Hookers or Cake

I looked in the pie case and heard a rockets roar mingle with the cricket whispering

somewhere a bird sang

Even the minister gave pause to listen while eating a midnight breakfast in this 24 hour cafe

His forkfull of Denver omelet hung in midair

Mario the dishwasher was late for his shift

And Lucy sat by herself deciding whether to order the cheesy hashbrowns or a giant fucking cinnamon roll. She’d had a long day. She dreamed about the wolf again last night and spent the whole day marking her territory. 23 cups of coffee later her work was done and she was hungry.

Last Autumn I went down to that new church by the river. Everyone just looked at their I-phones while the minister gulped hot coffee and screamed at gods crotch. I was still heartbroken over losing Tammy but I’d found peace.

I decided to go to the old steakhouse after church, to have myself a nice steak dinner and a few highballs, then I’d blow my brains out while I rode the mechanical bull. But once I got a bellyfull of meat and whiskey and drew my revolver, riding that bull …ohh the screams! I still get hard when I think about it.

I have a quick idea for a great murder mystery dinner theater. You stage the classic Murder on the Orient Express in an old time theater with tables and chairs. You feed everyone an elaborate seven course meal with champagne and drinks. After everyone has finished their sorbet and is enjoying a cognac, the mustachioed detective starts his big speech in the end where he reveals what has truly happened all along, then you just blow up the entire planet - mystery solved.

In the beginning there was only a robot that liked to tell dirty jokes. The problem was that it would laugh so hard at it own jokes it would jangle and jingle until it was nothing but a pile of black iron scrap surrounding a blood red heart. As the pieces and parts seemed to twitter and sing and tear and feed upon the heart they became like a flock of little birds that flew in a million directions away.
The scientists call this the big bang gang bang.
Of course the birds were in turn devoured by this wild crazy infinite bitch that is reality its very self and what grew out of this communion was humanity, the tree of life. The scientists go on to say that this magnificent tree grows and flows all about, bearing much fruit. Fruit for dirty jokes telling robots, no doubt.

I was 5 years old when Elvis died. I didn’t know who he was. They called him THE KING! He looked like some exotic fat sweating Hindu love God to me. Today is the 35th anniversary of his death. May his soul sing for all eternity baby!

Last night I was visited by 3 Elvis’s

The young, crazy vibrant Elvis

The fat, drugged old Elvis

and the massive dead Elvis

They told me to change my ways baby

that I was losing hydrogen and helium at my core

while expanding in mass.

Then they asked if I was going to eat that. They were pointing at my kitchen wall. I said no and stepped aside.

With a high leg kick and pelvic thrust young Elvis tore the wall from its studs, his manhood making love to it in several different ways and yet somehow all at once.

Fat Elvis snorted up the dust and sang a jaunty ramblin’ tune all while cooking the larger remnants of the wall into a red hot cosmic frittata.

Dead Elvis held the entire scene in his infinite mouth. His massive mutton chops closing in upon it from time to time, obliterating all light and sound. Then the giant Tibetan horns sounded and the mutton chops lifted and the whole cycle began again.  This repeated itself throughout the commercial break during the age of Kali Yuga and then we went for for some ice cream.

This story and drawing are from the book only $8.95 on Amazon, baby!

(Source: hookersorcake)

I was nine years old when I won my first wrestling meet and they gave me a great big trophy. I stood on a platform and was applauded by our coach and bunch of strangers. Afterwards, I felt kinda like being alone so I walked back to the group home on the other side of town by myself. A little more than half way and I realized I had to pee so bad I was about to piss my pants, but being on main street I couldn’t just go in the street so I tried to sneak into Tom’s Cafe. The old lady at the front caught me and asked if I was looking for someone and I told her I had to pee. She said if I was meeting someone I could use the restroom. I lied and told her I was meeting my dad. When I came back out of the bathroom the old woman was waiting for me. “Why don’t you sit right here at the counter,” she said, “and wait.” She was on to me. I obeyed and sat there with my trophy trying to figure out my next move.

“Hey Kid, did ya win?” said the old man in the kitchen window. “Yes, sir,” I said. “Well thats great. Hey you want an icecream?” “He’s meeting his father here,” interupted the old lady. “Oh Yeah?” said the old man “Well I’m sure your Pops won’t mind if you have a milk shake. Fix the kid a shake, Fran. You like chocolate?” I nodded. Forty minutes later and the milk shake long gone, I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was one of the waitresses, “You hungry sweetheart?” she said. “Sure,” I nodded. Certain that I was still going to be in big trouble. “You like hamburgers and french fries,” she smiled. “Yeah,” I said looking down at my trophy. And just like that ten minutes later I was eating a big hamburger and french fries. I realized later they were all impressed because I was such a great wrestler that they gave me food. Because I was a champion, a champion wrestler!

Later that same week I was getting a ride to practice from our coach with a couple other kids from the group home. Coach stopped at a Sports Store and came out with a whole box of trophies and medals for an upcoming meet we were hosting. In the box was a magazine with pictures and prices for all of the trophies. I found the one I’d won and saw that it was worth a whole $5.75 Counting the milkshake and hamburger it had probably earned me more than that already. I took my trophy to every restaurant in town and I gave em all the same story. I got two free hamburgers with fries, a cheeseburger, fried chicken, a slice of chocolate pie, and even a banana split.  I had five free meals and three desserts. More than thirty dollars by my count and all with one five dollar trophy. Even if I never won another wrestling meet I could just buy a trophy and tell everyone I was the champion and turn it into free food and desserts.

It was a fool proof plan, but lately things haven’t been going so well, even though I continue to buy more and more elaborate trophies, I haven’t even been offered so much as a root beer float in almost thirty years.

:

Billy Joel.

Ink, paper.  Grit.  2012.

Fuck Yeah, my pal Mr. King is drawing again. I remember when he sold his first painting, It was of Beck and he’d painted it on a piazza box. He blew all the money on goofballs and French lessons.

(Source: herooflove)

  Part 4 of 4 - Start at the beginning here

“I heard you killed the monster,” says a voice behind me. I turn and before me is a beautiful dark haired woman. She looks familiar but its like I can’t remember her name. “It was just a rabid wolf,” I say. “Oh? I heard you went to the house on the other side of the lake,” she said. “I did,” I reply. “Will you take me there,” she says, “I want to see it.”  “What, the wolf?” I say. “No,” she smiles, “the house.” 

She has small features and large eyes. She looks like she is about 30 but she could be older or younger. Its hard to tell, every time I look at her she seems different. We drive in silence as she smokes her cigarette. When I pull out onto the highway she rolls down the window and slides herself up onto the doors edge and hangs out the window into the wind. She yells and and howls and screams and laughs. I look over at her bare legs and black skirt. She catches me and I feel an almost overwhelming rush of adrenaline, almost like a kind of panic. I calmly try to catch my breathe as she leans into the wind.

When we park at the end of the road and its still daylight but once again, inside the woods it feels like twilight. She is ahead me laughing and dancing around the trees singing a song about death and the sea. My hair is standing on end. I know she isn’t human. But I can’t stop myself. Inside my head I’m screaming ‘Run! Run for the truck get in and drive as fast as you can!’ But deeper in the woods we go. I feel like a hypnotized animal being led to slaughter.

In the clearing the house appears. “Show me.” she whispers. And I walk up the porch steps as the house silently roars through me. “Gimme your machete,” she says, gesturing me towards the door. I hand her the giant knife like a robot. It feels like I’m falling backwards inside of myself as I turn the door knob. Inside the house I am presented with a long hallway, a single door at the other end. I walk cautiously inside and open the door and there is another long hallway and another door. Once again past that door another hallway and another door. It takes me a few more hallways and doors to realize that each hallway is the reverse of the one before. I hear my new friend snicker. She does this sometimes, she likes to make fun of me and have a good laugh trying to trick me, my instincts open like a switch. Sometimes she hits me and tells me to stop, but she doesn’t fool me, fighting or writhing in my hands. I know she will kill me if I don’t strike quickly. Such tiny delicate bones. I feel her teeth at my neck as she claws desperately for my blood. My anger twitches and her neck is always so surprisingly small, so easily broken. Its then my love plays her cruelest trick on me. She tells me she was just some innocent girl and I’m a mad monster. That I’m delusional. I always believe it and I always weep. Her face always looks so soft and innocent. Its really tears me apart inside. It always seems so real. I would have liked to have had a little more time with her. I wish she’d stop making me kill her, my little devil rag doll. I take her down into heart of herself. Into the basement to the black gaping maw that reflects the nighttime sky. It’s always nighttime.

I once was lost and now I’m found

cries the endless yawning black hole in the ground.

I give her female form a little kiss on the cheek and forehead as I gently let her slip into the void. She’ll be back. She always comes back, she loves me.

Part 2 continued… read part 1 here

Though it was almost full daylight it was still quite dark in the forest. The whiskey strummed me up a bit but it was still too damn quiet. All I could hear was the crunching of my own footsteps, dead leaves, twigs, and pine needles. I kept stopping and listening because it felt like the footsteps were following me. I would walk in perfect rhythm and then stop, but there was nothing, only total silence. It must’ve been some kind of echo or my mind playing tricks on me. Another tug of whiskey and I trudged on. I’d probably only walked about a mile when a crow screamed from the tree. I nearly pissed myself. I took a deep breathe and heard another crow a ways down answer. A hundred yards further there was a clearing and then I saw it, it was the house. I couldn’t breathe. It looked exactly like our old house before it burned down. All the windows where missing and the paint was faded down to the bare wood, but it was almost identical. Probably built by the same company. Lots of houses around the lake had a similar layout, but only ours and this one had the large porch and bay windows that looked out at you with giant black empty eyes.

It had been more than ten years since the fire. I don’t remember much about it. I was only a kid. All I remember is being in the hospital, eating ice cream, and a lady telling me that the smoke had put Mom, Dad, and Travis to sleep and they didn’t wake up.

Back in the woods I heard a loud crack and saw a flashing grey black bolt round the corner of the house and come straight for me. I froze. I felt myself tilting sideways and tumbling out of my head. I saw myself raise the shotgun and blast as the dark grey lunged for me. I don’t know if the thing knocked me over or what but it felt like it ran right through me. Suddenly I was fully back in my body. I’d dropped the shotgun and quickly drew the .357, scrambling to my feet. There laying next to my head was a massive pile of grey fur. It was a wolf, and it was huge. I watched closely, to see if it was still breathing, but it lay as still as a stone. I couldn’t see were I’d hit it. I didn’t see any blood. I wasn’t about turn it over, so I found the shotgun and blasted it again. Once I was certain it was dead I dug out the machete. I wasn’t going to be able to drag it back but I could cut off its head and bring it into town. I’d never heard of a wolf attacking a human, but this one had attacked me. So it was probably rabid and the same one that mauled Renee at the store which was only a couple of miles from here.

Once I had the head wrapped in my pack I slowly backed away from the house and once I turned around I ran as fast as I could straight back to the truck. It felt like the devil and god knows what else was chasing me. I probably would’ve set some cross country record that day and I was never more relieved in my whole life to start that truck and get the hell out of there. Little did I know that I’d be back several hours later in the middle of the night.

(to be continued part 2 of 4)