of redeployments, rearrangements, and nervous sheep
it was around midnight when the hitch on the trailer finally broke loose and sent the pallet full of drano and sudafed careening from the road and into a local creek. the Doktor was trembling with fear and worry for the locals’ water supply and their livestock. i got out and lit an M-80 i had in my pocket, throwing it in the water. when he spilled out of the car to survey the damage, i yelled, “GET BACK IN THERE, YOU TREEHUGGER! I’VE GOT FEMA ON SPEED DIAL! THEY’LL TAKE CARE OF THIS!”
i was right. and they would. i almost closed the door before he sped away, a half-gallon of Wild Turkey on the seat between us. due to an exorbitant cable porn bill, six months of back-rent, and a block full of irate neighbors, the Doktor was relocating and i, as part of a plea bargain arrangement, was aiding and abetting this relocation process. man, he had a lot of shit, and i’m sure the lot of it was stolen.
these roads were dark and winding…a street light every mile or so…and the way was littered with farmland.
“good thing i’m prepared,” i said.
“oh yeah? give me some.”
“not that. oh…well, that too…but that’s not what i’m talking about. i’m glad i got my shit with me. these roads could be dangerous and we don’t wanna run afoul of the law, what with you just moving into the neighborhood and all.”
“i’m not moving into a neighborhood. i’m occupying a compound.”
“whatever. pull over.” i grabbed my backpack from the backseat, got out, and moved around to the front of the car. i threw it on his car hood face down and quickly moved it around in a huge circle.
“what the fuck are you doing?”
“scratching the hood of your car. this gives it character.”
he took another hit from the bottle and laid on the horn. i paid him no mind, rummaging about in the kitbag in search of the bottle rockets. i pulled out three and tied them together.
“where did you get…”
“SHUT UP!” i yelled and lit the three rockets in my hand. they took off with a hiss and a whistle from a lazy grip, rising high in a slow red arc for about a hundred yards before they popped.
“awwwwww”
“pretty, ain’t it?”
“uh huh…drink some of this…we need to get moving.”
“NONSENSE,” i spit, and smacked him about the head. “ya see, your problem is you don’t obey the law…”
“i do. I DO!”
“no, you don’t. you don’t obey the laws set in stone by the great leaders of this country.”
“paper.”
“what?”
“paper…the laws…paper…not stone.”
“LISTEN,” i shot back, “I’VE GOT NO TIME TO SPLIT SEMANTICAL HAIRS WITH YOU! the fact remains that you are new to this area. we wait ten minutes.”
“alright, fine. for fuck’s sake.”
we drank in the dark, the car idling on a cold November’s night. “i don’t see any cows,” i said, “let’s go.”
“wha…”
“DRIVE!”
he did. “have you been reading the papers?” he asked.
“papers?”
“newspapers…about the Plame leak and Libby gettin’ nailed. that shit goes right up to Cheney.”
“i won’t comment on that.”
“you won’t comment on that? what the fuck…”
“STOP!” i yelled and the Doktor stomped on the brake. i got out with my bag, found the bottle rockets, tied three more together and lit the twisted wick. with a hiss, we watched the rockets leave a red trail in the night sky, lighting low clouds with a white flash and a sharp crack.
“give me the bottle.”
“what do you mean you won’t comment?”
“there is an investigation under way. i am sure they will get to the bottom of this stinking mess. and when they do, our President will take the appropriate actions. they’re just following the letter of the law.”
“appropriate actions? who are you? this could be worse than Watergate. and you don’t even have an opinion?”
“bigger than Watergate? A Ha Ha Ha. did that sound like George Takei?”
“you fuckin’ moron…this investigation…i mean, there is evidence of a cover-up, the smearing of a political opponent, money mischief, lies that went along with the war…i mean, the absurdity, the white-collar flippancy of it all…take the filibuster removal for instance. why would the republicans even suggest removing it unless they were so sure they would never be in the minority again. Christ, that’s enough evidence right there for me that they fixed the last two Presidential elections, and they’ll probably keep on doin’ it. fuck man…trying to nab this administration with this Valerie Plame leak is like trying to nail Capone for tax evasion. i mean, they may have gotten Capone for it, but come the fuck on! tax evasion? all that gangster shit, and that's the best they can get him for? fuckin’ tax evasion? and You, you son-of-a-bitch…NO COMMENT?”
“stop the car. it’s been a mile.”
“wha…i don’t even wanna know. go shoot your fireworks and get back in.”
at first, after the rockets left their red and white mark behind my eyes, i thought the trail went on a little longer than usual. apparently, a police car had pulled in behind us.
“what in the samhell are you doing out here?”
“moving, Your Honor.”
“movin’? well, shootin’ fireworks is a helluva strange way to be movin’, son.”
“i don’t believe you and i are relation, Sir.”
“you got a smart little mouth on you there, boy.”
“Your Immenseness, forgive us. the Doktor and I were just making sure we didn’t harm any of the local livestock. we sent up a flare every mile or so and waited to make sure the road was clear. oh, heavens me, sir, i’ve seemed to have lost my wits. This, good sir, is the Doktor. he is taking up residence in these parts.”
“pleasure. so, uh, you two boys will be livin’ out here together?”
“Together? oh no no no…we’re not…i’m not, i mean he’s not...”
“hey, whatever you two got goin’ on is between y’all. there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”
“Dok, can you believe this? he thinks we’re…”
“well, he’s right on the money about you.”
“but you boys can’t be runnin’ around and drinkin’ and shootin’ shit around here on a weeknight, ok. we save that for the weekends and special occasions. A HA HA HA HA.”
“what? like lynchings?”
“A HA HA HA HA…no no no, that went out of style with Martin Luther the King…now boys, i’m tryin’ to be friendly to y’all. i suggest you take me up on it and get from these parts.”
“aye aye, cap’n. so, Ossifer, can you tell us…is there any livestock around here?”
“of course there is, you Goddamm idgit galoot.”
“hmmm…fascinating. are they heavy?”
“what?”
“heavy, man, are they heavy? the animals…are they under 40 pounds?”
“you two boys need to lay off that whiskey.”
“ok ok…but one last thing…why do you wrap a hamster in duct tape?”
“now why in the samhell would you ever wrap a hamster in duct tape?”
“ask the Doktor.”
i was right. and they would. i almost closed the door before he sped away, a half-gallon of Wild Turkey on the seat between us. due to an exorbitant cable porn bill, six months of back-rent, and a block full of irate neighbors, the Doktor was relocating and i, as part of a plea bargain arrangement, was aiding and abetting this relocation process. man, he had a lot of shit, and i’m sure the lot of it was stolen.
these roads were dark and winding…a street light every mile or so…and the way was littered with farmland.
“good thing i’m prepared,” i said.
“oh yeah? give me some.”
“not that. oh…well, that too…but that’s not what i’m talking about. i’m glad i got my shit with me. these roads could be dangerous and we don’t wanna run afoul of the law, what with you just moving into the neighborhood and all.”
“i’m not moving into a neighborhood. i’m occupying a compound.”
“whatever. pull over.” i grabbed my backpack from the backseat, got out, and moved around to the front of the car. i threw it on his car hood face down and quickly moved it around in a huge circle.
“what the fuck are you doing?”
“scratching the hood of your car. this gives it character.”
he took another hit from the bottle and laid on the horn. i paid him no mind, rummaging about in the kitbag in search of the bottle rockets. i pulled out three and tied them together.
“where did you get…”
“SHUT UP!” i yelled and lit the three rockets in my hand. they took off with a hiss and a whistle from a lazy grip, rising high in a slow red arc for about a hundred yards before they popped.
“awwwwww”
“pretty, ain’t it?”
“uh huh…drink some of this…we need to get moving.”
“NONSENSE,” i spit, and smacked him about the head. “ya see, your problem is you don’t obey the law…”
“i do. I DO!”
“no, you don’t. you don’t obey the laws set in stone by the great leaders of this country.”
“paper.”
“what?”
“paper…the laws…paper…not stone.”
“LISTEN,” i shot back, “I’VE GOT NO TIME TO SPLIT SEMANTICAL HAIRS WITH YOU! the fact remains that you are new to this area. we wait ten minutes.”
“alright, fine. for fuck’s sake.”
we drank in the dark, the car idling on a cold November’s night. “i don’t see any cows,” i said, “let’s go.”
“wha…”
“DRIVE!”
he did. “have you been reading the papers?” he asked.
“papers?”
“newspapers…about the Plame leak and Libby gettin’ nailed. that shit goes right up to Cheney.”
“i won’t comment on that.”
“you won’t comment on that? what the fuck…”
“STOP!” i yelled and the Doktor stomped on the brake. i got out with my bag, found the bottle rockets, tied three more together and lit the twisted wick. with a hiss, we watched the rockets leave a red trail in the night sky, lighting low clouds with a white flash and a sharp crack.
“give me the bottle.”
“what do you mean you won’t comment?”
“there is an investigation under way. i am sure they will get to the bottom of this stinking mess. and when they do, our President will take the appropriate actions. they’re just following the letter of the law.”
“appropriate actions? who are you? this could be worse than Watergate. and you don’t even have an opinion?”
“bigger than Watergate? A Ha Ha Ha. did that sound like George Takei?”
“you fuckin’ moron…this investigation…i mean, there is evidence of a cover-up, the smearing of a political opponent, money mischief, lies that went along with the war…i mean, the absurdity, the white-collar flippancy of it all…take the filibuster removal for instance. why would the republicans even suggest removing it unless they were so sure they would never be in the minority again. Christ, that’s enough evidence right there for me that they fixed the last two Presidential elections, and they’ll probably keep on doin’ it. fuck man…trying to nab this administration with this Valerie Plame leak is like trying to nail Capone for tax evasion. i mean, they may have gotten Capone for it, but come the fuck on! tax evasion? all that gangster shit, and that's the best they can get him for? fuckin’ tax evasion? and You, you son-of-a-bitch…NO COMMENT?”
“stop the car. it’s been a mile.”
“wha…i don’t even wanna know. go shoot your fireworks and get back in.”
at first, after the rockets left their red and white mark behind my eyes, i thought the trail went on a little longer than usual. apparently, a police car had pulled in behind us.
“what in the samhell are you doing out here?”
“moving, Your Honor.”
“movin’? well, shootin’ fireworks is a helluva strange way to be movin’, son.”
“i don’t believe you and i are relation, Sir.”
“you got a smart little mouth on you there, boy.”
“Your Immenseness, forgive us. the Doktor and I were just making sure we didn’t harm any of the local livestock. we sent up a flare every mile or so and waited to make sure the road was clear. oh, heavens me, sir, i’ve seemed to have lost my wits. This, good sir, is the Doktor. he is taking up residence in these parts.”
“pleasure. so, uh, you two boys will be livin’ out here together?”
“Together? oh no no no…we’re not…i’m not, i mean he’s not...”
“hey, whatever you two got goin’ on is between y’all. there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”
“Dok, can you believe this? he thinks we’re…”
“well, he’s right on the money about you.”
“but you boys can’t be runnin’ around and drinkin’ and shootin’ shit around here on a weeknight, ok. we save that for the weekends and special occasions. A HA HA HA HA.”
“what? like lynchings?”
“A HA HA HA HA…no no no, that went out of style with Martin Luther the King…now boys, i’m tryin’ to be friendly to y’all. i suggest you take me up on it and get from these parts.”
“aye aye, cap’n. so, Ossifer, can you tell us…is there any livestock around here?”
“of course there is, you Goddamm idgit galoot.”
“hmmm…fascinating. are they heavy?”
“what?”
“heavy, man, are they heavy? the animals…are they under 40 pounds?”
“you two boys need to lay off that whiskey.”
“ok ok…but one last thing…why do you wrap a hamster in duct tape?”
“now why in the samhell would you ever wrap a hamster in duct tape?”
“ask the Doktor.”
Johnny St. Clair wuz here at 11:58 PM
1 Comments:
I catagorically deny that anyone in the white house is going down.
Except on each other.
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