TERMINUS CH 1

[The Urbane Spaceman]

In this true story of my sordid past, it became clear that the far west of here is still wild.


This final part of all these Injun Modern Drunkard true tales/written oral tradition occurred in them 1980’s, but it must be that we ‘Murricans are all still wild over here.


Bacchus help us all.



We began in this new evil art.


Joey and I worked together, although I continued to hold anger against him. How dare he have fun while we punkardistos fought his fights for him when he disappeared, and cleaned up his mess before he returned? Joey has always been the Instigator, to this day. He enjoyed stirring up the mud so that he could see what laid beneath. He liked to see the mud creatures fight.

Yet, he came to be laid beneath her. He became the bitch for La Fleur Du Mal, a very pretty Armenian lady of Fuckno, and I became their monkey.


Some of us never recovered, you know. Some succumbed to lead poisoning, others to the various viruses of their own sexual encounters, and one: behind them steel bars to this day.


Some of the threads of this years-long telling have never be continued, unless I somehow outlive them all. I have triangulated my truth in these true tales, and in doing so, I’ve endangered their own culpability in these things. I have been writing in the dark in order to protect them others. The one who is still in prison can’t respond, some are dead, and others are (hopefully) on an island in Maldives, happy and secure.


There is Perdition, and there is Redemption.


Either of these awaits us all.


Time to DRINK against the DRYing and to the death of things we harbor against ourselves while we lie awake, until them birds start chirping and them dogs start barking.


Fuck tomorrow. It never comes.


It has always been there, lurking in the shadows.




*AHEM*



I walked into that convenience store down the canal and across the street there. The franchise owner recognized me, of course.


“You back again? I call the police for you now!”

“Hey there Captain Ahab, sorry about my friend pissing all over this floor here.”





“Get out! You made mess of my place! Many candies lost that day!”

“HEY, I TIPPED YOU GOOD ENOUGH!” Man, I was screaming at the old dude. His anger pissed me off. He stood back, and then he went for the phone.




Huh. OK, it appeared that I would not be able to visit that convenience store ever again. Dude didn’t even allow me to buy the collection of porno magazines I held in my hand. This stack of porn magazines held the signature of me and Joey. Open up an envelope of snow, and go skiing down the slopes of a lovely view. All I needed was the images of the almighty vagina in them. So I took them with me.




I said, “All right, all right. Jeez. Sorry again. I’ll put them back and then I’ll get the heck out of here. No need to call the cops.”


I put them magazines back to the rack where they belonged, but without the juicy parts.
I coughed very loudly as I ripped out the pages that I wanted form each of them.


Frig him.


He said, “OK, you get out now. You have a virus. Go die somewhere else my friend!”

I said, “Thank you my friend. I have all I need.”


I understood that he did not want to call the police on me. My friends would retaliate against him. I thought this fact would make me smile, but it felt like a bad egg in my stomach for some reason.


I walked along the cement river canal to the ugly apartment with my pocket full of vaginas. The black canal water sparkled from the city lights so I stopped to check it out. I looked up over the city, and through the smog I could see the faint outline of the mountains to the east in the darkening sky.



When I turned back around, I saw the apartment on the second floor that faced this canal. It was noticeable because the doorway was always open, ever since I stole the door. I put the busted one back after I changed out the hardware onto the unbroken one. It stood out on our apartment because it did not have all the water damage form the sprinklers splashing the shrubs next to it every morning.



No one ever seemed to notice the place with no door. That was because the apartment complex was owned by a slum lord. As I stared at the open doorway, I saw a tiny light flicker. Squatters with candles. Well, there you go. That’s what you get when you don’t take care of your shitty place.




Joey looked up as I walked in. He said, “Urb. You didn’t lock the door when you left.”

I said, “So? Who is going to fuck with us?”




He said, “The Flower said that we made some enemies. Some are those bastards that Fat Jerry tied up and left in the crossroad down in the projects, and others are them bikers we disrespected. We gotta step up our game here.”


I shrugged and tossed the pocket of pussy pics onto the table.


He looked up at me and he smiled. He said, “Welcome back to the party Urb. We gonna have some fun.”


I wasn’t so sure about that.




.

[mistah willies]

Better not take weeks to follow up, ole chap.

Finish this up, but make it long and hard, and quick.

bastard.


.

[oldsmartskunk]

I walked along the cement river canal to the ugly apartment with my pocket full of vaginas.

Now that is poetry. I kinda understand the feeling, when you realize you are turning into someone you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley. And i must've forgotten to mention - you always pick a perfect song to your story. Goes well with mood. I almost got that "suicidal" vibe from the whole thing, but hey isn't life a slow way of killing yourself?

[Dear Booze]

Better not take weeks to follow up, ole chap.

Finish this up, but make it long and hard, and quick.

bastard.


.

Yea. You leave us waiting every single time. Now sit down at that goddam typer and get busy! We are all committed to these tales, you know.

[The Urbane Spaceman]

Your fealty is much appreciated, good men. Gods help us all.

[oettinger]

because the apartment complex was owned by a slum lord.

Looking at you Mr. Viking