Saturday, October 1, 2011

Weed For Whiskey (Part One)

There they were wandering around in the ground fog; desperately searching for god only knew whom. The only thing that Maximillian Herzog would tell them was that he knew that he was here somewhere. He thought that he had seen him leaving the Binge hotel on Moniker Street. However, he never fully explained to his bewildered henchmen exactly who ‘HE’ was. They were just two and a half miles outside of Blackslide, the fog was thick and you could barely see twenty feet in front of you along the five-mile stretch of Bergs beach. When suddenly something reached out to the point man and he detected a faint sound coming from a tower standing in the middle of the sand. Mickey Bowels cocked his head to one side looking back at Jackson W. Booth.
“Didja hear that J.W?”
Booth crept up beside of him, scratching his thick black beard thoughtfully.
“What in the hell do you suppose that is?”
“I dunno Mick buts it’s coming from the old lifeguard’s tower.”

They slowly made their way to the bottom of the tower and listened carefully. They could distinctly hear soft panting noises; briefly interrupted by the sounds of bare flesh feverishly slapping up against bare flesh, and finally the moans of a young woman. Moans of passion. Jackson W. Booth could feel his face-turning beet red as he turned to face a hypnotized Mickey Bowels, whose tongue was sticking out the side of his lips as he stared off into space. Booth elbowed him in the ribs.
“Damnit Mick! Snap out of it, we’ve got work to do.”
They quietly made their way up the side of the tower up the stairs stopping just in front of the open window. They carefully lifted their heads to look. What they saw completely caught Mickey Bowels off guard. There, lying naked on the floor on a blanket; with her legs spread wide was the sexy daughter of Maximillian Herzog, and on top of her was a pale white; skinny bare assed kid getting the ride of his life. Fucking her for all he was worth.

“Ohhhhhh. Aghhhhhhhh. Fuck me Porty! fuuuuucckk meeee POOORRRTTTY!!”
“Didja hear that Jackie? What a dame!”
“You idiot that’s Max’s daughter Ethylene.”
“Yeah? Who’s the kid Jackie?”
“She called him Porty. Its gotta be Portnoy Rush from across the bay.”
“We gonna take him out now?”
“Naw. May as well let the kid get his nut, we’ll get him when he comes out.”
They waited patiently for Ethylene’s soft wails of pleasure to subside. Five minutes passed into ten, and then ten into twenty. Mickey Bowels was quickly finding himself becoming more and more aroused until J.W. Booth punched him.
“Damnit Mickey you pull that thing out up here and I’m gonna cut it off! I swear.”

Both men began to argue back and forth neither stopping to realize that Ethylene’s moaning had subsided and a now fully clothed Portnoy Rush was standing on the windowsill above them with his magic wand in full view. Mickey Bowels was first to feel the warm liquid raining down on him.
“Rush! You little prick!”
With one jump, he bound over them and was down the stairs before they got to their feet and began their hot pursuit.
“Damnit Jackie! He pissed on me!”
“Shut up and help me catch the little bastard. Get a move on Mick we’re gonna lose him in the fog.”
They ran down the beach until they heard the growling of a motor turning over in the distance.
“Damnit he’s got a water bike. He’s gonna make a break for it across Pelay, Lets get to the dock and get a boat. Josh and Beck are both working; they can help us catch him.”

When she first saw the smoke in the distance coming off Pelay Bay, Emma Frohm’s first thought was it was a small boat in distress. It wasn’t until she made out the figure of Portnoy Rush’s water bike spitting rooster tails some twenty feet up into the air behind him; that she realized they were chasing him. There were two speedboats trying to run him down but he was a clean fifty yards ahead of them. She bolted down the wooden stairs to the dock at water level before grabbing the pipe mic.
“Beasley! We have got incoming. Fifty yards off Port’s tail. Tell me you go some ammo left. It doesn’t look like he can shake them.”
A small wooden speaker box crackled to life.
“Just some smoker’s Emm, and I only have six of those, E.T is still making the explosive charges in the lab. And those boats are still a ways out, not sure if I can hit them from here, if the smokers hit the water they’ll fizzle out quick.”
“Do what you can B!”

He carefully pulled the hammer back along the length of the eight-inch pipe and locked it into place, before placing the smoke bomb fuse side up into the breech. He turned the crank to elevate the barrel until the first boat was in his gun sights. He lit the fuse of the first smoker and pulled back the breech cover. He jerked on and released the hammer sending the first smoke bomb high into the air out over the water. Emma Frohm watched as the first smoker bounced off of the top of the first boats windshield and landed on the deck, engulfing it in a cloud of thick black smoke. The panic-stricken driver turned away leaving only the other boat to run down Portnoy.
“One down Beasley! But Port still has one more on his ass, and its closing fast, reload!”
“Already did Emm, drawing a bead on them right now.”
The second smoker ended up hitting a crew member on the second boat right in the face, soon after there was just too much smoke for the driver to see what he was doing and so they relented

Emma Frohm stood angrily with both hands on her hips, staring down Portnoy Rush as he passed under the dock below her. She turned to the pipe mic.
“Nice shooting B.”
She went back inside and watched him tie off the water bike to the inside dock pillar. He pulled his goggles up over his eyes and looked up at her. Emma Frohm did not look amused. Her crystal blue eyes followed his every move with extreme prejudice. He raised both hands slowly as he stared back at her.
“Port? Really? What? This is the second time in two weeks that you’ve been caught sneaking around Shitsville, so what were you doing across the bay this time? Were you stealing from Herzog? Or were you sniffing around that Ethylene bitch again?”
His nose wrinkled in disapproval.

“You know Emm- first of all, that ain’t cool calling Ethyl a bitch, and second I was hunting for supplies for the squat. You know Herzog has resources. Lots of resources, shit that we are going to need to survive through this winter. I was merely doing a little independent investigating, you know? Scoping out the competition.”
“Competition? Port; listen to me for once in your pitiful excuse for a life; we’ve got ten warehouses along the docks here, and all of sixty people living in them. The rest of this burg of a town isn’t fit for a rat to nest in. we’ve got plenty of gas and food hidden here to get us by, but only if we don’t attract attention to ourselves. Herzog has a whole fucking town of over four thousand people over there at his disposal, if you bring him over here there’s no way we have enough people or resources to fight him off. Be smart Port, for once. That’s all I’m saying.”
He didn’t answer her, slowly stepping up onto the inside dock pulling the long black rubberized coat from his shoulders. He looked her up and down trying not to be obvious.

“By the way, I think I have a way for us to get some rounds for that rifle that you have sitting on your mantle, just in case you’re interested.”
She looked at him over the rim of her spectacles.
“Stay out of my room Port, there’s nothing up there that you need to concern yourself with. And who says I don’t have any rounds for my rifle?”
“Well I never saw you fire it, not even once.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t.”
She turned to walk away as Portnoy Rush’s big brown eyes carefully studied her firm round ass as it swayed slowly back and forth, as she climbed the stairs. He pulled a fresh nectarine from his pocket and sunk his teeth into its sweet juicy flesh.
“And quit staring at my ass Port.”

You could hear Elgin Trance’s shrill voice echoing from down the long hallway toward the back of warehouse number seven. Portnoy Rush walked up to the two large double wooden doors. Soft echoes of music seem to reverberate through the walls. He slowly pushed open one of the doors and peered inside. There hunched over a long steel workbench was the tall thin frame of 24-year-old Elgin Trance. Beside him stood tower keeper Beasley Supple, Elgin Trance turned to look at Portnoy through his thick coke bottle glasses.
“The conquering hero returns I see.” He said, returning his attention to his work.
“Nice to see you too El.” He walked over and sat down on a stool beside him.
Elgin Trance gave him a sideways look.
“So how was she?” He smiled.
Portnoy folded his arms in front of his chest indignantly.
“How was who El?”

Beasley Smirked but said nothing. He seemed to be hanging on Portnoy’s every word. Elgin Trance turned to face him removing the coke bottle glasses.
“Why- Ethylene of course. Didn’t you go across the bay to give ol Ethel a poke in the whiskers?”
Portnoy stared at him blankly.
He stuffed his hands in the pockets of the long black water coat and began to pull out various small objects. He lined them up along the edge of the workbench, for Elgin Trance’s inspection. He let out a deep sigh.
“I managed to snag a few trinkets on my way out of the Binge, here- take a look at these and see if you can use anything.”

Both Elgin and Beasley Supple studied the contents of Ports pockets.
“A flint lighter? Without juice, it’s useless. Three ball bearings? I have a thousand drawers stuffed full of ball bearings. A cracked magnifying glass? I may be able to fragment it and make a couple of small firing lenses out of that. So what else have you got?”
“I found some paper money.”
“Nope haven’t you heard Port? The governments collapsing, paper money isn’t worth shit anymore. Besides that, we’re a full nine hundred miles from the nearest police zone. In case you haven’t figured it out we’re on our own out here.”
“I saw a shit load of old car batteries on my way out of town, right at the edge of Blackslide-”
Beasley Supple rose to his feet.
“I really hate to interrupt this bartering session boys; but I am in serious need of ammo for the Pipe Zook. I had six smokers left but had to use two of those to cover Ports ass this morning, so what were you able to put together E.T?”

Elgin Trance nodded toward a rusty metal shopping cart. He looked back over his shoulder at Portnoy Rush.
“You can take whatever’s in the cart.”
Beasley Supple inspected the contents of the shopping cart.
“Ten more Smokers, twenty five exploding rounds and twelve stinkers? Yeah ok- that should do for now.”
Elgin Trance returned his attention to the workbench.
“Just go easy on the exploding rounds; I haven’t been able to get to the other end of the docks to get more powder yet. So until I do what you see is what you get.”
Beasley Supple agreed, pushed the cart and disappeared down the hallway. Elgin returned his attention to Portnoy Rush.
“So tell me about the car batteries. How many were there? And how risky are they to get to?”

Portnoy leaned back against the wall, his eyes began to roam the ceiling as he thought.
“There were about ten or so, they were sitting in the weeds at the corner of this strange looking glass house. They didn’t look like they’d been there all that long though. They’re probably a mile and a half or so outside of Blackslide.”
Elgin Trance began to run his fingers through his short black hair. Something that Portnoy had said struck a familiar chord with him.
“Wait- glass house? Tell me about this glass house Port.”
He began to sift through his recent memories.
“Well the glass was kinda dirty and there were weeds and bushes’ growing inside of it, so I’m guessing nobody lives in it.”
“Weeds and bushes? You sure they weren’t like vegetable plants or something like that growing inside of there? It sounds like they have a greenhouse. This means they would have to have some bags of fertilizer lying around too. Hmmmmm. This could be interesting indeed Port. I need to go talk to Emma.”

Portnoy’s face turned into a frown at the very mention of Emma Frohm’s name.
“Em’s not too happy with me right now E.T. you better leave my name out of this conversation.”
Elgin Trance’s face lit up into a broad smile, at the thought of Portnoy’s discomfort.
“No no no. we may have to take another trip across the bay, and you’re going to have to go with me, to show me where the greenhouse is. We need those batteries too. Only you’re going to have to keep you’re dick away from Ethylene Herzog this time.”
He disappeared down the dark hallway and set out to search warehouse seven for Emma Frohm.

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Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Uncle Twisty's Carnival Parts 1 & 2 (Unrevised)

There is a cold silence followed closely by an awkward feeling of emptiness. His eyes are closed tightly, as he takes another drink of whiskey, and slowly he feels himself falling off of the sofa, catching the bottle before it ever touch’s the floor. The cold icy voice returns, but he doesn’t open his eyes for fear of what he will see.
“Ohhhhh Jack?” the voice says mockingly.. “Jack Ryder… wake up, wake uuuup.”
He slowly opens his eyes to the same vision that he saw before.
“ It’s a fucking clown.” He thinks to himself “An evil looking clown at that.”
It face covered up with thick pancake makeup, made to look like a skeleton of sorts, and it wore a dark colored pen stripe suit, with a black derby perched on top of its head, and the fucker was taunting him.

“So.. Tell me Jack.. How did you arrive at this place?.. How in the hell did you get so fucked up aye?”
He slowly pulls himself up off of the floor momentarily leaving the bottle there, he straitens up and slowly his eyes begin to focus. The clown is staring strait through him.
“How did I arrive at what place?”
It slowly comes forward.. Towards him, its arms slowly opening up, its hands, its fingers slowly extending, making that strange little Ta Da gesture.
“Look around you Jack.. Does this look like home to you?.. You are definitely NOT in Kansas anymore Dorothy!”
He looks around and strange.. He don’t remember picking the bottle up, but there it is in his hands, and slowly it slips free from his grasp, he hears it hit the dirt, making a clinking glassy sound as it lands.. He looks at his surroundings. He is out of doors now standing in a clearing surrounded by a tent city of sorts, in a heavily wooded area, it is slightly past dusk. He looks at the clown and then at the giant tents that seem to stretch out for miles..
“What in the hell is this supposed to be?.”
“This is where you belong Jack.. Its going to be your new home soon.. And I’m going to give you the grand tour.”
It leads him to the very edge of the closest largest tent, he can vaguely detect the sounds of slightly offbeat carnival music playing in the distance.. He closes his eyes, and the smell of cheap whiskey, cigar smoke and the stench of human urine overload his senses, forcing him to open his eyes. The clown throws back the flap of the door of the first tent and the flood of smoke almost consumes him.
“Welcome Jack Ryder!! .. To Uncle Twisty’s carnival of lost souls!!”

For what Its Worth.

He strains his eyes to peer through the thick canopy of smoke, slowly moving, almost involuntarily forward. Dim lights slowly become brighter through the haze and when he steps into the clear he is standing in a barroom full of People, all drinking and smoking. He feels the clowns cold clammy fingers grasp his elbow, its icy cold breath whispering in his ear..
“Uncle Twisty’s children Jack. They’re home here too.”
He turns to face the voice.
“Your Uncle twisty?”
He smiles.. Slowly moving through the room, everything has stopped now, the people look real but are as still as mannequins. Time has stood still.
Jack Ryder looks at his surroundings and then at the clown that calls himself Uncle Twisty.
“Who are these people really?” he asks.
“Dregs of the earth Jack.. the lowest of the low.. The downtrodden.. The Morally bankrupt.. Hopeless, pitiful, street urchins.. Victims and predators.. All under the same roof, locked inside the same void, in a society that has long since abandoned them.. This is the shit Jack.. End of the line.. Bottom of the well.”
He walks by a young woman sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, his eyes slowly look her up and down and then return their attention to Jack
“Look at her Jack.. Her name is Elisabeth Johns, Young, beautiful, but sad to say, she’s already damaged goods.”
He smiles slyly at Jack Ryder.
Jack walks around her checking her out carefully.
“Damaged How Twisty?”
He pulls up a stool beside of the young woman.
“It’s the eyes Jack, it always starts in the eyes, the unmistakable vacancy.. The emptiness.. She’s only 22 and she’s already lost to the only world she has ever known. She was raped by her step father when she was twelve, and was continually molested on a daily basis until she ran away from home the first time at sixteen. Her mother was so fucked up drunk all of the time that she never saw it or didn’t care. So she did the obvious.”
Jack Ryder stares at the young woman.
“The Obvious?”
“Booze… Drugs.. Sex… Hell whatever it takes to numb the pain, pain that will never likely leave her until she dies. She won’t live to see 30. Most likely not even 28..”
He turns to face Jack Ryder.
“But you Jack.. You know all about that, don’t you? Numbing the pain.. How Many times a night do you see her face Jack.. Your wife wasn’t she? What was her name? Mab-” He stops.. “No… Madelyn, Madelyn Ryder.
A car accident wasn’t it Jack?.. So how did YOU numb your pain the first time?”
He Hangs his head slightly remembering his own pain. But he doesn’t
“You see Jack.. The thing is.. The longer you choose to stay in that bottle, you can only drink yourself in ONE direction, and once you reach the bottom, your done.”
He leans forward and whispers into Jack Ryder’s ear once again.
“Welcome home Jack.”

He fumbles in his pocket searching for the one thing that will calm his
frazzled nerves. He lights the cigarette and pulls the smoke into his lungs with a deep breath, all the while watching Uncle Twisty. The people that lined the length of the bar haven’t moved since they entered the room all save the pale white complexioned bar tender, with the deep dark eyes. Uncle Twisty leans towards Jack Ryder.
“Yeah Jack.. Even Eddie has issues.”
He lifts the cigarette to his lips and takes in a slow drag.
“Eddie?.. Do you mean him?” he jerks his thumb towards the bartender.
Twisty motions to the cigarette, and Jack obliges the whim. He gives him a light and watches curiously as the clown seems to savor the first drag with a child like enthusiasm. He exhales the smoke, and rolls his eyes towards Jack.
“Let me tell you about Eddie Jack.. Eddie has been fucked up since day one, childhood obesity, that’s what got him first. Then everybody and their brother has been kicking his ass since, abusive bullies in and out of his family circle. He became withdrawn and sullen, a brooding baby boy.. Fat. Lazy.. unwilling or unable to ever function with anyone in the outside world in any social capacity. One day his mother flipped out and took to beating him with a coat hanger, because he stole a candy bar from her bedroom vanity, he was only ten.”
He pauses to take a drag off the Marlboro. Jack studies Eddie but says nothing.
“He took his first drink ten days after that beating, and from there ventured into hard drugs.. Cocaine.. Heroin.. Crack.. You name it, he tried it.. Then it was petty crime, stealing to support his heroin habit. Pathetic, he went to juvenile hall and got the shit beat out of him every other day for a year. But here Jack.. Here.. Eddies home.”
He stiffens up and lets Twisty’s words roll around for a time, as if he were trying to taste them.
“You call this Home?.. I’d rather burn in hell.”
Twisty’s smile widens.
“Ahh Jack.. Poor, Poor Jack.. You still don’t get it do you? Eddie belongs here, with people like him, here the playing field is truly level. Here there is no rich.. no poor. There are only lost souls.. That end up here because this is what they have created for themselves as a result of the poor choices that they have made.”
“Oh really? Think about it Jack.. Did anyone force you to take that first drink? Or was it something that you did of your own Volition? Was it desperation that caused you to look for a way to take the pain away? Or was that just an excuse?” He chuckles coldly.
Jack Ryder lights another cigarette and stares at Twisty.
“You see Jack Its like this, every journey that you take in your life begins with just one step. And when it comes to the pain of battling ones personal demons, it simply boils down to making the right choice Jack.”
He lights himself another.
“You either take that first step towards the cure, or the disease.. But no one, and I do mean no one, can make that choice for you..”

Two for The Road

He closes his eyes, and in his mind Jack Ryder reflects on his life’s decisions, what could have been different? Could he have possibly spared her from the accident take took her life?. He hears a faint ringing sound at first it is distant, and slowly it draws closer.. Its. The telephone? He opens his eyes slowly and he finds himself standing in his own living room. He picks up the phone, lifting to his ear.
“Jack?.. Are you there?”
He recognizes the voice it is Madelyn’s best friend Annie Jackson, she is crying.
“Yes Annie I’m here.”
“Jack My God Its Maddy, she’s been in an accident, My god Jack.. She didn’t make it. She’s… dead.”
He feels his hands go numb, as the phone slips from his fingers.. The room has gone black and now all that he hears is thunder, he looks around and he is standing on the front lawn as the rain begins to fall, soaking his clothes.
He looks to the sky and wonders, why is he reliving the most horrible night of his life.
“Choice’s Jack.. Its all about the choices..”
His legs give out as he begins to sob, falling down on his knees.. The rain stops, and now the terrible cold settles in around him, and now he is lying on a cold marble floor a single light descends from the ceiling, ten feet from him he sees the bottle standing there alone.. Beside it on its side there is an empty glass.
“Do you remember how you numbed the pain the first time Jack?”
He slowly moves his body across the floor until his is sitting with the bottle out in front of him. He stares at it for a time.
“Choices Jack.. You either walk towards the disease or you walk towards the cure.”
He lifts the empty glass and stares into it, but finds no easy answers. He draws a deep breath and slowly turns the glass upside down and places it on the floor next to the bottle. He rises from the cold marble floor and turns to the door. He sees the face of Twisty smiling at him.
“Ahhh Jack… I see you’ve made yourself another choice..”
He turns to face Twisty.
“I don’t belong here.”
He steps through the smoke and he is back in the bar again, only this bar he knows.. He has spent many a night here trying to drown his demons.
Then he sees her sitting at the end by herself, so he asks to join her. They engage in small talk and Jack Ryder asks the beautiful young woman to join him for a cup of coffee at the diner down the street, and she reluctantly agrees. As they step outside into the cold night air a soft rain begins to fall.
“By the Way.” he tells her. “I’m Jack.. Jack Ryder.”
She smiles..
“Elisabeth.. Elisabeth Johns.”
The cab pulls up to the curb beside of them and the thin young man with the pale skin wearing the black derby smiles slyly, and asks them if they would like a ride.. They decide to walk.

Scratch.. A.B.T Copyright © 2007.