10.
His skin is blue. Every inch of his body surrounded by a light aura of indigo. Surrounded, too, by blazing tongues of fire. It's as if he's stepping into this reality from a hellish gap between worlds. This is his destiny, to focus the nation's attention to the realms from which he came. To catch their collective eye and point it in the general direction of the Masters.
The blue man swirls and sways in a mad dance. His four arms reach out, alternately offering and receiving. White fire dances on the palm of one hand. Another waves a greeting. Another proffers the back of his hand to be kissed. But what's that he's waving in the other hand? He clutches it so tightly, as if reluctant to consign it to it's rightful fate. What is it and where did he get it? The thought crossed my mind that it might be an urn filled with the ashes of some drug-dealing guru. Or maybe it's a vessel for drinking? I don't know that it matters.
He stands at the top of a highest mountain. He is framed by the majestic and beautiful clouds that soar atop the world. Beneath his foot...an enemy, perhaps? An interloper? Just a friend letting the blue man use him as a step-stool, maybe?Only thing's for sure is that he is blue, too. Asleep or dead? You decide.
But I cannot stare at the beautiful apparition for hours. I must turn from it's healing power and consign it to memory. One last look, though, at the smile on his face. That had to have meant that he was happy or content or maybe that he was in a good mood. That is just as well, friends. I bet he can weild all that fire behind him. I'd seriously bet that he's got a formidable amount of fire power channelin' those flames through his body and into that hand.
Yes, one long last look. I'll never forget these things: The fellow wore some delicious smelling cologne, the scent of which lingers still in my olfactory. His blue skin was the result of a rare condition that the best medical minds in all of India have been unsuccessful in understanding just what the hell it is. Even though there were enough flames behind him to comepletely torch a small community his presence seemed to emit a very cold gust of wind. It was bizarre, and it made me question the reality of the vision. Every time I thought I'd convinced myself that it's a fragment of my imagination, I would get side-tracked by the blinking of the blue man's eyes. It woke a man up, it did.
11.
What's that sound? It came from the right. It was an ominous sound. It was a sound that promised violence. Is it no wonder I'm terrified? I just got out of the shower, you know. My hair's still a little wet. If you think I'm going to go looking for whatever's responsible for that sound in this condition, well, you are one confused individual.
What are you looking at me that way for? You got a fuckin' problem with me? What you think I'm gonna let someone look down their nose at me like that? You have got a lot of spine to think such a blank expression is going to make me believe you aren't putting out anymore. I know you better. I know when the winds blow in and when they blow out I know where they go. And I know this: five days out of the week you are gonna get fucked. You've tried going with less, maybe cutting it back to 2 or 3 times a day...then there were the times when you'll go hog wild and ride a whole month's worth of cowboy...for good or ill, the cycle always comes back to 5 days a week, give or take 4 or 5 days in the month during her menstrual period.
So don't stare at me like you're gonna cut me off. You don't fool anyone. One look into those pouty and anyone can tell that you're in dire need of a piss stop, that the trip has proven tedious and long, you're about to drop dead from boredom. This is the part where we find a nice clean restroom at the Rest Stop near the 200 mile marker on I-40 East. This is about the time I wipe that spiteful expression right off of that cherry bomb bangin' face of yours.
Or maybe, if you ain't down with dat, how 'bout if I pulled this here car o'mine over to the curb? What thoughts would go through your mind as I reach over the seat, accidentally brushing against your tear moistened cheek, flushed with new found fever. What will you think when I open the door and regally request that you remove your fat ass from my automobile. As for what you should do next, though I have many recommendations for you, those details will be totally left to you.
Because that's what I'm about. Get the hell out my wheels, yo in another hood now and it ain't one that you want to get caught in at 9 in the evening. Here it is, 9:15 and I can see a mack thumpin' crew who have, to a man, noticed you. This is just the posse for you.
Now skee-daddle, wacky doodle. Get out. Get out of my life. Get out of my sight. Take that hate filled mug shot and quietly get the fuck out. You don't even have to go quietly, if yo don't wanna.
No comments:
Post a Comment