He walked with the arrogant, self assured heel-toe swagger of a dead man.  A man with nothing to lose. 

And nothing to gain.

Fast asleep at the wheel - his brain.  His ears rang with Gregorian Chant and a fine crimson rose of his own lifeblood pooled around his collar all semi-coagulated and, finally, breached and became gravity's bitch.  Running down the ticklish part of his biceps - the back fleshy part, down and out his sleeve leaving a sinister Hansel and Gretel breadcrumb trail. 

He lit a smoke with the fire on his tongue.  Fire on his tongue, acid in his lungs and Hell to pay.  He was the Devil's messenger, and today, this day, 'Ol Scratch wasn't putting fuck all on lay-away.  Time to pay the Piper, bitches, and all bets are off.

\m/  \m/

When Charlie turned like a Dervish on Claudette - more a graceful pirouette with the fluidity of some opaque vapor and conducting a Symphony of One with Claudette's "just in case" pistol- Slick collapsed in a heap.  Fuck.  I need THIS Now. Not now, you pitiful, beautiful man.  Not now.  There will be time. NO!  Head in the Game, Charlie.  This is Now.  This is Time.  This time.

"Honey chile.  Sweet, sweet baby girl.  What are you thinking in that head of yours?"

Claudette's words.  That tricky, shyster flim-flam psycho babble Charlie was so accustomed to but had a hell of a time straightening out.

"You move and I turn your head into open-face Roast Beef special of the day."

Charlie's words.  Cut and ripe with a new Venom.

"Sweet girl.  You sure that thing's loaded?"

Charlie resisted the urge to look at the piece.  If language could be a magic trick, Claudette damn sure had herself a Vegas act.

"I'm sure.  You always said an unloaded gun is almost as bad as giving a blowjob for free.  So, I'm fairly fucking certain this thing is hot."

Don't look down.  Don't take your eyes off the Snake.  Ever.

"Think this through, Baby.  It could be me and you on that beach.  All those little Caribbean boys crawlin' up your leg, bringing us free Hooch and the like.  It could be just like we talked about.  Think it through, baby girl.  Think good and hard.  Is this the way you want this to play out.  For what?  For him?"

Charlie closed her eyes.  Tight.  The way she said Him set of a long Black Cat strand and the last explosion in the pop-pop-pop of her mind vibrated up to her right shoulder.  When she opened her eyes, Claudette lay in a heap next to Slick on the floor.

Charlie stomped out the cigarette still handing in Claudette's lips.  And wept.

\m/  \m/

Doug almost tripped over the huge bear-man on the floor.  Bear-man's head was the lagoon in a sea of blood.  Human after all.  Hmm.

Fast work, now.  Fast and dirty.

Ripping the blood soaked sleeve from his shirt.  Ripping half again.  And again.  Two, Four, Six strips of blood soaked cotton.  Mix well with grain alcohol, bottles on the bottom shelf and top shelf for his Whistle.  Jamming the dripping rags into bottles only day-drinkers ordered, Doug lit another smoke.  For effect, Doug poured a line of the Good stuff the length of the bar and fired it up.

And God said, let there be light.  And there was motherfucking light.

Tinder was the cheap flea market chairs.  Fuel?  Fuel was everything else.

As Doug walked across the street, he caught a glimpse of the storefront window.  Right before the explosion shattered it into a mosaic of ice and end-time.  The boring olive Sans Serif lettering, trimmed in peeling and pock-marked gold for a "this-is-the-Best-trailerpark-in-town" effect.

THE LAUGHING WHORE

After the explosion and the cries of onlookers, long after the heat and the debris, Doug could have sworn that he had seen, through the tangle of flames licking at the clouds, a silhouette of some sort.  The embrace of two lovers, perhaps.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  Who could tell for sure?

Doug turned south and returned to his dead man stroll. 

And Nero played a fiddle.

The End

Comments

[Palinode]

SMOKIN'.

[ms picket to you]

and so it began.

and (started to) end.

i hear music that's not mine... which is why i love this...

[Jett]

YOU KILLED CHARLIE, AUUUUUGH.