| BackLash Larry sat down in his living room, opening his latest dirty sex magazine; he had bought at the liquor store. He lit a cigarette, while popping a pill in his mouth. He swallowed it down, with some ice water. His dirty finger nailed hands slowly flipped through the pages of perversion. It was a scorching summer day, and the humidity was intense in his stale smelling apartment. Larry gobbled a few more pain pills and began to rub his Willie, staring at the red headed naked girl on the page in front of him. His dog, Bonkers, lay on the floor, with his eyes hooked on Larry's hand stroking technique. Larry put the magazine down and zipped up his jeans.
"I'm tired of this whacking off shit, I need to get laid before I lose my mind." Bonkers looked at him, puzzled and dumfounded, turned his head, and began biting his asshole with a forceful nibble.
Larry was a middle-aged man who worked as a factory worker in Detroit. He was addicted to painkillers, pornography, alcohol, ganja, and when ever he could afford it, crack cocaine. He had short black hair, crewcut style, which was balding on top. His gut had grown rather colossal. Larry was telling himself for years that he'd join a gym soon. It just never happened. He had a plump face scarred with acne from when he was younger. His chicken legs were dwarfish, his worn feet, miniature. He didn't have much of an upper lip, and had a large scar on his sunken in forehead. His arms were gaunt and furry. He was no Prince Charming, but Larry had a good self –esteem. He was confident and secure in his looks.
"I think I'm going to the bar tonight, find my self a dirty little whore. That's what I need. I still got the skills to pick up those women. Hell, in my prime, there was no stopping me. I use to have a different slut every night. I was the king of one-night stands, never called any of them back the next day. Those dumb bitches are easy to play, tell em how beautiful they are, and never give them your real phone number," he told Bonkers, while laughing.
Larry's phone rang, as he was boiling up some top ramen noodles in his kitchen. He thought about letting the machine get it, but decided to grab it.
"The White House here, how can I help you?" he said chuckling, at his pathetic humor.
"Hey man, it's me Jessie, you hear what those fuckers in upper management at the plant are gonna do to us?"
"Don't tell me those bastards are laying more people off?"
"Well, not really, but close, those fuckers are gonna start drug testing everyone, and any one who comes up positive, is out of a job!"
"You gots to be shitting me, when they doing this?" Larry said, stunned.
"I dun know, Vickie said in the next couple of days, it sucks man. I'm already sending my resume out to different places."
"How can they get away with this? Those pompous fucks won't have any employees left".
"Tell me about it, I ain't gonna quit shooting smack for those assholes, I got'ah jet, me and my old lady are going bowling."
"O.k., see you tomorrow," Larry said, hanging up the phone.
This was quite a shock to Larry, who had been working there for the last five years. Larry turned his stove off, and sat at his kitchen table. He was no longer hungry. Bonkers came up to him, laying his gigantic humdrum head on Larry's lap. Larry pulled out another pill, crushing it up on the table with a lighter. He rolled up a dollar bill and snorted a big line, his head twitching to the left afterwards.
"I can't fucking believe it Bonkers, drugs don't affect the way I do my job. Shit, if anything, they help me do a better job. I was up for a twenty five-cent raise this month. That's the fucking thanks I get for working sixty hour weeks."
Larry patted Bonkers head, smashing his other fisted hand into the table, yelling, "FUCK!"
Bonkers ran in the other room and began to whimper. Larry decided he really needed to get laid now, in order to take his mind off this horse shit. He went into his room and played an old punk rock album from his youth; he hadn't listened to in years. He selected his outfit, for the bar. He put on a large size black and white Hawaiian shirt, leaving the top 3 buttons undone, some baggy Levi's, and his white Adidas tennis shoes. He pulled a small cigar box out of his desk drawer. A small white pebble of crack cocaine sat in the box next to a resin filled glass pipe. He stuck it in the pipe, with rickety hands, lighting it, quickly as possible. The pipe sizzled and made crackling noises. Larry tried hitting the pipe 10 more times, and got a lung full of butane hits for his fiend filled efforts.
"Shit never lasts long," he said, while slam dancing into the air.
Larry went to his kitchen, feeling incredibly paranoid now, and pulled out some cheap Tequila. He placed a lime on the table, and a shot glass next to it. He poured a shot in it. Bonkers came into the kitchen and was still whining.
"You hungry boy, awe, come here boy," Larry said, while feeding him the ramen noodles. Larry slugged down seven shots of Tequila, sucking on the lime after each one. He crumpled up his pudgy face after each shot, like he was constipated.
"I'm not going to let this horse shit ruin my night. I'm gonna go get laid, old Bonkers." He staggered to his front door.
Larry drove to a near by pub, swerving all over the lanes, in route to his infatuation. He tried to pick a more low class place, to better his chances for some lovemaking. He pulled up to a pretty small joint, with a sign hanging out front, which read in florescent colors that buzzed on and off, 'Nick's Bar'. Larry was feeling good and confident as he walked in the front doors. The atmosphere was dusky and smoke filled. A jukebox sat in one corner of the bar, playing the Rolling Stones song; 'Sympathy for the devil'. There was a dismal green glow to the place, from low budget lighting. Larry planted himself at the bar and looked around at the tables, hunting for prey.
"What'll it be?" the bartender asked, while attempting a broad smile.
"I'll have a double house whiskey," Larry responded.
Larry fixated his eyes on a group of three women sitting at a table. They were drinking bud lights, and giggling, as they sucked continuously on cancer sticks. They were middle aged, chunky, and yapping away like Jerry Springer show guests, in broken English.
Larry slurped down his whiskey like a new vacuum cleaner turned on high. He glanced around at the other tables. There was a biker looking couple, who appeared to be in a hate filled argument, as they pointed fingers at each other, with earsplitting voices. A couple of gay looking men at another table grinned at Larry, as they scoped him from head to toe. This made Larry uneasy. He ordered another drink. There was a younger, sleepy looking girl with lengthy hair, sitting on the other side of the bar. She hadn't looked up from her drink since Larry walked in.
All in all, there wasn't much for Larry to choose from. He contemplated walking over to the table with the three women at it, and decided what the hell.
"Good evening ladies, my name is Larry, and I couldn't help but notice how genuine your beauty shines in this dimly lit bar, may I join you for a drink?"
The ladies looked at each other, and began to laugh, one of them almost choking on a mouth full of popcorn, as tiny yellow morsels came spitting out of her mouth.
"Get the fuck out ah here, before I beat your funny looking ass," one of them responded, as they continued to chortle.
"We ain't looking for no man, we get plenty of cock at home," another one cold-heartedly added.
Bull dykes, Larry thought to himself, as he headed back to his stool at the bar. The bartender, watching him like a hawk, just snickered, as Larry guzzled down more booze, and thought of his next move.
"Bartender, I'd like to buy that young lady a drink sitting over there," Larry uttered, pointing at the sluggish looking girl sitting on the other side of the bar.
"What would you like to get her?"
"Whatever she is drinking."
"No problem," the bartender said.
The bartender fixed up a gin and tonic. He handed it to the girl, pointing a finger over in Larry's direction.
She looked up at Larry smiling, as their eyes met, she lifted her drink up, in a doting thank you type gesture.
Larry walked over and planted his ass down at a stool next to her. She had long brown hair, strange green eyes, and nice cleavage, which hung out of her cotton white shirt. Her lime-colored eyes looked dejected, and black circles swirled around under each one. She's pretty decent looking, Larry thought to himself.
"My names Larry, it's nice to meet you."
"Hi, my name is Betty," she replied.
"You don't look more then eighteen, except those eyes of hardship you got, how da hell you in a bar at your age?" Larry asked.
The girl chuckled, while taking a grand swig off her free drink.
"That's very kind of you to say, I'm actually, don't tell anyone, 25 years old, hee, hee, , I feel even older".
"Well, you're certainly a sight for sore eyes."
"Thank you," Betty said, blushing.
They continued to talk for almost an hour, (ordering more and more rounds) rambling on about themselves, where they grew up, what they did for a living, dreams, hobbies.
Larry's tummy began to feel funny deep inside, a mysterious feeling he had never experienced. He desperately tried to look at her as just a piece of meat, like the others. Somewhere buried within his cold-hearted bones, an impassioned feeling of euphoria overwhelmed his being. He was in a jovial daze, staring into Betty's eyes.
"You want to go back to my place?" Larry abruptly asked.
"Larry, you seem like a really nice guy, but I never go back to a mans home, after just meeting him."
Larry's blissful expression changed quickly. Feeling defeated, he stared down at his drink in a feeble manner.
"But you are welcome to come back to my place if you wish," Betty voiced, out of the blue.
Larry looked up from his drink and bounced back into his cheerful mood.
"That would be great, I mean, sure, ok."
"Ok, follow me to my place in your car, unless, well, are you ok to drive?"
"Oh yes, I've driven more drunkard den this."
"Ok then, it's just down the street, follow me." Betty said, smiling at him.
Larry saw 3d visions of streetlights and road signs, as he tried to focus on her car, while driving. He attempted to shake the cobwebs off, but the blurry reality, encircled him. It was a fog filled, drunken driving adventure, nothing new to Larry. His mind was on Betty, as he stuttered words off to himself, preparing for his visit.
Somehow, Larry made it to her apartment lot parking area. He almost clobbered the rear end of her car. He slammed on his breaks, his chin smacking against the steering wheel, as he parked.
Betty fumbled around with the keys at her apartment door. She dropped them twice. Larry stared out at the apartment complex's mossy pool, as befuddled head spins floated through his sex filled mind.
Betty managed to unlock the door. Her roommate, Dave, was lying on the couch, eyeballs rolled back into his massive forehead. The TV was on, but Dave didn't seem too interested in watching. He looked to be in a drug-induced haze, either that, or he's dead, Larry thought.
"This is my friend, Larry, I met him at the bar,"she said to Dave.
"Hey bro, cool to meet you," Dave said, trying to open, and focus an eye on Larry.
"Pleasures all mine," Larry said, smiling in envy.
The two headed for Betty's room, as Dave began coughing, and lit up a smoke. Betty shut her door, flipping on a light.
"Do you want to hear some music? What kind of music do you like?" Betty asked.
"Huh, whatever," Larry answered.
Larry stared at her back end, in amazement. Her exquisite hips bent over, as her sensual fingers slowly put an acoustic blues CD in.
"Well, what now?" Betty asked, flopping down on her silky waterbed sheets.
Larry took his shoes off, lying next to her on the bed; he stared up at a poster of Elvis, which was pinned to her ceiling.
"Can I smoke in here?"
"Sure Larry," she answered, reaching over his body for an ashtray.
Larry got a nice whiff of her perfume; it smelled like witch doctor incense, red roses, peaches, and apple pie.
They both lit a cigarette, and stared up at Elvis.
"Was your roommate on drugs? Or does he always look like that?"
"HAHAHA, ya, he's on a different drug almost every night, sometimes I worry about him."
"What's your guys relationship like, I mean, do you guys fuck?"
"Jeeezus Larry, be a little more blunt, why don't you."
"I'm just curious."
"I've known Dave since we were kids, growing up in the slums of Detroit. We have always, just been real good friends, he's kind of like a little brother to me."
"So you guys don't fuck?"
"Larry, you seemed real likable at the bar, but if you're going to continue in this tone, you can leave, and no, we have never fucked."
"I'm sorry Betty, I don't mean to be rude, forgive me, I've had quite a bit to drink tonight."
"It's ok Larry, I know all about drinking, I'm an alcoholic."
Larry rotated his head, looking at her.
"Something about you, it's just something about you."
Betty stared back at him, puzzled, running a finger smoothly down his forearm. She closed her eyes. Larry locked his eager lips to hers, gently caressing her right breast.
Before long, sweat-ridden nakedness swallowed them, sloppy deep kisses, and moans of pleasure filled the silky sheets.
"I want to get on top," Betty said, after about 15 minutes.
"Sure, I could use a breather," he responded, slipping out of her cautiously.
Betty reached under her bed, pulling out a straw cowboy hat. She put it on, mounting Larry, like a jockey climbing an award winning horse.
"What's that for?" Larry asked, grinning.
"I don't know, I just thought it would be fun." She said, giggling.
They were both almost in tears, from laughter, as Betty rode his main vein, shouting out, " Yee Haw, Yee Haw!" twirling her arms up in the air, in a circular motion, like a cowgirl.
After about a half-hour of this, they lay next to each other, smoking, both filled with glee. Elvis now had four blurry faces, grinning down at them. Larry's brain began to drift into much needed sleep. Betty kissed his cheek and turned the lights off, wrapping a sweaty arm around his lifeless body.
"Larry, you awake?"
"Barely"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, anything, doll."
"Do you believe in love?" She said, in almost a whisper.
"I don't know, I've never experienced it."
"You've never been in love with anyone or anything, I find that hard to believe."
"Nope, never been in love, or had the desire to open up that much, well, that's a lie, I suppose I love my dog, Bonkers."
"You're cute," Betty said, licking his ear goodnight.
Betty's alarm clock went off at 8:00 am, it shot Larry's head up, like a canon ball being launched.
"What the fuck," Larry said, looking around, trying to figure out where in the hell he was.
"It's ok, relax," Betty said.
"Oh fuck, what time is it?" Larry asked, looking blurry eyed at the alarm clock.
"It's 8 am," Betty said.
"I fucking know that, shit, I'm an hour late for work," Larry snapped back.
"You asked what time it was, asshole!"
"I know, I'm sorry babe, I'm not really a morning person."
"Me neither," she coughed, lighting up a cigarette.
"Well, fuck it, I'm to tired to go to work. I'd puke if I had to get up right now, lets get some more sleep."
"I don't have the luxury of taking a day off work, I'll set the alarm for 9: 30, I have to go wait tables at 10, Larry."
"I understand," Larry said, drifting back into his hangover fed dreams.
It seemed to be a minute later; Larry was awakened again, by a loud buzzing noise in his ear.
"Fuck!" Larry shouted, attempting to turn off the alarm clock.
Betty reached over him, turning it off.
"Good morning Mr. Grumpy," she said, amused by him. She pecked his cheek with her dry smoker lips.
Larry scratched his head, lighting a cigarette, heading for her bedroom door, in search of the bathroom.
He opened Dave's door by accident. Dave was lying naked, on a stained mattress, snoring, with his cock in hand. There was the stench of ass, floating around Dave's room. Larry shut the door, silently.
Larry found the bathroom, had a delightful vomit session, and went back to Betty's room. She was half dressed in her waitress outfit, cigarette dangling from her mouth, as ashes trickled down on her scarlet carpet.
"Hey Betty, I don't know what love is, but I think I might be in love with you."
"Larry, if you don't know what love is, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm not really sure, but, I think it might be time to learn."
"Larry, are you fucking serious about this?"
Betty said, grabbing his chin, and looking into his red eyes, with authority.
"I think I am."
"Love is eternal, it never dies, it never fades, it is an emotion not too be fucked with! Love is like the moon, the sun, the sky, fucking death; it's always there, once you notice it, for me anyway. We tell each other everything about each other, and it won't matter, we won't get mad, cause were supposedly in love, do you fucking understand this!" Betty said, slapping his dumpy face.
"I think I do, I think, I'm trying to at least," Larry said, kissing her.
"I'll call you from work, at your home number, feel free to hang out and eat some breakfast."
Betty headed for the front door, blowing him a kiss, and winking at him.
Larry went to her kitchen and poured himself a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal. It was stale, and out of date, but Larry gobbled it down, sitting on her living room couch.
Dave came slumping out of his room, scratching his nuts, as he headed for the bathroom. Larry heard the long morning drizzle of urine hitting the toilet, as he finished his last spoonful of cereal.
Dave came out of the bathroom, and sat next to Larry on the couch, stark naked. "So, it sounds like you kids had a good time last night?"
"Uh, yes, we did, what do you mean by that?"
"Nothing guy, relax, loosen up" Dave said, looking down at Larry's crotch area.
"Ok, I gotta split, nice meeting you," Larry said, nervously, heading for the door.
Dave jumped off the couch, and grabbed Larry by the neck, pushing him up against the wall with force.
"Listen to me, if you fucking even think about hurting Betty, I'll kill you with my bare hands," Dave gasped, grabbing Larry's crotch, attempting to rub it.
"You sick fucking weirdo," Larry screamed! Kneeing him in the nuts.
Dave fell to the ground, grabbing his balls, trying to breathe.
"Don't ever handle my balls, or I will kill you with a fucking machete, then dump your body in a sewer, Mother Fucker!"
Larry was stopped at a red light, his mind tried to make some sense of what just happened, he figured it was best to forget about it, block it out. His thoughts turned to Bonkers, hoping he hadn't shit on the carpet.
He opened his apartment door, and wondered why Bonkers hadn't come up to greet him, in his doggy fashion. Larry's fatigued eyes searched around the room, throwing his keys down on a table, he noticed Bonkers, laying on his back, legs stiff, up in the air.
"O my GOD, Fuck, what the fuck!" Larry screamed, running over to Bonkers side, and lifting his inert dog up.
Larry sat on his couch, with dead dog in arms; tears flooded down his face, as he gently stroked Bonkers head.
"Why? Oh man, Bonkers, wake up buddy, come on boy, wake the fuck up."
Larry stood up, dropped the deceased dog on the floor, with an insane look in his eyes. He bent down and kissed Bonkers head, collapsing on the floor, weeping. His phone rang. Larry managed to pick himself up, and stumble to the phone.
"Hello?" he cried.
"Larry, it's me, Betty, what's wrong? You don't sound to good."
There was a long pause, as Larry fought back salty tears.
"Hello, Larry? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm fine, I'm just a little emotional, it's good to hear your voice."
"Hmmm, ok then, well, I have to tell you something that's very important."
"What's that?" Larry asked, wiping a tear off his throat.
"Remember, how we talked about love, earlier?"
"Of course I do," Larry gulped.
"I have something that I must tell you. Larry this isn't easy for me, but I want to get it out right now, rather then down the road."
"What is it?"
"There is know easy way to say this Larry, but if you think you really feel love for me, then it won't matter. Larry…"
"What? Tell me what the fuck you're going to say!"
"Larry, I … I … I use to be a man," she quietly said.
"Umm, I don't think I just heard you, what the fuck are you talking about?"
"You heard me, Larry, I had a sex change 4 years ago."
"Fuck you! Just fuck you, I'll fucking kill you, oh God!" Larry bellowed, slamming the phone down, and vomiting all over his checkerboard kitchen floor. He crawled on his hands and knees, back over to his stiff dog, wrapping Bonkers up in his arms, clouded by blues.
His mind was racing a million miles a minute, his heart, beating like an over used machine, dipped in melancholy dementia.
Larry gathered his body up from the floor, kissing Bonkers, one last time. He opened a wooden cabinet, and pulled out a shotgun.
Larry sat on his couch, with a zombie look on his face, similar to a soldier who has lost all emotion, through bloody war. His mind flashed horrible thoughts in front of his eyes; Bonkers dead, Slept with a man, going to be fired from job, homeless, no hope, ego shattered, love, love, love, melted to hate. He was dizzy. His shadow had caught up to him, piercing him, in his newly opened void of tenderness. Larry rapidly became numb, his thoughts, disappearing. He stuck the shotgun in his mouth, and ever so slowly, pulled the trigger.
Minutes later, his phone rang, once, twice, three times, the machine came on.
"This is Larry, sorry I can't answer the phone right now, but, hey, hey, hey, leave a message, and me, or Bonkers will get back to you."
"Beeeeeeeep."
"Larry, it's me, Jessie, pick up the phone man, why ain't you here at work? The boss man is pissed. You best get your butt in here. About that shit the other day, I was just pulling your chain, man, getting a little revenge for that bullshit you pulled on Vickie and me during April fools, anyway, get your ass in here, later."
The phone rang a few minutes later; the machine did its duty again.
Larry? Are you there? Please pick up the phone, I feel awful. Larry? Dave put me up to this. I was never a man, I know it seems sick. Dave said I would never find true love if I didn't try this out on some sucker. Please, Larry, pick up your phone, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you that, that, if you……"
The answering machine cut off.
waving goodbye
gulps in the gulf of Mexico
driving on sand
ocean to my left
two oil cans of foster
bouncing around
malt on lap
windy rainy day with no sun
smiling at the seagulls
nomeansno CD's behind seat
fries, empty smokes, half eaten burgers,
maps, choas, vomit..
always a little chaos circling
shark poles in
scratched black
truck bed
something about
the ocean
nothing can be wrong
when we catch nothing
the line snaps back in my face
nothing wrong
heavy waves splash against rocks
with sea spray covering me
rubbing my face
I stare out there. Out fukin there!
walking along rocks
we fish, smoke, drink, talk of shark meat
host flips lid
when I drive to
what I really need
shadow thorn in side
bliss takes months, years to find
centuries
in the seconds
bliss needs social skills
bliss comes in tiny smelly apartments
with people in wheel chairs
and guys who have done time
inserting that ocean
shark shit
in one juicy built recovered vein
guys who could have
people break both
your fukin legs
with a phonecall
mexican mafia shadows
I'm just there to smile
Guys with stripper girlfriends
on methadone
great bodies. Sneaky eyes
but what does it matter
near the ocean, nothing is wrong.
Not your girlfriend curling her hair
to strip in front of hillbilly
drunks, nothing, not even u
In wheel chair, eyes shut,
Texas
poets blurting through speakers!
Stories
The sea
Pissed off psycho hosts
out on port -a-
crispy corpis bay
sitting in car
on a boat fairy
crossing
water
leaving with heroin headache
six hour drive
and your yelling!
your
bitching about
me making toast
Doesn't matter
now
And your legs
Are still intact
And I traveled
Met people
On the shore
in towns
with empty
hooks
palm trees
insane hosts
with no job
a wife
who left him
i'm half alseep
driving on fifth hour
forgot my shoes,
my smokes
punches were going
to be thrown
but saw something
for a change
sand in socks
fish smell on hands
scar on arm
friend lost
scenery
wave
when eyes close
on pier bait
tourist town
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