DESERT SONS CH 11 : KAHLE OF DESTRUCTION

[The Urbane Spaceman]

(No, this is not Turnip Upta 11, but,there will be moral bankruptcy.)

Now listen: There one single reason that I write these tales, and it is this: They are real stories. In my life now, I will do what I want, on my own terms.

Yet, I have come form very bad places.


Redemption for me is returning my empties.

There is enough to purchase a bottle of Lovely Miss Ethyl, if I DRINK! enough. It doesn’t take all that long, but it has taken years of practice to get to this level of enjoyment. I return these empties to FKR for allowing me to write these missives.

Hey, don’t judge me. Palinka started this. Yes, I blame it on my dear friend who is no longer with us now. But also, I thank him for being who he is. Is, not was.

We come here to Modern Drunkard Magazine’s excellent forum community to share our enjoyment of this marvelous elixir on our own damn terms, to share our finds, our journeys in life, our misery, our despair, and of course, to fuck with each other, for this is our own Tribe, and we will have our fun with each other in our own way.

We are mindful of those others who dare to engage with their ulterior motives and Dry agendas and also the selling of the important kitchen wares etc.

Now, my dear fellow and Lady Drinker, why not forget your own things for a quick respite/ mental vacation/tipple for this next part of a True Tale?



3…2…1...


*chug* (Or, as peetie44 says, *CLINK* and I quite agree.)



*ahem*



Joey smoked his cigarette, sitting there in his fancy suit sans tie (bastard probably used it to tie up the girl) and he was judging me. He was evaluating me, but I knew this. I was cool with it. It was his snow. His dime, my time.

He said, “We are now on a new level. It could go in two directions. It might be either fucking excellent, or it could become death. I have no idea how to go about this new thing, this new path.”

I set the straw down on the cigarette ash table and then folded the envelope up. I set that tasty little package down. My hangover was gone. I named this one “Dirty Penny” because she was cheap and she finally went to sleep due to that white snow. She was a dented beer can kicked down the street by a snorty street kid. Mind you, she would come back again, much more angry.

I welcomed that fact in the moment: As long as she stayed away for a while longer.


I stared Joey in the eyes. He was asking me to start on this new path with him. He needed me. You know that we had been such dangerous things quite often, in those curious times way back in them ‘80s. I’d made up my mind and was to ready to bail out of there, to go back to the most important place for me on this tiny blue marble. But the allure of danger intoxicated me. Perhaps it was the gram I’d been snorting out of the eight ball that morning, or something else along with it? Maybe it was both.


I had been taken by that snow in the desert (which became the downfall for us all, Sean included) as well as going after that new chick of his.


It was payback. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I do now. Took a while, after all of these years. Kahle was actually good, in a nicely bad way. And Joey took her form me, to save me form her.


Now who, exactly, was jealous?

Man, I need a drink. This shit is getting too real.




.

[oettinger]

sitting there in his fancy suit sans tie (bastard probably used it to tie up the girl)

After two weeks of drink n drugs he probably used it to get himself something resembling an erection

she would come back again, much more angry

And bring aunt Debby Vomit with her