The Cocktail Party

little sausages with tooth picks in them, how i'd like to take one these and jam it into this broads throat. but no, that would be a terrible thing to do, and how are we deserving of this? i didn't want to talk about it, apparently, so she says, it was awful, and i was a bad man. i was worried that maybe something happened to my date, so i rotated around the living room sticking to the wall like some kind of scared raccoon circling his cage. i did not want to engage anyone in conversation, but a couple times i had to force a smile and a nod, just to let them know i was still apart of the party and not planning on peeing in the fireplace again. i could feel their eyes on me, i kept mouthing the words, "shit" -- and when a good looking dame walked by i'd follow behind her real close, start wiggling my arms doing the preying mantas dance, she'd turn around with those inspecting eyes thinking maybe i had a pocketful of rubies to jam in her empty hands to go with her empty smile, but i'd stay still and shove my face into my glass like a good little passive guy in a monkey suit, like all these other pricks, i thought about strapping a pack of road flares to Stacy's alarm clock and throwing it into the middle of the living room floor, watching that bad boy slide across the hardwood and hit someone in the ankle... ahh.. the glory of it all... the line was a mile long. suddenly my bladder started speaking spanish and letting me know it was time to piss, so i nudged my way pass the big burly guys guarding the velvet rope out onto the balcony. some couples were out here gazing into each others eyes, acting dopey. overhearing the men saying corny one liners and watching the females eyes glaze over with the spell. oh how ignorant on their part! if only they were able to see through these chumps, these unaware selfish people who feel that their self worth is directly inline with their average yearly income, or their Mercedes, or the size of their cock. yes i make less than $30,000, and yes, i drive a 40 year old car worthy of Mad Max, and yes, i don't have a huge penis.

you don't need to like me

i'm okay with that.

actually i'd prefer it if you disliked me, because then i wouldn't have to live up to your expectations, and you wouldn't be let down by my pessimistic, self mutilating, drinking, smoking, loving bag of shit that i am.

I'm not really that bad, i like to exaggerate.


i was breathing really hard now, and i could feel the pee pushing up against my bladder, i grabbed the railing and casually slid between the two tall trees and the rail, slithering back in the corner like a rat, i pushed myself up against the wall and urinated onto the sidewalk and unsuspecting pedestrians walking down Broadway. oh, well lookie here, there's a Goodwill across the street, and have you ever noticed how your pee doesn't flow all in a steady stream, but like millions of little droplets connected together like DNA? marvelous. stars don't twinkle, they flicker, but both of those are the same thing right? i did the pee shuffle and let em' drip for a second, but on the way in he decided to go for seconds and then i felt the slow drip down my crotch all the way to my ankle. how do i get myself into this shit?

through the trees i saw my date come out onto the balcony looking around, clenching two scotch glasses in her hand. i walked with swagger, or at least as much swagger and class a guy with pee running down his pants can muster.
"hey"
"hey"
"where you go?"
whenever i get nervous i scratch the back of my head and then scratch my beard right after. she was relatively new and this was only our 2nd or 3rd date, so we really didn't know each others cues yet.
"uh, had a to smoke a cigarette, nicotine craving... you know."
this girl had the nose of a hound dog, not that her nose resembled the nose of a hound dog, but that it's sense of smell was that similar to a hound dog, and even if she did have a upturned nose like a hound dog, she was still a cool girl, and i'd still be on this date with her.
"you smell that?"
"eh what no, no... what? um let's go inside, it's getting cold out here and i don't want you to get all booger faced on me."
"you're so charming."
"like a prince?"
"no, like the frog, but maybe if you're lucky i'll kiss you, we'll see what happens."
"what kind of guy do you think i am? it's our first date, and besides, how do you know that all i want to do is kiss you?"
her eyes grew small, the wheels in her head started moving. i scooped up a glass of champagne from the tray and handed it to her. she smiled briefly, i reached over and grabbed a flower out of the pot and stuck it in my mouth.
"hey, come on, lets dance."
i took her hand in mine and started doing a little number with her, she resisted.
"but there's no music!"
"there's music in my head, come on, don't be weird"
"they're going to think we're weird"
and then, just a little too loud, "fuck them, their shirts are so goddamn stiff these people belong in a morgue."
suddenly the music boomed into play and we were off like two little crickets dancing on wildflowers. time stood still, just for a moment, until....
she began to rub her leg against mine, the warmness was coming off her body, and i could feel her turn to jelly in my hands, i started getting hard and i rubbed my nose against her neck, i felt her shutter just a bit and i pushed myself up against her, my hands grabbing her waist a little too hard. she was mine, i was going to take that dress off with my teeth and kiss those silky hips. lose myself in that mass of cherry red hair. hmm. cherry red.. i wonder of that hair was the same color as.. uh.. ahem.. her eyebrows.. yeah.. eyebrows..
suddenly i knew she felt the wetness on my pants, her nose wrinkled up a bit, her head titled to the left, she starred me right in the eye, punishing gaze.
"why's your leg wet?"
"eh um." scratch, scratch.. cough "i spilled a little drink."
"no, thats piss, i can smell it."
small gremlins crawled along the floor and flung shit at me, i could feel it building up, it was elementary school all over again. fuck.
i dropped my arms down to my side and my chin hit my chest. i was done for. this was the end. i'd never see this beautiful creature again.
i stood there for a second, swaying back and forth, humiliation washed over me, my knees wanted to buckle.
she leaned over, putting her hand on my chest, and whispered in my ear.
"i'm just fucking with you"

i shook all over for a second, and then registered her words, i took the back of her head and pushed my mouth up against hers, pulling her hair just a bit, and kissed her like the fucking world was going to end.

Redirecting

quick phrases shot back and forth
nothing reveling and minor sunburns
radiation poisoning, little green men and women
climbing all over her coffee table
we play thumb war in the back seat
lifeless hand clenched in mine, i let her win
she knew i did
so i wipe the sweat off and we go the second round
bobble head
neck made of springs
body fashioned after a younger being
and the taste of lust fills my mouth
mixes with the cigarette smoke and clinking of glasses
background noise for the big game
i amp myself up to destroy her innocence
but just like that
it's redirected and funneled into someone else
leafs dance down the sidewalk
and the birds of paradise are growing strong again
it's been a year now in this place, this beautiful place
and my eyes are wide ready for more
vibrations
up and down my spine
vibrations
up and down my legs
fingers reach for the bottle, the phone, the pen
to write about false beings
phonies
dead doe eyed woman
passing through my mind
collecting small bits of truth
that my mouth left behind
and securing my grip
around her small wrist
we don't let red lights scare us off into the night
dogs barking
horns honking
sirens wailing
we run off into the night
like animals
ready to turn on each other
and rip ourselves to shreds
i push her onto the grass knoll outside of the church
that ends on a one way street
with an elementary school across from us
i push her feet against my chest
and as the blood rushes into ourselves
she whimpers
and i win

she sat over on the ledge. "got a cigarette?". i handed her one and she slipped down onto her couch. "whew", she sighed, " i can usually take care of myself, but there's one type that's so hungry you have to hold them off."
"you brought him up here to hold him off?"
"you don't approve?"
"who am i to disapprove? but if you pick up a guy while you're out dancing and bring him home you've got to expect advances. he has a right to make a pass at you. it's not a game on your terms."
"i go there because i like to dance, and i don't see that because i let a guy bring me home i've got to go to bed with him. you don't think i went to bed with him do you?"

my image of the two of them in each others arms popped like soap bubbles.

"now if you were the guy, it would be different."
"eh?"
"just what it sounds like, if you were to ask me, i'd go to bed with you."
i tried to keep my composure, "thanks, i'll keep that in mind."
she leaned forward and her button up shirt opened at the neck, revealing tasty treats. slipping her arms around me she waited for me to do something. i knew what was expected of me, and i told myself there was no reason not to. after all, i wasn't the one making the advances. and she was different than any other women i've met before. perhaps she was right for me at this emotional level.

so damn attractive. so full of life and excitement. her voice, her eyes- everything about her was an invitation.

-daniel

GrinderMan - Vortex

sometimes, when things fall into place, puzzle pieces come together, it's amazing how it comes together. first you see small moves, then words out of a book pop into your head, the singer has lyrics to match the mood, and finally an event happens, and you tie them altogether, package them nice and neat.
this is the song that wrapped the package

Come on
Come in
Step into the vortex
Where you belong
Come on
Step into the vortex
Where you belong

I just want
To hold your hand
I just want
To hold your hand
I got a gun
I got
I got
No other plans
I just want
To hold your hand

Come on
Come in
Step into the vortex
Where you belong
Come on
Step into the vortex
Where you belong

-nick

Upper Essex

blink, blink, blink
i see you waiting for me.
when the tomatoes are ripe, soft hanging off the vine
tender and wrinkled skin, almost willing to be peeled away from it
delicate flesh that i want to immerse myself in
drown in it's sweetness
its sexual
intimate
i want to fuck this tomato
but not with my dick
if that's what you were thinking
you sick fucks
sun bearing down on the valley
holding hands through the grape vine
as if teenage lovers ignorant with life
sweat makes hair stick to forehead
moving it away from her eyes, back behind the ear
tasting the saltiness
i let it take me
the principals of life
the morality
individuality
immobility
lot's of "y"
and more whys
always with the whys
grasping a handful of dirt, jamming it in my pocket
hopefully if i plant it
a human will grow
if i bury enough things into the pot
it'll grow legs with small feet
a torso
estranged from the head
arms too long for a body
and the sweet mouth calling
begging to be fed
i'll grow a friend
materialize
the
figment of my imagination
and i'll treat it so well
care for it
give it all of my free time
rotate for equal amounts of sun
read to it
sing to it
eat with it
listen to records with it
lay together in bed with it
and give it pillow talk
joke and laugh
celebrate holidays
hold it when weathers cold
and sit together in front of the fan
when the sun turns the apartment into a greenhouse
i'll stop smoking around it
treat it well
love it
but i know one day
resentment will grow in me
for all of my actions and selfless giving
for all of my decisions and lack there of
for the lack of progress on "it's" part
and the shreds of dignity that surround the pot
will be torn away
and fall to the ground like snowflakes
getting drunk one night
yelling at the pot
"grow you motherfucker! whats taking so long?
haven't i given you everything? what else do you want?"
your soul
oh no.
oh yes.
that i can't give
stumbling over to the pot
unzipping my pants
and urinating all over this precious plant
cursing under my breath
as i climb up to the roof
and before i get the chance to throw you into the street below
i pass out from exhaustion, deprivation
pure drunken pride
pure rage
and it falls to the ground
and understands my frustration
the sensations bewildering my body
and that fact that i did not throw it over
but i was willing to do so.
willing to leave
and
only when the threats are made, when i've reached my end
willing to throw away all my hard work
my love
everything
it will realize
it took too much
and gave so little
so
when i awake
in my own bed
the scent of coffee lingering in the air
she'll stand at the doorway
long legs peaking out from under my robe
flowing hair, silky skin, red rosy cheeks
eyes wide enough to take in the world
and still want more
"'ello princess"
"hiya champ"
and we regress

i had spent the last 20 minutes thinking about a story. reading Flowers for Algernon made me start thinking about my cousin Susie.
But as i sat down and started channel surfing for something to entertain my eye while i waited for my computer to start up, George Carlin appeared.
and now, out of respect for the man.
i put my shit on hold
.

The Newest Addiction

and as the wind sneaks its way into my room under the small crack of my window, as they fog, and my eyes are tired, watery, congested head, and i occasionally i feel like i'm coughing up the inner membrane of my lungs.
this is my favorite time of year. people smoking outside of bars dancing around in little circles to keep warm, shuffling from one foot to another, couples walking with their arms tight around their shoulders, blowing on the glass, watching your breath fog it all up, i'm taking roll call, accepting applications, putting in work, discovering new boundaries, tired of being stagnant, of waiting for the other shoe to drop, my other chip to arrive, waiting on permission slips and requisition forms, dead beat foot dropping to the bottom of the floor, dead eyes staring at me through plate glass mirrors with black lipstick on their hind legs, describing words like, "purity and sanity"-- focusing on adult items, pretending to be adults, acting fancy, classy, distinguished under their shifty raccoon eyes, tight lipped, minds not right, i can see it from here. -- alas new beauty comes with the rain to wash down into the gutter the ugliness that i've focused on for far too long now, not negativity, or pessimistic, the back of my brain is beginning to hurt, the coughing is getting worst, the muscles and joints and turing into jelly. this this be the most piece yet.

"rape life. only if you know what that means. and how to use it"

< 2 parts

soon,
your dad will get the family together
and head out to the farm
haggle over the price of a christmas tree
with artificial snow covering
strap it to the top of his SUV
and support our dying
lives
he'll hang lights all over his house
and drain the energy that we are running low on already
celebrating a fictitious characters birthday
in an excuse to drink egg nog until his gills explode
and once he has used up this beautiful life
he'll dump it on the sidewalk
and not call anybody
leave it there to rot
in the dry hot sun which is Los Angeles
money wasted
precious materials wasted
energy wasted
in order to "celebrate good times"
don't get me wrong
i'm not a pessimist
but how can a person who says they are environmental
do such a thing?
does your brain not operate at a non-selfish reasoning?
probably not.
soon,
people will carve turkeys who were raised on top of one another
shitting all over each other
and sit around a table
talking about, "friends, true friends, deep family ties.. blah blah blah"
mom throws evil glares at dad
dad doesn't acknowledge any kind of hate
and smiles deep down into his plate
good man.
nice man.
kind man.
with strong hands.
soon,
people will disguise their disguises with other disguises to celebrate halloween
dress up in an excuse to "go nuts"
"act Crazy"
"be wild"
"drink like a motherfucker"
and
now,
i know what the reader is thinking
i must be the most self hating human being
but i'm not
i enjoy this to the fullest
this life
is as bad as you make it
your sickness
is as bad as you believe it is
and your mind
and voices
talk as much as you let them
but somebody needs to say it
someone needs to tell you
enjoy the holidays, the family, the heart
but know,
just know,
that it was all built on bricks made of dust
and it's all fake
but enjoy it
find a balance in everything
or else you'll go nuts, and wear shoe boxes on your feet
dress in funny hats
in mismatched clothes
and be the town drunk
i hate to be mean
to sound hateful
to be pessimistic
but someone needs to say it
if not you?
than why not me?

Angeles Crest Harvest

they ran together, in the same vein, we had to read his story, you know the reason why. we were alone up there, high up in between those mountains that surround us, the biggest two, the closest possible gap, the riverbed had gone dry, but i insisted we stay. the blanket was down, small bits poking up threw it, gophers everywhere, watching us, eyeing us, devouring us. i read out-loud to her from the book, i read her of mice and men and she ate it all up. i had never read to anyone before, when i was done her eyes were closed, the sandman came for her. i watched as her chest rose, succulent breast waiting for me, her beautiful black hair sprawled out on the dark blanket, the colors ran together and disappeared into one another, her hair into the blanket, the blanket into her hair, they inhaled each other. i waited, and got drunk, small bits at a time. i pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. the brush burns easy up here at this time, i was careful to watch it.
i kept drinking, i drank mine, then i started in on her stash, she wouldn't mind, she didn't drink anyway, and those Ambien i slipped her would keep her down for a bit. i sat in that high backed camping chair and drank until i couldn't feel anymore. this was the decline of us. she knew it. i knew it. we loathed each other's presence, but alas, she didn't have it in her to be alone, and neither could i.
this was the infinite problem of man, at least any man with a thought, if you ever get to really know someone, and this takes years of time spent together, you learn them inside and out, they learn you inside and out, the peaks and valleys, the defiance and love, the true grittiness of ones soul, you eventually find disasters accumulating inside the heart...
and its not their fault, nor yours, we are simply human, and we catch those magic little butterflies that have huge fucking teeth and will rip out your inner membrane in our nets, and our nets happen to be our judgement of oneself, we become blind, but we never know it, because they're just so fucking "pretty" it is all just distractions and a person not staring long enough in the mirror. snow white knew she was faulty, thats why Rumpelstiltskin came for her.
i walked over and kneeled next to her, ran my hands through that mass wave of shiny black hair, slowly dipped into sleep, with my arms tight and my erection jabbing into her.
we awoke as the mist started hanging in the air, it was so clean to breath in up here, i coughed constantly and sucked on a cigarette relentlessly, hunting knife laced up to my belt. "i'm watching you fucking gophers, come near me, i dare you, i know all about your tunnel system.. Goddamn..."
i secretly had a small stash of coke in the trunk where i kept the road flares, and i'd occasionally walk over and take a bump when the booze was making me too slow. as i have my measuring spoon from culinary school grasped in my hand and shooting it up my nose, she yells out:
"i want to make the fire!"
i was okay with that.
snort, "um yeah," ... .shit... "i'll come help you with the wood"
i kept an eye out for the gophers and we walked around.
and
she struggled horribly, and like i guessed she would, she gave up, threw her hands in the air and complained about how windy and cold it was. she started busting my balls about how i wasn't aggressive enough, that i should of told her "no", and "I'm in charge of the fire."
"babe, i'm not a cave man, you want to start the fire, go for it, if you need help i'm happy to give you a hand."
in my mind i figured if she wanted to do the damn thing then do it! if you can't then move out of the way and i'll do it. but looking back on it now, we should of done it together, i should of made her believe that she did it all on her own (even though i did the whole thing) and we would of stood there, arms wrapped around each others back, her head snuggled against my chest, and me taking in the smell of her hair and firewood burning. she probably would of said something like, "wow, it's so hot, i've never started a fire by myself before, i did good huh?" and look to me for acknowledgement.
"yeah babe, you did great"
--
instead, i walked over to the car and opened the trunk, she eyed me the whole way, and i could feel her gaze burning holes in the back of my head. i stopped caring at this point. there was a bottle of Jameson where i kept the road flares, i took a nice hard slug and grabbed the gas can.
i got back and her eyes immediately lit up, before a word came out of her mouth i was pouring gasoline on the fire, in hopes that it would get started. no dice. i poured just a tad more, and then i noticed the flames running up and into the can, my first thought was: "oh shit! this gas can is going to explode in my fucking hands!" so i dropped the fucker on the floor and started kicking dirt at it, she started doing the same, but in doing so, she kicked the can and the gas flew out onto my leg and a part of the tent, so now my leg is on fire, and so is the tent, "fuck!" she was freaking out and dropped to the floor, throwing dirt at me, i grabbed the 5 gallon water jug and started pouring it on myself and the tent. the adrenaline was running through me and the Jameson was keeping my nerves in check. "what if the whole forest goes up? aww shit.. i'm going to be that guy.. i'm going to burn down a whole goddamn forrest because i let some girl get the best of me?"
finally the fire went out
i held her for a long time and we made love on the dark blanket that was sprawled on the floor. fire smoldering next to us, stars glinting above our heads, somehow, no matter what kind of shit we got into, we'd manage to push it back into the brain and let the vulnerability of ourselves take over true reasoning.
call it love if you want
whatever.
the next morning was a saturday and i woke up to some very loud Limp Bizkit playing. she rolled over and grabbed my crotch, as was our morning ritual, and i eyed her wearily.
"what the fuck?"
"i know."
i grabbed my watch, 11:45am. fuck it was getting hot in this goddamn tent. we sat around for awhile, she played with her compact mirror, doing her face or whatever it is girls do early in the morning while they're camping. i ventured off back and forth from the trunk with the precious road flares and our cooler. i made some grilled cheese for breakfast on the little gas stove and eggs. everything was beautiful
except for the jerk off douche bags setting up camp across from us. and somehow, every 15 minutes or so another lifted truck with obnoxiously huge tires would roll up and kick dust all over the goddamn place. it was very annoying for the both of us. i came here mostly to get away from people like these fucks, and also for a little drug usage, the girlfriend just packed her bags and came with. i always liked that about her. i never had to say, "do you want to go?" it was never a task to get her to come out to something. now it seems like everything is a task, like plans need to be made, files need to be filed, i need to put in a request to get a permit to get permission to find a place to take someone. what ever happened to spontaneous actions?
they died with chivalry
if she wanted to be there, i'd get in the car when i was leaving and she would usually be sitting next to me. i remember on our first date, i unlocked the door for her, she got in, and as i circled around to the driver side, she leaned over and unlocked the door for me, i loved that, proves if the girl is thoughtful or not. and i've been right about 99% of the time so far.
it's one of those things i look for.
if not, she'd walk over and kiss me through the window and say, "stay away from skanks!"
she was alright like that.
eventually we decided to pack up the car and head out.. she was pretty bothered about us having to leave a day early.
"you should say something." i said
"me?"
"yeah!"
she thought about it for a minute.. furrowed her brows a bit, and then balled up her fist and walked over like a good little soldier. i saw them talking back and forth, i had my hunting knife close just in case any of these fucks started to freak, but they stayed calm.
"well?"
"they want to use our campsite after we leave, they don't have a fire pit on their side.
"ok, lets go."
we got in the car and started driving down the hill. i didn't ask her what she said, i could tell when she didn't want to talk because she kept doing this thing where she'd grab her lips with her fingers and hold them tight.
finally she sighed and said, "i just wish we could of done something about those guys"
"i did"
"what?"
"i said,"i did"
"hm?"
"i took a shit in the fire pit"

and we'll paint the blue prague blank?

general sense of well being
disaster
everything falls through the cracks
battle ships collapse
and fall into sea
not charged at all, not full of efficiency
and it's all test,
to see how far beyond the drawn line in the sand
with the toe
how far beyond the rotation and everyday occurrence
we will not all go
click click dash
none of this will last
and the neurons flowing through our bodies
the white blood cells will collapse upon themselves
and die
eventually
in the mean time
we move like outer planets around our solar plexus
and i can feel through my finger tips
desire
love
laughter
hate
dislike
emotional collapse
this is just a way to tell ourselves that everything will be alright
a way to make everything
okay
a way to feel comfortable in our shells
when even our shells are horrible things in themselves
a way for me to be fine
a way for me not to destroy
everything
absolutely everything
and everyone
that i enjoy

You Know I Should Be Doing Coke Off the Ass of the Waitress

don't ever really get to know someone, you with either fall madly in love with them, appreciate them for their constant fight with humanity, and want to keep them a part of you....
or either be discouraged, in awe of their selfishness and loath their presence.

and as i pour this, and reach the bottom, all of the worlds problems will dissipate into the air, and gather around my halo when the haze wears off, and i know this, and i nuzzle up in it. and i follow my systems that have kept us sane for so long. someone? anyone? everyone...

and I Want to Lick Your Lower Back as I Fondle Your Breast

as the early sun comes in through the venetian blinds, i sit here in my shorts and writing sweater. yes. i have a writing sweater, it's comfortable, and i like it when the edge of the sleeves get sweaty; means its working. i can't afford a robe, and a robe is typical of the early morning drinking rambling writer, a sweater is a sweater, you do exactly as it's described, you sweat. and you know it's a funny thing about rum, mostly the white rum, reminds me of my first time drinking. i was 12, it was late, somebody left a bottle of Bacardi at our house after the carne asade was all done, i sneaked the bottle into my room, flicked on the television, and drank it. warm.

and now when the rum goes down my throat, my insides fight to spit it back out, the first one of the day is the toughest, the gag reflex, the stomach muscles tightening, it's beautiful to feel, and the Dr. Pepper makes it all better.

but its too early for the Dr., so we'll settle for some coffee.

i could feel the asphalt burning through my converse, yellowish sky haze, as if there were a fire going on somewhere near, burnt wood in the air, and inhaling ash at an alarming rate. truck pulled up fast, jumped the curb, and stopped a few inches from my crotch, fuzzy dice swaying back and forth in the rear view. i didn't flinch.
out climbs the sexiest woman i've ever seen, the girl of my dreams, black hair, green eyes, big eyes, wide eyes, eyes hungry for life, soft skin with a flowing body, not emaciated hipster skinny, but full figured, Faye Dunaway, Ingrid Bergman, Scarlett Johansson. tight shirt and a black skirt, heels, always sexy heels.
i wanted to take her there against the hood of the truck, pin her down and not hear a word except for her small frail whimpers as the hood burnt her soft naked flesh and i grasped the back of her neck with my hand, squeezing with every thrust.
and... i'm hard.

"get in the back"
"huh what eh?" - i was coming out of the fantasy, and did she just say, "do me in the back?"
"get in the back of the truck"
i craned my neck around and saw someone sitting in a chair at the back. i walked over and there were two black barber shop chairs with white trim bolted to the back of the truck facing the rear. in between them were golf clubs and two shotguns, the truck bed was littered with ammunition, and is that a bottle of Chivas and Wild Turkey i see rolling around back there? hot damn!
in this moment i looked at the man, he had on a cowboy hat and aviator sunglasses with reflective lens, cigarette holder clenched tight in his teeth. i started putting things together, aviators? Chivas? Shotguns? Golf Clubs? holy shit, it was Hunter S Thompson.
hot damn!
"climb in, we're going for a ride kiddo" (he mumbled a lot during our conversations)
he put out his hand and helped me pull my weight up into the truck, settling down into the chair, i noticed my hands weren't sweaty, and i wasn't jittery, for the first time in my life, i should be nervous, but wasn't. and i shouldn't
"where we going mister?"
"Mumble mumble.. damn.. mumble.. shit...Master of the Universe.. mumble.. USC..."
i didn't ask any more questions after that. we passed the bottle of Wild Turkey back and forth as the landscape passed us by. i felt at ease for once, like if the universe took a huge sigh and let out all of it's desperation on me, the sun was bearing down, my shirt was sticking to my back and i could catch the sweet smell of the princess driving us around on the wind. orchids. she smelled like orchids.

we arrived and as we were pulling up he handed me a golf club. i would of figured the shotgun would come in more handy, considering we were at USC, but i dig his unconventionalism.
"wait for my go, if it gets weird, swing like it's your last my boy"
"aye aye"

pulling the blue tarp aside, we walked into a dingy garage that smelled like rancid milk, i coughed, and Hunter turned back at me,

"shut the fuck up!"

we came upon a small frail man, with a long goatee and many wrinkles around his eyes. i looked behind him and there was a torso, no legs, no arms, no head, just a torso with all kinds of wires coming out of it, all leading into a mass wall of medical equipment, on the floor in front of the torso were a pair of eyeballs with no pupils, and there was a mouth painted in front of them. parted ever so slightly, with teeth missing. Hunter and the small man spoke very quickly, and i didn't catch any of it, apparently the small one was interpreting for the torso, which i came to figure was the Master of the Universe, all of lifes questions could be asked and answered in the next ten minutes, god i felt so lucky.
Suddenly Hunter seemed very angry, he was mumbling at an extreme rate and pointing his finger at the small man, the small one leaned over and put Hunters finger in his mouth. i laughed a little, i laughed mostly because of how awkward the situation was, and i thought it was funny, and ballsy for this small guy to make such a bold move.
Just then, Hunter looked over at me, and without hesitation, i swung the 9 iron straight for the small mans shin, he doubled over, and Hunter kicked him between the shoulder blades.
we ran out towards the truck, laughing all the way.
"mumble mumble.. drity.. mumble prick... lying.. mumble.. brick.. mumble truth..."
"yeah man, dishonest shysters like that make me want to blow my fucking brains out."
just then we paused for a beat, he looked over at me and cracked a smile, one of those sincere smiles that somebody gives you when they've felt you've learned a thing or two about a thing or two... and i realized that this was taking place after Hunters death.. and if you don't know.. Hunter blew his brains out.. I felt ashamed for a second, like if I pissed on the Popes grave, but his smile was reassuring, like he got it.. like he understood the respect I have for him, but could laugh at the situation.

when we got back to the truck, the sexy driver was gone, i guess she didn't want to stick around for any of the fun. i climbed in and put the truck in gear, Hunter started pushing and i could see in the rear view the small man coming after us, with 3 more small men, all with Tommy Guns.
"push!"
the truck stopped, and i figured maybe they plugged Hunter, but just then his head popped into the window and he shouted at me,
"hey.. don't get all fucking weird on me.. i need you now.. hold onto yourself and we'll be okay kid"
he pulled my hat down over my eyes and slapped my shoulder
we started moving again and i drove as Hunter unloaded the shotgun towards the small men....

before i woke up.. i looked up into the rear view mirror and saw in one hand the shotgun held high in the air.... the other hand was pointed straight up.. in the shape of a fist.. a fist.... a fist with two thumbs...

pure gonzo dream