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Not
Even by Yourself
Snake
Spit Pub 1996 or was it 1998?:
The
place was dim
What
you could see
You
could only see enough of
To
determine what you were seeing
Was.
A
cloud of smoke floated above our heads
Like
fog floats over top
Of
a pond in the early summer morning
Except
this wasn’t a fucking pond
Water
hole, maybe,
But
no pond in the summer time.
I
was sitting in the corner of the bar
Far
away from away as I could
Get
under the circumstances
From
the other anti-socials.
There
is a reason for this.
I
didn’t want to be fucking bothered.
I
wanted to drink my beer and my whisky
And
I wanted to listen to that shitty juke box
That
sat against the wall
Flashing
on and off
Like
a turn signal from an 80’s model car
Playing
shitty songs that I liked to hear
Only
when I was drinking.
That’s
all.
Never
works out that way.
A
person can’t go and enjoy himself
In
public
When
he just wants to be by himself
People
will not let that contradiction take place.
The
guy who worked the bar
He
had a nickname “Sumbitch”
Cause
he was the meanest sumbitch
To
step foot inside that four cornered
Asshole
infested
Hell
hole.
You
didn’t fuck with Sumbitch or he’d beat the holy
living hell out of you.
I
didn’t want any trouble
And
I sure didn’t want to piss off Sumbitch.
I
was sitting there drinking on a beer and a whisky
Listening
to the music coming from the juke
And
then I smelled rotten eggs
Or
like it smells when you cook eggs,
Mixed
with some kind of cleaning product
With
a hint of feces.
I
wiggled my nose, “Goddamn, what the… that smell.”
I
think to myself.
I
feel a hand grab my shoulder
Freaks
me the fuck out
I
jump like my Grandpa who fought
In
Vietnam jumps when you slam the door too hard.
My
anxiety doesn’t stop when I see this
Cross
breed of Ms. Piggy and the vomit spitting chick from the
Exorcist
Staring
me dead in the face.
My
heart jumps a couple of beats
And
not because of love at first sight neither
I
instantly want to leave, but I figure I’ll be
polite.
Goddamn
she was ugly.
“Buy
me a drink,” she said to me.
I
scoot a couple of feet over, “I’m married.”
Yeah,
good one, that’ll work,
I thought.
She
scans me over
Looking
at me like my neighbors Doberman when I walk to close to their
fence.
“Don’t
see a fucking ring on your finger.” She was pissed.
I
drink my whisky, I’m shaking like an alcoholic, wait a
minute… scratch that.
“I
lost it, I’m a mechanic.” I said.
“Fuck
you get your hands off me creep,” she smiles and gives me
the middle finger.
She
knew what she was doing
Smiling
like my sister did
When
we were kids
When
she lied on me
So
that Dad would beat my ass. Bitch.
Not
shocked but in shock
I
instinctively put my hands into the air like
The
bad guys do in the movies
When
the police have their guns drawn.
“Hey,”
I said. “I didn’t do a fuckin’ thing
lady.”
Sumbitch
was looking at me,
scaring
the shit out of me
knowing
he was going to beat me very badly.
He
walked over swaying left then right as if the floors where moving
up and down with his steps.
He
looked like some Barbarian
Like
he’d killed ten men and maybe even raped a few.
Like
he should have a ten foot steel sword strapped to his back,
One
to cut your fucking head off with. Goddamn.
He
was a scary sumbitch.
“Pearl,”
he said, after slamming his sledgehammer like hand into the bar.
“What the fuck?”
I
was as white as a corpse, and like one I was still and
calm.
“Leave
Popeye alone,” he said. “Jus’ leav’em
alone.”
That’s
what he called me, “Popeye” because of my lazy eye.
I
got up and left money on the table,
don’t
know how much,
but
I know it was enough.
“Ain’t
gotta leave,” Sumbitch said.
“Go
on you big pussy,” the very ugly woman said to me.
You’d
know all about “big pussy” I wanted to say in my
defense.
Cowardly,
I
kept my mouth shut.
I
walked towards the door focused
On
making my exit.
I
could hear Sumbitch
Cussing
the woman
For
running off customers
She
told him she wanted a beer.
“What’ll
you do for one?” he asked her.
“Fuck
you, Motherfucker” the lady said throwing Sumbitch the
finger. “I’d rather fuck a goat!”
She
sat down at the bar studying how much she wanted a beer
Like
the old people at the old folks home do
While
watching Jeopardy.
“I’ll
suck you off for one”.
Sumbitch
pours the old hag a beer.
Sumbitch,
Sumbitch ain’t a picky man, not picky all.
Goddamn.
I
went home afterwards
Felt
good to be there.
I
was safe, unharmed,
Felt
like celebrating.
Opened
my ice box
It
was full of beer
Hell,
Don’t
even know why I left
I
drunk every last one.
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Sinner’s
Don’t Scream in Hell, They Sing
Couldn’t
stop
My
guts didn’t want to stay put
Not
inside me anyways.
They
were escaping
No
longer kept captive
In
my jail cell of a stomach
They
fled.
It’s
my fault
I
put them through a lot
I
can’t say that I blame them.
There
was a smell
Smelled
liked steel after it gets rained on
After
it sits and rusts
I
wasn’t afraid
Didn’t
care enough to be afraid
Purple
meat kept spewing out of me
Like
a meat grinder
Spitting
out its mashed creations of compacted
parts
Dark,
thick, and like mucus, the purple blood
Clumped
out of me
Sticking
and stretching off of my lips
Like
it was tied to a bungee cord
Up
and down
Up
and down
Then
some relief…. Nope.
Heard
a man speaking on the TV
Said,
“Lay down your hands and wave your surrender flag.”
Was
a preacher man.
“Don’t
make your life so hard, let God take control.”
How
can you lay down your hands and wave a flag at the same
time?
Isn’t
that an obvious contradiction?
I
lay in my floor
It
was cold
Felt
good on my face…
I
stared at my TV in an immobile state.
I
couldn’t move myself
The
preacher kept going
There
were people who sang some songs
Dressed
like the old Star Trek villains
I
didn’t like to listen to them sing
Just
didn’t sound good to me
It
made elevator music sound good
“Do
people really like that music?” I wondered
I
don’t think they can.
I
mean this music made
Karen
and Richard Carpenter
Sound
like Alice Cooper (if you tell anybody I know the actual names of
the Carpenters, I’ll fucking kill you),
I
realized something
That’s
what hell will be like for me
The
sinner’s won’t scream
They’ll
sing
It
will sound just like that
They’ll
sing those songs
Over
and over again
I’m
going to start taking vitamins.
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The
King
Big
Wheels Diner, Early morning:
His
top lip curves up
Like
there is an invisible
Fish
hook in his mouth
And
he is being reeled in.
He
is an old man
With
gray curls of matted hair
Covering
his ears,
But
the top of his head
Is
as bald
As
the early morning
Waxed
floor of the Diner.
“Want
some coffee?” A waitress asks,
Big
red hair going everywhere
Teeth
stained from thousands of cups
Of
coffee,
And
smoked cigarettes.
“Yeah,”
the man says
With
a quiver in his voice
Thick,
in a deep south accent.
“Fill
me up mama.”
This
makes the waitress
Grin
and smile, she fills his cup up.
“You
crack me up,” she says.
He
just looks at her
Through
his big square
Lightly
tented glasses
Like
some Mafioso from the seventies.
Looks
at her like
“Don’t
laugh at “the King”, bitch.”
“The
usual?” the waitress shouts out from the cash register
As
a customer pays for their meal.
“Yeah,”
he says. “PB and Banana.”
He
looks up
From
staring at his coffee
Like
he forgot an important detail
As
if it was detrimental
To
the existence of the universe.
“Don’t
forget to toast the bread this time.”
“Don’t
Be Cruel” begins playing on the juke.
The
waitress played the song
You
can see her looking
At
the old man
Out
of the corner of her eye
Laughing,
waiting for a reaction.
The
old man rocks his head
Back
And
Forth
At
an easy pace.
He
lightly pats his thumb
On
the table
Missing
the beat of the song
But
doing so proudly.
He
looks around
The
Diner
Every
so often
While
the song plays
And
he is very proud of it
Like
it was his own.
The
waitress lays the PB and banana sandwich down in front of
him.
She
does so with anticipation
Like
she’s waiting for something
To
happen,
Like
a dog waiting for a treat
After
executing a trick they’ve learned.
“Thank
ya,” the old man says.
“Thank
ya very much.”
“No,”
the waitress smiles, “thank you.”
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Mofo
The
sky is specked in red
Like
a 15yr old kid’s boiled face
After
a day of mashing
Casting
a glow
Breaking
through the smog black
Clouds
Tenting
the city
And
its buildings
Like
bad lighting
On
a B-movie set
Loud
BOOMS
Come
from the woman
As
she walks
She
is very fat, she’s gigantic
She
has a smell
Like
sulfur
as
she plants herself
Into
the cement
Placing
herself outside
Her
doorway
Lined
with dead rodents
And
live insects
Feeding
on the decaying carcasses
She’s
not hesitant to join them.
Grabbing
the dead by the handful.
Sucking
the bones clean.
Her
teeth are stained and cracked
Like
busted rocks
With
gaps and breaks
Jagging
out in all directions
Food
and spit drip from her as she slurps
Her
bad teeth cause her pain
She
tenses her face as she chews up a half a foot long rat.
Beneath
her is an island of shit
Breaded
and dry around its outer crust
It
is her base
Like
a statue sits
On
its platform
She’s
wearing a what used to be white gown
Now
torn and ragged
Stained
With
yellow under her breast, under her belly crease,
Below
her waist
From
the sweat and urine that flow from her.
The
occasional deep purple blood spots are also visible caused by her
bleeding
And
the bleeding of her victims: her babies, the rats, the cats, the
dogs.
She’s
holding a small baby in her arms
It’s
the ugliest baby
Eyes
are big and bulging out of its head
So
that it can’t close its eyes
Lips
are twisted in the middle down the center
So
that they fold inside its mouth.
Hands
are dry and chapped
Nails
covered in fungus
So
that three of them have popped off its fingers
The
large woman belches
Then
she shits on herself
A
crowd of people gather around.
She
looks at them.
They
look at her.
“She’s
going to do it!” A man with red hair shaped like a
rectangle standing 4 feet high yells.
You
can hear his voice echo down the alley way.
The
fat woman tilts her head back
And
widens her mouth
You
can hear the bones in her jaws popping
Her
mouth extends so that it is as least 2 ft. in diameter.
She
holds the ugly baby up in the air
Dangling
it over her mouth
Swaying
it back and forth
Trying
to build the anticipation up.
THE
CROWD: HOORAY! EAT! EAT! EAT!
She
drops the baby in her mouth and chomps hard down its
center.
Blood
sprays like a rainbow covering
The
crowd and they cheer.
The
big lady starts clapping and laughing
Sounding
like a farm animal
With
every movement there is a snort,
And
a pop, as feces squirts out of her rectum.
She
then swallows the rest of the baby.
She
then screams out in pain
She
falls straight back
Shaking
the ground underneath her
then
holds her legs up in a v-shape
There’s
a squishy sound coming from her
Like
when you walk through thick mud
and
your shoes get stuck and unstuck:
“ploooop,
plooop, pooo.”
She
gives birth
to
a new baby.
A
brand new baby boy.
“Time
to draw straws”, the man with 4 ft. tall hair says.
A
group of ten men draw straws.
A
small man wearing wire framed glasses
And
an olive green three piece suit
picks
the shortest.
“I
got this, motherfuckers!” The little man jumps
Into
the air like a toad lunging
For
a long deserved meal
The
men are disappointed
That
they did not get the shorter straw.
The
crowd of people leave.
The
little man takes his pants off
And
places himself between the fat ladies legs.
The
woman is holding the new ugly baby.
She
places it on top of her head.
The
baby doesn’t move, doesn’t cry, just sits on top of
her head.
The
little man finds himself inside the large woman
She
holds folds and large packets of her flesh back with both hands
So
that he can enter.
The
hair on her area is eye level to him.
He
begins.
As
he ejaculates.
The
large woman extends her mouth again,
Bones
popping,
And
slowly seals
His
head inside her mouth
One
big chomp
His
head is gone.
Blood
spurts from the headless
Body
like a garden sprinkler
Squirt,
squirt, squirt.
The
little man’s body falls.
She
shoves him under her body.
He’s
hidden.
She
grabs the new ugly baby
Off
of her head and holds it
Rocking
it.
She
holds it close to her bosom.
She
lowers one strap of her gown
And
reveals her breast.
The
baby feeds.
She
sings to it.
Then
licks her lips
As
spit drips onto the babies
Coned
head
Like
it was being christened
To
be born again.
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