DESERT SNOW CH 1

[The Urbane Spaceman]

In the final hours of our destiny, we may find that there is no hope for us at all.


However, it is our human propensity to continue to hope that makes us who we are as a species.


Why else would we construct things of marvel that withstand the test of time?


Yet, there are those who wish to destroy these magnificent contributions to humanity for their own ugly, desperate, personal enjoyment. What is the purpose of destruction, of desiccation in the desert?


It must be that they are hollow. They have no true understanding of what it means to be alive, here on this tiny blue marble, lost in the eternity of space.


We have 80 good years here, if we are lucky. Why not taste each dish in the buffet?


snowinthedesertitsnowsinthedesertsometimessnowfallsonlywhenitistheendtimesinthedesertwhydestroythedesertwhydowedestroyourselvesitsnowedinthedesertandthatiswhyfolkswillalwaysdiesnowinthedesertsnowinthedesertsnowinthedesert


Of course, we were unruly punks who tried to make our own way, lost in the high desert of Fuckno.


D’brouiage, or, faire votre propre chemin: these are terms for “Hey, get the fuck out of the way.”


*Ahem*


I lied back down in the rear of the hearse like a dead man. The naked chick snuggled up on me as we listened to the chorus of shrieks of pain and shouting of panic in the far-off distance.


Her soft beasts pushed up against my hard leather jacket, and I smelled the scent of Fat jerry’s man-smell on her body. I resisted the sudden urge to shove her away because of that.


Hey, even skanks need comforting now and then. But there was no interest in having seconds from her after that damned punk.


Monica cried with loud sobs as the crash of cars up on the road grew louder and louder, and more of the fiery structure continued to rain down, like missiles of love from an angry Eros. Bad baby.


Joey said, “Anyone got something to drink? I’m kind of thirsty here.”


Sean said, “Bastard. You want me to make some popcorn? You like this movie?”


Fat Jerry looked back at me, all wrapped with his sweaty new girlfiend, and he said, “Hey there Urb. When you get done copping a feel on my bitch, open up the panel by your leg and pull out that bottle, for crissakes.”



Huh.


Hey, I told you that his ride held many secrets.


I reached around and did not have a clue. Jerry said, “Jeebus Cristos, do I have to climb back there and show you how to finger a hole?!”


I used my fingers and found the hole. I tugged, and a side panel came away quite easily. Instead of a spare tire and car jack and that sort of shit, I found bottles wrapped in bubble wrap. I pulled one away and unwrapped it.


In the glow from the massive fire of house and fig trees, I read the label: it was a bottle of Finlandia vodka. I said, “Have you been saving this for a special occasion?”


Jerry said, “This is a very special occasion.”


I had no idea what he meant by that, but I proceeded to open it up and take a long haul. It went down smooth.


The naked chick reached for it, but I brushed her arm away and handed it over the seat. Only me and my boys would be enjoying this taste, not some damned dirty free-loaders. Well, ya know, even the ones who only have pussy for pay.


When the bottle was have gone and the wood chunks stopped pelting the roof with their anger, Jerry said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”


He climbed back out and went to look at the dented fender.


I pulled the rear hatch and clambered out form the casket hole. I stood on wobbly knees form the adrenaline, and the Finlandia, and stumbled over glowing embers of Tellesco’s house.


The low sky above continued to reflect a nice warm glow from the burning house and bodies back at the ranch. Jerry knelt and felt about the tire inside of the huge dent from the fig tree.


He said, “The tire is good. But we won’t get far if the fender is dented in like this. We need to bend it back out. Urb, go find something hard and long to help.”


Joey started to laugh. I did too. Sean only said, “You bastards, I’ll use my bare hands.”


Hell, that only made me and Joey laugh harder. Sean slowly shook his head as he came around the rear of the vehicle, but he was snickering under his breath.



Well, I went to look for a lever-stick, but only burning shards of Tellesco’s home greeted me.



(You know, “Burning Shards of Home” would make for a badass punk tune.)


Sean reached his upturned hands beneath the fender to pull it back out, but the vehicle was not built like they are today. There was no plastic, no aluminum foil, nothing like that. The beast was built like a cast iron farm house stove. Probably it was the reason we were protected, as well as the wheel.


Jerry muttered something under his breath, then he said aloud, “We need to smash the fender off. Fuck it. Maybe I can find another one sometime. But we need to get the hell out of here.”


I said, “How we gonna do that?”


Jerry said, “Only one way to do it. We have to use rocks and break it.”




You know, it made sense at that moment, but he was completely wrong about that.




.

[mistah willies]

Please Spacefuck, do a quick recap for those not into these. Also I can`t quite get them together, house exploded, hit the escape car, trees and then what?

Space Assman, you didn't do that.

Shame on you. no one understands, and so they won't read this shit.

Here is how to get a clue, for others;

If I count correctly this filthy alcoholic ziddo story is covering just a night and the day following into next night? Right?

I know, right?!


WTF


Let's see.

Day 1: Night. They were wasted from playing chess with gin shots, got picked up by ladies and then dropped off soon after.

Day 2: Morning. They woke up with the door still open with the key still in the lock, then they vomited, slept, then got a visit from a biker with that ZID thing later in that day.

Day 2: Afternoon into night. They took this ZID and they formulated a plan, a map.

Day 2: Night. They went on a walk for cigarettes. They broke the wrong door. One ended up in a pool, washing off his cock roaches.

Then they met Sean.

OK. I lost count.


I think it's taken a half year to write about three days?\\


I'm fcking drink

You're welcome, Space Asshat. Jeez


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