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bethany was always the one who got me the most. she really got me. and she would do anything for me. bethany was the one that i treated the worst. i don't mean that as in saying that i treated her like shit, thought i did sometimes… i was kind of nice to her sometimes. i did nice things. i bought her things sometimes. stuffed animals. she liked gazelles. i treated her like a whore. not just in bed. i treated her like a whore in bed. i called her a whore in bed, sometimes while i had my hand around her throat. she liked that though. i think. i treated her like a whore in every day life. like she would fuck anything that came along. that may have been true. but may not have been true. i don't know. now that i'm at the portal she is all i can think about. she is the only one i ever cheated on. i cheated on her a lot. i cheated on her with her friends. her sister. her brother. her.
chris is coming back into town. jodie told me this morning while i was eating froot loops. i was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, eating a bowl of froot loops and she said that chris is coming back into town. "chris is coming back into town" "who?" "chris." "yeah?" "just thought you'd like to know" "who the fuck is chris?" "chris. parker. your friend. stupid fuck."
i scooped several froot loops onto the spoon and put them in my mouth and stared at her. i looked away, at the ceiling. i chewed and swallowed. i took another bite. she left the kitchen.
now that i'm at the portal, she's all i can think of.
at k-mart getting milk and a guy with a 2 foot pompadour walks up. asks for some matches. "got any matches?" i stare at him. he's wearing a white suit and blood red cowboy boots. "hey, yo. you got any matches?" i reach into my pocket and pull out a pez dispenser with the head of the stay puft marshmallow man. i hand it to him. he reaches out his skinny arm and takes his. his hand is veiny. "they used to sell these at the video store. at k&b. that girl wore powder blue lipstick and feathered her hair. she would buy star wars comic books and read them in the shitter. they used to sell these at the video store." he hands the pez dispenser back. walks away. "hey" i call out to him. he turns around. "did you ever see her again?" "you never do, man." he leaves.
since the war, the prices of pork have risen dramatically. i don't dig on swine but
my mom loves to eat a dead pig's ass. she knows a pig bootlegger in wiggins that sells to her for $14 a gram. she makes bacon. not bacon strips. those thick ass chunky pieces of bacon that are basically ham. since the war, things have been rough. i haven't been with a girl in over one year. they're there but the idea terrifies me. i just wander from place to place. moving around, floating in and out of other people's dreams, exploring, watching. until they aren't new and they get boring, then i bail out and go someplace else. surfing couches for a living. bethany used to tell me i should visit japan. she said i'd dig japan. she said they are easy going and play a lot of video games. she said i'd dig japan.
she pierced her face up in the fall and takes a new picture every day. posts it up on facebook. instagram. twitter. tumblr. trying to raise her klout score. she listens to richard hell and talks to boys who dont know who that is. she listens to the cramps while they fuck her, to tune it out. she fishes for compliments on her clothes because they don't compliment her face. her favorite movie is Double Double Toil and Trouble. she's always had trouble being earnest. she likes to eat plums. she tips waitresses with change while she smokes newport 100's. she used to drink coffee but now she drinks alone. "my furby is sad because her tamagotchi died." after sex she stares at the ceiling and thought about shoes. she is alone in slivers.
i'd always known the portal was there. sensed it somehow. no one told me and i never saw it before. some may have stumbled onto it, but i just felt it in my bones. i'd seen the people who had come through it. they walked through wal-mart differently than the others. i even knew where it was. back by the dvd's. but i could never find it. did you see the matrix? point break just knew about the matrix. he just knew somehow. that's how i knew about the portal. i felt that portal to 1997 in every ounce of my being. sometimes i listened to link wray. girls don't know who link wray is.
i didn't recognize him. he had this tattoo of a sloth under his right eye. i didn't ask him about it because i didn't care. hell, screaming jay hawkins killed a guy. he told me he had been living in delaware or denver with a group of cyclists. he had seen a movie about lance armstrong and decided he liked bike riding. "i don't own a bike or anything though. they're dangerous and bad for the environment. i drive my moms suv everywhere." in portland he'd seen kathy. kathy was in a band. kathy was the only girl i ever knew who played music. she listened to joy division and wore smiths shirts everyday. she lived with this guy who sold pineapple juiice out of his shed for a few years. they say that pineapple juie makes your stuff taste better.
"so how you been making out? still with desirae?" "nah. she hit the bricks like a year ago. shit longer than that." "so you're just running through the slit, huh?" "i'm running through the … shit. i thought i had a rhyming quip, but… i've got nothing." "you ain't slaying all the gash?" "nah. i'm not interested in that." "moved on to hunky dudes?" "nah, just… i don't know. my heart can't take it." "you are such a faggot. you never could just be cool and hang out. always getting attached." "whatever." "so, you don't mind being alone?"
"i mean… it's what it is." "it gets the worst at night. when i'm looking at porn for six hours." "that's all you're trying to watch?" "i miss some of them, but always for the wrong reason." "wrong. that is the only right reason."
leaving the bus station, there's a black guy sleeping on the sidewalk. his clothes are tattered and he's curled up, fetal, with his head in his hands. he is lying in puke and probably piss. has he shit himself? is he a principal? does he work valet at the pearl regalia? "memphis is full of niggers like that." "does the girl you stay with wear nighties?" "what the fuck is nighties?" "like lingerie." "you like this? i got it at a thrift store in a-town. boy scout leader. pretty neat, huh?"
they never know what i'm thinking when i'm telling them my heart.
NEVER FUCKING SAYS ANYTHING
she's still in love with him. she reads molier and pretends to understand but is just thinking about the situation. how is he doing in rehab? she moved with him to mississippi when he said he wanted to marry her then he told her to fuck his friends. she wanted to make him happy. she didn't like his friends. she loved him. she wanted to make him happy. she hated when he swatted flies while she was trying to talk to him. she hated when he flossed his teeth with loose strings from his clothes. she wanted to make him happy and he told her to fuck his friends while he watched. he looked bored. just before the friend came he looked at her with disguist and considered spitting in her face or pissing on her. his friend came inside and laughed and called her a grease piece and she didn't know what that meant because nobody knows what that means. she fucked his friends in pick-ups and in mall dressing rooms on sundays. sometimes he took part, soemtimes he just watched. sometimes he got bored and left the room to make a sandwich. he didn't like mayonnaise. he hates mayonnaise. he always puts mayonnaise on sandwiches. they feel incomplete without. he doesn't refrigerate mayonnaise. he has never refrigerated mayonnaise.
in his face, spitting nails. "you fucking think it's a joke? you see me smiling mother fucker? i know you drank my fucking shit. ain't nobody told you you could have that shit." "keith told me i could have some." "keith told you what?" "keith told me i could have some." "keith told you you could have what?" "some of that vo…" [interrupted] "SOME. and how much is some?" "what do you mean?" "how the fuck much much is some to you mother fucker?" "i don't know. some" "SOME. does some mean all?" "i…" "NO. no. mother fucker. some means some.. so why the fuck did you drink all of my fucking shit?" "look, i get it. you're trying to fuck with me. and i…" "you get it? you get it? nah. mother fucker. you don't get nothing." "i know you're trying to freak me out." "freak you out? mother fuck, are you freaked out? are you scared?" "no." "bullshit, mother fucker. i know your ass is scared of brothers." "i'm not scared of brothers." "you scared of brothers mother fucker." "i used to be be somewhat intimidated by brothers, but i am not afraid of brothers and i'm not afraid of you." "oh, you ain't afraid of me?" "no. look. i get it. i took a class called african american literature and i read some frederick douglass and shit and so i understand how…"
"oh yeah? and what the fuck that nigga have to say?" "well, what he was saying was that…" "yeah, well guess what? i don't know that mother fucker. never have. so fuck that nigga and fuck what that niggas trying to say." "ok." "ok is right mother fucker. now what the fuck you gonna do about this bottle of my shit that's all gone? here i am, thirsty as a mother fucker and you drank all my shit. this here is a mother fucking problem." "well, i…"
"just walk in, show it to em, get it, get the fuck out." "easy" "cake. let's roll." he points the .38 at the barber. the dude just looks at him. "what the fuck is this?" "this here is the end of you if you don't empty that fucking roll out box." "who put you up to this? ritchie?" he points the .38 at the ceiling and fires off a round. "are you fucking serious? i mean, are you guys fucking kidding me?" "empty that fucking roll out box. now." he points the .38 at him again. the dude is befuttled. "alright. whatever." the dude opens the register and takes out some bills. he touches the barrell of the .38 with the bills. "born under power lines?"
par for the course. they count the bills in the caprice. they count the bills again. they count the bills again.
"unbelievable." "what?" "un-fucking-believable" "what? come on , man. what?" he looks at him. blank. "thirty seven." "hundred?" "does this look like fucking thirty seven hundred dollars?" he looks at him. blank. "shit." "mhmm." he looks at him. blank. "let's go to taco bell."
KINKY SEX ROOM
he sings to her. she is sitting on the bed. the dresser has a lamp and a copy of naked lunch. there is weed on the copy of naked lunch. hard brick weed, broken up by fingers. he sings to her. roy orbison. only the lonely dum dum dum dumdy doo wah know the way i feel tonight ooh yay yay yay yeah only the lonely dum dum dum dumdy doo wah only the lonely know why i cry dum dum dum dum "is that nelly?"
she didn't like the munsters. they fought about this a lot. he drinks everclear from the bottle. he likes cartoons. he likes the munsters. she hates the snow. it's a fucking mess and gets everything all wet and dirty. she hates the fucking snow.
he was asleep and passed out on the couch in the den. his mom was at a fuck convention up in cleveland for the winter. the bong had spilt the night before and someone ate all the ganj, chris stood up and pissed all over the carpet, soaked every inch of it. he pissed on the couch, he pissed on the kid, he pissed on the sleep. shelley never knew what hit her, but the all the wrong kinds had let her know that rome was not the place to be.
now that i'm at the portal she is all that i can think about. take a breath. we're going to wake up in arkansas. breathe. breathe. breathe. we're going to wake up in 1997.
the engine is flooded.
now that i'm at the portal she is all that i can think about.!