29 August 2011

Roach

Cockroach

She plied me with snake bites, made from real snakes. I had a poisonous head in the morning. I never went to bed with an ugly woman, but I woke up with a few. Not that she was bad to look at; she just had an unattractive disposition. Somehow she brought out the squalor of our situation and held it in sharp relief. My place could use a woman’s touch and she had the touch of a seasoned professional, which is how she picked me up.

I was already trying to distance myself from the events of the previous night, which was easier than you’d think – I couldn’t remember a thing, but my bed smelled of pussy and I smelled of corruption. I’d had my cheap thrills, or maybe it was she who was slumming it. This flat was a temple  of cockroaches and I was the high priest of pestilence. My breath smelled of dog shit, but she didn’t seem to mind as I followed her down for one more roll in the dirt. I speared her as I worked on how to get rid of her without bruising my feelings.

This whole situation smelled foul enough without stinking things up further with a stricken conscience. It was already awkward enough that I did not remember her name. The only names I could remember were Herpes, Chlamydia and other great heroes of Greek mythology. When it was time for her to finally spit we agreed to meet again. When she was gone I threw her scribbled phone number in the trash. I had survived the Gorgon once, I was not about to press my bad luck again. In the kingdom of the roaches there were no little black books and no repeat performances. They say you can judge a man by the company he keeps – I guess that made me a transient, or a roach.

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2 comments:

  1. This one hell of a chapter of transgressive literature, so dramatic and cinematic work of a skillful satirist. I am bedazzled by the extreme realism of detail and surrealism of it, so closely dancing like professionals in the metaphorical and symbolic rendition. This is hot stuff. You are going to be famous kid!

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  2. When life was simpler, but more conflicted and decadence and depravity meant the same thing. A poor boy's soul burned with an x-ray flicker invisible to even the innermost eye. When the ghosts in his bed were yet living and there was time yet to change his wicked ways - in the morning, some morning.

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