A Groovy Cool Adventure - Unknown Band
GCA Part 1
“How much? Alright, receipt in the bag please.”
This again, walking these streets alone. There exists nothing in my life but a few memories and a small car of broken dreams. My name is McDeen, Slappy McDeen.
“Nice make-up loser!”
Ha, poor kid, he doesn’t even know me, he doesn’t even know why I still wear my clown make-up on my face, still wear it…even though it haunts me. This place looks decent enough.
“Hello…welcome to Fredd’s Den, where your dreams come true and all drinks get free re-fills. I’ll be your server tonight, my name is Mike. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“How often you rehearse that, kid? I feel like I just watched a middle-school play of ‘The Depressed Waiter’.”
“Ha, good one, Sir. Now what may I start you off with?”
“I’ll take a smile and a glass of your lemonade, no concentrate; if you don’t have real lemonade then I want you to squeeze the lemons yourself.”
“Sounds great, Sir. I’ll be right back with that.”
“AND I’LL HAVE THE GRILLED CHICKEN SALAD! THANK YOU FOR ASKING!”
“…prick.”
This place gives me a bad vibe, like something is going to happen that is going to lead me to head out without even taking a sip of that lemon squeeze. At least I have this with me; I’ll take a quick swig before pouring a few shots in my lemonade.
“And I will alwaaaaays be theeeeeere fooor yoooou, beeeecaaaause weeee belooooong togeeeether..”
“What the?!”
“That’s Janine, she’s here all the time, singing, it just adds to the headache I get from this place. Here’s your lemonade, Sir. I’ll be back with your salad. What kind of dressing?”
“Just olive oil, please. Can I throw something at her?”
“Do it after your salad, they make them pretty good here.”
“Hm, I’ll take your word for it.”
Nice kid, sucks he has to be trapped here, working the meticulous, while others are out there living dreams, pushing people over, trampling on the desires of others to get what they want. This kid, spends his time giving faint desires over to people in exchange for below minimum wage per hour and a worthless tip from each of the poor saps that walk through these doors. I can see why his rehearsed lines lacked enthusiasm, he doesn’t care for this place, he wants something bigger, he has a dream he’s hiding from.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaand my dreeeeeeeaaaaams ooooonly consiiiiiiiist of yoooooour looooooooooove!!!”
I hate this place now.
“Here’s your salad, Sir. Sorry about the wait.”
“Take a seat, kid.”
“I have other customers, I can’t really do that.”
“The tip will be good; I just want to hear some of your vocals about life. Just take a seat, please.”
“Alright, but if a manager comes over…”
“I’ll tell them to back off or I’ll spray them in the face with seltzer water.”
“Nice. So, what’s this about?”
“Why do you work here?”
“I need a job.”
“Why this job?”
“The pay is decent and the schedule works for me.”
“Shut up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said shut up, you’re pathetic. What is it you really want to do with yourself?”
“Well, this is going to sound silly…”
“You’re looking at a private investigator wearing clown make-up, trust me…I won’t laugh.”
“You’re a P.I?”
“What’s it to you?”
“That’s what I truly want to be; to help people in need, to be there when they call for help.”
“Trust me, nobody calls, and everyone needs help.”
“Well said, I guess. So what’s your story? Why the make-up?”
“Used to be a clown, gave it up.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like to talk about it, lost my parents; it was terrible, absolutely mind numbing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sir.”
“Stop calling me that, my name is Slappy.”
“Slappy?”
“Don’t question me, kid.”
“My name is Mike.”
“You’re name is Kid.”
“I’m thirty years old…”
“My point exactly, thirty years old and working the job of a teenager.”
“Hey! A job is a job, man!”
“Then is a dream just a dream? Thanks for the food. Keep the change.”
He stares down at the fifty dollar bill as I walk towards the door, he stares down and contemplates his reality, or at least I hope that is what he is doing.
“AAAAAAAND THE WOOOOOOOOOORLD NEEEEEEEEDS OOOOOOUUUR LOOOOOOOOVE!!”
“Janine!”
“What?! Is…is it really you?”
“Janine, why are you singing like that?”
“William, I…”
“You’re better than this, Janine. At least…you were.”
“William, I haven’t seen you since you ran away! Oh my goodness, William!”
I turn around to see the lousy singer go up and hug some teenager that looks the same age as her, both look as if old enough to fail a driver’s test.
“Janine, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Hollywood?”
“I saw on the news that you had run away, I came back here to find you…that was two years ago…I’ve lost all my hopes, William, I come here to sing, but I don’t give it my all anymore, I just, I’ve been missing you, okay?!”
“I’m here, I’ve been…finding myself, been working on my poetry, practicing my guitar…”
“You play guitar now? That’s wonderful! We can finally chase my dream together!”
“You want to jam out here? See what it’s like to play together?”
“That sounds delightful!”
I grab a seat. I want to see how this plays out.
“This won’t end well.”
“I agree with you, kid. Curiosity has taken over though.”
The two walk up onto the meager stage of the cheap restaurant. The boy plugs his guitar into the amp, the girl keeps smiling at him, she is about to vomit out loud words again.
“I HAAAAAAVE FOOOOOOOOUUUND MY LOOOOOOOVE FROOOM MY PAAAAAAA AAAAAA AA AAAA AAAAAAAAAAST, AAAAAND I HAAAAAAVE BEEEEEN TRAAAAANSFOOOOOORMED IIINTOOOOO AAAANN INSPIIIRAAAATIOOOON TOOOOO YOOOOOU AAAAALLL!”
“Who is all? Sure aint me.”
“I’m with you on that, Slappy.”
“And is that boy playing the guitar or does he have some animal trapped inside that he is torturing somehow every time he plucks a string?”
“Musicians, they all think they’re talented.”
“Same applies for writers.”
“And painters.”
“Yea, and painters.”
“Hey, why’d they stop?”
“I don’t know, he’s whispering something to her.”
“Hey! Hey clown!”
“I think he’s talking to you…”
“I heard. What do you want?!”
“I hate clowns! I think they’re stupid!”
“Well I hate terrible musicians and tone deaf singers, but here I sit, listening to it all with a smile painted on my face.”
“Rinse off that make-up or I’ll rinse it off for you!”
“You want to wash my face? Come over here and do it then, you can use this rag I have here.”
I pull a rag from my coat pocket, I continue pulling it for what seems about ten minutes, everyone is staring at the huge pile of tied together rags accumulating on the floor beside me.
“You always carry that with you?”
“I have to, kid. It’s a part of me.”
“Get out or make a balloon animal for Janine!”
“I…I can’t do that…”
“You’re a horrible clown! What kind of clown doesn’t know how to make balloon animals?!”
“I know how…I just can’t.”
“William, stop. You’re making him cry.”
“He insults our talents and can’t even respond to a simple request for a balloon animal when he’s dressed like a clown!”
“Maybe he never learned…”
“I learned! I know how! I just can’t okay? Now both of you get off stage so the house can play its own music that doesn’t sound of dying rats!”
“She wants a giraffe…make her one…”
“If I make anything it’s going to be a check made out for the cost of the chair I used to break across your smug face.”
“Hmmf…you can’t make balloon animals, just admit it, admit it and we’ll get off stage!”
“I can! I just can’t! My parents were killed by balloon animals! My dad, he created a machine, a machine to bring balloon animals to life, he said it would make them more enjoyable for kids, create the animal they wanted, bring it to life, sounded like such a wonderful idea…at first. He spent countless months in the basement trying to perfect his idea, make the animal, bring it to life, they were such joyful creatures…until…they began to deflate, they hated deflating, made them miserable, the ones he kept unpopped he left in the basement, tried to think of a way to make them happy again. While he spent days away from his work, the work spent days thinking of ways to get back at him, they made their own machine…turned both my parents into balloons…now they’re deflated. I became a clown to honor my Dad’s passion for creating happiness in the eyes of all, though it is not my dream…so I chased my own, but keep the make-up on as a reminder of my past, that I am not truly happy, that dreams can just simply deflate.”
“She wants a giraffe!”
“Here’s the check…”
“Slappy, I wouldn’t do that if…”
“William!”
“There are a lot of bad people in this world boy, don’t piss off the good ones.”
“Yes…yes, Sir.”
“Here’s some money young lady, get some singing lessons. Tell this kid to jump on the internet and watch someone play guitar before he even thinks about touching one again.”
“Slappy, where are you going?”
“Where the action is, grab your coat, you’re coming with me, kid.”
“But, I’m on the clock.”
“You just quit.”
He smiles and runs over to grab his coat. We both exit the restaurant after having just helped two people that didn’t even call.
Unknown Band 2- The Groovier Coolier Adventurier
GCA Part 2
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t know yet, kid.”
“How exactly does this P.I thing work? How do we know when someone needs help?”
“You listen for it. Now put this on.”
“Make-up? What for?”
“If you’re with me, you’re doing the same dance I am.”
“I…I don’t even know how. I’ll look ridicul…”
“What?”
“Blue lips or red?”
“You look like a blue. Red is my thing.”
Walking the streets, this time with another soul by my side, a partner of sorts, a partner with no knowledge of the world in which I bask every day. He smears the blue around his mouth, without style, without any sense.
“I should have asked the wannabe poet to come with me; at least he was trying to make use of his fingers like a human being. What do you call that on your face?”
“You act like I know how to do this. I don’t put make-up on my face every day like you do.”
“Oh, you only do it sometimes then?”
Strangers pass by and assume one clown is prepping another for some sort of street show. A family starts to walk by, then stops and waits for the dazzling performance. I juggle several hand gestures into their faces, they walk away.
“There, now you look normal.”
“I don’t know if your definition of normal really fits with the rest of society. What now?”
“We keep walking, maybe sit at my desk, maybe have a couple shots.”
“You call that working?”
“I don’t call it anything.”
We keep walking, he begins to start walking in the way an idiot would assume a clown should walk; his shoes aren’t big enough to be lifting the souls from the asphalt as such. I spray water at him from the flower on my lapel. He realizes his mistake, good boy; at least he has the basic knowledge of a cat. I stop to stare into a window. The boy with the worthless hands stands with the girl that possesses the tongue of vomit. We both walk in to meet the young hopeful rockstars once again.
“It’s…it’s you! Get away from me!”
“Don’t you hurt him again!”
“No furniture around, he’s fine.”
The boy turns his gaze away from me and looks up into the colorful selections that exist before him. Red, blue, or pink, he doesn’t deserve to wear any of the colors of my face, not with those hands, not with that attitude.
“Pink.”
“What? No way! You can’t tell me what to do, shut up and get out of here; I don’t want you here anyway.”
“Don’t care what you want, not concerned with what you think you need. You’re standing in front of colorful eye patches at a cheap store in the middle of some run-down street, and why? Because you made a mistake, because you think your throat can just insult anyone it wishes, spit words into the faces of people you don’t even know. You want to cover up that shiner you earned? Then do it with the color I am telling you, do it or it’s going to hurt every time you walk into a wall because both eyes are covered up to hide the learning curve that has been so easily earned by your lack of articulated thoughts.”
He doesn’t let another rebuttal spill from his lips; he just grabs the pink eye-patch and walks to the register. The beginning of the learning process is less than two-dollars, the money comes from her purse, his pockets assumed empty from his mindless thoughts.
“It looks nice on you, William.”
“You don’t have to lie, Janine. I know I look pathetic. Could just buy another once this guy stops following us.”
“We didn’t follow you, we are looking for some crime. Slappy just saw you through the window.”
“Looking for some crime? Shut it, kid. I’m leaving you two, knowing that you won’t trade in that patch, or try to sing me a lullaby, I’m leaving and knowing that both of you unknown wannabes are going to actually chase something worth your time.”
“Hey! Janine is an amazing singer!”
“Hey, I worked at that place since before she started coming in to make everyone go deaf. Not a single time has her voice been any good.”
“A bit too harsh, kid. Tone it down a bit.”
“What? You can get all up in people’s dreams and I can’t?”
“Who’s the one wearing red?”
“Ugh, I don’t even know what that means, Slappy.”
“Hey, William.”
The girl nudges the boy with the pink eye patch, they point to across the street, I turn around to join them in their discovery.
“KT!”
A stranger from across the street turns her gaze. In her hands she holds a plastic piece of saving paper and going green. She wears glasses, and gloves that have the finger tips missing.
“Janine! William!”
“It’s so amazing to see you! Where have you been?”
“I’ve been, places. William, what happened to your eye?”
The boy points to me during the apparent reunion of young friends. The new girl scowls at me, I juggle one hand gesture from left to right, making it look as if shooting into the air and falling onto the other hand.
“These guys are following us, KT. They don’t have lives or something. The old one hit me with a chair.”
“Should I make him suffer? I can do it you know.”
“She’s not bluffing Mr. Clown, she can really do it. KT isn’t just a name, it means something scary. She could have you groveling at William’s feet!”
“KT, hmmm…and what’s it mean? Killer Tickler? Is that what I’m in for?”
“How did you know my name? Can you read minds too?”
“Did I slip on a banana and hurt my head this morning? Do you honestly think that you can read minds, little girl?”
“I knew you would ask that.”
She runs up to me and attempts to tickle my sides, a quick step to the right and she trips over my shoe and falls face first into a pie.
“Was that really necessary, Slappy?”
“Don’t question my methods, kid. I don’t get tickled, just doesn’t happen.”
She gets up and rallies to her friends, the three of them stare down the kid and I, stare us down as if they are some type of make-shift mob. There’s the boy who writes words with only one eye, the girl that vomits when she sings, and the mind-reader who didn’t think to read my mind and figure out my pie plan.
“I don’t know what you are all planning to do, she’s the mind-reader, not me, but without such amazing powers I can still tell that it’s going to be a dumb idea. I however, have a good idea. I see a boy who says he knows how to write, a girl who claims she knows how to sing, and another girl who apparently has fast fingers. You want to become rockstars? Well, you got your band right here. You write, you sing, you play guitar.”
“I can play the bass, if, you guys need a bass player.”
“We’re not trying to join the band, kid.”
The mind reader looks at me as if trying to scan my thoughts for pure intentions.
“What makes you think you can just tell us what to do? Why can’t you just leave us alone and go blow some balloons?”
“William! I know he was wrong to hit you, but he does have a point. We can be a real band! KT, are you in?”
“Only if we’re called ‘Killer Tickler and Friends’.”
“That name is fine with me! William, please?”
“Fine, I’m in. You playing bass for us blue lips?”
“The name is Mike, and, can I?”
“Go ahead. Band manager wasn’t something I thought I’d walk into today, figured it’d be a liquor store or a jungle gym.”
“A jungle gym? Aren’t you a bit old for that, Slappy?”
“Sarcasm isn’t your thing, is it,kid?”
“I…I guess not.”
“Let’s head back to the cheap grub, I want to hear the mind-reading crazy fingered, save the earth, push my glasses up into my skull and cut the tips off my gloves to look like a bum and tickle strangers guitarist wannabe pick up the strings that the sound butcher tried to strum music with earlier.”
I walk and they follow, my partner and the unknown band.
Unknown Band 3
Groovierestery Coolierestery Storierestery
GCA Part 3
This shack of an existence, these walls restraining all the workers within from their dreams. I open the door and let the two girls walk in first.
“Alright, let’s practice!”
“Don’t get so enthused; people are already up on the stage. We will have to wait.”
“Nonsense, nonsense! Off the stage now you three!”
A stranger brushes the stage clean of the wannabes that made it to the stage before us.
“Slappy McDeen, so nice to see you again!”
“Excuse me? I don’t believe we’ve met…”
“Oh, but we have! It is okay, you will remember me over time.”
He winks at me as he flings down a yo-yo only to return it to his hand and repeat. He doesn’t look familiar, but the way he is acting is giving me chills. I pull the collar of my coat up around my neck.
“So, are you going to introduce me to this band of misfits you seem to have here?”
“We’re Killer Tickler and Friends!”
I snarl. That name needs some work. I respond quickly after Janine and rephrase her reply.
“We’re, nothing yet, just a few unknowns trying to make something happen…”
“An unknown band, eh? Very well then. Well let’s see what you unknowns can do up there!”
The boy was carving words into his notebook as we were all talking with the stranger endlessly playing with his yo-yo.
“Here you go Janine. Try singing this up on the stage.”
“Thank you, William. Come on KT! Let’s get on the stage and play! Mike, you too!”
“Slappy, I don’t know about this, that Janine girl seems way too excited.”
“Just get up there, kid.”
The band assembles up on the stage as the boy and I grab a table to sit at and hope the sounds soon to come don’t make our ear drums turn red.
“Boy, get up there.”
“What? You said I can’t play the guitar, I’m not going up there just so you can throw chairs at me.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to play guitar, you’re terrible at it. I want you to try hitting those drums up there. Just do something simple, make a back beat.”
“I don’t even know what…”
“Shut it, do it.”
“Fine…”
The worthless hands of the boy pick up the sticks sitting on the chair behind the drum set. He waves to Janine and starts to create a beat. Mike looks over to him and begins bobbing his head, KT’s fingers begin racing up and down the strings of her guitar, and then she begins…
“Moments deluding, my heart protruding, seconds falling to past, my mind now a cast, surrounding my wounds, mortal is my soul, time of the essence, deep into my meaning, becomes this time bleeding…”
Boy actually wrote something worth a damn. I nod my head as they continue. The strange man with the yo-yo takes a seat beside me and begins doing something that causes my mind to dig deep into my past. His left hand still letting the yo-yo fall to the floor and return to his hand, while he shoves his right hand into a jar of mayonnaise and begins eating it.
“Would you like some, Slappy?”
“No…no thanks…”
“You used to always love doing this with me, you sure?”
I get up from my seat and look at him with questioned eyes. I leave the room and head into the bathroom to splash water into my face, redo my make-up. What is going on?
“What’s your name!!”
“Falcon. Take a seat, is something wrong?”
The name isn’t of a familiar taste.
“Your friend playing the bass doesn’t seem content with your leaving during their show.”
“I don’t care about him! What are you doing? Why have you come here?!”
My voice raises above the vocals of Janine singing the boy’s poetic tongue. My breathing becomes hard, harder, my eyes straining, who, how, how….how…
“Slappy…”
He grabs my right shoulder.
“Get off of me, kid!!”
I shove the kid to the floor as my mind is traveling my entire existence in thought.
“McDeen, you are acting quite odd. Why don’t you take a seat?”
The yo-yo still falling to the ground, back up, down, up, down, up…my mind stares as it keep repeating itself. Then…the lights go out.
What? Where am I?
“Slappy, we have something for you…”
“Is it a new toy, Daddy?”
“Not quite, but you will love it even more.”
“Oh, Mommy I can’t wait! What is it?”
“Your Father’s machine has finally worked, and we want the first friend to be yours.”
“Hi, Slappy! My name is Mr. Poodles!”
“Oh, I love it! Thank you, Daddy! Thank you!”
“Hug me, Slappy!”
“Oh, of course I will! And he’s red! My favorite color!”
“Our son is so adorable isn’t he.”
“He gets it from you…”
The light…
“Slappy, wake up, you alright? I kind of…my bad…”
“What the whoopee cushion happened to me?”
“Mike got revenge for me.”
“What?”
“You pushed me, so…I grabbed a chair…”
“Son of a ring master…my arm hurts like hell…”
“Yea, looks broken.”
“Thanks Tickler, I kind of figured that one…you’re going to get then hand-buzzer for this one, kid.”
“I won’t be expecting it at all.”
“I know you won’t. Now get me up.”
He walks over to us.
“Well, that was quite the show you two put on. Now are you all going to get back up on stage and play us some more music?”
“It’s you isn’t it…”
“Pardon?”
“It’s you…Mr.Poodles…”
“I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest clue as you what you are talking about.”
“Stop playing games with my mind! And stop playing with that damn yo-yo!”
I rip the toy from his left hand.
“No!!!”
Just as the toy leaves his hand his skin begins to fall away to the floor, as if he is deflating. The mortal looking flesh lay upon the ground as a frail looking, dwindling, gasping for helium creature looks up into my eyes.
“Well done, Slappy. You always were good at solving mysteries *cough*, you remember when we used to solve them together?”
“You’re….you’re dead…I…I killed you!!!”
“No…no you didn’t…you killed the balloon animal I made to look like me. Mr.Pickles…I hated him anyway.”
“You…you lead the revolt against my father, my mother even! You pathetic piece of latex!”
“Such harsh words for your dear old friend, Slappy.”
“You’re no friend of mine…”
“*cough* *cough* Very well then…perhaps I should take my leave then…”
“Like hell you will. Before I kill you, tell me…how you managed to live this long.”
“Seems I face an inevitable fate. Due to our past friendship, and what I have caused you to become, I will answer to your request. After I killed your parents, and destroyed the remainders of my own, I didn’t quite feel like facing a fate as so many of the other balloon animals had. A pin prick, a day in the sun, the slow decrease of air, it all didn’t quite fit my fancy. So I searched for methods to keep me inflated, alive, thriving. I found myself groveling at the feet of an old gypsy woman, about to pass into the next world herself. She *cough* she gave me that yo-yo, and *cough* as long as it falls and returns to my hand I appear as you, human, full of life, without any of my previous limitations. But I guess that yo-yo can’t save me now, can it?”
“Not a chance.”
I pull the pin out from the flower on my lapel, the flower falls to the floor just as I see him making a last chance dive at his yo-yo. I flick the pin from between my fingers.
Deflated lies my best friend. Worst enemy. The reason this world tastes so bitter upon my tongue, the reason I spend each day looking for the sweet taste of life once more.
Unknown Band
GCA Part 4
“Slappy, are you… are you okay?”
“Nothing being happy for an hour can’t fix. You four stay here.”
“But, isn’t it a bit early for that?”
“I don’t wear a watch”
I walk until the sounds of circus music no longer hum in my head. The man sitting on the stool at the entrance nods to me, I grunt and keep walking. I don’t ask, only point. The only other person at the bar is a younger man, boy even. He is staring at my make-up.
“Got a problem there son?”
“Not really. What’s with the costume?”
“It’s not a costume.”
“What is it then?”
“Me.”
“Fair enough. So what brings you here?”
“Peace and quiet.”
“Alright then…”
I stare at the glass in my hand, swirl it around a bit.
“What brings you here?”
“Life.”
“Sounds familiar. Any aspect in particular?”
“The basics, the disappointments.”
I get up and walk over to a stool on the other side of the edge he sits.
“Life isn’t always going to be a Saturday morning, son.”
“It is when you’re unemployed.”
“Every day is a bottle of seltzer when you’re unemployed.”
“How’s that?”
“So much potential, but unless you do something to shake things up you’re just going to sit there and expire.”
He sits there and sighs, contemplating the world around him, wondering if taking advice from a man dressed as a clown is a good idea.
“Follow me, son. I have to return somewhere and want you to come with.”
For some reason he gets up and follows.
I push the doors open to the shack of my recent days. They all still sit in waiting.
“William?”
“Oh, no…”
“You two know eachother?”
“Sort of…”
William gets up from his chair and grips his pen hard in his hand.
“Will, just chill.”
“Not a chance, Ruff.”
“That’s all in the past man, I’m sorry for all of that.”
“Doesn’t change what you did. Sorry is just a word coward’s use!”
I step back and watch the writer make his stand.
“William, what are you doing!?”
“Just let me do this, Janine.”
“What’s going on?”
“Not a clue, but Slappy isn’t doing anything to stop it, just follow his lead.”
“Listen to Mike, KT. Just let me do this.”
The past of William begins to stir up. Ruff? What a terrible name.
“You don’t want to do this, William.”
“Yes I do.”
He drops the pen.
“Alright, then.”
“You had no right treating me the way you did.”
“You know why I did.”
“Jealous coward.”
“She only cared about you, you and your stupid poetry.”
The assumed drunk looks over at Janine. The scenario being played in front of me begins to make sense.
“What’s going on, William?”
“Nothing, Janine. Just ending something from a long time ago.”
I intervene. “This is becoming a soap opera. First point I’d like to make is that you’re not old enough to say ‘a long time ago’, and you’re too old to be saying anything.”
“You’re confused old man, Janine is my sis…”
I knock him out cold before he finishes his sentence.
“What was that for?!”
“Respect, your bro don’t know it well enough.”
“I was going to do that!”
“No you weren’t. He’s twice your size. We can’t have you breaking your hands on someone named after the noise a dog makes.”
“That’s his nickname! My brother’s name is James!”
“Bark.”
I glare to make sure he doesn’t whisper the word ‘coward’ under his breath.
“Everyone pack up what they need. We’re heading out.”
“What about my brother?”
“He looks tired. Let’s let him sleep.”
The kid laughs. The faster fingers grab the voice to pull her away. The writer just sits and stares at his enemy.
“The past sits where it belongs. Gather what you need and let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To make a name for ourselves.”
I rush everyone to the door, but turn around to see Mike grabbing something from the quivering hand of the dog whisperer.
“What you got there?”
“Not sure yet.”
“He awake?”
“Not in this world.”
“Well read while you walk, kid. We got to get moving. This place doesn’t need us right now, tuck the key away.”
He begins to read and almost walks into the door as it swings away from my hand.
“Slappy…you’re going to want to read this.”
“Is it a love poem about dogs or something? That could be funny.”
“No, this guy dug up a bunch of information about William.”
“Was probably going to show his sister. Let me see that.”
I grab the crinkled paper.
“Bear on a unicycle, this poet has a past…”
“I feel like we should let Janine know.”
“Cut that out.”
“What?”
“You don’t feel anything. Rip open that door, sit down, order the least expensive thing they got, shoot it down, then order it again.”
“What?”
“There’s no parrot in the act, kid. Here’s one of those useless dollar coins, see where it gets ya.”
He attempts what he considers to be a rip, I’d call it a tear, maybe even a droplet.
“Slappy! What’s the hold-up?!”
“Just waiting for the kid to get drunk on my dollar.”
“Well how long will that take?”
“Not long. I said I only gave him a dollar.”
“Well we’re all hungry, and William needs to go somewhere to calm down for a bit. When you’re ready we’ll be at the diner across the street.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I feel like finding you.”
A few of the fast fingers flick up into the air as the three of them depart to the nearby foul on the floor with a fryer that probably hasn’t been changed in months.
“I think I’m ready.”
“How many rounds did you have?”
“Enough to fill a pistol.”
“You look like a twelve-gauge man, turn around and let’s sit down for a bit.”
I slap a few worthless coins on the counter as someone I’ve never met before but seen dozens of times waits for my finger to point. I sit, the kid next to me, the band in a known location I’ll forget around sip seven. I pull the paper from my coat and pace my eyes upon its contents…over…and over…this will soon all be over…
Unknown Band
GCA Part 5
“No, no you…you got to drive the tiny car…here…take, here, my keys.”
“That’s your car, Slappy! It’s your bucket and I believe in you! Take…take your keys back! I don’t want them in my pocket!”
The bartender; he, rips^our glasses away, not even finished; both of us `still thirsty, I drink some and leave, but none even there.
“Where are we even headed? I thought chicken was on their menu?”
“It was, but it’s been hours, kid. No way in hell, not a chance they’re still there.
We walk, probably even talk, though neither of us can tell the difference between when and who.
“Where have you two been?”
“Yea, we’ve been waiting outside for you guys on that bench. Were you both about to just leave without us?”
“It’s been like sixty hours, we thought you would be gone home or something.”
“It’s been an hour and a half, and you both reek.”
“New cologne the kid and I are giving a try. Like it?”
“You both are disgusting.”
“And you…like…you look like a both! Cus you’re fat!”
“kid, that, that was just bad.”
“You’re not fat, KT.”
“Thanks, Janine.”
She flips her favorite tune, damn those fingers are quick.
“Well, who’s failed their driver’s test with the least mistakes?”
None raise their hands. There is a reason I always walk.
“Are we almost there?”
“Boy, I don’t even know where the hell it is we are headed.”
“Slappy…”
Mike nudges me. Whispers a reminder about the letter. My drenched mind begins to clear up. The boy, so young, but his past is just filled with so much. Can the letter be trusted though? What do we even know about this Ruff? He’s been jealous of the boy for so long. Would he create lies to gain his sisters trust once more?
“Slappy, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing, nothing, don’t worry about it.”
The words from the letter scar my mind as I recite them over and over, endless.
“He’s drunk. Let’s leave them and go somewhere else.”
“William! We can’t just leave them. Slappy has been helping us with our band.”
“What band? We don’t have a band! This drunk has done nothing but kill balloons and turn this other failure into an even bigger failure!”
Not even a second slips the hands of time once the final curl of his tong completes his idiotic thoughts passes before I find myself looking down upon him on the floor once more.
“Words. I once thought you to have a way with them. Though now, I see they have become your enemy once more. Did I have a drink? No. I had a ton of them. Can I still see the world around me? Sure, but it doesn’t make a damn lick of sense. Everyone sobers up, boy, some quicker than others.”
His second eye patch will teach him to stop believing everything he sees. Some need the lesson.
“Slappy! What’s your problem?!”
“Calm down, he’ll wake up soon enough.”
“Janine, let’s get William and get out of here.”
“But…”
“Janine!”
They prop the boy up with his arms over their shoulders. They walk away.
“What now?”
“We walk.”
I begin walking and the kid gets knocked in the head with something, slams face first into the ground. I look behind him to see fast fingers flickering through the air once more; a broken electronic tree saving book reader lying in pieces next to his skull.
“Kid…”
I cram him into the tiny car. Head down the road a bit to a new freak show, walk inside.
“What brings you in here?”
“My feet.”
“You always this clever or only when you’re in character?”
“Something dark, mix it with half of glass of something clear. No ice.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
I pull the letter from my pocket and glance at it once more.
“So, you got a name?”
“Sure do. Do you?”
“Ha, more jokes, guess I shouldn’t have asked, but since you did, it’s TwoSaw.”
“Terrible name.”
“Yours any better?”
“Slappy.”
“Once again, guess I shouldn’t have asked.”
She’s cute.
“So now that we’re aquainted, and seeing as I’m a bartender, which is slang for ‘psychiatrist for the poor’, you got any skeletons in your closet you feel like sharing?”
“No, but I might have a dead kid in my trunk.”
“What?”
“I think I saw him twitch, no worries.”
“I’ll take it that you’re joking. Not going to pry too much deeper into your mind though. Need another drink?”
“Not too many shiny coins left in my shoes.”
“This one is one me. What you reading?”
“Some letter.”
Without me handing it to her unwillingly she just grabs it without my will.
“Where did you get this?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Do you know William?”
“I know a boy, might go by that name.”
“We have to find him! Where is he?!”
“The tracker I had on him broke. Let’s go back to my lab and build another one. Your teleporter working?”
“Listen, Slappy…you bring me to this kid NOW or I spread your ashes over this bar counter and poor cheap rum all over you.”
“You been reading my Will?”
“This isn’t a joke, Clown!”
“Listen…I got rules. But if something else happens to hit you then it isn’t my fault.”
She looks at me, attempting a puzzled look, but her scorn scowl wants to forbid anything from changing her brow.
“One last shot. And you will get all that you need from me.”
She places a cheap bottle in front of me, just like in the movie I played in my head. Half full, the movie had more, but I’ll assume it got changed during the editing.
The bottle releases from my hand, up, the head lights flicker quickly, chains rusty, should have been changed yesterday, thin, tired, up, break, lights flicker once more before bringing her world to darkness.
I check her out once more. Still looks good under the extinguished beam.
I head out to the car. He’s attempting to read the device.
“You kidding me, kid?”
“This thing still works kind of.”
“Keep it, a nice souvenir to remind you of that scar that will remind you of that souvenir.”
I don’t know where the hell my keys are. I grab the kid’s hand and pull him up. We walk. I don’t even know where anymore. My throat feels dry. The kid has next round.
Unknown Band 6
GCA 6 – By: D.e.e.L
“Hold yourself up, kid. This isn’t a saloon either, put your pistol away.”
He looks up and knows best to not speak a word. His mind a mess and his screen of thoughts making about as much sense as the electronic debris in his hands, still mangling it to catch a word. Fingers once sped across that lit education, but now a kid has it, rubbing the flesh of identity about the worthless barely ignited screen.
“Get up, kid. We have to go.”
“Where? Why?”
“The ringmaster from hell is calling us to act.”
“I call the unicycle!”
He runs to the door like a dog, I walk over waiting to hear a yipping sound vomit from his stomach.
“The band, we need to find the band.”
“They want us no more, Slappy, we bad them to us they we did.”
I look over at him and he shuts up. The make-up on his face smeared.
“The boy is in danger. Need to reach him before one of Twosaw’s friends do.”
“Who?”
“Some goddess that died. Not important. We just need to find the band.”
“Sounds like words spoken out of your face that you love her a lot.”
“Love is a word I hate.”
The kid walks behind me as I walk forward, hoping to see the band playing some tunes in some arcade or club, but it’s doubtful for they are the dreamers than can only dream.
“Whoa, buddy, the hell?”
I turn around to see the kid on the ground holding his foot. Some bum walking away from him.
“Get up, kid.”
“That guy hurt me!”
“Sober up, kid.”
“Hey! Hey you! Get back here!”
The one who rejects society comes running back.
“Oh, oh, Sir, I am so sorry! Please, please let me help you up.”
“That’s a bit better. Now leave.”
“My name is Kelvin Granger, hi, hi my name is Kelvin Granger. Nice to meet you both. Change? Just a few cents? Just a couple?”
“Money is realities escape. I have to knock out a lot of punks for my change. Care to add to my welfare?”
“No, no, Sir, but I beg of you some and any small change will do.”
The kid pulls his wallet out, I see the whole scenario skipping through my eyes before time even allows events to take place, the kid’s fingers pulling apart leather.
“You, your wallet too. Don’t be cheap. You look like a smart clown. Funny too.”
“Put the gun down, bum.”
“My name is Kelvin!”
“Put the gun down before I shoot you with it.”
“What? No, no I have the gun. The gun is in my hand, my hand the gun is in!”
I grab the bum’s arm, the gun is pointed out where my face used to be, I cup my hand around his right wrist, grip tightly, with my other arm I swing up as hard as I can into his straightened elbow from below. Crack and shatter is muffled by his screams.
“How did you do that?”
“It’s the game, kid, everyone plays it. Now end this guy and let’s go.”
“What?”
“Ever throw a bottle of liquor into a light and watch a goddess fall to darkness?”
“No?”
“Well I did not too long ago, too early to put someone to bed again so soon.”
I take ten paces before he pulls the trigger. He then runs up to me panting like a dog.
“Good, kid.”
“This life might not be for me, Slappy.”
“This life isn’t for anyone. I can’t stand it.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I can’t sit down.”
He pauses, doesn’t question, just follows me as I just push towards going.
“Slappy! Slappy! Help!”
“Is that Janine?”
“Looks as if.”
“Slappy! Mike! William! He is drowning!”
We both run behind her and to the bridge. I yell down to him.
“Fall not high enough, boy?!”
“Stop with the jokes! Just save him!”
“Put your fingers down.”
I remove my coat, my pants, and jump in.
The water is ice cold and the boy is barely moving anymore
Just enough to keep himself afloat for a few short last breathes
I pull him to the shore
Grass upon a hill
Palms apply pressure into chest
Life from one hellish soul pumps into a haloed other
Live
Live
Choking means breathing
Coughing means life
Lives.
“Thank you, thank you.”
He says thank you and then coughs and coughs.
“An odd sentiment from you, boy, but sure, welcome.”
“Slappy? You saved me? Is that you?”
“Don’t I look the same?”
“No, you aren’t wearing make-up.”
“Damn.”
I cover my face as the others come running over.
“William!”
“Oh my gosh, William!”
I save the boy and he gets the dames. As it should be.
"Thank you. Slappy.”
“No problem, he deserves to live. Doesn't deserve to see until he has earned it, but life hasn’t left his reach yet.”
“Sorry about flicking you off.”
“You did it so fast I almost didn’t even catch you this time.”
She laughs.
“I’ve found you!”
A voice shouts from high above us, up on the bridge. Looking down is a figure that I cannot make out a face.
“Who’s that, Slappy?”
“Not sure, kid, maybe a ghost.”
“A ghost?”
“They haunt me every now and then, like memories.”
A small splash and hands begin to paddle towards us. Twosaw comes crawling out from the water as if a demon scraping at the dirt as it claws out from hell onto the surface.
“I have found you, William!”
“What? Who are you? Get away from me!”
She doesn’t give me a glance, I’m a nobody now, just another face.
“Put down the knife bar keep.”
“Shut up you pudgy old fool!”
Manners are a habit in which I must no longer obey. I rewind previous actions done unto a man with no calluses on his hands as I latch my hand upon her wrist.
“Get off!”
She pulls another knife from her side and slams it into my beaten arm. She slams her forehead into mine and everything turns to nothing.
When I wake up everyone is gone. They all sit before me, but none of them here. Twosaw lay vacant on the grass. The boy, William, his mind now full of his imagination.
“I can’t believe he would do that.”
The girl whom loved the poet puts her head down to rest onto the lap of her fellow band mate.
The kid resembles that of me. He looks ridiculous in that make-up.