LA FLEUR DU MAL CH 1 GREEN ROSE

[The Urbane Spaceman]

The most important thing to know about a True Biker is this one word: Loyalty.


This may occur in an individual when they become able to never again fear the TRVTH,


and…


…They welcome the fact that they will have to deal with all of the repercussions that such a concept entails.



*ahem*

Enough said.


Now is time to DRINK!


Here’s a tune while you participate.


We were at the lowest point of our lives, and this is not saying much. All of our shit was gone, baby gone.



Joey said, “Do you remember how she looks?

I considered this. I took a long haul off my beer can and then I burped long and slow. I said this in my burp, “Noooooooo.”


It tickled my nose. The word “No” is quite nasal, you know.



Joey chuckled. He said, “I don’t either. I just remember her titties.”

I said, “Sir, would you remember these titties in a line-up?”



Joey said, “Hell, I’d give it a try.”

I said, “All I can smell is her pussy.”



Joey said, “Hah? How do you know this?”

I said, “Here, come sniff my leather.”



I won, because I lost. My jacket smelled like death and explosions and fucking. Joey laughed and I decided to take my leather off at that moment.



Hey, always mind your leather. No one should ever step upon it. It must never hit the floor, unless you rest it there when you are done drinking. If you are still wearing it, that’s proper. If you remove it to enjoy a fine lady, then no harsh upon you.


Never drop it or let it fall. It should touch the ground, except when you are being covered in dirt.



Joey said, “I got me this strawberry shit that makes me feel musshh better.”

I nodded. I said, “That ZID was a blessing. Thank the cockroaches for hiding it form us.”


Joey nodded. He said, “What would a roach think if he was on this stuff?”


Huh.



I considered. I shrugged. I said, “He’d probably take over our lives. All hail the cockroaches!”


Well, that set Joey to laughing again, and that was how we were. We could laugh in the face of desolation, and drink. That was what we were doing at that moment.


You see, when you look into the chasm, and you laugh, then you own that dark depth. Of course, you will have shit to pay when you hit the bottom. That was where we laughed then and there, baby.




Joey chugged his Boone’s Farm and he said, “At least we can pay the Biker back. Waitaminnit. Hey, Urrrrrrbbbb!”

I laughed at his burp. I chugged and then I burped. I said, “Whaaaaaaat?”



Joey said, “let’s get him over here. Before we shhpend some of his money. We got to pay him baaaaaack.”

I chugged my beer and I said, “Fucking Prooooooper!”



We stopped burping and fucking around and got our shit together. “He said, “At least the Naked Chick didn’t steal the phone.”



I grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge and set them onto the table next to the ashtray. I lit up a cig and watched Joey dial the number on the phone.



It was back in the day, when only rich men had those sorts of things called “Cell Phones” which speaks of being held captive, in prison, in a cell. Perhaps this is why they named them such a thing. These days, you are beholden to your connectivity device, at the whim and mercy of those who want you to do things for them. You are the prisoner of FB, of InstaGrabme, of SnappyChap, of Twatting, of puzzles that want you to play more, and pay more, and \\


Ape-ologies. No harsh on you how you spend your time… If it’s DRINKING! while doing all of those things, then hells yes. Have fun!


Yup.



So,


Back then, no one would know anything about you from them landlines, unless you had a court order in hand. So, we were protected from safety. They didn’t even have records of everything you said in your conversation. Thank goodness we have security now. This whole tale, back at that time, would probably have cost me---


About twenty cents at a payphone outside of the candy store. Or, form my own personal land line. It was personal freedom back then. We weren’t fucked up like some folks are nowadays, coming form across the ocean to ruin our goodness. Nope.



Joey was Johnny On The Spot. He was right on target when he called his friend.


He said, “Hello? This is Mr. Lyon… Yes, Mr. Lyon… What did you say?... No, nothing like that… Nope… It’s all here for you. Yes, of course… Well, if you have time, why not come for a visit?... Yup… Yup… Yes indeed… OK, see you in a bit.”



He pressed the hang-up button and smiled at me. He said, “Dude was like, ‘Holy shit, no way.’ And I told him to come here. I should get out a bottle of rum.”

I stood up. I said, “What?! You been holding out on me again?!”



Joey said, “No. I been saving it for a special occasion!”

I said, “I’m gonna go check it out. I’m gonna go see what else you got in there!”



Joey chuckled. He said, “It’s the only thing left. But I won’t tell you where these bottles have been. Now sit your ass down.”


With that, he stood up and collected the ten-foot cord to the wall mount and he put the receiver back into its cradle. He burped while saying, “Hold Oooooon.”

I laughed at his burp and I replied. I said, “OKaaaaaaay.”



Now is time for another drink! before we go on. What do you have in your chalice? Hopefully it’s tasty. Let us imbibe together now, to the memories of things that we have lived through, and to the future memories of things we have survived. Looking at you, Savage.



*AHEM*



My apologies for taking so long. I stirred up a Martini in a lovely glass pitcher, full of ice, and strained it into this here legless Martini chalice, form a good friend. Less breaky, ya know. I’m now addicted to Boodles Gin and Noilly Pratt with, yes, bleu cheese stuffed olives, thanks to NYDingbat, aka, Cutie Pie. Thank you my fine Lady, you’ve succeeded in educating this Drunkard Injun in the finer points of life.





3…2…1…


DRINK!




NONLAFLEURDUMALAFLEURDUMALAFLEURDUMALAFLEURDUMALAFLEURDUMALAFLEURDUMALAFLEURDUMALAFLEURDUMALPAS



Here we go.


We sat there, Joey and I, looking across the full bottle of rum at each other. We smoked like demons, and we drank our cheap beer and bum wine like men standing on the edge of the gang plank. We had not bothered to fix up the place. We left the couch turned over, we left the comfy chair on its side, and we left the dirty dishes in the sink.


Or course, we never washed those all at once. Just when we needed one.



There was the familiar rumble in our tumble form a big, sweaty hog down the street. It made them dirty dishes in the sink clatter like the bells of angels. Or was it hell’s bells?


It got so quiet that you could hear the clatter of the cockroaches’ tiny feet, like on X-mas eve.

A single knock on the door announced his presence.

Joey burped out, “Cooooome in!”



The door opened, and then there was the sound of heavy boots walking down the front hallway, and we turned to see the familiar, ugly, beautiful face.


“Whoah. Helluva a party here last night, huh?”


Joey nodded at the place for him to sit. He looked around a bit, checking the rooms and such. He had his hand on his hip, you know. He said, “Where is everyone?”


Joey said, “This was how we found it when we got home.”


Well, I tell you mister man, that set off a new line of behavior form this big man.
He set his briefcase down on the floor and pulled out his Browning, which is not a term for a penis. He checked each room and came back to us.


He put it away in its holster and sat down at the chair we left for him, at the head of the table. He had the throne. He could see the sliding glass door, the hallway, and the kitchen. His back was to the rooms he had just scoured, visually.



He nodded at the bottle of rum.

Then he nodded at us two young bastards.

He said, “Talk to me.”




This calls for another sip of my Martini. Join me now. I need to steady the shakes.
3…2…1…

Yup.


*ahem*



He finished hearing about our evening and he just kept shaking his head. He reached for the rum.

Joey said, “No. Not yet.”



That took some gonads, I tell you.



The Biker said, “It’s unbelievable. Sounds like an excuse, this long tale. Next thing you know, you’ll be apologizing for not having the money, and you need more product to pay off the first batch. I hear this all the time. I did not think that you would do this to me Joseph. I had high hopes for you. But it now appears that you are just like everyone else.”



He reached for the bottle again. He thought that he had some ugly work ahead. It would be ugly for us.


Joey said, “Nope.”



The Biker set his bottle hand back down, and I saw him keep his gun hand free, near his side, below the table. I was sitting on his gun side. What was Joey doing?



Joey said, “Me and Urb here don’t work that way. This is all true.”


Joey whipped out the wad of cash and the biker whipped out his gun at the same moment.



Joey tossed the chunk of cash money on the table and the Biker rose his gun up at Joey’s face.


Biker said, “Do you know how close I came to your death? What the fuck are you doing?!”


Joey was not even trembling. He said, “Do you know that you didn’t trust me right here and now?!”


The Biker nodded. He said, “I did not. I mean, look at this place. How was I to know that this story was true? I thought that you were---“



Then he stopped. You see, he was making excuses. That is weak.


He nodded at the bottle of run and Joey nodded back at him.


We were all good again.




*ahem*



The biker did not even count the money in our presence. He just stuffed it into his leather and then grabbed the bottle of rum and kracked it open. He guzzled long and hard, and then he took another shot form it as a chaser.


He burped.



That set us to laughing, me and Joey. What a little badass, that Joey. He stood up to Goliath, to a Leviathan, and he set him in his place.


We all took long hauls form that rum, and then the biker looked calm.


Joey said, “We got to get our shit back.”



The Biker nodded. He said, “That’ll cost you extra.”

Joey said, “What do we have available?”



The Biker said, “You will need to talk to the boss lady.”


I said, “Huh? Wait, what?”


The Biker looked at Joey and said, ‘What’s up with this dude?” He thumbed at me.


Joey said, “Urb means that it’s about friggin time.”



The Biker nodded. He said, “You two are something else. Nobody has ever moved that much product in one night and gotten away with it. Did you piss anyone off?”


---Oh…


…About that…


That was why Joey never stood up. His leather was all ripped in the back. We had made enemies.




.

[oettinger]

Great story telling again, curious how this goes on: Biker on Biker wars maybe? But who`s the mysterious boss lady?

Also: I once woke up at the main bus station midnight, with gum glued to my leather, I didn`t drop it. Apparently I dropped both of us that night

Could you smell out the pussy from a dozen holding your leather as an example also?

Back in the day they didn`t listen, but they opened your letters

Paper dishes rule. When you binge drink at your place they will save you some headaches later on.
I always imagined becoming rich one day, who doesn`t, and instead of cleaning I`ll become decadent and throw only once used pans and pots in the trasher