"According to victims, one of the newest groups to emerge is called the Rastas, a mysterious gang of dreadlocked fugitives who live deep in the forest, wear shiny tracksuits and Los Angeles Lakers jerseys and are notorious for burning babies, kidnapping women and literally chopping up anybody who gets in their way."

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Chapter 5

The ground is full of dirt and rocks and some leaves from the trees in the park. The ground smells like shit and I wish someone would just come over and sit on the bench and light up a cigarette so I could get some smoke moving through these longs. I feel like I need to cough. The shit I just took is still steaming in a pile in the middle of the park. I can see some flies buzzing around it. Man, flies love my shit. A fly comes past my nose and I bite at the air as hard as I can trying to catch it but I miss.
The Captain and I arrived late today so I missed the thin man with the scarf around his throat who sits on the bench everyday and pats me on the head and scratches me behind my ear and tells me things like how death is like an empty shoe and how the bottom of the sky is going to one day come falling out and consume each nation. He tells me that he gets scared sometimes just thinking about it. He scratches my ears better than anyone when he talks about how scared he is. And when he does that I just move closer to him and rub my wet nose underneath his arm that rests on his skinny thigh. And he picks up his arm just enough to let my face slide underneath and he tells me that I’m a good boy and I move my tail from side to side letting him know the same.
The leash I am tied up with is red and coming undone at its sides. When I was younger I used to think I was invincible and could bite my way through anything. I get tied up to a statue of a dog every morning. The Captain thinks he is really clever sometimes. He tells me to stay put and I sit down in the park cause I know he knows how to tie a double knot so I know I’m not going anywhere. Plus, even if I could go somewhere where would I go? Every day The Captain goes across the street and comes back with burger straight off a plate for me. I don’t see many places around here giving me fresh burger off a plate. All I see is my shit still steaming.
The sidewalk has many cracks. This statue is supposed to look like a dog and as The Captain eats I pass the time sitting next to it trying to make myself look more dog like, more defined for the passers by. When I see anyone smoking a cigarette I flex my leg muscles as tight as I possibly can. I clench my jaw together and act like those fucked up dogs that are sometimes on the glowing screen when The Captain sits down on Monday nights to watch pro wrestling. When he expects to see body slams and sees dog prancing around a rectangle instead he gets pretty pissed off and so the dog shows never stay on for too long. But I have seen enough of them to know that those dogs, no matter how pretty those judges say their hair is or how proper their step looks are still fucked up. I know people love to see things acting like they know that they can win something. So I sit next to that shitty statue and I look as majestic as I can. I try to win some pats on the head. I try to win some stares from small children in strollers. I try and win a cigarette right up in my face. I want to hear those “awwwweesss” and “ohhhhhhhs”
I want to be seen as the most adorable dog of all time more adorable than that puppy in the window. I want to win the hearts and feel the warmth of all that is around me. I want to take the eyes of the people in the park and take them in my paw and hold them. I want to take them away from all those fake statues of real things. I want to show them something still bona fide and warm, something still steaming, a lot like my shit but with a greater urgency.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Chapter 4

Peggy Crist can smell an animal outside her window. She walks over to the sink and faucets water to a mug with a dog and a christmas tree on it. She returns to the window and pushes her face against the screen a little bit. Some water spills on the carpet. Peggy yawns, she ends her yawn with a high pitched noise made from the front of her throat. She closes the window and walks into the kitchen. She touches the top of a jar and thinks about the sound of a bus full of children. There is a Buger King bag on the top of the trash that she pushes down, pinning a paper towel between her hand and the pile. When she removes her hand she leaves the paper towel in the can. The sweatsuit on her body is baggy, the elastic on the pants is tied.

Peggy reads the names from CDs on her shelf. Jock Jams, Wallflowers, No Doubt, Mariah Carey, Smash Mouth, Puff Daddy featuring Faith Evans on the I'll Be Missing You single, Jewel, Third Eye Blind, Meredith Brooks, Spice Girls, The Verve Pipe, Sugar Ray. Peggy hasn't bought a CD since 1998 and she doesn't intend to. She walks over to the stack of CDs near the CD player. She sees The Cardigans and Monica, she puts them back on the shelf. She walks over to the CD player and opens it to see what is inside: Jimmy Ray, self titled.

She shrugs her shoulders and hums as she presses the button on the machine. Peggy dances slightly as the song starts and Jimmy Ray begins the album, "Weeellll...". Peggy sings along and begins to dance more violently, "Are you Johnny Ray? Are you Slim Ray? Are you Paid Ray?" She spreads her feet, her sweatpants sag, she bends her neck so her hair hangs behind her back, "Who wants to know? Who wants to know-oh-oh?" She walks back into the kitchen dancing every few steps. She picks up a spoon and holds it up like a microphone. "Are you Sting Ray? Are you Nick Ray?" She sings louder, "Are you Jimmy Ray? Who want's to know? Who want's to know-oh?" Peggy puts down the spoon and walks into her bedroom. She sits on the bed. She keeps moving her head to the beat. Peggy opens the window. As soon as she opens it an animal vocalizes on the other side. She slams the window shut. Her heart is racing. Jimmy Ray keeps singing in the other room. Peggy is scared, she looks to make sure the curtains are drawn. For a second she imagines Jimmy Ray dancing on the other side of the window. Peggy wishes she was at a party and lays on the bed. She puts her hand on her chest and feels it vibrate from the heavy heart beat beneath.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Chapter 3

OliFiles97: you there?
Everybodypoops44: yeah
OliFiles97: cool, when will you be back around
OliFiles97: also what are you doing after this semester...i am on sababtical myself
Everybodypoops44: not sure probably be around the 13th or so
Everybodypoops44: i am a couple semesters away from finishing
OliFiles97: so no sababtical?
Everybodypoops44: i already finished mine
OliFiles97: damn
Everybodypoops44: yeah
OliFiles97: well everyone else is into bad shit, and if you want to just hang out it’s cool with me
Everybodypoops44: What is everyone up to these days?
OliFiles97: h
OliFiles97: its really not that great
Everybodypoops44: whos still around?
OliFiles97: the general, and the humlys when they come up for more h
OliFiles97: the general is still alright
OliFiles97: everyone else is a thief
OliFiles97: it breaks my heart to say that but thats how it is
Everybodypoops44: i believe it
OliFiles97: fucking fiends
Everybodypoops44: yeah
Everybodypoops44: dumbass bitches man
Everybodypoops44: they will die soon
OliFiles97: make your bed and lie in it
Everybodypoops44: and we will live through thier death .
Everybodypoops44: hows nate doin, do you know?
OliFiles97: no, there was a big falling out over a bunch of shit and i dont have contact with nate also ross is scarce as usual
OliFiles97: stad is gone
Everybodypoops44: ya
Everybodypoops44: tosh on drugs?
OliFiles97: probably he’s in the thick of it
Everybodypoops44: i know at least pizzolla is doing all right
OliFiles97: thank god
OliFiles97: or whatever
OliFiles97: you know
Everybodypoops44: yea h
Everybodypoops44: is the general all h now or is he still chill
OliFiles97: occasionally
Everybodypoops44: did the oc dealers get arrested, or did the kids just finally realize that doing herons everyday is cheaper
OliFiles97: they will all go down
OliFiles97: thats the path
OliFiles97: but i got a job and shit so its not like i'll be scrounging come new years or any other time, nice flush bank account etc
Everybodypoops44: the busy life is the good life
OliFiles97: you're talking to someone who wants to shoot himself currently so i dont know about that
OliFiles97: they still haven't "fixed" my head
Everybodypoops44: it makes my heart feel dark to hear these things about home
OliFiles97: sorry its the truth
Everybodypoops44: no sorry
OliFiles97: im still here, im still me, i still have honor and decency
Everybodypoops44: right
Everybodypoops44: well dont shoot yourself
OliFiles97: im trying not too
OliFiles97: thanksgiving is ass-fest 2007
Everybodypoops44: good
OliFiles97: so i'll be around at least for that
OliFiles97: also christmas is ass-fest
OliFiles97: but i told my girl that when im with my friends they come first
OliFiles97: she can just sit there if she wants to be there at all
Everybodypoops44: thats how it goes
OliFiles97: exactly, shes happy enough to just let me be me (god thats strange)
Everybodypoops44: hah well thats good enough
OliFiles97: amen
OliFiles97: cant wait to see you
OliFiles97: still got my numbeer? otherwise i start calling the 14th
Everybodypoops44: yeah man, it will be good to sit down. I think I have it.
OliFiles97: fuck yeah, i need a peer (if you'll allow me the title) to hang out with
OliFiles97: got some good ideas
Everybodypoops44: its gotta be killing you to just be up there with the empty containers of everyone we used to know everyday
OliFiles97: like i said i feel like shooting myself
OliFiles97: they are all different people
Everybodypoops44: yeah
OliFiles97: barely recognizable as the people they were....OC and H took a toll on our group
OliFiles97: its like me and you now
Everybodypoops44: yeah im sorry man i feel for you
OliFiles97: its alright, i feel for you, they are your friends too
OliFiles97: but they cant be trusted its sad
OliFiles97: i dont care anymore what their story is i give out no more loans
OliFiles97: the bank of oliver files is closed
OliFiles97: robbed too many times
Everybodypoops44: all banks are destroyed now. we have been robbed.
OliFiles97: exactly, im glad you are still in good mind and body
OliFiles97: everyone will get pissed i talked shit about them but fuck that its what they are and its what they do
OliFiles97: you kow i stay on the wine
Everybodypoops44: i talked to humly the other day, he sounded all right. I never would of guessed. Yeah I have been fighting through it. you know how it goes. some days the tv is where i am and I sit and do nothing just to carry on. But other days there is energy. everyday is like church. if church was something worthwhile and not just a buisness.
Everybodypoops44: yeah i have started drinking a little more
OliFiles97: more than happy to give you the tour when you get here. i dont do bars but i crack a bottle
Everybodypoops44: yeah we can crack a bottle.
OliFiles97: im into german whites still, and ruby ports (mostly)
Everybodypoops44: i have been exploring the whiskies of the world
OliFiles97: we'll get a good cigar or two and have a cognac and cigar night
OliFiles97: amen for whiskey
Everybodypoops44: yeah
OliFiles97: fuck yeah we are on the same level man.... its gonna be fun to hang out with a real person again
Everybodypoops44: defiantly
OliFiles97: but i got to go finish this damn paper....i swear ill start calling the 14th im starved for stimulation
OliFiles97: but yeah when you get your plans in order let me know, i say we start with cheese pizza
Everybodypoops44: i nice tony's trip
OliFiles97: EXACTLY
OliFiles97: but i g2g..illl talk to you later about schedules..i got busy work until the 17th
OliFiles97: peace
Everybodypoops44: bye

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Chapter 2

Jimmy Ray stands up and shakes his hips at a locomotive as the filter of his cigarette burns. And it’s a small train.

“Shorter than the ones in England.” Jimmy Ray says out loud thinking to himself. Jimmy Ray moved to the states to follow his music career and his career hasn’t died yet so Jimmy Ray is still here. In between a river and a train track next to a small tree with no leaves and right across from a giant corn field Jimmy Ray brings his fist to his mouth as the train chugs by. It’s cold out. Jimmy Ray is wearing a sick leather jacket. The train wheels kick up a rock and it hits the boots of Jimmy Ray. So Jimmy Ray screams Choo! Choo! at the train. His throat feels scratchy. He blows hot air into his fist and looks to the sky. He looks into the train. Then he tries to look through it but it doesn’t work so he stares at the ground for a second. Then he just thrusts his arm into the air with his palm towards the sky because he just doesn’t give a heck anymore.

“Look mom that man with the long face looks like he is trying to catch something falling from space!”

Jimmy Ray screams at some little boy pointing a finger at him in a train window. He screams at a couple hundred passenger car windows that pass right by him but all the blurring colors resemble that boy or something that looks like McDonalds BigMac, Jimmy Ray wasn’t sure which.

“Fuck you! You don’t know anything about ’97!” Jimmy Ray throws a rock at the side of the train. It hits. Jimmy Ray sits to light another cigarette and the train passes past and then it is just Jimmy Ray sitting smoking a cigarette next to a train track alone. He takes out his whiskey and throws the empty bottle against the metal. The glass shatters. There is a mix of rocks, glass, metal above the earth on the ground. There are burn marks between each of his knuckles. Jimmy Ray thinks that that pose he just stood up and struck for all those fans on that train just a few moments ago was awesome. Jimmy Ray thinks that the hand on the hip was a great touch and wonders why he didn’t use the move more in ’97. It doesn’t matter Jimmy Ray still has it. His body shakes a little cause it’s cold out.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Chapter 1

The space rock moves past the satellite and enters the earth’s atmosphere, creating a little fire on the dark side of this planet, miles from the ground. An airplane flies above the clouds of this planet. A small piece of rock remains, moving through the air. It gains speed as it falls. It moves into the clouds and moisture touches rock. Then it moves below the clouds and some rain and this small rock collide as both fall to the ground. There are buildings here with lights on, as the rock moves to the ground it nears these lights and becomes parallel with them and passes below them. The rock nears a part of ground that is covered is pavement. A car drives on the pavement. As the rock nears the ground the car drives into it, and the rock strikes the windshield. The car skids in the rain.

“What the fuck?” The driver yells as he loses control of the vehicle on the road. The car turns one and a half rotations and comes to a stop.

“What the fuck was that, man?” Someone says from the backseat.

“I dunno. It looked like a humming bird or a little bat or something.” The driver leans forward and looks at a small crack in the windshield. “It cracked the windshield.”

“It cracked the windshield? What cracked the windshield?” Someone wearing a yellow T-shirt says from the backseat.

“That little fucking batbird thing. It cracked the windshield.”

The person in the yellow T-shirt leans forward between the two front seats, touching the people sitting in the front with their fingers. “Oh yeah, it cracked the windshield a little there.”

“Well, is everyone okay?” The driver says looking at each person in the car. Each person nods to each other. Everyone is okay. The driver puts the car in drive. “Alright then, back at it, WOOOOOOOOOO.” The driver yells as he accelerates toward the intersection.

A person in the backseat screams out the window at a cat crossing the street as the car turns the corner. "Party! Party! WOOOO. See you at the party you little soggy-" The voice trails off as the distance grows.

The rock landed in a puddle near an incline in the sidewalk next to the gated entrance of a parking lot. The cat nears the rock as it walks along the side of the building staying under the awning where it can. The cat has on a fluorescent green collar with a heart shaped tag on it. The tag reflects in the streetlight, it says: COLESLAW #113578836. Coleslaw continues up the street, eventually moving out of the light, where the car had come from earlier. Eventually the rain stops and the planet rotates so that this part is in the sun. After a few hours the puddle dries and the rock sits on the street. A couple of children wearing backpacks walk up with street with their mother. One of the kids kicks the rock as they walk. The rock is kicked two and a half blocks, and as the mother and children near the bus stop the child stands in the road for a second. The rock sits on the asphalt, the small shoe makes contact and it rolls into a drain where it is carried by a current of old rainwater towards the treatment plant.

The children wait at the bus stop with their mother. The bus arrives. The two of them run up the stairs silently to find a seat on the bus. The mother puts a foot on the bottom step.

“How ya doin, Peggy?” The mother says to the driver.

“Oh, it’s okay. Nothing doing today really. I am looking forward to relaxing tonight.”

“You have special plans or something?”

“Oh, no no. I just don’t have any other work tonight, so after I drop these guys off.” Peggy points into the mostly empty bus with her thumb. “I am going to kick my feet up and see what TV looks like these days.”

“Well that sounds nice. Have a good morning, Peggy.”

“You too, Heather.” Peggy pushes the lever to close the two doors to the bus.