The Hiss of Steam

So I had been down at Barney’s Bar and BBQ having a couple of tall, greasy ones with Ghost and old Brain Funk-Shun, shooting the shit at pool balls, thumping around the tables and hooting at the women, when Geezer Ebenezer and his rat-fuck son, Pin Cushion, came blowing in from the street like a couple of donut wrappers caught up by the wind. Their faces dripped with lard sugar and sweat, the old one’s ears like bear claws and Pin Cushion’s hair done up as if he were one of them Imperial Wizard Youths with their matching star suits and warp hole haircuts. We didn’t take mind of men like these most days. But today was today and most days are yesterday, at least as far as I can remember, and these two sat down with a plastic boot full of fried chicken wings between them right in the middle of the damn pool table! They put their sodas in the holes and wiped their sludgy hands on the green felt.
When we complained, they got defensive and claimed that they were “making natural with the order of men and adding much-needed diversion.” Whatever the hell that meant. I suppose it meant that we were going to have a create a diversion when we dragged their bodies out the back to the dumpster.
As soon as we pulled out our murdering knives, the two idiots began trembling and rambling about “the haunting of the actions of sadists.”
I had to cut their tongues out just to shut ’em up! And then, Lord, the mess! We were never going to get back to our game. You should have seen that room. Geezer deflated like a poked balloon as soon as we got his skin open. The stench that filled the room was unbelievable! His insides must have been dried up for years. I still got bits caught up in the boogers in my nose. Pin Cushion liked the knives, thought we were drawing pretty pictures on him. Wasn’t until we drowned him in a puddle in the parking lot that he shut up about “a new vicious style of human painting, a sustainable practice using only blood and skin,” despite the fact that his tongue was sitting somewhere on the bar floor.
I felt like I was never going to get any peace.
So I went out and sat in my truck and listened to the radio in the rain and just let the day slip from my mind.

2 thoughts on “The Hiss of Steam

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