nothing at all
Like the freefall of the condemned, upon the gallows
The cold anticipation that chills to the marrow
A bone crushing death, below in the dark hollows
Another victim of shifting shadows...
Saturday, October 17, 2009
The Witch's Bed
Lightening slashed the black velvet sky
Winds ripped the last colours of autumn
Giant oaks creaked, in unison cried
Bracing the witch’s wind, unable to run
A lonely figure silhouetted in black
Stared up at the skies and wailed
If this be my fate, so final, a fact,
Then allow my story to tell
Once I was loved, and loved so dear
Was blessed, and walked with angels
My vision of happiness, oh so clear
No fears, no doubt, no dangers
Into the clutches, headlong I fell
Into the arms of a woman
Beguiled and bewildered, a bottomless well
Of passion, no man can fathom
I drank deep from the cup, lust and desire
Without thought of the demands to come
My loins burned with passions fire
Satiated in the deed, exhausted, spent, done
She offered up drink, a ruby red elixir
I swallowed it with wild abandon
Thick and sickly sweet, as the tunes of a zephyr
In an instant, my soul was undone
Cursed be the night, cursed be the day
Cursed be the moon, cursed be the stars
Cursed be the method, and cursed be the way
And cursed am I, for I will always be this way
For in a witch’s bed have I slept
Her bidding forever my task
A longing for death, a wish, a promise never kept
Till that one day, long at last
Her thirst for herbs, and blood and hate
Will end in a fiery ball
If I am lucky, then with my mate
I will ascend to that golden hall
Till then, heed my words
Beware that which appears too good
Or suffer my fate, lost between two worlds
Before can becomes could
If God exists, then strike me down
This night, be my reprieve
But that is a dream, I am on my own
And always will be it seems
And so I search, never rest
On this all hallowed eve
The blood of innocents is my quarry
And what should I perceive,
You who are reading
Do you feel safe? Do you see my shadow behind?
What are the feelings you are feeling
Are you sure it’s only your mind?
And lightening slashed the black velvet sky…
Winds ripped the last colours of autumn
Giant oaks creaked, in unison cried
Bracing the witch’s wind, unable to run
A lonely figure silhouetted in black
Stared up at the skies and wailed
If this be my fate, so final, a fact,
Then allow my story to tell
Once I was loved, and loved so dear
Was blessed, and walked with angels
My vision of happiness, oh so clear
No fears, no doubt, no dangers
Into the clutches, headlong I fell
Into the arms of a woman
Beguiled and bewildered, a bottomless well
Of passion, no man can fathom
I drank deep from the cup, lust and desire
Without thought of the demands to come
My loins burned with passions fire
Satiated in the deed, exhausted, spent, done
She offered up drink, a ruby red elixir
I swallowed it with wild abandon
Thick and sickly sweet, as the tunes of a zephyr
In an instant, my soul was undone
Cursed be the night, cursed be the day
Cursed be the moon, cursed be the stars
Cursed be the method, and cursed be the way
And cursed am I, for I will always be this way
For in a witch’s bed have I slept
Her bidding forever my task
A longing for death, a wish, a promise never kept
Till that one day, long at last
Her thirst for herbs, and blood and hate
Will end in a fiery ball
If I am lucky, then with my mate
I will ascend to that golden hall
Till then, heed my words
Beware that which appears too good
Or suffer my fate, lost between two worlds
Before can becomes could
If God exists, then strike me down
This night, be my reprieve
But that is a dream, I am on my own
And always will be it seems
And so I search, never rest
On this all hallowed eve
The blood of innocents is my quarry
And what should I perceive,
You who are reading
Do you feel safe? Do you see my shadow behind?
What are the feelings you are feeling
Are you sure it’s only your mind?
And lightening slashed the black velvet sky…
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Ode To a D
The silver seeds of spring, on gentle breezes fly,
tickling the warm soil, before back up to the heavens they fly,
seeking that perfect place, wherein they shall lie,
giving birth to their colour, in the warm sun, growing high.
Deep green and gold, this is her gift,
she thwarts all attempts, though narrowly missed,
mans dominion over nature, his control over bliss,
will not stave her from her duty, rest assured of this.
She watches as you trudge, off to your car,
she sees the skies, the clouds, above so far,
she smiles as she knows, a victim you are,
to the beauty she possesses, to the wonder of the briar.
They grow in profusion, splashes of gold,
emerald green, shapes strong and bold,
try as you may, with efforts untold,
she resists, and beckons, your efforts turned cold.
Embrace her, and love her, for she is the one,
who will never desert you, as others have done,
she dances in the wind, with wild abandon,
til she again gives up her seed, to the warm summer sun.
Don't ya just hate Dandelions?
tickling the warm soil, before back up to the heavens they fly,
seeking that perfect place, wherein they shall lie,
giving birth to their colour, in the warm sun, growing high.
Deep green and gold, this is her gift,
she thwarts all attempts, though narrowly missed,
mans dominion over nature, his control over bliss,
will not stave her from her duty, rest assured of this.
She watches as you trudge, off to your car,
she sees the skies, the clouds, above so far,
she smiles as she knows, a victim you are,
to the beauty she possesses, to the wonder of the briar.
They grow in profusion, splashes of gold,
emerald green, shapes strong and bold,
try as you may, with efforts untold,
she resists, and beckons, your efforts turned cold.
Embrace her, and love her, for she is the one,
who will never desert you, as others have done,
she dances in the wind, with wild abandon,
til she again gives up her seed, to the warm summer sun.
Don't ya just hate Dandelions?
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Quiet Scream
Things just didn’t feel right as Bill Stanford pulled off to the side of the country road. He opened the map and traced with his finger the route he had been taking. He should have already arrived in Cedarville. As beautiful as the country road was; with tall standing pines and wildflowers in profusion; the hour was getting late. A hot meal and a warm bed to curl up in was all he wanted right now.
Odd that he hadn’t seen another car on this road in the last two hours. It made asking directions all the more difficult. The choices were clear. Two hours of driving back to the nearest truck stop, or forge on and hope to find some diner or homestead where he might get some help. Bill chose the latter as he slipped the shifter into drive and pulled back onto the road.
The sun was going down, and tall shadows were slithering across the road as he made his way through the turns and curves. This would be a tricky road to maneuver after nightfall. He stared ahead intently, gripping the steering wheel tightly and would have missed it if his peripheral vision hadn’t been so acute. Daddy Bucks Home Fixins’. Thank God! A meal and directions.
He hit the brakes, and turned into the gravel parking lot, raising a cloud of red dust behind him. Definitely not one of your fine diners Bill thought as he turned off the ignition. Apart from an ancient and worn out red pick up truck and a tacky old Oldsmobile, the parking lot was bare. As he got out of his car, he raised his eyes to the sign of the diner and noticed that some local yokel must have at one time used it for target practice. Still, it beat driving around in circles at night on this godforsaken road, and despite his misgivings, he pulled on the door and walked in.
His senses were assaulted as he walked into the dank darkness that was this diner. The air was thick with smells of things, too long left unattended. Hank Williams moaned out from the jukebox about how lonely he was. The tables and chairs were dusty and dirty and looked as though they had not been used in years. But the shiny red vinyl counter seats had been arse rubbed to a high gloss. Fly corpses hung suspended on a long brown sticky strip hanging behind the big man.
“ Howdy stranger “
He was a mountain of man. In a stained wife beater tee shirt and camouflage pants. His grin showed the left side of his teeth missing, no doubt from a solid kick to the mouth Bill thought as he advanced to the counter. Though his gut feelings told him to turn and run out of this place with all his might, Bill proceeded nervously and took a seat on the shiny swivel stool.
“ Howdy. What can I get ya this evening?”
Bill looked around for anything that might resemble a menu then thought better of it as he watched that fly strip slowly flowing in the stinky breeze that wafted through this putrid place.
“ I’ll just have some coffee please. “
The smile left the big man’s face as he leaned forward, resting his huge bear-like hands on the greasy counter.
“ Oh come on now! A strapping young feller such as yerself needs nourishment! Pickins have been a might slim these days with huntin’ season about to open, but I can still wrassle ya up a plate of Daddy Bucks special stew! Think we might have enough left for one last serving. What ya say city? “
Bill heard the skinny country boy at the far end of the counter snicker as Daddy Buck waited on his answer. Obviously he was the owner of the pick up. As much as he didn’t want to know anything about food in this place, to refuse now might be taken as an insult. He was in a strange place, with strange people, alone on a dark night in the middle of nowhere, and so he accepted Daddy Bucks offer.
Daddy reared like a big old bear and let out a throaty laugh. “ Enjoy the stew son, but don’t be thinkin’ yer gonna be gettin’ my recipe! “
Again there was that snicker, more like a cackle from down the counter. Bill squirmed and squeaked on the hot vinyl seat.
Daddy Buck whirred into action. He pulled a dirty plate from the sink and ran it under hot water for a minute and dried it with a decrepit tea towel. Bill’s stomach was churning watching the sight unfolding before him, wondering how on earth he was going to get any of Daddy Bucks food down his throat.
“ Won’t be but a minute city. “
Bill looked down at the man at the end of the counter who was nursing a beer and leering at him in a lascivious way that sent shivers up Bill’s back.
“ Daddy Buck, may I ask? How far is it to Cedarville? “
Daddy Buck turned towards Bill and in a nonchalant tone told him it was about two miles down the road. Bill felt the bile rise in his throat. Two miles? And he had put himself through all this torture for two lousy miles? Bill rose from the vinyl seat.
“ Hey, where ya goin’ city? “
“ I’m sorry Daddy Buck, but I have an urgent appointment in Cedarville that can’t wait. I will gladly pay you for the dinner, but I really can’t stay. “
As Bill started towards the door, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He swung around into the face of the country boy from the end of the counter. His look was demonic and filled with rage.
“ Ya ain’t very polite there city! Daddy Buck here went to a lot of trouble for ya, and you just walk away? That may be the way they do things in the city, but out here, well, we are simple folk who believe in God, country and damned good manners! “
Bill felt a sense of dread and looked towards Daddy Buck who was ripping off his apron like he was getting ready to rumble. Bill raised his hands to his chest, palms outwards and said “ Hey, I’m not looking for any trouble here. I just have to get to an appointment is all ! “
The country boy advanced with a demeanor leaving no doubt of his intentions. Bill turned back towards the counter.
“ Ok, on second thought, my appointment can wait for ten minutes. “
Daddy Buck started whistling through his half a mouth of teeth as he put his apron back on.
“ Smart move city “ said the country boy as he headed back to his seat.
As Bill turned back, Daddy Buck slid the plate of hot stew before him.
“ Enjoy city, but remember what I said; ya can’t have my recipe! “
Daddy Buck was beaming from ear to ear, waiting for Bill to dig in. Bill slipped in a fork, and slowly raised it to his mouth. It was the most horrible thing he had ever tasted. The meat tasted funny, and was fatty. Pale and creamy, it sort of slid down his throat, leaving a greasy trail to his stomach. Bill nibbled at the sparse serving of vegetables in the plate, but they had absorbed the flavour of that ghastly meat, whatever it was. He started to feel dizzy, weak, nauseous. As he let his fork drop, he tried to rise to his feet but felt his knees buckle as the world spun out of control and as the darkness set in, he heard that snicker, resounding over and over in his mind and all went black.
Voices were making their way through the blackness as Bill gradually regained some awareness. Distant, but growing louder as he struggled to open his eyes. The searing pain in his mouth hit him like a bolt of lightning and he tried to scream, but nothing but guttural grunts were all he could manage. He suddenly realized he couldn’t feel his teeth; nor the roof of his mouth! My God! My tongue was gone!
His eyes widened against the realization of his situation. Tied down securely in what looked to be a butcher shop! Drawing on all his forces to break the ties that bound him to the table but they would not budge! He strained to hear what was being said in the next room.
“ Morning Sheriff. How we doing this fine morning? “
Morning? How long had Bill been unconscious? And what had happened to him?
“ Mornin’ Daddy Buck. Mornin’ JJ. Sorry Daddy, but I have a few questions for ya. Some city fellow never showed up at his hotel last night in Cedarville and his bosses are concerned that he had an accident. Y’all aint seen nothing have ya? “
Bill tried hard as he could to grunt with all his might, over and over again!
“ Nope Sheriff, ain’t seen a thing. How about you JJ? “
“ Nope, been here all night, and I ain’t seen hide nor hair of no city guy. “
Bill was frantic! Yelling as loud as he could as the tears and blood chocked his grunts, he coughed blood and bile; every muscle straining against the restraints.
“ What’s that sound in the back there Daddy ? “
“ Aw Sherrff, it’s just the wifes’ retard brother. I am babysittin’ him while she is in Cedarville getting her hair done. “
“ Alright then Buck, what’s for breakfast this morning? “
“ Well Sheriff, how about some fried, thinly sliced tongue, a couple of eggs, grits and coffee? I got me a new shipment of meat last night. “
Bill eyes bulged to the point of exploding from his head as he heard them all laughing in otherworldly possession.
“ And tell ya what Sheriff, bring yer lady around tonight. I am gonna prepare a fine roast leg with all the trimmins fer dinner. “
Bill felt his stomach heave as he trembled uncontrollably, and the last thing he heard before his heart exploded in his chest was that snicker…and the diner became the dined upon.
Odd that he hadn’t seen another car on this road in the last two hours. It made asking directions all the more difficult. The choices were clear. Two hours of driving back to the nearest truck stop, or forge on and hope to find some diner or homestead where he might get some help. Bill chose the latter as he slipped the shifter into drive and pulled back onto the road.
The sun was going down, and tall shadows were slithering across the road as he made his way through the turns and curves. This would be a tricky road to maneuver after nightfall. He stared ahead intently, gripping the steering wheel tightly and would have missed it if his peripheral vision hadn’t been so acute. Daddy Bucks Home Fixins’. Thank God! A meal and directions.
He hit the brakes, and turned into the gravel parking lot, raising a cloud of red dust behind him. Definitely not one of your fine diners Bill thought as he turned off the ignition. Apart from an ancient and worn out red pick up truck and a tacky old Oldsmobile, the parking lot was bare. As he got out of his car, he raised his eyes to the sign of the diner and noticed that some local yokel must have at one time used it for target practice. Still, it beat driving around in circles at night on this godforsaken road, and despite his misgivings, he pulled on the door and walked in.
His senses were assaulted as he walked into the dank darkness that was this diner. The air was thick with smells of things, too long left unattended. Hank Williams moaned out from the jukebox about how lonely he was. The tables and chairs were dusty and dirty and looked as though they had not been used in years. But the shiny red vinyl counter seats had been arse rubbed to a high gloss. Fly corpses hung suspended on a long brown sticky strip hanging behind the big man.
“ Howdy stranger “
He was a mountain of man. In a stained wife beater tee shirt and camouflage pants. His grin showed the left side of his teeth missing, no doubt from a solid kick to the mouth Bill thought as he advanced to the counter. Though his gut feelings told him to turn and run out of this place with all his might, Bill proceeded nervously and took a seat on the shiny swivel stool.
“ Howdy. What can I get ya this evening?”
Bill looked around for anything that might resemble a menu then thought better of it as he watched that fly strip slowly flowing in the stinky breeze that wafted through this putrid place.
“ I’ll just have some coffee please. “
The smile left the big man’s face as he leaned forward, resting his huge bear-like hands on the greasy counter.
“ Oh come on now! A strapping young feller such as yerself needs nourishment! Pickins have been a might slim these days with huntin’ season about to open, but I can still wrassle ya up a plate of Daddy Bucks special stew! Think we might have enough left for one last serving. What ya say city? “
Bill heard the skinny country boy at the far end of the counter snicker as Daddy Buck waited on his answer. Obviously he was the owner of the pick up. As much as he didn’t want to know anything about food in this place, to refuse now might be taken as an insult. He was in a strange place, with strange people, alone on a dark night in the middle of nowhere, and so he accepted Daddy Bucks offer.
Daddy reared like a big old bear and let out a throaty laugh. “ Enjoy the stew son, but don’t be thinkin’ yer gonna be gettin’ my recipe! “
Again there was that snicker, more like a cackle from down the counter. Bill squirmed and squeaked on the hot vinyl seat.
Daddy Buck whirred into action. He pulled a dirty plate from the sink and ran it under hot water for a minute and dried it with a decrepit tea towel. Bill’s stomach was churning watching the sight unfolding before him, wondering how on earth he was going to get any of Daddy Bucks food down his throat.
“ Won’t be but a minute city. “
Bill looked down at the man at the end of the counter who was nursing a beer and leering at him in a lascivious way that sent shivers up Bill’s back.
“ Daddy Buck, may I ask? How far is it to Cedarville? “
Daddy Buck turned towards Bill and in a nonchalant tone told him it was about two miles down the road. Bill felt the bile rise in his throat. Two miles? And he had put himself through all this torture for two lousy miles? Bill rose from the vinyl seat.
“ Hey, where ya goin’ city? “
“ I’m sorry Daddy Buck, but I have an urgent appointment in Cedarville that can’t wait. I will gladly pay you for the dinner, but I really can’t stay. “
As Bill started towards the door, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He swung around into the face of the country boy from the end of the counter. His look was demonic and filled with rage.
“ Ya ain’t very polite there city! Daddy Buck here went to a lot of trouble for ya, and you just walk away? That may be the way they do things in the city, but out here, well, we are simple folk who believe in God, country and damned good manners! “
Bill felt a sense of dread and looked towards Daddy Buck who was ripping off his apron like he was getting ready to rumble. Bill raised his hands to his chest, palms outwards and said “ Hey, I’m not looking for any trouble here. I just have to get to an appointment is all ! “
The country boy advanced with a demeanor leaving no doubt of his intentions. Bill turned back towards the counter.
“ Ok, on second thought, my appointment can wait for ten minutes. “
Daddy Buck started whistling through his half a mouth of teeth as he put his apron back on.
“ Smart move city “ said the country boy as he headed back to his seat.
As Bill turned back, Daddy Buck slid the plate of hot stew before him.
“ Enjoy city, but remember what I said; ya can’t have my recipe! “
Daddy Buck was beaming from ear to ear, waiting for Bill to dig in. Bill slipped in a fork, and slowly raised it to his mouth. It was the most horrible thing he had ever tasted. The meat tasted funny, and was fatty. Pale and creamy, it sort of slid down his throat, leaving a greasy trail to his stomach. Bill nibbled at the sparse serving of vegetables in the plate, but they had absorbed the flavour of that ghastly meat, whatever it was. He started to feel dizzy, weak, nauseous. As he let his fork drop, he tried to rise to his feet but felt his knees buckle as the world spun out of control and as the darkness set in, he heard that snicker, resounding over and over in his mind and all went black.
Voices were making their way through the blackness as Bill gradually regained some awareness. Distant, but growing louder as he struggled to open his eyes. The searing pain in his mouth hit him like a bolt of lightning and he tried to scream, but nothing but guttural grunts were all he could manage. He suddenly realized he couldn’t feel his teeth; nor the roof of his mouth! My God! My tongue was gone!
His eyes widened against the realization of his situation. Tied down securely in what looked to be a butcher shop! Drawing on all his forces to break the ties that bound him to the table but they would not budge! He strained to hear what was being said in the next room.
“ Morning Sheriff. How we doing this fine morning? “
Morning? How long had Bill been unconscious? And what had happened to him?
“ Mornin’ Daddy Buck. Mornin’ JJ. Sorry Daddy, but I have a few questions for ya. Some city fellow never showed up at his hotel last night in Cedarville and his bosses are concerned that he had an accident. Y’all aint seen nothing have ya? “
Bill tried hard as he could to grunt with all his might, over and over again!
“ Nope Sheriff, ain’t seen a thing. How about you JJ? “
“ Nope, been here all night, and I ain’t seen hide nor hair of no city guy. “
Bill was frantic! Yelling as loud as he could as the tears and blood chocked his grunts, he coughed blood and bile; every muscle straining against the restraints.
“ What’s that sound in the back there Daddy ? “
“ Aw Sherrff, it’s just the wifes’ retard brother. I am babysittin’ him while she is in Cedarville getting her hair done. “
“ Alright then Buck, what’s for breakfast this morning? “
“ Well Sheriff, how about some fried, thinly sliced tongue, a couple of eggs, grits and coffee? I got me a new shipment of meat last night. “
Bill eyes bulged to the point of exploding from his head as he heard them all laughing in otherworldly possession.
“ And tell ya what Sheriff, bring yer lady around tonight. I am gonna prepare a fine roast leg with all the trimmins fer dinner. “
Bill felt his stomach heave as he trembled uncontrollably, and the last thing he heard before his heart exploded in his chest was that snicker…and the diner became the dined upon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)