His Ego Smiles

Rear of waiter pinched his ego smiles - Mid-life crisis and round, menopause made them do it, it drew them to his eyes. Tip for that his wallet frowns but they are round - old - they would do. His ego smiles as he takes one by the hand then by the hair in the backroom beneath a table. Another in a bathroom cubicle. He turns to the till, fiddles the numbers in the hope that he'd get caught, all things and fingers in, by the chef or his pretty blonde assistant; the manager never notices a thing as he trickles liquor half full into a glass from the broken optics. Where is Peggy Sue? She ran out on the world, with no wedding bells. His shift has ended and no fantasy of filth lived out sits at the piano waiting for the boss man to leave the bar and hammers on the keys bum note after bum note, he sighs. Is Crow Jane dead? Murdered in Columbia. Killed by Mexican gun-runners working with the FBI. A little bit of cocaine never hurt anybody. Maybe it was the ATM. Or is it called the ATF? It could've been them. Suddenly he is ten years old and walking through a zoo. His mother is crying and his father is somewhere else. Maybe he's taunting the lions. Plans to report them to the ATF. Teddy got drunk, had an abortion. It knocked the stuffing right out of him. He's got no soul. You should check out his head, doctor says, the result is just the same. Kid waiter takes his sister by the hand and leads her to the monkeys. They're flinging faeces at each other and masturbating aggressively. It made him feel nauseous. Anxious. She giggles at the scene and he shields her eyes. There's no escaping the smell. He hits another bum note. I came out of Texas fresh faced, uneducated. Kicked my cocaine habit just fine but it was the china white that broke my foot. He stomps a pedal and stomps upstairs sights a fight out the window. Two vagabonds are going at it. Punch-drunk - A swing and a miss. Aimed for the wrong mouth, the other one is laughing at him. They collapse to the floor and scream to the cloud-coated night skies. Who gave birth to God? Manager by his side... rear of waiter pinched "assault, brother, you'll do ten to life! And I shall get my raise for silence." He turns to face his assailant and sees her blonde hair blue eyes. His ego smiles.

In a Dirty Motel

It was 2 o'clock in the afternoon when I finally tried to drag myself out of bed. I had only been asleep for an hour and a half – it had been a long and heavy night and I knew I wasn’t going to show up for work. I couldn’t care less, frankly it was a relief.

I stumbled into the kitchen, filled the kettle with water, set it on the stove and fired it up. As the metallic beast slowly groaned into life, I rinsed out my only mug, spooned in some instant coffee and filled it half-way with my favourite bourbon. Kentucky coffee. That’s the name I’d given the concoction and I couldn’t get enough of the stuff.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to piece together the events of the previous evening as the kettle meandered its way to its whistling climax. What exactly did I get up to last night? I didn’t care. I just ran my tongue across my numb teeth, blew my nose on the tea-towel and waited patiently for the kettle to fully burst into life.

Returning to my bed, I hoped that sleep would grab me. The whiskey made my head swim but my heart thumped from the caffeine and my legs ached with restlessness. I felt both lost and trapped. I reached into my shirt pocket, searching for my tobacco, but I only found an old, bent cigarette and a couple of filter tips. Snapping the cigarette at its crooked bend, I lit it with the lighter from the bedside table and dragged deep. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. The cigarette was spent. I exhaled finally and stubbed the ungenerous bastard out on the radiator by my side. I had nothing left to do but lean back onto my pillow and wait for sleep to take me.

I was hazy as to how much time had passed before I was dragged back out of sleep by the incessant, shrill cry of my telephone. Ignore it. I had to ignore it. It groaned and whined, pleading me to answer, but I was going to ignore it. There was only one person it could be. It was going to be him. No doubt he would be ringing to find out when he was going to get his money back from the night before and then claim that I owed him a little extra than I actually did. He’d probably also want to know how far things went with the pretty brunette that was hanging around last night’s party. I couldn’t face talking to him. I immediately regretted ever allowing him to have my telephone number, or any means by which to contact me. I waited for the ringing to cease. I tried to shield my eyes from the sun flooding into my room, but the half-broken blinds were clearly being no help this morning and the light was penetrating my brain and it was not helping my fragile state. Finally the phone shut up. Thank fuck.

I dragged myself out of bed, in need of a shit. It’d be loose and wet and it would smell foul. Best not. Maybe I should save it for later and let it harden. I walked over to the desk by the window where my typewriter now lived. I felt so cool and chic when I bought that damned thing, but now I couldn’t help but think that it would probably have been easier and cheaper to just buy a cheap laptop. As I stared at the archaic thing resting on the desk, I was overwhelmed by the feeling that I was a dick. It lay there, motionless, with a blank sheet of yellow paper already loaded into it. Apparently I had expected some poignant late night creative spree when I got home last night but was instead met with the frigid bitch that is writer’s block. Oh well, at least the old trooper is good to go now. I should write a letter to Chrystal. It’s been a while since I spoke to the girl and she has been popping up in my thoughts on a regular basis these last few weeks. I started pounding on the keys...

"Dear Chrystal,

I've been meaning to write you back for a while and I hope you can forgive me. I kept meaning to get some words down on paper for you but things kept coming up and I just wasn't able to get it done. Please don't hate me for that, I never meant to leave it so long.

 

I've been doing okay. I've taken some work at a bar called the Bucket of Blood. Yeah I know, the name sucks but the pay is alright. As you'd expect the place is a dive but the rest of the staff are cool and the manager pays on time. I work as hard as I can but I never suspect it's enough. I met a girl there and she liked my hair. We started seeing each other for a while but I got scared and stopped calling her back. I don't know why I do these things, but it happens. Well I messed up. I shouldn't go into details but I don't have anyone else to tell. I found out later she'd been fucking some other guy. He lived across the road from her and so I went round there and beat him up pretty bad. I left him in a mess. I'm not proud. I had to take up smoking again for a while just to get over it. I wonder if I should go back to find out if he died, but I haven't heard anything or read about him in the local papers, so I suspect he is fine. I'm a bad person, Chryst, but you know that. You were always right. I shoulda turned myself in that time when we were on the coast. Fuck. Let's forget those times. The guy'll be alright. Let God be my judge and let's move on.

My parents aren't so good, but thanks for asking. My dad hasn't been the same since he found out my mother was cheating on him. He kicked her out the house and I haven't heard from her since. I don't know where she went. I go pay my old man a visit about every fortnight. We just sit there and drink beer and watch the racing. He never says much, but that's okay because I never know what to say to him anymore.

I hear you're engaged now and have a kid on the way. That's fantastic. You've deserved it after all you've been through and I know you'll get that cut of happiness you've always been searching for. "Smiles on rainbows" and all that poetry you spoke of has finally come true. Sometimes I lay awake at night, thinking. It's been easier to sleep since I heard your good news. I love you Chryst, and I always will. Our hearts are the same even when they belong to others. Stay safe and stay true.

I'll try and come visit you some time. I managed to fix my car up at last and now it's running again, so it shouldn't be too hard to travel out to you. Let me know, yeah? Write back soon and tell me everything.

Yours,

Joel

P.S., I finally took your advice and quit eating meat. At last you can take me to that restaurant you’ve always raved about. I’d appreciate it now. My body certainly does; I’ve never felt healthier."

Done. The load had been shed. I leant back in my chair, clasping my fingers together behind my head and blew steadily outwards – eyes clamped shut. I was feeling better for it. Sighing hard, I reached for the letter and yanked it from the typewriter. Where the fuck was I meant to send this little bastard? Where was she living now? It’d been too long since we had last spoken. To hell with her. I screwed the page into a tight little ball, dropped it to the dirty floor and crawled into the sanctity of my motel bed. If only there was ganja.

The Greatest Show on Earth

The Falls Motel was a hole. There were blinds half hanging from the window, a broken television set, indeterminable stains on the carpet and cigarette burns on the sheets. The place was cheap and cheerless and that's exactly why I chose it. I couldn't see much from my window. The car park was empty except for an old blue pick-up truck diseased with rust and a kid's slide turned on its side. It was a depressing view. Beyond the car park I could see the rest of the town that I found myself in. It, too, was a hole. It consisted of one long road with nothing but dirty motels, bad hotels, oversized restaurants, a casino illuminated in neon, a run-down cinema and a few bars beyond that. That was it. That was the town I was stuck in. I'd finished my own meagre supply of drink; a six-pack of weak beer and a handful of little bottles of vodka, and I needed to find some way of entertaining myself until the bars opened. I was hungry and I couldn't afford to start gambling. I'd have to hit the streets and see what I could find. There had to be something else to do.

"Ganja. Ganja. Ganja, weed. Ecstacy. Ganja. MDMA. Ganja. Some shrooms. Whaddya say? Ganja."

"Fuck you! What the hell did you say? Fuck you! No, I don't want your shit. Stay the hell away from me! Crazy mind controlling Nazi. I don't need your shit. Can't you tell that I'm drunk? Hell, can't you see the bottle of scotch in my hand? Hell, where did it go? Joe! Joey! Joe you stinking crack-whore, where is my whiskey? Oh shit yeah. Hip flask. Fuck. How could I for... Hey! Hey, man. Where are you going? I don't have any ganjey. Whatever the fuck you called it. Sod you, Nazi-hippie cunt. I don't need your shit. I should smash this bottle on your face. At least I pay taxes. Yeah. I get drunk. You see this booze? It's tax motherfucker. None of this illegal shit. Yeah, I know you're selling shit. Who am I talking to? Come back here you little rat! Where the hell are you going? Come back here with your damned dread-locks.  You're not Marley. You're no better than me. Fucking fuck. Come back. Don't walk away when I'm talking to you. I know you can hear me. You shit. Utter shit. You've got no soul. I fucked your mother. I fucked her in Hell. Fuck. Where did you go? Drug dealing son of a whore bitch. Fuck!"

I endured it all. Teeth clenched, eyes fixed on the pavement beneath me. I'd been in the safety of the cinema, watching a film in darkness with lovers mumbling and fumbling around me and my feet sticking to the floor as I idly watched the man's fearless face on screen as the beasts tried to hunt him down while he desperately tried to find his way out of the wilderness and back to humanity. I needed to get out of that quiet little torture chamber, but I timed my escape all wrong and ran into this nut. Outside the air was cool after a long day of hot, horrendous, relentless sunshine. It'd been too much for some and had taken its toll. I exhaled hard as I fanned my t-shirt slowly.

"I should slit your motherfucking throat!"

I stared at my shoes. I really needed to find new friends in this town. I really needed to tell this dirt-bag to shut up and I really needed to get moving. I should've ignored him when I saw him approaching me in the street. I definitely shouldn't have agreed to go for a drink with the arsehole.

"Hey, wait, I've got ganja. Ha! Fuck you! Hahaha! Oh. No. Fuck, I don't. Where the fuck did you go? Forget what I said. I need you, little bastard. Come back or I'll cut your balls off. Those alleyways won't hide you forever. This city ain't that big. I'll find you, dipshit."

He had been talking to himself and I couldn't understand why I was still tolerating his rants and jeers. Perhaps they amused me. We all need something to laugh at – something to lighten the load. Drink was good for me. Plenty of others had turned to drugs. Mixing these was a bad idea though. I didn't care. I had strolled from the flickering lights of the auditorium, from the gaping, empty eyes of the sparse audience and out into the street. I'd stumbled out into the Greatest Show on Earth. Roll on, roll up. Ganja for one. Ganja for all. I couldn't take any more. I'd had enough. I was looking for some kind of safety but instead I had found this.

"Come back you bastard! Ganja? Who cares? Fuck you!"

I'd had enough. It was all too much.

"Get me outta here!"

I moved to the edge of the road and thrust my arm out in desperation. I needed a cab. I needed a ride. I wanted to escape the Greatest Show on Earth and I wanted to get to a better party. Any kind of bar would do. Headlights shone in the distance. I knew I'd be going home.

Run in the Woods

It was one of those crisp autumn afternoons. The trees were dying and the dead leaves crunched beneath our feet. We could even see our breath, which reminded me that even though the summer was gone, we were still alive. In spite of the trees the place was full of life. Dogs, on leads, barked at squirrels teasing them, hungry to be freed from their owners desperately trying to restrain them. Children's eyes peered through the windows of their classroom prisons and over the hedge-fence of the neighbouring school, equally hungry to be set free to run into the world. The birds had all the freedom. Serenading each other and dancing in the air, before returning to their branches and nests. The trees, decorated with vermilion tips, looked on fire, just waiting for the first snow of winter to extinguish them. It was still early in the afternoon but the sun had already begun to set. It hung low in the sky and although too weak to provide any warmth it was still bright enough to blind you. We walked with our backs to it and our shadows stretched far out in front of us. The gates behind us were once painted a dark green but were now chipped and rusted and the path before us was cracked, snaking across the gentle slope of grass before disappearing into the woods.

We had never walked through a park before and I couldn't understand why; it was full of beauty. She didn't care about that or the cold. I looked at her and she seemed bored. I thought to put my arm around her but hesitated and withdrew. I had caught a glimpse of venom in her eye and knew it was best to leave her be. She had clearly had enough of this outing and was probably going to take it out on me. An argument would ensue and the day's peace would be ruined. Instead she just started to laugh. She took in great lungful after great lungful of air and laughed. She sounded maniacal. She was. She started to tear at her clothes and temporarily blinded me by tossing her long faux-fur coat over my head. It was a sight I wish I hadn't missed. I pulled the jacket from over my eyes and dropped it to the floor; I would've been sour about it, but I could still see her broken hourglass body running away. Her pale flesh quickly turned pink from the cold. She just ran, naked. Those hips of hers wriggled like no other. She knew they drove guys wild and that's why she would shake them. She never lost it, even when she was running through a park with no clothes on. She was a creature of pure sexual chemistry.  She was just another wild animal running free. People started to stare but she paid them no mind. I didn't know what to do - I was excited but my inhibitions would never allow me to join her. I went to chase after her, but instead lit a cigarette. I didn't need the exercise. I was happy to watch her shrink into the distance. When she finally disappeared into the trees, I picked up her underwear, stuffed them into my pocket and walked home. I didn't want a pervert to find them. I would've taken the rest of her clothes, too, but I was lazy and I figured she could do with rescuing some decency if she ever decided to turn around and come back. I wasn't going to stand and wait around in a wind-bitten park for that. I knew she'd be knocking on my door as soon as she got cold.

Rum and Coke

If I wasn't asleep I didn't know how to spend my afternoons. There was a time when I'd drink the day away, but not anymore; I had my health to think about. I didn't like the idea of dying young. There was only one place I'd go when I was bored and couldn't sleep.

I'd wait anxiously for her to open the door. I could never be sure if she'd actually be in or even conscious enough to greet me, but I'd turn up anyway. She was unreliable, but I enjoyed her company and I had no better place to be.

She'd pull her front door open and stand there, staring blankly, with her hip cocked and a cigarette in her hand down by her side. Even when she was expecting me she wouldn't be dressed and she'd take no time to put on any make-up or do her hair. She had no need to and I didn't care. Her green eyes had flecks of brown, and when they locked on mine, she smiled. Her teeth were tobacco-stained but her eyes glowed and made her look almost beautiful.
Her hand would tremble as she'd drag on her cigarette.
"Well, whatchya waitin' for?"
She'd blow the smoke out of the side of her mouth.
"Come on in, you sonuvabitch, and gimme a hug"
As I'd step into her home I would be met by the smell of a combination of cigarette smoke and coffee, but as we'd embrace, the aroma would dissolve and my nostrils would instead fill with the floral fragrance of her perfume. I always liked that smell; it reminded me of walks in the wood as a child.

It was the same routine every time I went round there. It never changed. She'd go into the kitchen and offer me a cup of coffee, to which I'd always oblige. She'd also offer me a shot of rum to go in it, to which I'd always decline and remind her I'd given that up and was now looking after myself. She'd laugh at that. "Suit your shitty self" she'd say and sometimes her tongue would fall over the S-H's and it'd get tied up. She didn't care though. She'd just light up a joint or do a line before finishing making my drink. One time she even managed to snort sugar and put coke in my coffee because she was so messed up. I stopped having sugar in mine after that. I'd see myself into her living room, which was empty except for the sofa, a handful of pictures on the walls and a television set sitting on top of a pile of old hardback books. I'd turn on the television and sit down and wait for her to join me. The shows we watched were always bad, but we rarely paid enough attention to them to notice.

This one time it was different though. This one time there was a knock at the door and when she heard it, she turned her head to the window to see who it was and her face instantly turned white when she saw him. She threw her body to the ground and hissed at me to do the same and keep quiet. She fumbled for the remote and quickly turned it to standby. She was in a panic and falling apart. She looked so scared I thought she might be dying. She just lay there with her head buried against the floor, trying her hardest not to move. I watched her as she started to sob but I didn't really know what I was meant to be doing, so I just lay there as silently as I could.

When he finally left I tried to approach her and comfort her, but she just pushed me away and refused to talk. She slumped into the chair, hiding her face in her hands and shaking as she cried. I sat back down on the sofa and waited for her to talk. That was the gasman at her door, making his rounds and reading people's meters. She didn't want to let him in because she figured that if he didn't know how much gas she used, she wouldn't have to pay her bill. I knew she had lost her job but I didn't really know why; she never really talked about it and I wasn't going to pry. I could see there was something really troubling her. It looked like she wanted to tell me something pretty big, but every time she went to speak she caught herself and remained silent. Eventually she just gave up and walked back into the kitchen where I could hear her chopping up cocaine. I just turned the television back on and watched it in silence for the rest of the afternoon. I just wanted to get out of there, but I couldn't leave her in that state.

When I finally walked home that evening I thought a lot about her and the gasman. I couldn't understand why she was running and trying to escape. The bill would come through her letterbox at the end of the month anyway and she'd have to pay somehow. She couldn't run forever. We're all scared of something and I could now see that running would get us nowhere. We can't live forever, not like that. Not in fear. I kept thinking about it 'til I got home. I just couldn't understand it. I fumbled with my keys and, when inside my flat, kicked off my shoes and walked to the liquor cabinet. There was one last bottle of rum hidden at the back for emergencies. I poured myself a strong one with ice and Coke. Suddenly I didn't feel so scared anymore.

Strangers at Midnight

The platform was abandoned. I don't know which sound I heard first, the high-pitched rapid beeping that indicated the doors were closing or the shouting. But as I looked up to see him, fists clenched, shouting at the girl, it was too late. The doors were shut and the train had begun to pull out of the station. There was nothing I could do to stop it except watch them slowly disappear into the night. He was spitting fury at her. The girl was cowering in fear, with tears in her eyes, but she looked ready to fight if she needed to. She was desperate and nobody cared to help her. I could see other passengers through the window as the train passed, just sitting there doing nothing. They were pretending they couldn't hear them arguing and were trying to ignore them; just hoping they would go away. I hoped he would stop shouting. I hoped he wouldn't hit the girl.

It was cold and it was wet and I had missed the last bus for the final leg of my journey home. I would have to wait for the first night bus and try to forget about the girl, frightened and crying. I didn't know what to do, or where to go, so I did what I always do. I looked for a bar. That image was going to haunt me all night.

Walking out of the station I soon realised my chances of finding a drink were slim. Everywhere was either closed or completely boarded up. Every shop sign was turned off and there wasn't another soul out on the street except for me. The bright lights of the big city aren't so pretty on a lonely Sunday night. I stared at my feet as I walked down the road, trying to forget the girl. The rain began to fall again, rippling in the puddles and breaking up the reflections of the lampposts and the moon. Turning the corner I could see a solitary light coming from a window and there were people inside, drinking. Finally things looked promising.

Inside the smell of stale booze hung in the air and the hard floor was sticky. The manager approached me.
"Are you still open?"
"Yes, yes, come in. But we're closing shortly."
It was music to my ears and with it I waltzed to the bar where the barman was wiping down surfaces. With no beer on tap I focussed on the fridge full of bottled beers at the back. My vision was hazy and I started to realise quite how drunk I actually was. I picked out the only bottle I recognised, a bottle of Desperados. I knew it would be a good beer, strong too. I liked the sound of its name as it fell from my lips. I paid, collected my change and sat down at the nearest table to drink.

Taking mouthful after mouthful of beer, I kept seeing the girl calling to me for help. Tears streamed from her blackened eyes and her bleeding lip trembled. I was lost in my own imagination when the manager came to ask me if I was okay. He startled me. We talked for a while about where I'd spent the rest of my evening and about late night bars. He told me business was slow and so he couldn't afford to turn away late arrivals. Soon the only other customers that were left had joined in the conversation and asked me to sit with them. I got to talking to one guy who played saxophone for a wedding band and he told me all about his weekend. He told me about the wedding he'd played the day before and how it had been a beautiful ceremony. He also told me about his Sunday afternoon spent fishing on his friend's boat. His friend, sitting next to him, beamed when he heard this. It had rained hard and they had caught nothing, but the beer on board was cold and plentiful, which is all they really cared for. They invited me to join them sometime just as the manager returned to the table to offer us more drinks. Apparently he should've shut an hour ago, but business is business and he needed the money. He told us we were good people and the conversation and the beer continued to flow. Before I knew it I had forgotten about the bus home I was supposed to be waiting for. Before I knew it I had forgotten all about the girl.

A Letter to Chrystal

Dear Chrystal,

I've been meaning to write you back for a while and I hope you can forgive me. I kept meaning to get some words down on paper for you but things kept coming up and I just wasn't able to get it done. Please don't hate me for that, I never meant to leave it so long.

  

I've been doing okay. I've taken some work at a bar called the Bucket of Blood. Yeah I know, the name sucks but the pay is alright. As you'd expect the place is a dive but the rest of the staff are cool and the manager pays on time. I work as hard as I can but I never suspect it's enough. I met a girl there and she liked my hair. We started seeing each other for a while but I got scared and stopped calling her back. I don't know why I do these things, but it happens. Well I messed up. I shouldn't go into details but I don't have anyone else to tell. I found out later she'd been fucking some other guy. He lived across the road from her and so I went round there and beat him up pretty bad. I left him in a mess. I'm not proud. I had to take up smoking again for a while just to get over it. I wonder if I should go back to find out if he died, but I haven't heard anything or read about him in the local papers, so I suspect he is fine. I'm a bad person, Chryst, but you know that. You were always right. I shoulda turned myself in that time when we were on the coast. Fuck. Let's forget those times. The guy'll be alright. Let God be my judge and let's move on.

My parents aren't so good, but thanks for asking. My dad hasn't been the same since he found out my mother was cheating on him. He kicked her out the house and I haven't heard from her since. I don't know where she went. I go pay my old man a visit about every fortnight. We just sit there and drink beer and watch the racing. He never says much, but that's okay because I never know what to say to him anymore.

I hear you're engaged now and have a kid on the way. That's fantastic. You've deserved it after all you've been through and I know you'll get that cut of happiness you've always been searching for. "Smiles on rainbows" and all that poetry you spoke of has finally come true. Sometimes I lay awake at night, thinking. It's been easier to sleep since I heard your good news. I love you Chryst, and I always will. Our hearts are the same even when they belong to others. Stay safe and stay true.

I'll try and come visit you some time. I managed to fix my car up at last and now it's running again, so it shouldn't be too hard to travel out to you. Let me know, yeah? Write back soon and tell me everything.

Yours,

Joel

P.S., I finally took your advice and quit eating meat. At last you can take me to that restaurant you’ve always raved about. I’d appreciate it now. My body certainly does; I’ve never felt healthier.