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| _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ |
| OUR OPERATORS ARE STANDING BY |
The Drive Through
by G. Rhydian Morgan
Saturday, December 22, 2007
by G. Rhydian Morgan
Saturday, December 22, 2007
| CONTACT THE LIZARD |
We went for a drive. The air was dry and not like a lot
of other places at that time of year. There were too many
clouds though for it to be called ‘sunny’ and the shaded
glasses I wore were not for any normal condition. You drove
fast(SOFASTOHMYGODSLOWDOWNWEREGOINGTOCRASHPLEASEGODSLOWDOWNITS
TOOFAAAST)but I felt safe in your car as it roared first past
one then another. That man who was stood at the side of the
road, I could TELL you didn’t like him and when you stopped
the car a little way in front I took out my gun (you know the
one, 9mm of pure power) and I shot him - not in the leg or
the back or the neck, oh no, I called out and when he turned
I shot him straight through the nose. I looked at him and
laughed.
“NO NOSE!” I shouted. He had lost that smug smile of
sports car satisfaction and just before I pulled the trigger
he SCREAMED at me. “NO!” Funny really, no nose, no no’s,
haha.
I stole his licence plate for you. It had your
initials on it, your favourite number too, it had to be
yours. I wrapped it up very carefully in the dead man’s shirt
like a Christmas present that I didn’t want you to guess
until you opened it, although it was still early August and
very warm.
I pulled a cigarette from the almost empty pack lying
between my legs. J. J. Cale sang about cocaine. I pondered
the injustices of the world. You were happy. I was glad but
you were happy. I wanted to ask you the reason why you were
happy but couldn’t in case you told me and while you were
telling me you realised it wasn’t such a good reason after
all, in fact it wasn’t a reason at all to be happy, you had
no FUCKING RIGHT to be happy and so stopped. One ponderer of
injustices was enough.
You didn’t ask me if I was happy and if not why not
and that made me glad. Not happy but glad. We just continued
driving - happy you, glad pondering me, to a place neither of
us knew but both felt it was home… a place that people always
told stories about but the only people who told those stories
had never been there and those that had never returned… a
place that not even you were sure of, not even you knew we
were heading for it because I wouldn’t tell you its name -
you, even you might have laughed if I’d told you that is
where we were going just because I still believed in it… a
place for heads, where heads could be free… a place that
existed in my head?
I tried to remember a line but couldn’t, we were
travelling too fast, from a Ginsberg poem I had read twice
and misunderstood once. Your eyes were fixed on the road and
it was now very dark. I began to feel afraid - real fear, the
kind that produces rigid hairs on the back of the neck and a
trickle of sweat, ice-cold, that cuts the skin along the
spine like an open razor recently sharpened on a block of
stone, the kind of fear you feel as a child alone and scared
when your rational mind is not strong enough, your
imagination is let loose and suddenly becomes psychotic,
becomes a psychoPATH, A MASS-MURDERER BRUTALLY BLUDGEONING
ALL HOPE ALL DREAMS OF SAFETY because you were driving
through the dark without lights. Then I remembered that I was
still wearing sun-glasses so I took them off and felt much
better.
I was getting hungry so we stopped for a coffee, an
hour, a sandwich. The sandwiches were stale on white or brown
bread and the coffee was only a little colder with cream. We
didn’t talk although we pretended. Muttering in low voices.
Saying ‘bitch’ just loud enough to be heard, just loud enough
to be hurtful. And looking, really looking at the girl in the
blue dress. The summer blue, cornflower blue, blue so pretty
I wanted to cry dress and a white hat. I thought she could,
should, would come with us. She would like it so much. On the
way we could, should, would sing songs, smoke cigarettes.
Maybe we could shoot somebody not like the old man with his
smile and without his nose, but for fun this time. But only
if she wanted to. Maybe we could play a little game where she
would choose somebody for me to shoot and then we would swap
roles. But only if she wanted to. Maybe we could fall in love
and kiss and kill together. But only if she wanted to… As I
sat there dreaming and watching her play with her hair and my
mind she put her cigarettes in her purse and stood up to
leave.
I followed her outside to where a man younger than
our other man stood waiting for her next to the open door of
a his car. I called to her. As she turned around I shot her
boyfriend in the neck. He had a beautiful neck. Long,
slender, clean and white like his open-necked shirt. Now it
was a fountain, red like my shoes. He fell to the floor of
the parking lot. He died slowly. While he was dying I
remembered that his last meal had been a stale sandwich on
white or brown bread and a cup of coffee only slightly colder
with cream. I felt pity for him. I shot him again and this
time he died quickly. I smiled at her. She didn’t turn away
so I shouted to her, I mean I really SCREAMED.
“LET’S GO!”
“WHERE TO?”
“IT DOESN’T MATTER.” I gestured at you. “HE DOESN’T
KNOW AND HE IS DRIVING!”
I don’t know if you heard what I said. If you heard
it I don’t know if you liked it. She came anyway. She said
her name was Aishi. You didn’t care. I said her name was
beautiful. Still you didn’t care. I sat in the back of the
car with her occasionally swapping stories, tongues,
memories. Whenever you called for directions I made them up
and you didn’t realise. Aishi realised so I stopped loving
you and I started loving her - Aishi, who knew where we were
going, who knew just how to get there, who knew I was making
it all up. We shared a little whiskey, a little more saliva,
a little more whiskey. The whiskey was a good whiskey. It was
a fine whiskey. It was a whiskey that you always wanted to
drink, one that you always meant to drink but you never did.
There was always some cheaper brand available, some poison,
some gut-rot that would kill you if you drank it for seven
and a half years but that you always bought because you were
not really drinking whiskey, you were really drinking money.
Aishi was drinking whiskey.
And so the two became three which was alright because
you didn’t care. We continued along that road, that long
road, a silent three that was once a silent two, that led to
the place I believed in… I mentioned the game I have
mentioned earlier to Aishi and she said it was good. Not as
good as the whiskey but a different good. I said she could go
first. She said that was okay. She said I had to shoot you. I
said of course I couldn’t shoot you as you were driving. She
said again it was okay. I took out my gun, the one I shot the
man and Aishi’s boyfriend with and I shot you. Through the
seat. I sent the stuffing and your stomach in the same
direction. You fell forward with your foot over the brake and
the car stopped. We took your body form the car and laid it
at the side of the road with the man’s license plate I had
taken and wrapped for you for any hungry travellers to feed
on. Aishi took the wheel and we drove on, shooting holes in
the roof of the car with my gun.
And so the three became two which was alright because
we hadn’t lost you. You were dead is all. We continued along
that road, that long road, a silent two that was different to
the silent two who had become a silent three, that led to the
place I believed in. Aishi mentioned the game I have
mentioned twice earlier. She said that it was my turn. I said
of course I couldn’t go as there was no body to shoot. She
said it was okay. I gave her my gun. I said she had to shoot
herself. She stopped the car. She put the gun in her mouth
and pulled the trigger. The bullet made a hole in the top of
her head and another hole on the roof. I took her body from
the car and laid it at the side of the road for any hungry
travellers to feed on. I wanted to make more holes in the
roof. I couldn’t. There was not much roof left and I had
placed the gun like your license plate next to Aishi’s body.
She could, should, would have wanted it that way.
When I reached the place I believed in it was dark so
I parked the car and went inside. The y gave me a whiskey. It
was not a good whiskey like Aishi’s. It was the poison it was
the gut-rot. Here they drank money, not whiskey. Some of them
came forward and said hoe sorry they were that you were dead.
I asked them how they knew. They said not to be silly. They
said it was already two months. They said the post isn’t that
slow, haha… They asked me about Aishi. I said I didn’t know
any body called Aishi. They said it wasn’t fair to say that.
They said because we were separated was not an excuse. They
said it was still important for the children… And I began to
wonder how I had come to this place, who had I come here
with. I thought about the man with no nose and no no’s. Who
was he? I thought about the boyfriend and his fountaining
neck. Who was he? I thought about you and your stomach on the
steering wheel. Who were you? And I thought about Aishi. I
thought about her blue dress and her suicidal beauty. I
thought about the 9mm next to her perfect dead body, the only
present I had given her. Who was SHE? And… and I thought
about this place. This was the place I believed in… a place
for heads, where heads could be free… a place that existed in
my head?
of other places at that time of year. There were too many
clouds though for it to be called ‘sunny’ and the shaded
glasses I wore were not for any normal condition. You drove
fast(SOFASTOHMYGODSLOWDOWNWEREGOINGTOCRASHPLEASEGODSLOWDOWNITS
TOOFAAAST)but I felt safe in your car as it roared first past
one then another. That man who was stood at the side of the
road, I could TELL you didn’t like him and when you stopped
the car a little way in front I took out my gun (you know the
one, 9mm of pure power) and I shot him - not in the leg or
the back or the neck, oh no, I called out and when he turned
I shot him straight through the nose. I looked at him and
laughed.
“NO NOSE!” I shouted. He had lost that smug smile of
sports car satisfaction and just before I pulled the trigger
he SCREAMED at me. “NO!” Funny really, no nose, no no’s,
haha.
I stole his licence plate for you. It had your
initials on it, your favourite number too, it had to be
yours. I wrapped it up very carefully in the dead man’s shirt
like a Christmas present that I didn’t want you to guess
until you opened it, although it was still early August and
very warm.
I pulled a cigarette from the almost empty pack lying
between my legs. J. J. Cale sang about cocaine. I pondered
the injustices of the world. You were happy. I was glad but
you were happy. I wanted to ask you the reason why you were
happy but couldn’t in case you told me and while you were
telling me you realised it wasn’t such a good reason after
all, in fact it wasn’t a reason at all to be happy, you had
no FUCKING RIGHT to be happy and so stopped. One ponderer of
injustices was enough.
You didn’t ask me if I was happy and if not why not
and that made me glad. Not happy but glad. We just continued
driving - happy you, glad pondering me, to a place neither of
us knew but both felt it was home… a place that people always
told stories about but the only people who told those stories
had never been there and those that had never returned… a
place that not even you were sure of, not even you knew we
were heading for it because I wouldn’t tell you its name -
you, even you might have laughed if I’d told you that is
where we were going just because I still believed in it… a
place for heads, where heads could be free… a place that
existed in my head?
I tried to remember a line but couldn’t, we were
travelling too fast, from a Ginsberg poem I had read twice
and misunderstood once. Your eyes were fixed on the road and
it was now very dark. I began to feel afraid - real fear, the
kind that produces rigid hairs on the back of the neck and a
trickle of sweat, ice-cold, that cuts the skin along the
spine like an open razor recently sharpened on a block of
stone, the kind of fear you feel as a child alone and scared
when your rational mind is not strong enough, your
imagination is let loose and suddenly becomes psychotic,
becomes a psychoPATH, A MASS-MURDERER BRUTALLY BLUDGEONING
ALL HOPE ALL DREAMS OF SAFETY because you were driving
through the dark without lights. Then I remembered that I was
still wearing sun-glasses so I took them off and felt much
better.
I was getting hungry so we stopped for a coffee, an
hour, a sandwich. The sandwiches were stale on white or brown
bread and the coffee was only a little colder with cream. We
didn’t talk although we pretended. Muttering in low voices.
Saying ‘bitch’ just loud enough to be heard, just loud enough
to be hurtful. And looking, really looking at the girl in the
blue dress. The summer blue, cornflower blue, blue so pretty
I wanted to cry dress and a white hat. I thought she could,
should, would come with us. She would like it so much. On the
way we could, should, would sing songs, smoke cigarettes.
Maybe we could shoot somebody not like the old man with his
smile and without his nose, but for fun this time. But only
if she wanted to. Maybe we could play a little game where she
would choose somebody for me to shoot and then we would swap
roles. But only if she wanted to. Maybe we could fall in love
and kiss and kill together. But only if she wanted to… As I
sat there dreaming and watching her play with her hair and my
mind she put her cigarettes in her purse and stood up to
leave.
I followed her outside to where a man younger than
our other man stood waiting for her next to the open door of
a his car. I called to her. As she turned around I shot her
boyfriend in the neck. He had a beautiful neck. Long,
slender, clean and white like his open-necked shirt. Now it
was a fountain, red like my shoes. He fell to the floor of
the parking lot. He died slowly. While he was dying I
remembered that his last meal had been a stale sandwich on
white or brown bread and a cup of coffee only slightly colder
with cream. I felt pity for him. I shot him again and this
time he died quickly. I smiled at her. She didn’t turn away
so I shouted to her, I mean I really SCREAMED.
“LET’S GO!”
“WHERE TO?”
“IT DOESN’T MATTER.” I gestured at you. “HE DOESN’T
KNOW AND HE IS DRIVING!”
I don’t know if you heard what I said. If you heard
it I don’t know if you liked it. She came anyway. She said
her name was Aishi. You didn’t care. I said her name was
beautiful. Still you didn’t care. I sat in the back of the
car with her occasionally swapping stories, tongues,
memories. Whenever you called for directions I made them up
and you didn’t realise. Aishi realised so I stopped loving
you and I started loving her - Aishi, who knew where we were
going, who knew just how to get there, who knew I was making
it all up. We shared a little whiskey, a little more saliva,
a little more whiskey. The whiskey was a good whiskey. It was
a fine whiskey. It was a whiskey that you always wanted to
drink, one that you always meant to drink but you never did.
There was always some cheaper brand available, some poison,
some gut-rot that would kill you if you drank it for seven
and a half years but that you always bought because you were
not really drinking whiskey, you were really drinking money.
Aishi was drinking whiskey.
And so the two became three which was alright because
you didn’t care. We continued along that road, that long
road, a silent three that was once a silent two, that led to
the place I believed in… I mentioned the game I have
mentioned earlier to Aishi and she said it was good. Not as
good as the whiskey but a different good. I said she could go
first. She said that was okay. She said I had to shoot you. I
said of course I couldn’t shoot you as you were driving. She
said again it was okay. I took out my gun, the one I shot the
man and Aishi’s boyfriend with and I shot you. Through the
seat. I sent the stuffing and your stomach in the same
direction. You fell forward with your foot over the brake and
the car stopped. We took your body form the car and laid it
at the side of the road with the man’s license plate I had
taken and wrapped for you for any hungry travellers to feed
on. Aishi took the wheel and we drove on, shooting holes in
the roof of the car with my gun.
And so the three became two which was alright because
we hadn’t lost you. You were dead is all. We continued along
that road, that long road, a silent two that was different to
the silent two who had become a silent three, that led to the
place I believed in. Aishi mentioned the game I have
mentioned twice earlier. She said that it was my turn. I said
of course I couldn’t go as there was no body to shoot. She
said it was okay. I gave her my gun. I said she had to shoot
herself. She stopped the car. She put the gun in her mouth
and pulled the trigger. The bullet made a hole in the top of
her head and another hole on the roof. I took her body from
the car and laid it at the side of the road for any hungry
travellers to feed on. I wanted to make more holes in the
roof. I couldn’t. There was not much roof left and I had
placed the gun like your license plate next to Aishi’s body.
She could, should, would have wanted it that way.
When I reached the place I believed in it was dark so
I parked the car and went inside. The y gave me a whiskey. It
was not a good whiskey like Aishi’s. It was the poison it was
the gut-rot. Here they drank money, not whiskey. Some of them
came forward and said hoe sorry they were that you were dead.
I asked them how they knew. They said not to be silly. They
said it was already two months. They said the post isn’t that
slow, haha… They asked me about Aishi. I said I didn’t know
any body called Aishi. They said it wasn’t fair to say that.
They said because we were separated was not an excuse. They
said it was still important for the children… And I began to
wonder how I had come to this place, who had I come here
with. I thought about the man with no nose and no no’s. Who
was he? I thought about the boyfriend and his fountaining
neck. Who was he? I thought about you and your stomach on the
steering wheel. Who were you? And I thought about Aishi. I
thought about her blue dress and her suicidal beauty. I
thought about the 9mm next to her perfect dead body, the only
present I had given her. Who was SHE? And… and I thought
about this place. This was the place I believed in… a place
for heads, where heads could be free… a place that existed in
my head?
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FIN
© lizardmagazine.com, 2007