“It looks like… A flower dog,” he said, looking at it with ever growing fascination
He didn’t know what a ‘flower dog’ was but those were the first words that came to mind as he beheld the thing
Others would’ve had different words for it
like roadkill
He hit it with the car this night and stopped to pick it up and took it home
talking to it along the way
He didn’t know what kind of animal it was
only that it was dead now
“I never was smart when it came to labeling things,” he said to the flower dog now lying on a square coffee table that was turned upside down to better contain all its scattered bits and pieces
There was a surprisingly small amount of blood though
and a surprisingly large amount of bone shards
“You are very weird, my little friend. And I do not know how you came to be. I don’t know a lot of things. But I will tell you that if God ever created a flower dog you’re it, hehe.”
in the darkness the flower dog looked up at him with bloodshot eyes that spoke of understanding and even compassion
after all it was in the presence of someone equally hard to understand by the world
after tonight he will never again doubt that madness is ultimately beautiful yet ultimately not worth it
And her name was Six
it’s not that weird when you’re drunk
Though only he was drunk while she said she only accepts energy drinks
They bought two cans of Monster from the vending machine outside the bar and when they got to his place she asked him to put them in the freezer
“But wrap them in a wet paper towel first,” she added. “It’s a cool trick. They’ll be good to drink in no time.”
“I don’t think I could drink–” he began
and she interrupted, “They’re both for me. But don’t worry we’ll both benefit from them. You’ll see soon enough.”
She was pretty much the personification of the goth style
Pretty much the first image that would come to any boy’s mind when told to imagine a ‘big titty goth GF’
As they went into the bedroom and climbed into bed he asked again for her real mane
“I done did told you already, darling. It’s Six. My name’s Six. And it’s also very unimportant.”
He was drunk enough to let it slide
drunk enough to let a lot of things slide
Though she would not let him slide inside her
“Not yet,” she said. “We need those cans of Monster first.”
“What for?” he asked
“You’ll see. Hehe, like being teased?”
He watched her and smiled and nodded
“I thought so. You really look the type. And I really love teasing. It’s the mildest form of torture. Do you like torture?”
“Uh… like what?”
“Either giving or receiving. D’you like?”
“I don’t think o’ that.”
“Then perhaps it’s an undiscovered detail about you. Something you haven’t explored yet. Imagine what a shame it would be to go through life without knowing the absolute heights of pain and pleasure. To not know this is hell.”
Again, too drunk to be having a conversation. He felt like listening to someone read him poetry. So he just sat back in bed naked and watched her and waited for those damn cans to cool down in the freezer
“Life is all about the ups and downs of the human experience,” she went on, a dark smile on her face. "Yet so many people stop in the middle. What truly wasted lives they lead. To never know the extremes is a sin. But it’s fine to be sinful. What’s not fine is to actively seek to avoid, to stay away from the extremes. If you’re someone like that then the gods will send you a teacher, a guide to show you the way. I am that. And I can only lead one follower at a time, for it is necessary that I give him my full, undivided attention. And all he needs is to follow along like a good dog. That means to walk by my side on all fours while I hold him in a tight leash. He must sit when I tell him to sit and look up at the sky when I tell him to, and open up big for me to piss into his mouth, spit into it, put my cigarette out against his tongue. Like how it sounds?”
“Huh? I ain’t into–”
She was quick to silence him with one slim finger against the lips. “Shh. You don’t have to fight it. As a human being, this is simply your true nature. It’s who you are. Agree or not your real self wants to touch the limits. To go into the extremes. It’s alluring. You can’t resist it.”
“I…”
“Look, I want you to lie down for me. C’mon, on your back. Lie down. Let me grab this.” She placed her hand on his penis and worked on getting it hard again. “Good. Now close your eyes. Close them good for me and try to relax. Breathe deep. And accept that now, at this time and in this place only my voice exists for you. You listen to it as it tells you to imagine. Imagine you are yourself but in a world where you have power. All of it. You can do and have whatever you want. By simply asking for it. Now… How long d’you think it’ll take for you to get bored of it all and seek to go higher? Seek to go into the extremes. Remember, there are absolutely no consequences to your actions and you have anything you ask for. How long will it take for you to laugh at those less fortunate than yourself? How long until you rub it in their face? Until you start playing games with them to amuse yourself, to relieve boredom… Their lives are in your hands. Would you not command them to walk on all fours in your presence? And would you not starve them to drive them to desperation and then feed them your feces? Piss on them? Would you not enact your wildest most depraved fantasies with them? They’re your pawns. Make them fight each other for a piece of bread. Have them murder their own children. Eat them. Have a mother choose between fucking her own son or having her limbs removed one by one. See the desperation in her eyes as she’s faced with the choice. The dying light. Have them beaten, whipped, suffocated, cut a thousand times, branded with the hot iron, raped. Oh, there can be so much rape. How do you feel about having a woman glued to the ground on all fours, stuck there so she can’t move and then have a metal pipe inserted between her legs. A long metal pipe. Then build a fire to the other end of it. It’s metal so it’ll heat up, hehe. And tell her that she has to make you cum with her mouth before the pipe heats up to the point of melting her insides? Doesn’t the thought just get you hard? But wait. What if she does make you cum with her mouth and you just let her ordeal continue anyway, eh? Hahahahah!”
He went completely soft and shrank despite her hand trying to achieve the opposite result
“Listen,” he said, “I don’t know about that…”
She brought her hand to his face started caressing his cheek, tried to slide a finger past his lips, but he didn’t play to her script anymore
“Oh, darling,” she said, “I see you have a lot to learn. But I’m here for you. There’s nothing you need to worry about.”
He opened his mouth and she sealed it again with a finger.
“I think the Monsters are ready. I’ll go get them.”
Indeed cold as the rest of the freezer. Standing before him, she opened one can and gulped it down and then followed with the other
He watched her mute
watched as she then went into the bathroom and came out completely naked, holding only a white towel that she threw on the bed “Lie down and put that over your face. I’ll piss on you. Ever been waterboarded before?”
and random weeds started to grow around them into the thin layer or dirt and sand
I must've passed by it thousands, tens of thousands of times
paid it no mind
until it was no longer there
Now where the hell was it?
Did the authorities finally decide to tow it?
And if so did they know that truck was somebody's home?
I never learned his name
but I heard he moved in there after the war. State gave him enough money to buy a small apartment or something, but he chose that old truck
some people are bums by choice
Walking by I'd see him in arid summer days sitting behind the wheel windows rolled down a stumpy cigarette between his lips a small chapbook in his hand
Never got to see the title but I do recall the image on the cover 't was a burning tree with one shadowy, just vaguely human silhouette hanging from it
He probably wasn't the kind of man you'd want to have in your circles and perhaps his image dirtied the overall aura of the neighborhood
I don't know Don't care
All I do know now is that I'll never get the chance to walk up to his truck and ask him what he's reading and show him that I too have chapbooks of my own now
I've never seen a bathroom so perfectly empty before
literally just the toilet a sink and a shower-head. No tub or cabin. Nothing
And a dark brown irregular circle captured the eye from the very core of the room, on the blue tiles
"That's where I burn her things," he said
"What things?"
"You wanna see?"
"Nah, I'd rather just listen to you talk about it."
"I burn her things, man. Been doing so ever since she left for the final time. Every night I sit right there on the toilet and drink and drink and place a dress or some stockings or shoes, panties, whatever's left in her wardrobe over there on the ground and set it on fire. And watch it burn. And drink. The window's open. Smoke goes out along with all my thoughts of her. When things refuse to catch fire I pour some of her perfume on them. It feels good to smell it burning."
"Who was she really?" I asked. "Wife? Girlfriend?"
"Muse," he said. "When she was around I could do my work. But now... all I do is drink all day and burn her things and watch them in the flames. The rest of the time I just sleep."
I found out later that he was talking about his daughter
She was alive and fine
living somewhere with a boyfriend
She even visited from time to time but he could no longer see her as a muse. Only as a distant friend
Also the clothes he burned weren't even hers
he bought them himself to feed the delusion
and the delusion grew too large and eventually ate him
He awakened at 07:30 in the morning and took a few seconds to stare at the ceiling and decide why this day too began without a so called morning wood
Fuck the meaning of life and whether or not we're alone in this vast world He wanted to know why his dick wouldn't stand up in the morning like it used to
Perhaps because it had nothing to reach for There was nothing to life anymore No wife No girlfriend
...not that they ever existed in the first place but at least there was the hope that one day maybe...
Now in the late twenties he felt like a fish outside the water in a mud that was slowly hardening around him
This was life
Working night shifts in a cold warehouse and coming home in the morning to sleep a few hours
Waking up and listening to another video detailing the importance of sleep
You should sleep eight hours a night every night Every single night No exception! Else you will suffer from severe chemical imbalances in the brain and body and will end up horribly depressed and weak, anemic, with heart problems that will eventually lead to a premature death
But he needed the job
He wasn't qualified for much else
But hey, cops and nurses and firefighters worked night shifts
Well, maybe But their work carried so much more meaning
He sighed as he whipped the thought away and stood and got a cigarette put it in the corner of his mouth and lit it
He came before the window
“Look,” she said. “Maybe it’s time to just leave everything behind and come join me.” She grinned at him from inside the dirty glass of the window
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can still feel it. The spark. You never know when it’s gonna burst into a flame and that flame might become–”
“Bullshit!” she said. “You humans are so pathetic when it comes to this. Listen to yourself! Sparks and hope and sunshine, rainbows. Stop deluding yourself. You’re twenty-eight already and you can’t even get it up thanks to your chronic depression. Look at your lame self. You’re so lame you came to kinda love it even.”
He exhaled smoke. “Well...”
“Well shit,” she snapped. “Listen, boy, I’m offering you salvation here. Look at me when I’m talking to you! Look at my dark face, at my hard tits, look how long this tongue is. See? I can fish inside your guts with it. All you gotta do is join me. Step into my side of the world and we can be together. Look, I’m about to piss. Come here. Closer. Stand with your face up and let me shower you with this small blessing. Give you a taste of what’s to be gained by joining me here. C’mon. And don’t keep that mouth closed, dammit! Stick your tongue out.”
He finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into the moldy earth of a flowerpot
Daydreaming as a profession 