LA FLEUR DU MAL CH 5: NO ONE IS THERE

[The Urbane Spaceman]

This is dedicated to our friend Palinka. Raise your chalice to him, here and now.


*chug*



Tune for this next part.

I yelled out after the ghost that slipped away. I said, “I didn’t catch your name! Hey! Bitch! Who the fuck is coming here?!”


Of course, there was no response. Her name was Naked Chick, until we met again. Oh, we would meet again.

She’d admitted to stealing form us. This meant that she was an honest thief? Is there such a thing? Probably not, huh.



I slammed the door shut. I went back to the only thing I owned anymore: my boom box. I wanted to hide it. I wanted to protect it. I paced about, looking for a hiding place. Maybe in the oven? Maybe under the couch that was still over-turned, lying with its face in the gutter like a dead wasteroid?

You know, I was panicking right then and there.

Do Not Panic. Mind your leather, it can save you. Your leather is your scrotum sack. Mind your balls.

Fuck that stealing bitch. Fuck her and her hollow threats. Joey and I had escaped bikers in the previous night and crawled across the air field in the blue light of landings and take-offs. I would not take off. I would not hide my shit.


I did not own a weapon of steal. I always used the ones made from bone. Now we were in this different land, where things were made of steel and lead and gunpowder. Was this how it was going to be for us?


The fridge held beer and wine now, and the freezer held a couple of bottles of Ron Rico Original Spiced. We’d gone to them stores after they opened, (after the last bit of the Lost and Found ZID kicked in) and then those stores were legally able to sell booze, and we came back with Lovely Miss Ethyl and many cigs.


After we got back on the boat, so to speak and after the phones calls to and form the biker, Joey left in a taxi cab to meet someone. She was a woman who held a new key for us.

And that was when the stealing girl came for a visit.


I paced a bit more, but then I remembered to DRINK! Always drink.


Such a pursuit can steady the nerves. It takes dedication and effort, and much practice in order to perfect. I found that I had the strength of ethylene. I was ethylene man. I grabbed large kitchen knives and set them in strategic places about the apartment where I would forget them when I needed them most.


Frig it, I shouted out to no one. I set down the two knives in my hands and sparked up a cig. I didn’t turn on the boom box. I sat alone in the fucked up place, watching the sun set and I sipped ice cold rum in my plastic tumbler. I was alone with my thoughts.



How the hell had it come to this? Where was my life going? Not been to work in a week, lost all my crappy shit (not the good shit that rich folks have, or even moderate shit owned by the Plebs) and now facing some unknown attack?


Who was I gonna call? The police? Nope. The Ghostbusters? They didn’t exist in the city of Fuckno.

The sun winked out and the sky dimmed like my mind. I sure did love rum. I still do.







kein Schlaf keinen Schlaf kein Schlaf keinen Schlaf nicht schlafen kein Schlaf keinen Schlaf kein Schlaf keinen Schlaf nicht schlafen kein Schlaf keinen Schlaf kein Schlaf keinen Schlaf nicht schlafen kein Schlaf keinen Schlaf kein Schlaf keinen Schlaf nicht schlafen



The door rattled in its frame when someone pounded on it. I sat up and knocked over my tumbler of rum. Thank Bacchus that it was empty. The apartment was completely black. I did not turn on any lights.


I felt the lighter on the table, but fuck using that. It would blind me. I felt around and found the two knives. These would be my light. I made certain to hold them up by the handles, not the blades.


I knew my way around my own apartment, of course. The streetlights shined in through the windows, form way off down the street, and their light cast odd shadows on the walls inside. Trees waved on the walls, in black silhouettes, like madmen raving against the dead of the light.


I slipped around the corner and looked down the hall way to the front door. The small window allowed some weak light in form the neighbors’ door lamp, and a shadow moved back and forth by it. I crept up to the window and my pulse raced. Was I ready to fight?


Hell, I just wanted to see how many there were. I could not see out unless I got too close, and then they would see my face on the other side.


This is when you have to make an executive decision to fight, not flee.


I grabbed the door and yanked it open halfway, and then I shrunk up against the wall, in its shadow. I held my hands up high, blades down and outward.



A voice shouted and it echoed in the fucked up apartment.









“You fucking bastards left me in the desert with that asshole!”


I panicked and swung the blades around and Fat Jerry stepped back. He said, “What the FUCK!”

I dropped one of the knives and flicked the lights switch to ON.


The light blinded us both.



This calls for a DRINK. I’ll have some of this Kraken right here.


*ahem*






Sorry about that.

That’s what I said to Jerry.



He said, “Jeebus Christo! You could have killed me!” He sipped form his cheap beer.


Of course, he didn’t bring any. That’s the kind of person all of our friends were. Of course, we never showed up with beer at their places either. I just didn’t know that Jerry was homeless at that time. He also couch surfed and showered, and spent nights in his hearse when nothing was available. Always have many couches, or your welcome will become worn out. Never stay too long, and always offer to help clean up.


He never followed such hints, of course. Punk bastard. We all were like that. Good times.


I said, “What the hell are you talking about? This whole valley is a fucking desert!”


Jerry grunted and chugged his beer. He crushed it and got up to grab another one form the fridge and he tossed the empty into the garbage. Recycling had not been invented back then. Returnables, hell yes.


He popped the tab on another can and said, “Sean left with that tall black chick. He threw my keys in the dirt and then they squealed their tires and sprayed sand all over me!”


I said, “Sand don’t make tires squeal!”


Jerry growled. He said, “They left me in a cloud of desert dust, boy!” He chugged that can of beer and grabbed another one, and he sat back down at the table. He flicked his fingers and put them up to his lips. I tossed a cig at him.


He went on. “That is some bullshit, right there, Urb. Never leave a man behind.”


I shook my head slowly and stared into his eyes. I said, “No fault, no blame. Dude is getting his wick soaked. You on your own about that.”


Jerry frowned. He said, “Yeah, ok. But, fuck. Damn. Wish I was getting a little sumpin sumpin.”


Now that he was calmed down, it was time to ruin his evening.


I said, “That fucking thief Naked Chick stopped by. I felt her all up.”

Jerry stood right back up. He said, “What?!”



I nodded. I sipped my beer and watched his face get all red.


He came over and made like he was going to grab me by my leather, so I kicked at his fat belly and sat back and took another drag form my cig. I said, “She said that her friends will be coming back here tonight.”


Jerry roared. When he was done, he wiped his eyes and chugged his beer and said, “I was thinking that you would have her all tied up in one of those bedrooms there! I’d show her a real good time!”


I shook my head. I said, “She came back here because she wanted to see you and say sorry to you.”



He softened up like a donut with jelly inside. His name should have been “Fat Jelly.”


He said, “Don’t be bullshitting me Urb.”


I butted out my cig and sparked up another. I said, “Not about that. Nope.”

He rubbed his dirty, straggly Mohawk that was not purple anymore. It clung to the side of his scalp like a road-killed rabbit. Smeared and ugly. He sat back down. He said, “Well. Huh. How about that.”


I said, “She told me that them friends of hers be looking for your powder. They coming back tonight. What you gonna do about that?”


Jerry stood up and he went outside. He would come back form his hearse with a couple of surprises.



Now is the time to post this part. The next part won’t be in three weeks, promise. Just been kind of rough around here.


Get better, P.



---Urb out.


.

[oettinger]

Urb, I always bring my own shit to partys!
I mean if there is not enough shit to drink it`ll ruin my friday.
But make no mistake, if one attendant tries to get a sip from my hooch his hand will be hacked off imediately.
You have to ask a friend of mine for permission to ask, then proceed your undrunken ass to my throne of imbition and kiss my ring.
Only then, and only if you promise NOT TO MIX it with coke, you may receive a very welcomed sharing of mine.

[oldsmartskunk]

Drinking and fat punks mix well together. I discovered that a long time ago. It's good to be friends with a fat one,that has nothing to loose. I bet he was packing a bazooka in his car! Waiting for fireworks in the next part! Keep up the good job sir Urb.
Btw, i know i guy called urb. He is famous for his banana shaped penis. I'm not sure about the colour though.

[oettinger]

Drinking and fat punks mix well together. I discovered that a long time ago. It's good to be friends with a fat one,that has nothing to loose. I bet he was packing a bazooka in his car! Waiting for fireworks in the next part! Keep up the good job sir Urb.
Btw, i know i guy called urb. He is famous for his banana shaped penis. I'm not sure about the colour though.

It is green, I showed you

[mistah willies]

...It is green, I showed you

It's not ripe yet.

Hmm. How do you stir your banana daiquiris?

[mistah willies]

SHould us ethis tune for the next part


soon