It
was a dry wind, hot...
...it
's a desert, get over it.
There
was blame enough to go around without doubt, no need to dredge up...
...more
wind?
What
do you want of me?
I
would settle for some relief from this heat.
A
bar?
If
you insist.
I
do.
Make
it a double..
You
just make that up?
Wha's
at?
A
double...like we're on a date.
Let's ramble over to the Dew Dodge Inn, mama.
Seriously?
Too
much? Which part?
Every
word was creepy.
Okay
then let's snap back to reality. We got a problem. So no more blaming.
We need to focus on getting out.
Which
way is out?
The
moon rises in the east and...
That's the sun.
Don't be fucking with me
Believe
what you will, but no way am I following you.
No,
you're right. I'm fucked up. Took me some time...
If
you're fucked up, then we're fucked up – in the morning we'll
know...
then we'll
bake like an "all-knowing jerky".
Yes
we'll know...bake and be baked at the same time.
As
we drifted in that sunken drunken state, sound fades and melds, as
abstract as the chandelier spinning wildly when it's only a ceiling
fan sounds drift in and pass through. It was in this in-and-out that
I heard some shouts - some music some car some anger some crying,
some screams and then I heard nothing as I raised rocky from my bed
and made my way to the window. Through the glass I saw only my
reflection, so I cranked the window open. It was a pleasant night. The
kind of night when people take to the streets. I assumed then it was
just part of the passing parade of fools like me even in a town this
size. Bars let out, drunks make their way home. Alcohol and
emotions...all kinds. Some amorous, some plain pitiful... Lust
prevails. Gunsmoke lingers. Sometimes anger boils out, and shit happens.
Most nights,
shit happens. Hardly a night when shit don't happen. But now that I
could see the street and hear more clear, there was nothing. The
night winds were kicking in. Nothing but off-duty bar crews on the
street and they went quick like roaches scattering. And then
Silence. Except for the screams echoing in my head. I had heard
something, foggy noggin and all, I did hear it.
In
my brain tumbleweeds were now rolling across a decaying road.
I shut the
window and made my way to the sofa for a nightcap to silence...while
the scream continued to resonate. I tapped the meager remainder the
bottle had to offer.
I
passed out as the table drifted away from my reach, and the floor
slammed into my face. Plastered. I don't know when she left. She took
advantage of the opportunity. Not a bad one-night stand. Not a bad
night's investment, meager as it was, she slipped out penniless. I
had nothing to steal, yet still wondered what she stole?
Two
twisted, thirsty, days later I was pretty low on dough. The Office
attendant, and off-duty janitor, was not in a mood to negotiate. I
insisted that I speak to the real Manager.
“No
you don't...” came his reply.
I
had to believe him, I could read his face and it's message. I blank stared out the
window, fucked on Lonely Street.
Had
to get out. The screams, I thought I'd leave behind but, my
mistake. I made a shady deal, that's all you need to know, but legit
enough to justify. I managed the cash to stay for a while, finally negotiating
successfully with the attendant, while I still dealt with the screams. I am
not obsessed by the screams, even though they haunt me, I can move
on. I am capable. I am just unable.
V
