Skip to content

pissed like that

She was shaking all over like a wet dog in a wind. So fuckin pissed off Lois was listening to Ma raging in the kitchen. Slowly I started to let go and caught a glimpse of the eyes poppin out her head. Bulging so big the only thing keeping them in were the fat red veins around the edges. Reminded me of the time Scuffle jumped Goosie down the yard when he got brought by to visit. Nunu was pissed like that then, peepers ready to explode watchin one half-wit attacking another. Must have been some kinda animal jealousy that Goose was gonna take his place made Scuffle go ape-shit. Nu’s eyes busting, he reaches around for the closest object and heaved it. Piece of an ax handle it was, bounced off Scuffle’s back and head and sent the ragged bastard out the shed door howling. Poor Goosie had been flailing with his powerless little hands and Sam had been frozen from disbelief from last nights wine.

Fully Jacked

By the time I got there all three of them were dead. My baby, blue eyes gone grey, sittin upright on the ratty sofa, her cute skirt up, panties ripped off. Shreds of white silk wrapped and pulled tight around her left thigh, with a bruise there from the tugging. Bloody wet spot in her pussy and red trickling out of her arm where they forced in the OD fix. Her head back, squeeze marks on the pale pale throat lustrous jet black hair matted against her head, mouth open, couple teeth knocked out.

Al is laying across the window sash like one of those motherfuckers had tried to throw him out but missed. Both his arms and his head are out the window and holding him in place, his legs on the floor, feet, sole up and turned inward. Seepy red puddle starting to harden on the crappy carpet. Back of his head open like a melon, hollow inside. Arched like a capital J against the wall.

 Stewie is face down on the kitchen table and a mound of foam surrounds his cheeks. Rig still in his arm is fully jacked and my guess is he was forced into fittin up some rat poison shaken down in alcohol. There’s a puddle of shit festering in his chair musta popped out of him when the poison hit his heart. I feel bad, sick and fuckin’ pissed off like nobody’s business. I look back now and see this was the first time I ever got a broken heart.

Simple touch

The pallor had set in. The nutrients necessary for hair follicles to maintain health were no longer being delivered, and my head was covered by a thatch of dry, whitening straw. Having become subtly taut and powdery, my skin bore witness to the march of the disease, ever onward, conquering all of the body’s systems. Frequent unexplained weariness, and simple colds that just hung on became the norm. Mucus like day-glo snails and coughing fits, day after day.

 Simply waking up and getting moving took twice as long and four times the Coffee. Lots of sugar, thanks. A couple of errands and back to bed for a 3 hour nap. In the evening I took food out of habit. Nothing tasted good. Nothing tasted like anything. This was the bulk of what my life had become. 

There was an old insurance policy that I cashed out. After many years of contributions, it had grown fat and the children didn’t need it, or so I decided, and it provided a surfeit of funds for the trip my son and I had agreed to take. Enough to book you along on the same flights, into the same hotels. I had not wanted to meet you when I did, however, fate deigned it, and who was I to disagree?  It was not too late for me to have a happy life. The boy didn’t know of you. The secrecy was a relish, heavily laden on a late-arriving and deeply craved delicacy.

Istanbul was uplifting, and Sam, my boy, searching band-width, and obsessively trying to play an on-line video game, only payed attention to what he saw when it was forced upon him. He did enjoy all he saw and has since mentioned how he enjoyed Turkey, but one would never know it from the his attitude when we were there. He therefore took no notice when my afternoon walks took longer each day. 

 I had begun on the long and terminal trudge to the ending all things share. Many times I wished to die, but this was when I was strong and young and had the world by the ass. Now I was older and weaker and in a secret place I would not admit existed, there was a wish to live. I played off the doctors’ concerns and the sincerity of my few friends as if I was not worried and felt that everyone had to go sometime, so now it was my turn. I did feel this way, but knowing that death was ordained, I secretly wanted to live. Ain’t that the way? I would not live, of course, and this made your appearance particularly fortuitous.

 You had made this trudge before with another. Rather than being soured up and embittered, or selfish and self-protective, you behaved lovingly and understandingly to one just engaging in the downhill march. I mused wether you had a convoluted martyr complex, were inexplicably desperate for love to the point of taking another hostage, and had bloated the feminine nurture instinct into some benign monster. An ” I’ll love you to death” fetish. After going through all these mental gymnastics within the first few days of our meeting, I concluded that it did not matter. It was what it was, and that was it. I needed companionship and attention and needed also to give it, to prove that my dying would matter, that I could do something outside myself and get a fair payoff. Do something good after all the years of selfishness.

 Never having had children, your body had not been forced into the anthropological distortions so often required of the woman of our species. Skin smooth, hips narrow, breasts still flaccid, stomach bearing some belly, but not nearly approaching my own. We never asked each other our ages. Odd in America. I learned from you what I had been missing for all those years since divorcing. The simple touch of another person. Not the licking, thrusting, sweating, rubbing or deep kissing, though all those were certainly longed for. I was just the simple loving touch, the miracle of communication that comes from plain skin-on-skin.   

the tree applauds

I took Noreen down the scrapyard to meet NuNu just before she went. We walked into the shed and Nu ’bout busted. I could tell, but Noreen didn’t know him enough to pick up the tell. I had a bag of chicken cutlet sanwiches and beers.

” Gimme kiss paulie” sez he. Fuck sez I to myself, but I go over to his chair for the old wet an sloppy. After, as I’m walking away from him wiping, I catch Noreen and she looks like she is gonna cry like a little baby but she catches herself up when she notices me looking. I know. Nobody ever really loved her enough. I decide I’m just the guy to change that.

“This is Noreen, Nu.”

“You no haf to tell me, you talk about this girl I know this the girl. No woory pretty girl, I no ask you for kiss……..YET.” The three of us just laughed and laughed.

Can’t teach these old farts a thing, I’m thinkin’. I never said a word to him about Noreen or any other girl.

” You come itsie-bitsie Noreen. Paulie and we show you the tree applauds at the river. We planted the Cottawoot tree when Paulie was born, me and his Daddy and Momma.” NuNu is hauling his heft out of the chair as Scuffle comes in.

“Who this Nu who?”

“You know my grannababy Paulie, Scuffa, don be inyoranda you know since he’s a little baby.”

This not Paulie, Nu, I know Paulie this not Paulie!” All my life, Scuffle, poor dumb-ass scuffle he never remembers anyone but NuNu.  

 

wrench and a rock

There was still a lock on a lock on the chain on the gate. Stead of just the lock on the chain there was always the lock on a lock.  I put the Crown Vic in park and while going to the gate a hairy head with an eyeball in it peeked through the chain-hole. I shit a little. I unlocked the lock on the lock with some caution, let the mess clang down on the tin covered gate noisily and pushed. As the gate clanked and scraped inward across the cinders I saw what the hairy headed eyeball holder was attached to. Fucking horror-show thing all dirty and floppy scootched sideways but not completely away. “What you doin here why you here youre not coming in here why you here??” Standing and looking at me and shaking and holding a wrench and a rock he says this. I says ” NuNu know you’re here. He’s gonna be pissed off you here an he don’t know.” “He knows you little stroonz, he knows everthing. How you know Nu?” “Its my Grampa NuNu…how you know ‘im?” “I know him” says the bag of rags with the rock and the wrench,” I know him a long time and you ain’t Paulie.” The hairy eyeball is now telling me who I am.  

plate sides

 The bridge I had crossed on all my life was closed for repairs is what the sign said but it didn’t look like it needed repairs to me. Same arched steel beams with fat rivets and plate sides and grating to drive on. I could see it from the new-looking concrete thing I crossed on, over to the other side where NuNu’s yard sat all alone. The lots that had once held a rivers life were peppered with for sale signs and flimsy temporary fences. “NEW RIVERSIDE DEVELOPMENTS ON THE WAY” said one sign. I looked both directions and the road was empty. Not a fuckin thing coming that I could see. I was there right then, I was there and nothing coming but me and I was headed for NuNu’s. That old crushed-coke driveway had pot-holes to swallow a sedan, half full of nasty-ass water and the gate was made of old corrugated, eight foot high, and the fence around the front of the yard was the same, all rusty in spots, but standing tall like the walls of a scrapyard castle is how it was to me that day. Front of the gate was painted the old advert, ‘All types of metal bought and sold, ton weight and assorted. engine blocks, cars partial and whole accepted. Certified scale on premises’ . My gramps turned no one away. Come give NuNu a big kiss. 

the greasy river

Drivin over was weird. I had not been behind the wheel in a while and this boat of Pops’ plus the thruway and that it was 4 when I went ,none of it helped, but people in cars are just fuckin weird. They cry, they eat, they yell at shit I can’t see, and the kids lap dance in the drivers seat to music that is not hearable or decipherable which shows that all music is more alike then different . And they talk on a phone. Fuck me, the fuckin phone…….might as well be watchin TV these assholes some of em. I got over closer to the yard and there was nothing standing. All the old houses, the warehouses and storefronts and cafes had been scraped off, but I could see the yard all by itself, stickin out like the lone tooth in a meth heads mouth, hard against the greasy river. And the Cottonwood tree NuNu and I had put along the fence was still there and it had got pretty tall. Made me laugh already.