tk

[mustynutz]

was at one time a poli science major, and I believe that people should be involved in their local government. Change begins at home, or some other stupid colloquialism I have heard too many times, and I was brought to the attention of the city council's desire to shut down my favorite bar (and place to perform my music) and chose to attend the meeting. Some of the ensuing incidents absolutely baffled me, and I felt that they had to be presented.

In reference to my roommate taking the lectern and remarking on statements made concerning local musicians who play at O'Malley's Alley:

Roommate: "A large part of my argument for maintaining the business license of this bar is the way it inspires local musicians. It's a gathering place for us to all come together, and meet and support each other. Taking away our primary meeting place as a musician would cripple the music industry in this town."

Councilman: "Do you know an elderly man named Willie Green?"

Roommate: "Yes, sir."

Councilman: "Are you aware that he is a known crack addict?"

Roommate: " I don't really see that being the issue at hand. He's a great blues musician, and plays the harmonica better than anyone I know."

Are city council members, or any other public office holders, supposed to publicly speak this way, especially in a professional forum? Not that I don't know the answer, but you make the call.

The attempt to revoke the license was cast down, along with an effort to force him to get a permit for EVERY SINGLE BAND, EVERY SINGLE SHOW if it was on the main stage. That takes, what, about 20 permits a week for this one guy to get? By attending every city council meeting, every Tuesday? How incredulous is that? The man that did th eulogy for George's father was on the council. He was also one of the hardest attacking members, who wanted George shut down at no cost. Why? Because George ran against the current mayor in the prior election. So many parameters were set on him last night to try to make sure that he is a good boy, and doesn't do anything potentially offensive or illegal. So great, make sure safety and legality are served, but the way they went about it, this poor man deserves to be treated like any other business owner, not as "the guy who tried to replace our mayor". Every other business owner in a similar scenario was forewarned before being taken in front of a council having their business rights stripped. But not in this situation, no notice was given. And somehow, they still allowed the meeting to go on. The police lawyer was defending the bar, the DA was defending the bar.... it was made very clear that none of the tricks the council members were trying to pull were legitimate, and yet they persisted. In the end, a good man with a good extablishment was injured, but thankfully, not defeated.

This whole thing has me so jaded. I anticipate big business politics to be corrputed, because there is so much money and power involved. I am not naive enough to have believed that small town government should be any less prone to conspiracy and deceit, but I allowed room for the possibility. Needless to say, I was quite disappointed. It's about time for me to run for office, just to know that I can have an impact on my surroundings in some capacity. Think about what the people in charge are doing behind closed doors, if what you see out in the open is as disturbing as it is. Think hard.

 

[mustynutz]

I could see him.... through the window as I watched him..

I watched our friendship..since second grade turn to nothing.. went up in to hell with his nose as he snorted that line of coke...

I have watched him when he first started to smoke bud. The first puff he did as he told me... "It's just weed, Chris shit".

I watched him when Extacy first came out. At first he only took one pill a week. It went from one pill to 3 pills in one sitting. We told him it was putting holes in his brain he didn't listen. Fuck he didn't even care.

I watched him as he quit the basketball team our soph year because he didn't make varcity. He quit and started to snort valumes. He would crack them up and snort them like coke. He didn't think it effected him to him this was all just like drinking.

I watched him as his life went down the tube and as he started to hang out with nigga's from the hood. I watched him as he started to tote guns around and try and be hard.

I watched him as he soon started to snort coke then go on to smoking crack. I watched him as how he could work 70hrs a week at jiffy lube but never have anymoney.

I watched him throw his life away with his good friends. I watched him fall into the abyss of drugs, drinks, and suregons..

The one thing I never did as I watched him.. was Stop him... I couldn't stop him..


I was the smaller of the two of us. He had it all so I thought . His dad would buy him New Jordans for no reason just to be a dad. Me I had 4 brothers and 1 sister hand me downs was a understatement. He always had all the flyest gear and got most of the girls.

He was as they said when we were younger the "Cuter of the two". We were both cute little kids but he had 1 up on me. He always did. He was faster than me. During cross country in elementary school he would take 1st me always 2nd or 3rd. During basketball he was the prodigy in our little small town. Derrell is so fast. Derrell is so handsome, Derrell is so quick. The people would say.

I was a prodogiy in my own right. I had football and soccer in the bag. I was a star athelte since childhood before my slackerdom set in. But everyone loved Derrell he was the cool kid that everyone wanted to be friends with.

I was the only one who never sucked his cock so to speak. He was just my boy and we were always on the same level. He got my jokes. we macked girls together did it all. you could never here Chris without Derrell's name right next to it.

Derrell had the famous cousin basketball player. I was just a rugrat from a family of six. He was in the in crowd since we were tots. Getting to play spin the bottle and kiss the hottest little 11 yearold I had ever seen. I was always second place compared to him. It didn't bother me because he was my boy. He liked the way things were up until soph year when I passed him up.

I went from being the short skinny kid. To becoming the thick burly football stud by my soph year. I became the popular" one". I had the hot ass girls on me. As I watched Derrell fall off from the preppy ASB light and hangout with the scumbags of our school.

I watched as one time he tried to one up to a girl explaining to her " Well chris might have all the muscles and be a football player. But I'm the start basketball player plus' My face is better than his.. I mean isn't it? I'm better looking than chris.. I watched as lauren looked us over and said I dont know" Chris has those puppy dog eyes. And cute little button nose,,{ I,Do} and his eyes are a perfect carmel brown.

The shock on his face was apparent. He had finally lost everything he had over me. He had lost the fact that he was more atheletic, Popular, Better looking, and just more liked than I was. It killed him and inside he started to resent me. I could feel it. I could see it with the shit he would talk behind my back.. All the things he would say about my family and how his Cronies would try and fight me during school.

Me. I always stayed true never, ever would I talk shit about my friend. I always wanted him to be on the same level as me.. I wanted him to graduate highschool and play basketball at Oregon State, or Oregon, WSU.. the places he had gotten letter to.

I always wanted the best for him regardless...

Things have changed so much for us... I'm moving to cali to play sports.. He is a litteral crack head who works in our small town and hangs out with Coke heads all day.

I tried to have internventions on him. I had about 6 to be exact. But no.. he doesnt want to here from me.. he avoids me now.. never says a word to me as if we were never friends as if we have no history..

I saw him about a week ago cracked out at this loser kids house. We were supposed to graduate 02' he never did graduate got his GED I think.. he is 3 years almost removed from highschool but still hangs out with sophmores around our town. He kicks it with the kids who sell drugs and deal dope.

We are strangers now.. I went the prep route he went the druggy one.

I new we were done when he snorted 8 lines infront of me.. he didn't care that I was there like he used to.. to him I am and was nobody now.. Just a reminder of what he could have been.. so he avoids me..

He smoke that crack like he needed it. I have seen his nose bleed randomly about 10 times now. He sells drugs and hangs out with a dangerous drug dealer now. He hangs out with people that berate him and turned him into a bitch. He is a bitter shell of what he used to be.. I used to look up to him.. he was the better of the two of us I guess.. he fell off..

I'm throwing my going away kegger in 2 weeks.. I hope he attends.. I don't know what to say to him besides.....

You fucked up...

 

[mustynutz]

With the end of summer approaching, and the need for money getting stronger by the minute, the concept that i needed a "teen summer job" (i.e a low paying job, doing menial tasks and working with fucking dipshits) was finally starting to sink in. My friend Jon who i typically didn't spend much time with by the name of Jon informed me of an opening at his work. The phone conversation went a little like this:





Him: I get tons of hours , but the work is kind of lame.


Me: Where's it at?...


Him: Boss is pretty laid back too i guess, just a bit weird.


Me: Ya, sounds pretty badass. Where are you working?


Him: It's um... Well it's called um... Country Farms


Me: (laughing) you mean the church fruit stand? fuck yourself fatass *click*



Unfortunately for me though, my high hopes of a "Costco" job cheffing up the best pizzas known to man wouldn't quite work out. Eventually the need for a job working somewhere other than "Socks Galore" sent me back to Jon, to get the fruit stand information. Jon explained to me that they didn't really have applications, that i should just come in and try my best to bullshit around with his boss, a fellow named Randy.

For the next few days I would show up around 12:00 in the afternoon to try to get ahold of the elusive Randy. Every time i'd show up I would be greeted by Ada, a 17 year old girl with a 1 year old child and at least 8-9 boyfriends, all filthier than the last, yet none greasier than the father of her sewer rat child. Every time anyone, male or female would make eye contact with Ada or even just speak to her she would grope them from behind, and press her saggy milk filled tits up against their back. They were the most disgusting things to ever come in contact with a human body, these things would soil around 10-15 unsuspecting males a day. There was even a mexican fellow by the name of Roberto Sanchez who owned a chain of taco stands, but got most of his income through the sales of crack cocaine would come in and "court" Ada with gifts of tomatoes and Oreo cookies.

The first time I asked Ada about talking to Randy she told me to "ugh humph just ead out to ee carrievan! and git heem" After asking Ada (who happened to come from the deep deep south of mexico) what in christ's name she meant by caravan, and receiving another incoherent sentence i realized that she must be talking about the camp trailer nestled snugly next to the dumpster in the back. This wasn't a nice camp trailer, In fact it was barely functional and was filled with all sorts of creatures that lived in the dumpster yet would migrate to the "caravan".

As i neared the Camp trailer i came upon a site that would haunt me for the rest of my life, it was a randy... a man covered in sores, wearing black upper thigh length boxer shorts, a cigarette in one hand, and a dull fruit knife in his other hand with which he was trying to hack what remained of a large part of his heel away.

 

[mustynutz]

Taking advantage of company policy is what cooperate america don't want you to know about. The cooperate attitude is, "Better to get some of their money then none of it." When you think about it, it makes perfect sence. If you're paying a cell phone bill at $75.00 per month, they'd rather lower their profit margin off of you then lose all of your business completely. I'm going to teach you how to take advantage of company policy in a lot of situations. In time there will be revisions. Feel free to ad anything in the comments that you think I've missed.

CELLULAR PHONE COMPANIES: They lure you into a one year contract with a cool phone and if you've had your service for more then 3 months you can get a retention plan. As long as you've been on time with your bill for 90 days or more you can cut your bill by 25% or more by following company policy. Call in to customer service, tell them you want to cancell your service. They'll inform you of the contract and the fees for disconnection, agree to them. Call every one of their bluffs, and just before they dosconnect the service, the rep will ask you why are you doing so. Explain to them that (insert name of competitor here) is offering you a better rate with a free phone. Expect the rep to tell you the other company's service is substandard and they are going under, blah blah blah. Explain to them that your best friend has their service and it's just as good, if not better then yours. Just before they disconnect your service, they will offer you a huge discounted monthly rate, better then anything they advertise. Agree to it, and you're saving money. It's better to cut the profit and make a little money off of you, then to make zero. I've personally done this and I am paying $100.00 per month with 4 lines and unlimited talk and internet time with unlimited photo/video sending. NEVER mention "retention plan" they'll know what you're doing. This isn't a scam, they have lower prices but hide them from you.

CABLE / SATELLITE TV: Regardless whether you are with cable, dish, DirecTV or any other satellite service, you can get a better rate then what you are currently paying. Call the customer service department, tell them you wish to cancel your service on a specific date (14 days from today). Again, call the reps every bluff and just before they put the disconnect order in, they'll ask you why you are doing so. Explain to them that (insert name of competitor here) is offering you a much cheaper rate with free install and a DVR (TiVo). Expect the rep to tell you that the other company's service is sub par and that when it rains or it's windy or too many people are on the service is lousy. You come back with, My neighbor has their service and I'm always at his house he never has ANY problems. Just before they put the disconnect order through, they'll offer you a kick ass rate better then anything they advertise. It's better to cut the profit and make a little money off of you, then to make zero. I've personally done this and I am paying $50.00 per month for three TVs and a DVR with 10 pay channels.

INTERNET: Regardless whether you're using DSL, cable or just plain dialup you can get a cheaper rate. Just like above, call to disconnect and call all the bluffs. Expect the service rep to tell you that DSL is better then cable or vise versa and then tell them that all that matters is the price. Just before disconnection, you'll get a huge discount. I've personally done this and I'm paying $19.99 per month for high speed cable with Charter.

ONLINE SHOPPING: When you are ready to purchase something online from Office Depot or any other store, do a google on "Office Depot Coupons" and you'll find hidden 30% off coupons with codes that you simply enter. The coupons are out there, but they don't tell you where to look. If you search for coupons, for anything chances are you'll find it.

ELECTRONICS: Best Buy, Circuit City, Good Guys, Walmart, if an extended warranty is available, BUY IT. Wait for the next model to come out and go exchange it. Company policy is, if they don't have the exact same model, they will upgrade you to the next available. I started off with a three speaker system for my computer, and over the past 5 years I've worked myself up to a Dolby 6.0 surround sound that knocks the dishes off the cabinet when I play Doom. Their policy is to exchange and never downgrade you, but always upgrade you. When you swap out, buy the warranty again. I purchased a three year warranty on my 60" mitsubishi from Best Buy and one month before the warranty was out, I got a larger HD without a problem. Even Toys R Us has a warranty, always buy it. If you read the warranty it states that it covers accidental damage, water, etc. Electronic stores don't ask questions most of the time, so long as you have a warranty.

CREDIT CARD COMPANIES: 18%? 20% 25% or more. One simple call to find out your balance with some gab telling them that you are transferring the balance over to another card who is offering you a kick ass rate of 14% or less will get you transferred to a manager. Explain to them that you want to transfer the balance then cancel the account, magically your interest rate will go down by 1/3 or more. I've done this and my Chase account only charges me 5 points. FIVE FUCKING POINTS! The larger your balance and available credit, the better discount you get. Better to cut profits on you and make a few dimes then to make nothing on you ever again.

NORDSTROMS: The most liberal and easy returns I've ever seen. We've all returned stuff we purchased, sometimes the clerk gives you a hard time (always ask for a manager in this case) but at Nordstrom's, anything you've purchased from them will gladly be returned for cash or store credit, your call. My wife has returned a thousand items, no questions or hassle what so ever. I even took back a bottle of cologne that was 70% used and asked for a replacement. With a fucking smile the lady gave me a certificate for a new one, not to mention a free coffee at their stand. I've even returned shirts that no longer fit me, and they gave me cash back. What did I say? The truth, "Hi, I need to return this. It doesn't fit any more." Then I found out that 9 times out of 10 they wont even ask you why, they'll just return your money or give you store credit. It's safe to say 99% of the time I take the store credit, just to make them happy. Recepit? Not needed. Feel free to shop there and try anything you like. You can always return it, even if it no longer fits or you've used it. I know this sounds like bullshit, but try it. Then plus two my fat ass.

HOTEL ROOMS: Booked? No vacancy? Pull the old "I made my reservations online, dammit" routine. Cause a small scene and magically they'll find you a room. Staying more then one night? Find something to complain about. Noisy neighbors, dusty room, the list can be endless. One phone call to a manager explaining your side of the story and you'd like to check out, they'll offer you one night's free stay or take you to a better room. Once in a great while, if you seem big shot enough or are paying with a cooperate card, you'll get both. This only works at nice hotels, not crappy by the hour fuck motels. The higher end room you get, the better your chances are of a freebie. Manager don't do anything for you? Call to the main office and stir up some shit. The higher you go and the more annoying you are the faster they will want you off of their back. I've done this a hundred times, it never fails. The company will do almost anything to keep you satisfied and coming back to their hotel, including a freebie. Hampton & Embassy Suites have a guarantee that if you are not satisfied for any reason, the stay is free. Ask about it.

DMV: Don't you hate going to the friggin DMV to renew your plates of drivers licence? Oy the lines! Yes, there is a loophole here too. Walk up to the appointment line, "Hi, I have an appointment I made online." Let them search and search and when they don't find it, ask them to look again. Rather then mess with you and hold up the line, they'll just give you an appointment slip to get you out of their hair. I've done this a thousand times. I never waited with the idiots in line.

TIRES: Oh yes. There are cooperate policies for tire companies also. Purchase a fresh new set of tires, get the warranty. When your tires are at about 40% life, call and complain that the ride sucks or that they feel swervey. The store wont do anything for you except an inspection and give you a number to call. Call that number, bitch, complain, moan, and be a pain in the ass. After being very annoying they will send you a certificate for a free set of tires. Now, if the manager at the store is cool, it's very easy to offer him a little something for his trouble and he can get you a new set if you're smooth enough. I've done this 7 times. It only works ONCE per tire company. I'm currently sitting on a set of 22" Pirelli Scorpions for my SUV. Next, I'll try Toyo.

TRUCKING & SHIPPING: Regardless whether you're moving, shipping personal items or a vechicle, shipping goods for your company or etc. When calling for a rate or quote, simply get shocked at their rate. "Oh my gawd. You're 30% more then the other guys". Guess what? They'll realize they've made a mistake and give you a 31% discount.

 

[mustynutz]

CLOTHING STORES: When you try to give something back, and the clerk at the counter is giving you a hard time, ask for a manager. Managers always make the situation better. Now, lets say you purchased a pair of shoes or a pair of jeans. The Gap, NineWest, all have main offices and cooperate monkeys they pay nice salaries to, just to keep YOU the consumer satisfied. Tell them what you didn't like about the shoes or etc and they'll offer you compensation. They usually don't give you freebies, but they'll always get your good coupons.

RENTAL CARS: Let's say you've booked a rental car for a week. Get the car, then on the next day call and complain that you don't like the ride or that the other company is giving you a better rate and you are returning the car. One of two things will happen, you'll either get a free day or a free upgrade. I usually go with the upgrade. I always rent the mid size, then right at the counter I complain that I can't fit in the car. The person who made the reservation for me assured me that I'd fit comfortably, I'm going to Avis! Next thing you know, a Caddy will become available at the same price.

FAST FOOD CHAINS: Ever see those commercials for the New Chicken Cibatta? Ever notice that right at the drive thru window or on your receipt there is a toll free number to call for questions or comments? Call it. Tell them you wasn't satisfied with whatever you weren't satisfied with and they will offer you coupons in the mail. The rep will tell you the coupon is only good for the item you ordered, but once you read it, you'll find out it's good for ANY item on the menu. I can't count how many times I've done this. A chain will do just about anything, including giving you a few freebies to keep you coming back. You can even call to the 800 number and tell them you want to try the new Burrito Fantastico and they'll just send it to you, no questions asked.

RESTAURANT CHAINS, NON DRIVE THRU: Same deal. Ordered something to go? Ate it there? Denny's, Red Robin, Houston's, Outback, Black Angus, etc. Will all be more then happy to send you coupons for the item(s) you were not satisfied with. Never fails. They'll kick you coupons to keep you happy and satisfied with their chain. Otherwise you'll spend your money elsewhere and they don't want that.

PIZZA: If it's a chain, the main office will do practically ANYTHING to keep you as their customer. Late delivery? Order was wrong? Crust was too thick or too thin? Too much or not enough toppings? If you call to the store where you ordered from, they will immediately give you a free pizze coupon. BUT! If you call the main office, they will give you a few pizza coupons along with bread stick coupons, and etc that's not usually available to the general public.

DIAPERS & BABY MILK: Simply get the phone numbers to the major producers (Similac/Ross Labs, Huggies, Pampers, etc.) And tell them you have a newborn and you'd like to try their products. They don't send samples, they send free coupons for powdered milk, the huge bag of diapers, a box of 4 bottles, etc. They want to make you feel comfortable and loyal during the babys milk and diaper years. It's something you'll HAVE to purchase and even put your cigarettes and beer aside to get the baby items. It's there for the taking. All you have to do is ask.

GROCERY STORE: Regardless what you buy, if you read the back there is a toll free number so you can give your comments. Lets say you purchased a small Downy fabric softener. Call the number on the back and complain, tell them you'll never purchase this item again, blah blah blah. The rep will ask you for the serial number on the bottom or on the cap. Guess what? We've got a lot of complaints on that particular batch and we'd like to apologize and send you out a few coupons to replace your item and coupons for our other items. Now here's the kicker. They'll send you a coupon for one Downy fabric softener. Once the mail man drops off your coupons go to Sam's Club or any warehouse store that sells the 55 gallon tank of fabric softener and use it there. I did this a lot. One time I purchased two small cans of Chicken of the Sea White Tuna, there were scales in the can. Once call to complain and they sent me out 4 coupons for cans of tuna that went into my wallet. Two months later I went to Costco and I remembered my coupons, I ended up with 4 of the restaurant size cans.

This works with ANYTHING you purchase. Candy bars, soda, gum, tampons, orange juice, milk, condoms, ANYTHING you purchase has a customer service number on the back. If for any reason you are not completely satisfied, call them and they will send you out replacement coupons. Use the coupons for the same size or abuse cooperate policy and go to Costco and get the Army Surplus size. We've all purchased a coke that was flat or a candy bar that was stale. Call and complain. It's their policy to replace it. I've complained on car wax, tampons, shampoo, dish soap, body wash, paper towels, air freshener, film, batteries, toilet paper, EVERYTHING you can imagine. I've even done it with a magazine because the ends were cut at an angle and it looked funny.

 

[mustynutz]

To sum this all up, regardless what you purchase, whether is soap, clothes, a service of any kind, even tires. There is a cooperate policy, keep em happy. Regardless how you look at it, it's impossible to consider this a scam. They send you a coupon that says "any size Downey". Any size means any size. You can purchase the 10 oz bottle, or you can get the 55 gallon drum. It's your call. It's your money. I've even got a 33% discount from Cintas (my uniform company) when I called to cancel my service. You'd be amazed at what's available if you simply ask, or complain and threaten to go elsewhere.

If you're not satisfied, make an issue of it and let them hear about it. You are the consumer, the heart of their business. If you give them the right feedback, they'll even pay you (with free sample items) to try new items in your home. Even if you spent one dime on a can of tuna and you weren't satisfied with the quality, call and complain. It was your dime, and the company will be more then happy to send you replacements. Don't be stupid if you're not happy with anything you purchased, make a few phone calls and you will be compensated. What if you're not compensated? Get their name and extension and call right back asking for a manager who will then make you happy. Now, lets say they offer you one replacement coupon, you ask in a very nice way for two. They always give you the extra one to gain brand loyalty. I've purchased protein bars from the 99 cents store and called the company to complain that they were stale. I gave them the codes off of the bars and they sent me 75 coupons for replacement bars. I only purchased 35, but I explained that I go through a box a week of the competitors product and they mailed them out. I still use their bars.

We all complain, there's no avoiding it. We complain to our mate, our friends, our family, our God, and anyone else who will listen. Channel that frustration towards the people that aggravited you and their main office, and watch things happen for you.

 

[mustynutz]

Hi everybody,

Wanker Joe is back, did you miss me? Come on you know ya'll did. So for this special post I think I shall tell you a story of my adventures abroad.

Well as I was sitting at the bus stop, waiting to get the hell outta dodge, I noticed an atractive female rubbing my balls. Dang, she knew that I liked it when they are rubbed in a counter-clockwise motion at a varible speed from 7-8 rpm. She was like the ball rubbing goddess sent here to pleasure me for all my good I have been doing (saving midgets from floods and knocking out granny's so I can steal all the $1 check they have all ready to send to their grandchildren for their birth days, damn granny's, and the such). So I said "Fuck it" and the next thing I know I am balls deep in her as she calls me "The super-dee-dooper best doggy style fucking cunt licking titty sucking man" she's ever had. After I pulled out she wanted to swallow my load, but that is way to much of a jump for our virgin relationship, so I told her in do time and blew it in her ear as any man of class would have done. Well that was going fine and all till 2 months later.

So there I was two months later sitting on my couch watching the Gilmore Girls when my ball rubbing queen comes in. She is looking distraught and disgusted at me. Well I'm not the kind of man who does much worng so I just thought it's the toasters fault for burning the toaster studels again but I was wrong. She's sitting there looking all pissed off and the such so finally after four hours of the bitch staring me down I had to ask. "What the fuck is your problem?" She looked at me and started to cry a little and said. "I can't believe your a pedophile!" Well I looked at her dead in the eyes and said. "Dang that's a big word for an eight year old." So her mom came to pick her up and I threw her Hello Kitty sleeping bag in her face and told her to never call me again. Last time I go to the bus stop.

 

[mustynutz]

ungrateful feces filled maggots

They left her on the bedroom floor. Sobs convulsed her body so severely she vomited. Outside, absolutely no breeze came off the nearby ocean. The night was so muggy the air hung like mucus. In this wealthy suburban neighborhood, the houses were huge, surrounded by vast green lawns and white rock gardens and palm trees rising up like disjointed pillars. They got into the car and drove down the long drive way.

Al was in his forties and Dominic was in his twenties. Al began patting the pockets of his suit jacket, searching for his small glass vial of heroin.

He had to repeat Dom a few times before getting his partner’s attention.

“Snap out of it. Steady the wheel for a minute while I take a whiff.”

The younger man reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, but his unsteady grasp made the car veer off onto the grass along the side of the road. Al slapped his hand away, grabbed the steering wheel and guided the car back into the lane. ”You’re shaking like you got palsy. Hey, your face.”

“My face?”

“She got you Dom, look in the rearview.” The woman’s salon-styled nails had gouged three deep lacerations into his cheek. Spots of blood oozed from the cut skin.

“Dammit. I didn’t feel anything.”

“Wipe your face at least.” Al handed him a clean, folded white handkerchief. Made of cloth. He was an old fashioned guy. He always wore a tie, used cloth handkerchiefs,
carried his cigarettes in a gold cigarette case and used a solid gold zippo lighter. Al laughed, but it was a good natured laugh, only a little sarcastic. Unusual for him. He had a temper, and even during the two days of driving down to Florida, was on Dominic’s case a lot. Now the surliness was gone. “It’ll fade away in a couple of days.“

“I don’t like it that she marked me.”

“It ain’t going to scar. Hey, forget about it, will you? It’s done. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“I’m not nervous. I don’t know why I’m shaking.” Dominic found his cigarettes in the side pocket of his leather bomber jacket and put one in his mouth. As he searched for his lighter, Al got his gold zippo out of his breast pocket and handed it to his partner. He set fire to the end of the cigarette, clicked his tongue against the edge of this teeth. “I don’t know, Al. I didn’t expect to feel this way when the boss gave us this job. You ever do anything like this?”

“I don’t think about things I do. After I do them, I mean. What’s done can’t be undone, remember that.”
They were driving a Jaguar with Florida plates. They were an hour away from her husband’s mansion when they came to the small, deserted rest area where they had parked the large, black Lexus with New Jersey plates, in which they had driven down south. It was near a pay phone.
They got out of the car, Dominic walked behind a small tree and took a leak. Al took out his cellphone, made a long distance call, and just said, “yeah.” About a minute later, the pay phone rang. Al picked up the receiver.
“Just like we were told. Yeah. Okay. No problems at all. He did fine. Real good in fact. Okay. Okay. I’m going to stop in Atlanta, get a decent meal and some sleep. We’ll be back, two, three days, something like that. Thanks.”

The rest area only had some parking spaces, a picnic table, a rest room that was closed down, and the pay phone. There were some bushes and young trees and a fence, a smelly, long pond near the fence and a shoreline beyond the fence. Dominic had his hands in his jacket pockets, staring towards the general vicinity of the water.

Domnic knew how to be violent, he could handle himself, but this time he felt different. He had never been viscous. Even when he killed Tito, a Colombian scum bag who had stolen their money, it wasn’t viscous. Tito was the only person he had ever killed by himself, alone. His job. He shot him in the back of the head. One bullet. Dominic had nightmares about it for months. He had given beatings to more guys than he could remember and never thought about them much. Nightmares about this, though—he expected them to be worse than hair and blood and skull and brains exploding. They could even become more than nightmares.
Dominic thought about the way Al, after they both had raped her, slammed his fist into her stomach, then bit her ear lobe until it bled and said, “tell your husband to drop the case, or else we’ll come back and do the same to your daughter.”
Al was leaning against the Lexus sniffing heroin. He called out to Dominic, “Watch out for the Alligators.”

“What?”

“It’s Florida, man. They crawl around all over the place down here. They’re always attacking people. Eat you whole. Like sharks. Big ass jaws. Hey, relax, will you.” Al opened the trunk of the New Jersey car. “I got everything we could use for the trip. Booze, speed, coke, smack, pot. Cigarettes. Candy bars. Just forget about it, have a drink.”

Al handed him a bottle of Jack Daniels. Dominic cracked the seal and twisted open the cap and took a long swallow.

“Salud,” said Al, who took a drink and handed him the bottle back.

“What are you talking about alligators.”

 

[mustynutz]

“You never heard about alligators in Florida? All over. They hide in pools and attack little children. At least in New York, they keep them in the sewers.” Al laughed at his own joke but Dominic didn’t even smile. “God, if you’re going to be like this all the way back home it’s going to be one hell of a long drive.”

“Sorry.” He gulped more booze. “I’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Al opened the gas cap of the Jaguar. He got out the white sheet from the new jersey car, unfolded it then rolled it into a long rope and stuck one end of the sheet into the gas tank, opened the passenger side door of the Jaguar, and put the other end of the sheet on the front seat. Then he got a canister of lighter fluid, sprayed the seats and the sheet.

“Get in the car,” said Al. “Let’s go.”

“Want me to drive.”

Al picked a cigarette out of the gold case. “I’ll drive.”

“Al, I’m fine, and you’re sniffing smack.”

“I said I’ll drive.” He lit the cigarette, became a nice guy again. “I’m okay, I’ll start and you can pitch in if I get tired. It’s about eight hours to Atlanta. We can rest there. I got a reservation at a good hotel. I’m just sniffing, to keep the edge off.”

Al took a few puffs, flicked the cigarette on to the front seat. As flames appeared on the upholstery and the sheet caught fire, they were in the car driving away.

Dominic kept sipping from the bottle. After an hour or so, Dominic said, “I just didn’t like doing this. I’m not like that.”

“It was a job, just forget about it.”

“We were brutal to her.”

“Look, she deserved it. She’s a lawyer’s wife and this lawyer is causing a big mess for some friends of ours. Her husband is a scum bag and that’s what we had to do. We scared her pretty good, don’t you think.”

“I don’t care about using my fists on anybody. But, shit. I never had to use my cock.”

“You weren’t making love to her, or even having sex. It was just sending a message.”

“I feel weird.”

“I’m going to take that bottle away if you keep talking. The best way to forget about things, is to not talk about them. So shut the fuck up.”

***

They ate breakfast at some place Al knew outside of Atlanta. Al had biscuits and gravy and grits, which he covered with molasses. Dominic ordered eggs, which he didn’t finish.

They got to the hotel a couple of hours later, a luxury hotel filled with business people, white collar types.
The room was large, clean, with two beds. Al sat on one of them and got out his works, which he kept in a small leather case. He took off his jacket and shirt, tied a piece of rubber hosing around his large bicep, lit the small white candle that he kept in the case and began slapping his forearm searching for a vein.

“How can you do that stuff and still stay in shape Al?”

“None of your business what I do!” he snapped, but then got friendly again. “Look, everyone’s got a jones. You just got to be smart about the jones, regulate it, so you control it and it don’t control you. We deserve to party and relax a little down here, don’t you think?”

“I’m going to take a shower.”

Memories grow dim, it happens to all and any type of memory. Just a matter of waiting. Dominic knew he could, he would, forget this one. Never completely. Things always come back, often without request. Images echo until you die but at least, it’s just an echo, inspired by an incident or just random; but that takes time, takes waiting, for it to fade, for it to hide. The ability to stop thinking about it, that would come. He just had to wait it out.

Dominic rubbed the steam off the mirror. Her fingernail tracks had started to scab.

He came out of the bathroom wearing the thick white complimentary bathrobe the hotel provided.

“Hey Dominic, can you believe this?” Al, stoned, was watching CNN. The story was about the Mideast. The footage showed Israeli tanks, and then Palestinians chanting in a demonstration, burning American, Israeli and UN flags. “It’s unbelievable. The Jews and Arabs, they ain’t never going to get along. Everybody hates the Jews.”

“I don’t hate the Jews,” said Dominic, lighting a cigarette and sitting in a cushioned chair near Al’s bed,
uninterested in anything on the television screen.

“I know you don’t and I don’t. I don’t love them either. You got to watch them when you do business with them, but you can do business with them. Moshi, he knows how to cook the books for the club and he’s a tough dude. He looks like a nerd and has that nasal thing when he speaks. He’s no fag though, not at all.”

When Dominic didn’t respond, Al said, “You got to get out of this sullen mood, you’re boring the shit out of me.”

“Look at this thing on my face.You say I should stop thinking about what we did, but see, I got this
reminder. Even when I don’t look at it I know it’s there. I hear the woman. I see the woman.”

“Don’t think of her as a woman. It was just a job. She’s like any man who got in the way. In fact,
worse. A bitch, okay. It’s not a tattoo. It will go away before you know it.”

“What about Maria. She’s going to see this, ask me about it, get all jealous or something.”

“Just make up some story when we get home, like you scratched yourself shaving.”

“I use an electric razor.”

“You know you can lie to her. She doesn’t know about your other snatches, does she? I can’t believe you’re not man enough to control your girl.”

“That’s just it, Al, it’s about being a man. A man, strong and shit, that’s what being a man is, right?”

“You’re either a man or you ain’t. I don’t see the mental controversy here.”

 

[mustynutz]

We were animals.”

“It was just a job.”

“I didn’t mind terrorizing her, threatening her and stuff. I didn’t mind pushing her around .But the other, I can’t get used to.”

“We did what we were told. We don’t think, we do. It’s easy money too and no risk. That bitch, she’ll get over it and she won’t do nothing, because of her kid. That husband will stop doing what he is doing. End of story.”

“But I liked it. I didn’t like doing it, that’s not what I’m saying. But doing it, when I was inside her and
banging her, I don’t know if I was having sex with her or just beating her in a different way. I just know that it felt good, that I had to pound one out, I had to finish. I was an animal.”

“It’s over. That was just one moment, there’s lots more to come. Enjoy the rest of them.”

“It was wrong.”

“What isn’t wrong? I don’t think about it, I don’t feel anything about it and I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, we’re here in this beautiful hotel, we can get some kip.”

“Kip?”

“Sleep. Kip’s an old word for it. My old man used to say it. Sleep. We get some sleep. I know this real good restaurant where we can get some of them ribs and southern shit. Collard Greens. It’s good, you should try it. Then we can trade off driving and be home in day or so. How does that sound?”

“I’m too wired to get some kip.”

“Funny guy. Want to order to some room service. Do you want anything?”

“I could use a beer.”

Al picked up the room service menu he had been looking at while Dominic was in the shower then reached for the phone. “Four Heinekens. Ice cold. And put the glasses in ice. And two pieces of the Mississippi Mud Cake, and some water. Yeah, a pitcher of water. Sounds good.”

“Al, I’m not hungry.”
“The desert is for me. I have a craving for something sweet..”

***

“You still sullen,” asked Al. They were eating in a place called Plantation Kitchen. Al ordered several dishes—ribs, fried chicken, collard greens, sweet potato french fries, hush puppies, corn bread.

“I’m fine. A little tired, maybe,” said Dominic, who had ordered a steak. He wasn’t hungry. Each bite made him queasy. “I couldn’t really get any kip.”

“Wise guy. What, you ain’t hungry either?”

“Not really.”

“Dom, you got to get over yourself about this job.” Al signaled the waiter. “Two more Mint Juleps.”

“I don’t really want another, they taste funny.”

“Indulge me. Get used to the taste. Let me give you some advice.” He lit a cigarette. The attentive waiter reappeared with two silver glasses on a tray.

“Do you want me to take that away sir,” said the waiter, as he placed the glasses on the table.

“Does it look like I’m done? I’ll be done when I tell you, okay. I’m just taking a break.”

“Yes sir.”

When the waiter left, Al said. “They’re hicks down here. Now listen, okay. We’ve done a lot of stuff together and I know that you’ve made your bones. This was no different than the other crap. You can’t worry about people who get in the way of our business. The world, the world is bitter, painful crap. We got skin and muscle and we shit and fuck so we are part of it. But it’s just bullshit. Nothing. Just crap. Fancy wrapping but everybody gets the same gift, death.”

“I can’t get it out of my mind. Viscous. Like an animal, like I have no soul.”

“You’re good to your family, your friends. That’s what matters. That’s the only world that matters.. The rest of it, the real world, the crap we do and deal with, you got to be in it, you got to do what you got to do, but you can’t let it be part of you. What you do and who you are, you got to separate it, be in it, but not part of it or it part of you.”

He leaned forward, “why did we get asked to do this?”

Al shrugged, “We’ve been working a lot together and we’re part of the crew. Everybody else was busy.”

“Was there something about me though. That they thought I could do this, that I could be good at it.”

Al ripped off a piece of cornbread, dabbed it in the barbecue sauce residue that dripped from the ribs to his plate. He shoved it into his mouth and stared at his partner. Dominic blinked, shifted in his seat, looked away “We got picked for one reason, they couldn’t trust anybody in Florida. They needed dependable people and didn’t want to cause any flags going up by contracting out for it. There were no evaluations of tendencies, either yours or mine.”

“I just feel weird.”

“You know and I know you’ll get over it. Only you, me and the boss knows about it. You ever hear that old song, accentuate the positive.”

“What’s that the Beatles or something?”
Al laughed, “I ought to smack you, the Beatles! Ha! It’s just an old song, I forget who sang it, probably Frank. My point is the meaning. Why dwell on the negative when you can dwell on the positive. This was an easy job. We were never in danger of getting hurt or killed or even arrested. All we had to do was rough up some bitch and shoot a load.”

Dominic cut a piece of steak but then put down his fork. “I just don’t want to be changed.”

“Changed?”

“I accept our work. That we have to do things. But when, you do things, the more you do them, the easier it gets when you have to do them the next time. I don’t want this to become easier. I don’t want that kind of change.”

“This wasn’t typical of the jobs we’re asked to do and you know that.” Al’s thick fingers whitened as he clenched his fork. He ate a few bites of greens, picked off a shred of pork from the rib and chewed. A few minutes passed, then he just sighed. “I think I know what you are worried about, Dom. Associating what you had to do with like sex and screwing and stuff. I got an idea though.”

“An idea?”

“Of how you shake it off, these things you’re feeling. A little entertainment before we go. Finish up.”

“I’m done.”

“Then watch me eat. You can’t get ribs like this above the mason dixon line. And the pecan pie here is incredible.”

***

Dominic was alone in one of The Gold Key Club’s private VIP rooms. The music was piped in from the dance area of the club, but unlike where the strippers entertained the male customers, it was not ear blasting. He sat in a thick leather chair, alongside it was a small metal stand on which sat his drink, a glass of beer, a small ice bucket with another bottle of beer and an ashtray. The room was dim, low lights, although there was a small spot light above him illuminating the chair and the area directly in front of it. If the light was brighter, it would look like an interrogation room from the movies.

Dominic didn’t want to be here. Al said to get him out of the sullen mood, he had to erase the associations. He wouldn’t listen to Dominic’s objections. Al knew one of the owners. A private room with a pretty girl. A little fun for his partner. Al also insisted that he snort some cocaine. Pick up his spirits he said. Maybe he was right. Instead of thinking about what they did to that woman last night, he was just thinking about how he hated doing drugs, how instead of euphoria, a headache was gnawing at him. He lit a cigarette as the door opened, and a tall woman walked in, smiling.

She was blonde. Her hair was stiffened by hair spray and curled down to her shoulders. She wore a long, neon green dress that glowed in the shadows. She introduced herself as Katrina. Her accent was Slavic—Russian or Ukrainian or Polish. He didn’t ask. Just another immigrant girl in America using her youth to make money.

 

[mustynutz]

I’m Dom.”

“Hello, Don.”

“Dom!”

“Dom? Dom-ald?”

“Dom, like Dominic. Short for Dominic. You can call me Dominic if it’s easier.”

“No, Dom’s easy for me. I guess I didn’t hear right. I think the music here is hurting my hearing. It’s so much loud.”

He put the cigarette between his lips, clenching it with his teeth. Her flimsy, glowing gown was slit up the front to right below her crotch, revealing the skin of her thigh and calf.

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure.”

“I can see if there’s another girl, available. If you don’t like me.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?”

“I mean, you’re fine.”

“They told me you’re a special guest.”

“Special?”

“I do whatever you want. Unsupervised and no holes barred. Do you want me to start dancing.”

“Katrina, I don’t know what I want you to do. This was my friend’s idea.”

She nodded. “Do you mind if I have a cigarette before what ever happens happens?”

“Suit yourself.”

“I don’t have no cigarettes with me.”

He handed her his pack, and his lighter. She lit up, still standing there, holding her elbow with one hand as the other hand put the cigarette to her mouth.

“Can I sit on your lap? I feel like sitting down to smoke and I don’t feel like sitting down on the floor.”

He straightened his back against the chair and she sat down. “Most guy’s are a little more enthusiastic, I hope you’re not angry.”

“Not with you. I didn’t want to be here and I feel a little weird, sorry.”

She had a nice face. She was pretty.

“What happened,” she said, pointing at the three red lines etched on his cheek

“I forget.”

“It looks like finger nail scratches. Unless you have a cat.”

“Give me a break, will you?”

“I don’t want to get you mad.”

“No, you don’t. Let’s get this show on the road. What do you usually do.”

“Dance, strip. Get you excited, then get you off. I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.”

His hand clamped on her breast. “Like that you mean?”

He gave it a slight twist.

“You’re hurting me, not so rough.”

He let go. “But you said no holes barred.”

“You connected, I know. I’m sorry I said that stuff, about not being touched, letting you touch. That was
forced habit. What we have to tell the regular people, it’s not for you. If you want, I’ll get a rubber.”

“Forget about that, and forget sexy talk. I’m sorry I grabbed you like I did. Get off my lap, all right?”

She stood up. “I’ll go if you want. I’ll dance if you want. I don’t want to get you angry.”

“Stop with the getting me angry noise.”

She put the cigarette out in the ashtray and stood in front of him, then started to move her shoulders. She shifted her shoulder blades back and forth, rotating her waist and raising her arms about her head. Then she lowered her hands behind her to unhook the back of her dress and shimmied out of it by moving her shoulders up and down, alternating them like a see-saw. The expression on her face was completely blank, like a somnambulist. Did she feel sexy, did she feel turned on or did she feel like she was turning him on, did she feel in control of her sexual power or did she feel humiliated? Both the silliness of her movements and the lack of any thought or feeling readable on her face started to make Dominic furious.

 

[mustynutz]

“Stop,” he hissed between clenched teeth. She didn’t hear him at first as the polyester dress slipped down to her waist. He grabbed her wrists, pulling her closer. “I said stop. I don’t want to see you gyrate or do the fake fuck-me moves you do for the saps that spend their expense accounts in this dump. Just take off your clothes. Don’t dance. Naked. I just want to look at you naked. Okay? Understand?”

He was still holding on to her wrists, it would take little effort to break her arms, to injure her. There was an expression on her face now—fear. “Maybe it’s best if I go.”

“I’m not like this, you know. I am, I have been, a nice guy.”

“You’re not a nice guy.”

“I was, with women I was.” He was breathing heavily, sweat dripped down the sides of his face. He looked at her and stammered something but his grasp eased and her fear turned into a kind of puzzlement. Then he pulled her closer to him and she didn’t resist, realizing, that he only wanted to kiss her. He let go of her wrists, she fell onto him and he embraced her and after the second kiss she saw that he was trembling all over and fragments of tears were in his eyes.

“It’s okay, calm down, just calm down, Don.”

“Dom!” he said, but he wasn’t mad anymore.

“Dom,” she laughed. Then she stood up again and in less than a minute was out of her bra, kicked off her heels and unsnapped the stockings from the garter belt and down to just a thong, which she quickly stepped out of and tossed to his lap. “Do you like?”

“Like?”

“Me, Dom. My body.” She was still, her hands by her sides, her legs slightly apart. “Want me to do anything.

Do you want to watch me do anything? Or I could watch you.”

“No.”

“Do you want to do anything to me.”

His hands twisted the thong as he stared at her. “Forget about it, this, this is fine.”
She squeezed her breasts, shook and danced a little. “Hey, they won’t like it if you don’t come out of here happy. I’m clean you know. We get tested a lot. Why are you looking at me like that?”

His teeth were grinding. The skin on his cheeks was stretched so tight the scabs separated and fresh blood emerged. He wanted to rip her body apart with his hands, crush the saline out of her breasts, pound her until the pounding in his head stopped.

“Look,” his voice was whispering. “Just get out of here. Just get out of here.”

She turned around and went away.

He put the thong in his mouth and bit it in two, then picked up her dress and tore it to shreds until he heard someone outside the door.

Al was dipping a praline into the whipped cream topped Irish Coffee as a topless girl rubbed the back of his neck and laughed at his jokes.

“Can we go now?” said Dominic as he walked up to him.

“You get a private party and now you—“
“Al, we should go. Now.”

Al grimaced, squinted at his young partner and just nodded.

 

[mustynutz]

Al was snoring, sleeping in an opiated haze. Dawn splintered across the sky. Trees and mountains surrounded the road. He didn’t know how long he had been driving.

He remembered something that happened a couple of years ago. He and Al and a couple of the other guys shot up these two Russians in the basement of a restaurant. The place was closed, it was late at night. The Russians had it coming, deserved it. Dominic and the guys hacked up the corpses, put the limbs and pieces in plastic bags, dumped the plastic bags in rivers and land fills all across New Jersey. They scrubbed down the basement where the killing took place so it smelled liked Lysol and ammonia and not death. No traces of the men, of their death.

When Dominic came back to his apartment, he showered for a long time. Then he called Maria and told her to come right over, even though she had to leave work early and he had sex with her. Again and Again. He couldn’t get enough of her body. He needed that feeling of life and warm flesh and something that felt completely unlike death.

He didn’t want to think of what he now wanted to do to Maria. He hoped he had the strength not to call her, at least, not for a few days. He didn’t want to think this new jones would not disappear. He didn’t want to think about the brand new sunlight pouring all over the trees and distant mountains. As long as the car kept moving forward north he didn’t have to think at all.

 

[mustynutz]

heres a little something i call Love her Crazy

I loved Ellen. I loved her crazy. I loved her like no man should. If she didn’t break up with me and we stayed together, we could have built a life on my love. We could have tried. It could have been beautiful. That life.

Now, I’m just looking for a way to commit suicide

In my first week at Rahway State Prison I was told that I was sold to the Nation of Islam for two cartons of cigarettes. The Aryan Brotherhood blamed me for Tool’s death. I had to put on a long blonde wig and red lipstick and please seven black men who called me white bitch and knocked three of my teeth out while passing me around.

But my doom didn’t start when I met Tool and asked him the favor. It started when Ellen and I met. In High School. We were 17. Suburban New Jersey.

I never had many friends. See, I had gone to Catholic grammar school, but when my father left—he was angry all the time anyway, so I can’t say I missed him—my mother stopped going to church and made me go to public school. I was around kids who were long part of established cliques. They didn’t want to know me.

My mother worked, but most of her salary went for the mortgage. The rest of the houses in the neighborhood had a top floor, larger yards, aluminum siding. Our single story shack hadn’t been painted in 20 years and the lawn was more weeds than grass.

My mother didn’t bother me about having people over. I wasn’t popular, so it was rarely an issue. I tried not make trouble for her. I worked part time since I was 15, never asked her for a dime. She let me convert the basement into my bedroom, which except for occasional flooding and a musty odor, was like having my own apartment.

I lost my virginity in the basement, to Stasha, who carried condoms in her purse and loved to drink and became very loose when she drank. We drank beer and Southern Comfort, then we did it. It wasn’t like we were boyfriend and girlfriend.

Ellen, I fell in love with right away, on our first date, when we saw an action movie then drank beer in the park. She used to say, I made her laugh. She was an outsider too. She had moved from Essex county because her parents bought a house and went out with me because she was sick of football players. She was never clear about what happened, but some jock had taken advantage of her, a date rape kind of thing. I talked about everything to her, every thought I had I revealed, while she closed a lot of her past personal stuff out. I didn’t pry.

What I tried to do was not make any demands on her and always make her happy. Take her out, listen to her problems, her dreams for the future. I had a job, a car, a girlfriend. I guess I had it all in High School.

We had a such a good time at the prom. I had rented a bungalow in Seaside with my only buddy, Kenny and we double dated. After being chauffeured to and from the big dance—Ellen and I didn’t get any prizes, they were awarded to the head cheerleader and football team captain—but we danced and drank and then drove down the shore—by dawn we were making love in a creaky old bed right by a large window as sunlight blossomed across the dark green New Jersey ocean.

I got a full time job in a warehouse and took remedial courses at Bergen County Community College. Ellen was taking courses there too; in anatomy and biology. She wanted to be a healthcare worker of some kind, but wasn’t sure what kind. Since most everybody we knew had gone away to college and everybody else in town were either our parents age or 30-somethings with college degrees and white collar jobs and new babies and drove mini-vans, we grew closer. Ellen and I felt like outsiders, but at least we had each other.

When did I first know I loved her crazy? About 18 months after graduation, when I paid for our famous vacation, to the Bahamas. It was a resort, like Club Med. It was Underwear night. Everybody in the resort, which was mostly adults and young people—no parents or children—wore only their underwear to the resort disco. Everyone was all sweaty and inebriated, dancing real fast with the music loud and strobe lights flashing and mirror balls spinning, when after some deep kissing and not so discreet squeezing, Ellen and I went out to the beach. It was pitch black. The night is so much darker there. Ellen and I rolled around in the sand, then ripped our underwear off and we made fierce, loud, passionate love in the dense shadows between the beams of the chrome Caribbean moon.

It was like some romantic movie. Her legs hugged the sides of my waist. The warm water rippled in waves against us; her sounds, our bodies, the ocean, everything shared the rhythm. We heard some voices, maybe other lovers doing the same, maybe even inspired by us, as well as soft thumps of bare feet running in distant white sand. And laughter and the echo of music from the disco. We didn’t care if anyone saw or heard. We knew only our own world. A world that could never last..

Afterwards, as we lay in each other’s arms, a cool breeze soothed our naked skin. We gazed at the configurations of constellations in a sky not tarnished by the lights of New Jersey and I told her: “I will love you forever. I love you so much, time doesn’t matter, this life doesn’t matter, even my own blood or my ability to breathe. Nothing matters to me but you. Your mind, your eyes, your body, your heart, that’s my world. My whole world. That’s the only thing I care about. You You You.”

A tear emerged from the duct and glistened near her eye, capturing light from the moon and making it its own, then slowly fell down her cheek, rolling like a pearl on silk. She was never more beautiful than that night. Nothing was ever more beautiful.

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

She didn’t have to say anything more. We didn’t even have to kiss. We just watched the night and the moon.

But after the Bahamas, things changed. I hadn’t done very well with the college classes, but she already finished up an associate’s degree and instead of trying to get a full time job right away, she got accepted to William Paterson College and wanted to get a BS in nursing science. I was still in the warehouse, and what I wanted to do was save money and buy her a ring and become engaged then married. She said we couldn’t afford to get married, and she began to complain about the mildew and dampness in my basement bedroom. When I suggested a nearby motel, she said no.

She didn’t even tell me she was looking for an apartment, didn’t even tell me she was moving until the day after. Her parents supported the move, gave her furniture, which gave her mother a reason to redecorate. I told Ellen that I was worried about her living alone, that it was dangerous. She laughed at the notion, saying this was Bergen County and those sort of crimes only happen

 

[mustynutz]

But we were still boyfriend and girlfriend. She let me stay over. I always brought her flowers or wine. She made fun of my living at home, and she mostly talked about the hospital where she worked as a volunteer or her delight with finally going to a “real college”.

I decided the thing to do was to take her on a spectacular date, show her an unforgettable evening and distract her from the stress of her career building. The only place worthy of consideration was The City. Manhattan! I made reservations at this expensive restaurant, and got tickets to Cats, which cost one hundred dollars apiece. I even got her a corsage and rented a limo and a driver, just like at The Prom, except now we could legally drink the champagne on the way across the GWB and into Times Square. I even told her my plans to go to a vocational school, so I would have a skill and a well paying job. I didn’t want her to perceive me as someone whose life was going nowhere. I wanted Ellen to be as impressed with me as she used to be.

I was funny. I was interesting. I was understanding. Of course, after such an expensive night, I expected great passion but, on the ride back to the Jersey side she slapped my hands away. “I’m sorry, but I can’t invite you over. I have class. I can’t stay up late.”

Alone in my bed, still in my new Sears suit, my hands made fists of anger. I initially thought of what a bitch she was. I had spent nearly five hundred dollars, just on a date, just to show her a good time. How could she say and do such things, treat my caring with such indifference.

But then I reminded myself, I loved her. I had to accept it. I had to do anything for love, or else it wasn’t real.

“Is that you, Jimmy,” My mother said from the darkness at the top of the stairs..

“Yeah.” Tears stung my face and eyes..

“I heard you come in. I didn’t expect you. Did you have a good time on your date?”

“Yeah.”

“Is everything all right?” Her slippers creaked on the steps. The same ratty nightgown she’d worn since I was a child shimmered in the shadows. I had to turn away.

“Everything’s just fine. Fine!” I hate it when my mother sees me cry. She said good night and turned around. Soon I was alone with my TV and smelly mattress and the all too apparent limitations of my life.

Ellen was too busy to see me. When I called her just to talk, it wasn’t like in high school with the I miss you so much or her sighs when I said things like, time away from you is time wasted. Instead, she clucked her tongue against her teeth like she was listening to the most boring idiot in the world, or she said things like I heard this before, can I go now, what do you want from me and often, she hung up before she even said good bye.

Finally, when she did deem to see me, it was to break it off. End it. As if we were still in high school and going steady. We hadn’t seen each other for more than a week, and I was relieved when she agreed to go out with me, but not to do anything spectacular, just to talk. We went to the Route 17 diner. She had the salad bar and I ordered a cheeseburger.

“We have to talk,” she said as she picked at her lettuce. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea that we see each other anymore.”

The ground beef and cheddar turned to lead in my mouth then slowly slid down my throat. I drank the rest of my coke so I wouldn’t choke. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean? It’s time to move on. Our lives are going in different directions.”

“I love you.”

“I loved you too, and I’ll never forget you. But it’s over, okay.”

“Can’t I still call you?”

“I don’t think it would be for the best.”

“This is what you meant when you said you wanted to talk? You wanted to just dump me.”

“I’m sorry, Jimmy.” She cried a little, for less than a minute. Then she insisted that she had to go. I was in shock. I couldn’t move or say anything. She threw a five dollar bill on the orange table top and hurried out. I just sat and stared at the oval portrait of Abe Lincoln on the legal tender. My fingers and elbows trembled. When I finally went outside, I threw up in the parking lot. Then I cried in my car.

I went to a liquor store, bought a quart of bourbon and a case of cheap beer. I got drunk in my back yard, called in sick the next day, and got drunk again. I wanted to kill myself. I imagined parking outside of her apartment and plunging a knife into my heart and pictured how she would explain my corpse to the cops. It never crossed my mind to stalk her, or to kill her. I don’t have a dark side like that. I am not violent. If only if I was more of a man, maybe nothing like what happened would have.

I called her up and said I was sorry. She hung up on me. I called her up again and accused her of sleeping with other men. She hung up again. I called her again and apologized again. She begged me to stop calling her, she said she would change her number. I went to a florist and sent her a dozen roses, with a card saying forgive me and that I loved her and some other sappy stuff. She called me. She said that nothing I would do could matter, that if I loved her I would let her go, and that she brought the roses to the hospital. She didn’t want them at her place. They made a dying AIDS patient very happy.

All I could do was drink. I lay on my bed, sucking on the bourbon. Then the ceiling started spinning and vibrating. I puked in the general vicinity of the garbage pail. I knew things were bad. I knew I was going insane.

Kenny came back home from Rutgurs with the announcement that he hated college, and was joining the Navy. We went to Paddy’s. It was this dive in the next town over. Real grimy and dusty, pool table, dollar drafts and two dollar shots, mostly blue collar workers and assorted barflies and it was never crowded. The bartender was Joe, a bald, heavy set man who congratulated Kenny on doing something for America.

I was depressed. I couldn’t share Kenny’s enthusiasm for his big life choice. I just kept thinking about Ellen and drinking shot after shot of sour mash, and draft after draft of domestic lager.

Kenny patted my back. “You got to get out of this slump, Jimbo. How long are you going to feel sorry for yourself?”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“Are you kidding me? Get the over the bitch.”

“Don’t say that. I loved her.”

He rolled his eyes with a world weary wisdom, as if two years in some dorm and signing a piece of paper in a recruitment office made him a real man of the world. “Look, get yourself some nice blonde. When she knows you are getting some some place else, forget about it. It’ll kill her! That’s what you do.”

“I don’t want anybody else.”

 

[mustynutz]

“Get yourself a fresh slice, and you will put this all into perspective. Look, remember Laura? I thought I loved her. She cheated on me all the time then dumped. You know what? She means nothing to me. I shed no tears for that slut. Screw her. I got my life. Jimbo, just get on with yours. That’s my advice. Think about that. Going somewhere. It will pass, dude.”

I wanted to believe him, I wished what he said was the case. But not for me. Love has to be absolute, as absolute as all that stuff the nuns said about the body and blood of Jesus being in that thin, round piece of bread the Priest used to hold up at mass. The communion part of the religion always made sense to me. The absolute thing. I wanted my love for Ellen to be better than this world.

Kenny was my friend, but he was wrong. I didn’t want another girlfriend, but I thought about what he said about how a blonde would make her feel jealous. That was the key. She had to feel she needed me.

I went back to work—unloading and loading trucks—packing up boxes, filling out forms—same routines, day in and day out. The place was busy, running multiple shifts. I took as much work as they could give me and stopped going to class. I dropped out. I was failing anyway. I was getting to work by 3 and working till mid-night. Then I went right to Paddy’s. I could drink until last call, which was at two, but Joe let me stay for another hour or so. I didn’t get up until after noon. Plenty of time to brood, and drink and brood and drink. I became very good at partying alone and letting nobody know what I was thinking.

The night I met Tool was one of those nights. He was at one end of the bar, and I was at another, and except for two parkway toll booth collectors more interested in their game of pool, and Joe, who was watching some football talk show on ESPN, Tool and I were the only ones in the place at one am on a Tuesday. I was in the staring mode, looking at my reflection frown in the mirror behind the double rows of liquor bottles. I had to glance away. But I didn’t want to close my eyes. When I did, instead of darkness and bright dots I saw her face again, her body. Jesus, I hated myself.

Tool, he was a big guy, muscular. He had this thick goatee and greasy long hair, tied back in a pony tail. He looked like a biker. He wore a denim jacket, which was dark and stained from automobile grease. The sleeves had been cut off and the holes for his thick arms were frayed at the edges. He wore a tee-shirt, stretched tight by his powerful pectorals and biceps. The biceps seemed nearly as big as footballs with veins that looked like telephone cables. He had tattoos on each arm, in the same location as a sergeant’s stripes. On one arm was a rose tattoo, but it wasn’t a nice looking tattoo and the rose wasn’t red or anything, just a dark indigo black and it was juxtaposed on a very sloppily traced crucifix. So sloppy, it looked more like a lower case letter ‘t’ than the means by which Jesus was executed. On the other bicep, a spot exactly parallel to the other tattoo, were two rectangular S’s or Z’s, I couldn’t tell which.

He must have noticed me looking at him or something; or maybe it was late and he was getting drunk and not everybody has the capacity for silence and inner thought that I possess. He seemed to just want to talk.

He said, “Doing okay, bud.” His voice was raspy and reminiscent of Brooklyn.

“Yeah.” I slurred. The shot glass was empty but I didn’t remember exactly when I had polished off the last brown, intoxicating dose. I signaled Joe, who hesitated in an annoying parental way. I cleared my throat. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

I quickly downed the fresh shot, followed by emptying the rest of my beer. The booze supplied a second wind. I insisted that Joe do the honors again. I was still thinking about her pretty hard because after I drank again, I exhaled, “bitch.”

Then I noticed Tool watching me. “Looks like you got what in better days was referred to as the blues.”

“My girl friend broke up with me.” For a moment I had an incredible urge just to cry. But it passed in a second or two. “I guess I’m working it out.”

Tool moved to the stool next to mine. I noticed that under his left eye, near the corner, was a small bandage. “Women have no heart and no honor. Men, we may be physically stronger, but we can never be as mean as they are inside. It comes with the territory, that sweet wet thing that’s between their legs and feels so good around you. We need that cookie, and we’re all damned for it.”

The alcohol buzz blurred my brain and made my face all puffy and sweaty and numb. Tool seemed to make sense to me. He seemed to understand. I tapped my fingers against the bar, stared at the empty shot glass and wondered if I should go or not. I heard him say, “did she have a nice one?”

 

[mustynutz]

sniffled. “Yeah, she did. I miss it.”

He whistled to get Joe’s attention. It sounded like the shrill call of a bird of prey. “Yo gramps, I’ll have another and I’m buying one for my man here.”

I was beginning to feel very drunk, didn’t really want any more. Joe was shaking his head but I could tell he didn’t want to refuse this guy. “I think your man has had enough.”

“Gramps, he’s fine. Aren’t you dude. What’s your name.”

“Jimmy.”

“Jimmy’s fine, aren’t you Jimmy?”

“Yeah, I’m all right, Joe. I know when I’ve had enough. I’m just quiet tonight.”

Joe shrugged, then poured. He didn’t seem to like Tool. . “You’re always quiet.”

I asked my new friend his name, and when he replied Tool, I repeated it with surprise.

“It’s some nickname I got when I was in metal shop in high school and it stuck. It’s cause I’m a jack of all trades. I can do a lot of things. I can do things other people are too weak to do or are afraid to do or just don’t want to do. A man’s got to make a living, you know.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Let me you tell you something, bud,” he said as we drank. “A man has got to be man. And that girl you think you love, and you probably do, don’t get me wrong, she’ll get hers. The universe works on the revenge principle. What goes around, comes around. Know what I’m saying?”

“I hear that, but still…”

“It happens to us all. Seen it go down again and again.”

“Right.” I wanted to change the subject. “What happened to your cheek there, hurt yourself at work or something?” I was thinking that it was close to his eye, and I could continue the conversation with, good thing you didn’t poke your eye out.

“I’m sort of between jobs, Jimmy. The bandage is there because I had to get a tattoo removed. The bandage should be gone in a couple of days and it will look like nothing was ever there.”

“You had a tattoo your face?”

He lowered his voice, almost muttered. “I had a tear.”

“Tear?”

He squinted at me. “You never heard of guys getting a tattoo of a tear near their eye.”

I shook my head.

“It’s like a club,” He smiled at me. He was missing a tooth in the side of his mouth. “You do stupid things sometimes.”

I thought I knew exactly what he was talking about. “Like falling in love too deeply.”

Then he laughed real loud. It came from his belly and was amplified by his chest. It was a laugh filled with mirth but no joy. “Something like that. Yeah, something like that..”

But nothing could distract me for very long from thinking about her. Seemed the more drunk I got, the more my thoughts turned to Ellen. I decided to go. I shook Tool’s hand. His grip made my palm ache. Things swerved as I walked outside. My vision went out of focus. The night air felt abnormally refreshing. As I came closer to my car, the moon seemed so bright in the clear sky a memory of the Bahamas vacation was triggered, and my sadness increased. I leaned against my car and removed the picture of her I kept in my pocket. It was one from the vacation. She wore a bikini and stood on the beach, leaning against a palm tree, the ocean behind her. I smoothed the wrinkles and cracks; shifted my gaze from her image to the moon and back again. Tears streamed down my face.

I heard the door of the bar from across the lot. Tool stood with his fists on his waist; a tall V of dense muscle, like an ugly Stallone or Schwarznegger. He swaggered towards me with a smile. “Hey bud. Gramps asked me to go. Guess he wants to close early and go home.”

“Yeah. I got to go too.” I got off the car and as I tried to put the picture back in my pocket he grabbed my arm.

“What do you got there?” He took the picture, whistled long and sharp. “Nice bitch, bud. I can see why you are hurting so much.”

I rubbed my eyes, snatched at his hand. “Just give it back please.”

For a moment I thought he might punch me. I shivered. But he gurgled his harsh laugh and handed me the picture. “She’ll get hers, don’t worry. Want to give me a ride.”

“A ride?”

“I walked here. I like to walk. I’m staying with my cousin at his apartment.”

I didn’t want to go home, so I figured why not. We didn’t talk much. I dropped him on main street. He was living in some place over the dry cleaners. It was less than a mile from Ellen’s place. I circled the neighborhood, forgetting about Tool as my tears again appeared. Seemed sometimes all I did when drunk was cry, and if I wasn’t at work, I was drunk. At night, I would have nightmares and she always made an appearance in these humiliating visions. I’d be reliving some stupid incident from childhood, like when my father yelled at me for wetting the bed, the whole scene outlined with fire and blood. Besides my father, there was always other scary stuff, like monsters and clowns. Then Ellen would float through like an apparition. My dreams never made sense. They just came. Irrevocable. Like the dawn or the sunset.

 

[mustynutz]

I stopped in front of her apartment. She lived on the bottom floor of a two family house. She had her own separate entrance. The light was still on in the living room area. She was taking night classes and worked in the afternoon and I knew she liked watching infomercials and old re-runs that came on after Jay and Conan.

Maybe it was the booze, or meeting a real man like Tool or just being fed up with sorrow, or maybe it was just a combination of thoughts and feelings galvanized by the moon and the night, but I had this sensation of courage. I was emboldened, empowered. I had this insight that if there was a God, Ellen would realize how much not being together had hurt me and would feel so bad she would take me in her arms and heal me with her love. I did believe in God.

I felt suddenly sober as I marched towards her door. I rang the bell a few times. She turned the TV low. I knocked firmly but not too loud, not like a maniac or anything. I called her name in a loud whisper. I didn’t want to scare her.

“It’s late. What do you want.”

“I just wanted to see you. I just wanted to talk to you.”

She opened the door. She did not use the chain, I don’t even think it was locked. I could see her eyes and her chin and her neck and the long white night shirt I remembered slipping off her. “What do you want, Jimmy.”

“I love you.”

“Get over it. I did.”

“I still need you.” My voice cracked. “I’m so lonely I want to kill my self.”

“Well, maybe you should. I don’t need you. I want to grow up, I want to live like an adult and make something out of my life and I’m sorry, but that just doesn’t include you.”

I sobbed. She reacted with disgust. Before she closed the door, she said, “If you don’t go, if you don’t leave me alone, I’m calling the police.”

What else could I do? There was no more to say. I was helpless, emasculated. I had no hope and just staying there would mean arrests and more bad feelings and I was probably drunk enough to have my license taken away, which would mean not being able to get to work. Then what would my mother say?

I couldn’t sleep too well. I was all cried out. The inebriation faded, leaving just a headache and parched throat. I even tried to pleasure myself, and despite the magazines I had under my bed, I could only think of Ellen. I tried using my memories as a basis for sex fantasies. That just made me feel even more lonely. Trying to pretend, just reinforced the fact she was not there with me.

I worked like a zombie, thinking about nothing. I just went through the motions. I jotted information on forms, packed up the boxes, loaded and unloaded those trucks, performed all tasks necessary for shipping and receiving. I made small talk about sports with the other stinky losers enslaved by this nowhere job. Then I went home and tried to sleep until it all happened again. I spent a couple of days sober. Eventually, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t go on like this. I had to get Ellen to remember what I used to mean to her. I had to get her to need me like I needed her.

It was back to Paddy’s. It was another empty night. Seems people were only drinking on the weekends. With Kenny in boot camp, I had no one to hang out with. Except Tool.

“You feeling any better, bud,” Tool said, when I sat down and ordered. His bandage was gone, replaced by a small, pale blemish. I then noticed a scar near his left ear, and the acne and pockmarks scattered on the skin between the sideburns and goatee,

“Yeah.” But just him saying that made me feel worse, made me reenact all the anguish I was trying to suppress. I shook off the tears. “It just seems to me that I could do something else, to make her want me again. I know she has feeling for me. It’s all wrapped up in what she thinks is her life and her responsibility. Career and adulthood crap.”

“Women change. They all want to be independent and self actualized and all that nonsense they say on Oprah. They want to be like Mary Tyler Moore or That Girl. But, what they really want is prince charming. That knight on the white horse. They want to be protected.”

“Why can’t she see that the white knight is me? I sent her flowers, I even went to see her the other night. But I was drunk and she told me to get lost.”

 

[mustynutz]

“You got to show her that you’re strong. You can’t be showing up and crying your eyes out. If you want to get her back, you need a better approach.”

I guess I was on my second drink. I had the beginnings of the idea. “If I could just be there to save her. “

“The white knight thing, like I was saying. Saving the damsel in distress.”

By now, I had deluded myself into thinking that Tool was my best friend. When I had the idea, the words just came out. “Maybe you can help me out. You can scare her, then let me chase you away.”

“You want me to be the distress?”

“Right. You said you do things. That’s why you got the name Tool.”

“That’s true.”

“I could pay you.”

“For what?”

“You go to her apartment like you are going to steal things. I know where she lives, and it’s so quiet that you would not get caught. I come by like I did the other night, but this time it’s different. I can be the white knight. I save her and she will be in my debt and all grateful and she’ll realize how much she needs me. Maybe she’ll want me to move in.” Just thinking about it make me excited. I paid for the next round. What was that story the nuns used to tell? That saint who was struck by lightening and then he saw the light? St. Paul? I was St. Paul. I was on the road to Damascus and now I was seeing the light. “I’ll pay you, Tool. I know you can act scary. You look real big. It’s not like I’m going to hurt you or anything. You scare her, I show up, and then you leave. I’ll give you a hundred bucks. Two hundred bucks. How much would it be worth to you.?”

He agreed to three hundred dollars, he said that he had to up the price because there was always a chance of getting caught, and that would be risk for him, since he’s had some recent trouble with the police and that would just make things worse. Foolishly, I thought that this would be better. He was used to doing things against the law. He would be more convincing.

I knew her schedule. I knew the best night. A light drizzle fell, which encouraged dog walkers and such to stay at home. Everywhere was deserted. No cop cars whatsoever. I had this feeling everything would be perfect. I was confident in the brilliance of my plan.

We drove by her house a few times. He got out to check things out, to make sure she was alone as I went around the block again. He met me three blocks away. I gave him the money.

“Give me a half hour. I’ll leave the front door open.”

“Check.” He trotted through the black rain and I looked at my watch. After 25 minutes passed I drove right up to her place and parked. Then I took a few deep breaths. I prepared to pretend to save her. I was nonchalant to begin with, strolling at an even pace through the rain to her door, ringing the door bell then knocking and then I called her name a few times. I opened the door—a good sign, it was unlocked like he said—and went inside. Tool was standing in front of the couch with his pants off. Ellen was sitting on the couch in front of him. Her head was below his waist and his hands covered her ears.

“Hey,” I screamed, still at this point sticking with the scenario. As I got closer I could see her mouth on him, the front of her night shirt ripped in two, and her arms tied behind her back. Her mouth let go of him. I noticed fear in her eyes and a large red welt on the side of her face.

“Go get help, Jimmy!” she screamed.

“Shut up,” Tool spat and slapped her. He was scaring her a hell of a lot more than we planned. We hadn’t discussed hurting her. I guess I assumed he wasn’t like that.

“Get out of here before I kill you,” I shouted real macho and loud. Then I faked punched his thick arm. This was the cue for him to turn and run and for a moment I even thought he was pausing to get his pants. I hit him much harder, arched my eyebrows to signal that it was time for him to act scared and leave. Instead, he laughed at me and his fist jabbed my stomach.

I doubled over on the floor, gasping with pain and tasting bile.

“Sorry Jimmy,” he chortled. “I just wanted to party a little, figure to scare her more.”

“How do you know his name,” said Ellen. Then she understood, and commenced screaming.

“Either shut up or die,” said Tool.

She closed her mouth, shaking and crying. He touched her all over, then forced her back on the couch and pushed her thighs apart..

“That is one nice cookie. It’s been so long since I had a cookie. Not as tight as the butt, but nice, real nice.”

He began to buck against her, faster and faster. I got to my feet and kicked him a few times and shouted and then he shoved me down on the couch and my forehead bumped against Ellen’s skull..

“Tool, we didn’t talk about this.”

Tool laughed as he heaved into her. She howled all this painful gibberish. Besides vulgarities, I recognized my name. I started screaming too. He grabbed the back of my neck between his thumb and forefinger and lifted me up. It was like a vise, pressing so hard I could feel the imprint of his fingers on my spinal column. Then he pushed my face into her face.

“Kiss her! Kiss her!” He moved my head so our lips were together. Our screams were muffled, but I could feel her terror and pain and the thuds from his body pounding into her’s. She bit my tongue and I tasted blood.

After he ejaculated, he smacked my head a few times. I must have passed out because I don’t remember my hands and legs being tied. Ellen was next to me, crying uncontrollably.

He came out of her bed room with a pillow case filled with jewelry. Then he went into the kitchen, I heard some glass smash and he came out chewing a sandwich and guzzling from a broken bottle of wine. He hadn’t bothered with a cork screw. He just cracked off the neck of the bottle. The wine drooled out his lips, soaking his goatee, dripping down his pockmarked neck.

 

[mustynutz]

He threw the bottle against the wall then played with himself, gurgling with that hideous laugh. “Now I want something tighter. Maybe it’s time for you boy. It was the only good thing about Rahway. Except punks thought they were tough. You’re not tough at all. Guess it’s only right, for her to watch what you watched.”

I was crying like a child. He gripped the back of my pants and ripped them from my body, instantly peeling the denim away from my skin. I defecated from fear. Disgusted, he cursed at me, then punched me in the kidneys so hard I vomited.

He picked up one of the end-table lamps, threw off the shade and crushed the light bulb into my rectum, then shoved the socket inside. A fierce electrical shock made my entire body spasm. The room went dark. The circuit breaker box had blown a fuse.

Then the last thing I saw before the police came was Tool pulling Ellen’s arms behind her head. I heard a bone break. Her mouth seemed frozen in a silent scream. Tool convulsed against her, a satanic grin accompanying his bestial grunts.

There were two cops and they had their flashlights and guns out. Some neighbor finally called 911. Tool wasn’t about to go easily. He was on parole, had just done five years on a manslaughter charge. It’s surprising how someone like that could be in the suburbs. Bergen County seems so nice and clean and safe. The cops put two bullets in him before he was subdued. Then the paramedics arrived.

I confessed. I had to, I mean, I wanted to. I was convicted of accessory and conspiracy charges, and because of the nature of the crime, I was sentenced to three years of hard time in Rahway state prison, even though it was my first arrest. Ellen was also filing civil charges against me. My lawyer advised my mother to cease all contact with me, in case they tried to sue her as well.

Tool, he didn’t want to go back to living in a jail cell. He would not wipe himself properly after going to the bathroom, and would poke the bullet holes with fecal covered fingers in order to infect the wounds and stay in the prison infirmary and out of the general population. A black orderly tried to stop this by keeping him bound in bed. Tool fought back. On the death certificate it said Tool died of a coronary, but the word is he was murdered by another black orderly who held a pillow over his face. Some kind of conflict between the Nation of Islam and the Aryan Brotherhood.

I’ve burned the picture of Ellen and tore up a letter from Kenny. I hadn’t even bothered to read it.All I want to do is die. And I will, as soon as I figure out how. I still think of Ellen, but it’s all hazy and distorted. I remember the feeling of love, but it isn’t connected to anything. I don’t see her face when I close my eyes. There’s only darkness and the sound of her screams.