Patients and Pets

Patients and Pets

[1]

She looked in her Mc’ds salad and wished a Jack in the Box was on her way to work. Suzi thinks on about the drive that got her here, is there a Hardy’s, I mean a Carl’s Jr? No there’s Rally’s but they ain’t got ‘em, shit; even Wendy’s give you the same shit, just a slightly different flavor with the same kind of logo.

Suzi thinks on about her drive to work, Asian chicken tomorrow or the Caesar or should I just get the Garden with ranch again, this time I’ll use the seeds and the croutons, no fuck them croutons. The kids dropped off with enough time for the “this and that’s”.

She looked at the yogurt and thought about her thighs then looked at the napkin with the fork and glanced and the foiled top thinking about when the time amounts to that. Suzi picks up the fork and realizes there’s no spoon. She hits the floor the flat of her shoe then rises her heal and hold it there for a moment, wrinkling her brow.

The buzzer for Bed B in Room 12 calls. Sally looks over then turns to Suzi as she eye’s a mush room with her plastic fork already armed with a leaf of romaine covered in ranch, “that’s your room.”

Suzi looks over at the dry erase marker board and looks at her name and the list of people she nurses, she darts the fork pronging the mushroom then a flick and a dab she stabs at the bowl just filling the three plastic cul-de-sacs with what ever she could gag her mouth with to keep “I’m on my way.” From coming out.

Suzi holds the fork up; a giant meat ball of greens and processed creams, looking over it to Sally, “You know that bastard hates me and well all I’m gonna say is he’s interrupted every meal of mine for the last 3 weeks and well…” She looks at the lit plastic of the frosted lighting on the ceiling then, to a picture of her kids in front of her bellow the lip of the counter next to a cylinder of pencils, pins, permanent markers and highlighters, “…it all started when we had that steak pizza. I said don’t let anyone them sick mother fuckers try and keep us from this meal, the night of the anniversary of the hospitals’ first year open.” She opens her lips again and takes her pickings into her mouth and stands up and with her free hand she pushes the off button on room 12’s concerns. She chews a few bites and swallows, sits back down and pushes her salad about with her fork. Suzi spouts, “I can’t help it if he’s a racist mother fucker.” Ranch and spit touching her kids picture, she says nothing and looks forward holding an empty fork half way between her and the counter.

Sally says nothing as Suzi’s words come and go like the coupons she scans from the paper. She says to herself in her head, “The other guy in the room, that’s the racist mother fucker.”

[2]

“Goddamn buzzer aint no good. Why don’t they give us a phone we can reach, shit I can’t reach the one on the wall or the dresser with this catheter and this feeding tube and that goddamn pointer finger and this beeping mother fucker next to me…” Patient B hits the side of his coffin crib hostpital bed, jabbing the IV on the back of his hand his jolts a sound of pain then blurts at the breathable ceilings dotted panels, “they could at least make this bed voice activated. Fuck.”

Patient A next to him stairs at the TV on the wall. Propped up like the star on a Christmas tree airing Jeopardy, finally Patient A says “I don’t know.”

The room fills with applause, boo’s, beeps and the electrical hum of silent stagnation.

Patient B continually pushes the red button on the wired joy stick, “Well they got to be hearing this out there!”

The TV says “No, What is Will Shortz”

Patient A, “I don’t know.”

“I mean come on the rates we pay they should have a nurse for every patient. One nurse to every 14 people what the fuck. I’m going to get infections or have a fucking heart attack, dear god what are they thinking.”

The TV says, “No that’s the wrong answer Shirley, The answer is “What is Sudoku?”

Patient A says, “I don’t know.”

Patient B looks over at Patient A and shakes his head as if someone would laugh and stares at his roommate staring at the TV. Finally he puts the stick down next to him wet with his sweat. He looks at the TV and watches ticking us along a conveyor belt… Patient B says inside, “why not some truth.”

“Who do you think they got in the kitchen cooking?”

Silence.

“This is the last time I am going to go to a hospital ran by a church… and fuck what’s up with that nightly prayer… is there a shortage on priests or priestess’ who could visit the whatever the patients faith is, I’m nothing and don’t want anything they could at least offer me some head phones… No they got to cut out the TV! Always when something good is on and purge there fears onto us from a god damn speaker in the wall… is this thx crap or what? I mean I’m not just rag’n on the churches, I bet a lot of the employs are here on military funded college loans or grants or whatever they call this laundry…”

The Jeopardy metronome ticks on. Silence except for the machines, Alek says…

Patient B Yells at the tinted window of a city of blinking lights like twinkling stars before the ozone left and all that caused the twinkling was fumes and gasses. Answers and Buzzers ring, they words and responses are all shot down. The Game keepers watch there game fatten with disappointment or just sleep or laugh not caring as the banks fill…” Patient B thinks on then erupts, “ Fuck your apple juice can I get a fucking glass of red wine in here!!!”

“No, the answer is What is

Barversations #204 The Cocktail Waitress.

The Cocktail Waitress says nothing, she just places the drinks on their coasters, they nod and say nothing to her, they are billed when they check out.

“What’s wrong Peter?”

Peter lays down his cards, “Ah shit, I’m just thinking about my wife’s cat, had to kill it today.”

“Shit… She’s still on vacation at her mothers?”

“What’cha kill it for?”

His hands resting on the back of the cards, “Fucking thing sat on everything and would knock off anything around it. It never wanted to sit on the floor. It’s sit on my desk, in the bathtub, in the sink, what ever I was going to do it was in the way.”

“Sounds like my kids.”

“…Then it would knock shit off anything… dresser, tables, counters… my house looks like a furniture store. We can’t even have a vase on the kitchen table.”

“Your house always does look bare.” Frank rolls a tooth pic in his mouth.

“Today the fucking domesti’catus spilt wine on my Brioni.”

They all looked over their cards all ready to do the cat in for him again.

Johnny laughing, “What the fuck did you do?”

“Took a shotgun to it in the back yard.”

“Tell her it was coyote’s.”

Sammy picks up his cards and eyes them, “You know it.”

Paul says, “Don’t worry about it you know how many of my wife’s pets I’ve had to kill?”

Sammy still eyeing the same cards, “Fuck it, let’s play this.”

The Waitress walks away from the group huddled around the table now looking like benched players but that’s how the game looks; they’re playing the game for different reasons but all are trying to walk away with the win. Across the casino on the main floor with it’s 6000 slots you could add up the worth of all these pension, week to week pullers, weekenders, and passer thru’s and they wouldn’t come close to what these men at this table own. What they lost was just daily chump change they'd spend; no loss if anyone of them. They owned what ever they wanted but with the game it was about the taking it, holding your arms up and out, laughing when everyone else calls it quits and hands it over.

“Hit me.” Was the last words she heard then it was a fading laugh.

She made here way down to the table of those playing the game of chance. A chance to loose it all or double it or more. A shovel of dirt into the hole, instead of out.

To get out of the hole, that’s what brought them here. It was like watching out the window in the back seat of a car going 75 mph, parallel with an orchard. She was dyslexic and thought it was funny how many men grab and scratch them selves during this game, maybe other kinda game players do it as well but you see it more at Craps, toss and scratch.

At this hour, you never see a woman unless she’s a married or a tourist and she sit’s with a visor or hat and sun glasses no matter the time and if she plays? It’s to pay for a divorce, a name change and a plane ticket with enough left for her destination to start just fine. They chat on the cell and coin, button, coin button.

“Harold’s never going to see it coming!” Coin, Button, Coin, Button.

The Waitress enters into the odium, surrounded by the cheap poker tables, with men who just want to win to get a hooker and buy the wife some flowers or buy the kids some shoes and the wife a new moo moo. The kids in the arcade or the water park and the wife at the mall or the buffet. The men still, all waiting for their call to get their next hand, trying to trick the cards, the casino, their god, time, self and cease the idea that the dealer is a trick player or that none of there opponents are, their neighbors… it’s a clean deck. They look at each other as if they were spies. They’d kill each other if they could get away with it. Eye’s webs of blown veins trying to keep fingers like talons and hands like revolvers.

“You work for the house!” you know he’s thinking that she say’s inside to herself.

“Keep moving” the best advice she ever got, you can always say, I’ll be right back I have to get Harrison Ford’s drink. Their balls shrivel even if they could beat him to a pulp. “… like wild boars in a hog farm. Be careful that’s where the bastards with hollow promises play… best advice I ever got.”

She makes her way back to the station leaving them in the silence they give themselves and each other between the dealers call.

“They all had something to loose so these suckers never order anything not even water.” She said inside. Happy she doesn’t have a name tag, “cause these fuckers would complain and embellish. ‘Just want’ah see some one else ‘fail’…” That’s what I would tell the boss if he pulled me out and asked me why I got the complaint but to what ever I say? He’d say would you expect anything but a battle field out there?

This is “adventures in capitalism’. This is the real world. If you want the fantasy world, the street corner is just outside.” But he was wrong as usual. “Your tie would make a nice noose.” But she couldn’t say that.

On to the main floor filled corner to corner with bus loads of different cultures of people who’ve spent into the free brochure, the ad’s, the movies, the shows, the chance to strike it, the ever-new and sedated gold rush… to have at the end? A death on the beach of where ever… where ever it’s cheaper… there you can have this and that and the honey is…

And you know their answer. So you do nothing at all and just as it is, you do what they want for a tip and a check. You look around and you can’t help but see it, during the day those fearing falling apart as they are or a short time away from being laid up, stuck by needles and wired to machines by adhesive pads. Your only friend a the TV stuck out from the wall like a head and you flip channels hosted by John Davidson, Regis, Ellen, and Drew Carrey say come one down… for the most part that’s what we have here, those almost there or been there’s of the world feeling cheated trying to come up for a change. Strangers with compassion don’t slink in here.

“The nurses come in hourly or every 3 hours when I can finally get to sleep. I’m prodded I’m poked, my arms are twisted. My asshole looked at, a catheter pulling when they lift my bag with half blood and debate my expiration date, when I can finally get some sleep, My eyes get a bright light and my lids are held open? Then with a smile, How are you doing today Mr. Washington? Am I dead yet? The doctors talk as if I’m not there. None of them doctor anything but what they do.”

Watching her grandmother go was like that. “Not sure if much’ll change.”

He laughs turn his power wheel chair by the flick of a finger on a shakey hand and knocks over a stool ignoring it he hands her a dollar coin and puts another in the slot, laughs, “I know.” He hits the button, knowing the security in the casino she had to get the stool, she placed the trey on the next stool and bent over to retrieve the fallen one, the old man looks over and ganders, one hand trying to get another coin in the machine, when she rises he flicks his other hand on the stick and moves back to facing the machine, she walks on and he puts the stool closer to him she looks back and knowing it. When a dwarf brisks past her almost causing her to topple him with the trey. She rebalances it over his passing head, he continues forward holding a hand up, not turning around he say’s, “Sorry about that.” He was just like the rest but probably the best example. She laughed inside.

You don’t even WTF anymore, it’s just the norm. If you get upset they won’t care and well you know strangers love to laugh at someone else losing it. Especially stranger among stranger. Betting the near for something farther down the road, those intents of desire grasping for the view… for the allowance to have the chance to have their road fork, even in a cul-de-sac.

Then there’s the one’s trying to beat the pension early to say take this job and choke on it… I can do “it”. “It” is always different among each but still the desire rises from the doom of a continuous coming of nothing and they kill it with hope and prayer but their hands just stick, push, pull, fist up and bang anything like a gavel for sure that this is the last failure, this is the last loss; their time of loosing is over… the chance to have a chance to do all those things that help you waste time with a smile, because you want solid and for sure.”… but that’s not offered here.

All the passengers in the perpetual un-called “biggest haul” never looked different; they ate different foods in their homeland but ate what was also available here as if it was the last supper. If they sold shirts at the places in the food court, they’d make double what they already spoon in, even the casino’s Burger King get Taj Mahal appreciation, does it taste different from our home? The people’s digital camera hold America with them smiling in front of burger king, slot machine’s, celebrity look-a-likes and the white house looks like any other amusement park.”

The tourists and Business meetings are different. At the steak house. The Bosses, they ordered one of the three most expensive ‘Entrée’s’ on the menu, didn’t matter what it was, it’s what The Holders could point to and say “this” and not fret… They were squared up in this moment, “it was thin, it was quick to eat slowly and passes nicely.” What the dealers order is the real clincher, will they go for one of the three or will they try for anything less? If they do the Waiter says “Sorry… It’s Out, of Season” The boss takes a sip of the water, check mate is clear around a low lit crescent booth.

Passing the nickel slots, the quarter slots, the dollar slots and the personal keno machines, hearing the mantra’s and chants, “Come on.!?”… “Here we go.!”… “Give it… come on baby… give it to me.!” “Here you go!.” “Here it comes.!” “Mutha Fucka.!”

“Bring it.!” “Prick.!” “Bitch.!” “Gimmie Gimmie.!” “Awww… .! Awww Shit.!” “Jesus.?!”

“Oh Lord.?!” “Fuck” all said among glances at her by those that look from machine to her in a moment of silence… across, around, like she was connect the dots… her ass, tits, face, lips, eyes, nose, neck, hips, waist, hair, legs, shoes, arches, arms, the tray and then her continuing on all between the spinning rolls of possibility, as they tap the button, pull the crank, as they insert another bill or another coin they take their glance and wish like the two could meet… eye’s darting from this to that… the seekers, the loosing always checking…cursed me… it not gonna happen here, will it be here? They look the machine over like it was able to say I love you and desire it to engorge the space before their lap.

She keeps on. She looks over. The ones winning? “If I see a really happy one, I dart in. Need a drink mister?” They never look around they just watch and listen to the trough between their legs pound and fill. If it’s huge? Sometimes they’ll look around for admirers or someone who notices but they look at me as just another strawberry in a strawberry festival.

“The real big winners who are in serious shit and know they are about to get noticed and don’t want to get noticed are about the funniest people you could ever see.”
That’s what I’ll write on the postcard. “They fear getting stuck, whacked, robbed and caught. They look at their watch and calculate how long it will take to cash out, get a hooker, pack, get to the airport and make it home for a little rest then off to work a few minutes late to say I quit. That’s what you hear when you work it long enough, in this line of work in this kind of business. You’ll hear the people calling relatives for a loan… a borrow… the last nail in the coffin…you’ll hear lovers say shove it, I don’t need you anymore’s and those who are begging to be taken back after they let the loved one know they own nothing… no car… no home… nowhere and nothing is all they own.”

“No one knows where they are going.”

The Waitress continues on, seeing the glances out of the corners of her eyes.

Looking for a hand to rise up and motion her with or without a voice. The sound of whirling never settles it moves near and far but always constant as her but still far removed as the sound of spinning wheels, dropping coins, cartoon car alarms that ring out the latest hip hop tunes proclamating wins loses and being played in the confines of the 5 W’s as she walks the How.

The Slot Hall narrows off into a passage hall that’s lined by The Prime Rib House with its golden polyurethane wooden façade and entrance. Then it’s a souvenir shop and The Sushi Parlor across from The Self-Titled Casino’s 24 HR Buffet till she reaches her station at The Daily Lounge singers room, “the cubby’s hole” would be a better term for it, it’s tucked far off from the front entrance and closest to the main parking garage for the casino in the back, it’s on the far west end and it’s perfect for the early morning daily’s who come in at 8am and gamble till noon, hit the buffet for a two hour stretch then off to play keno in a dark corner of the place where moving a plastic human lounge singers croons them with the old time, with the songs they use to fuck to or busted for the day but still right with the world, they remember in silence then in reverie with each other.

The Waitress taps the screen. The bartender loads her tray. The drawer pops out and she lays the bills minus her tip in, she places that in the slot of her tip box just bellow the register. As a man rattles his strife off to another man sitting next to him who in turns does the same. “They say be discreet.” He takes the straw and stirs his drink, taps the bottom and pulls it out, taps it on the side and lays it on the napkin his drink rest on. “You can’t say this or that because of women and men who’s are so afraid of their own sexuality that they don’t know each other and there afraid of their own enjoyment.” He puts his right hand on the napkin and raises the drink with his left; he takes a drink, taking an ice cube in his mouth, tilts his head back and says “You can always tell if the sex is going to be fucking worthless.” He swallows the cube and wipes his lips with the back of his thumb, “If you see some one and it looks like they got a cat stuffed in there crotch.”

She lifts the tray off the counter and makes her way over the diamond pattern carpet, perfect for the oldest foot too the ghetto’est wheel chair, they all tread on it’s pattern and firm softness with the same need and sorrow more than joy except from those haven’t lost anything in here yet, the carpet is perfect, you could never spill enough tears to cause a slip, you could drop a daiquiri… and a Moll on stiletto’s wouldn’t even dip a bit in knees or ankle’s.

The Waitress places the drink next in the cubby between the slot machines, behind an ash tray holding a cigarette smoking itself. The patron is talking to the guy next to him but neither look over.

“you want a drink?”She asked.

With out looking , “Naw I need to keep this on same course hun.”

Alright what ever you need just ask?

He looks her ankle to ass, “Sure thing.” One hand coin, crank; the other hand scratches his nuts.

The other guys starts up from somewhere they left off, “Yeah, those one’s well, this fucking baby was sticking it’s tongue out and going side to side really quick with it and it’s eyes were looking back and forth like one of those clocks of Felix the Cat, and it like a foot away from my own face. I was like what the fuck are you feeding it? I was gonna puke on this baby face I swear to god I had to…”

She couldn’t hear them anymore and was happy but understood just the same and went onto the bar, she placed the old couple’s drink in Keno onto the trey and got it to them, taking there empties in silence and left in silence. She got back with peace and placed their glasses in the bin turned and went through the nickel slots ignored. Walked by the dollar slots and placed a few orders. She made her way back to the station on the main walk almost with out a single passer bye. The place was erupting with the sounds of their. She punched the touch screen with her pointer finger like it was an ice pick. The drawer popped, she put the dollar coins in and dropped the paper in her box. The bartender walked over, “You all right tonight?”

“Not really, but that’s the walk right?”

“Right.”

“I’m going to take my break.”

“Alright”, he walked away and looked around for something to do, he decided on wiping the counter again. The Waitress pulled out a smoke and rested her smoking hand on the leather arm rest of the bar and decided this was better than nothing, no matter where she goes to smoke, she’ll have to listen to some body rattle off or if I went to the alley I’d have to listen to a symphony of air conditioners buzz.

The two guys at the bar continued on.

“I couldn’t have kids. You know it’s just not right, I don’t like the fact that I had to have’ta wear diapers and get my ass wiped, same as I did when I was a child, but you know that’s just how it goes. So I ain’t gonna do that and I ain’t gonna go back to that. What I am gonna do is when I know the time is right I’m gonna get a bottle of tequila and a bunch of morphine. And sail on out, you just fall asleep.”

“That works?”

He coughs and reaches into the top of his unbuttoned shirt to scratch under a gold medallion that sits in the middle of his forest of chest hair, “Yeah plenty of people do it, just make sure you know your tolerance level and how soon some one might come looking for you. Make sure you get at least a day of nobody’s gonna try and revive ya’h”.

The waitress walked behind the bar grabbed a bottle of makers mark and took two shots in a row. The bartender looked at her and smiled and said, “No worries sweetie… on the house.” And pours his own.

She looks him the eyes, “Is there any way to win?”

The bartender takes his down and says to the screen, “The game is still zero zero, in double overtime, would you look at that.”

The waitress looks over at the old men then to the screen but she only hears the men, “It’s something about the mix of a lot of tequila and morphine. It’s just a dream.”

Terror logic [heard] in the Barversations

Terror logic
Any body will say any thing.
What a bout now.
Let me check my…
So we are more…
Con sir
End
End trans mission… queer hattered.
Confusion on the line.
Don’t worry about that worry about later when the hater’s come out.
The confusers, the stickers, tar in the tracks of your mind,
What a bout know?
Tijuana Jesus, roman executioner, the on the scene middle men and muddled women, the greek tv and Russian cunt, Africa kills itself in the eyes of everyone so we can say land for sale… goods to buy… when we can’t live here we’ll live like kinds there as people die in the depression of exploited land…
Are we there yet?
Do you want me to turn this car around?
Yes.
Shiny
Shiny
Blinds
Draper
And carpet dweller.
Free meal at the shelter… locked in and cott’d.
Pray for change?
See you tomorrow sue!
Eat fromyour cell
Shelf me, cupboard me.
Like drinkers
Users work.
And smokers think…
To have a time worth,
mean anything?
when you
win you
like scavengers… lice are made lice
Heal me…
Light my way…
Waiter… waiter… could I get some…
Shine’us chine’s us
A? a?
Any wear?
Any where?
Ware ware water…
I’m board.
Cruise me.
Sumer.
Ra
Ha
Ha
Rays of the bends, catch the
This week, next weak
Dead or dying as reported.
Could I get a

Barversations #11 Home Bars

Waking up with the questions, what time was it? When did I pass out? What time is it now? If I turn the light on there’ll be no chance to get back to sleep. The sky is still to dark to be early. I can’t see any stars, so it must be a cloudy and a moonless night.

What was I doing earlier? I cataloged the night.

Yeah we watched a movie.

If I lay here long enough, I will try to fall back to sleep but the question of what time is it cept going through my head. I don’t want to lay here for three hours till dawn. Where’s my cell phone? I sit up and try to see in the dark. I can’t see shit. I stand and attempt to walk on but I stumble around still in a cloud from the gin. I knock over some books, my change falls out my pants and I stumble over my shoes, I realize the reality is I’m going to have to turn the light on.

I squinted and made the transition looking around. There? No. There? No. There it is.

1 am… of dear god I’m fucked.

The rain began out of nowhere, first the drums then the horns. Or is it vice versa or is it mixed up I had been in so many parades I couldn’t tell you. But it rose, I turned off the fan next to the bed, I flicked the ceiling fan switch, turned off the A/C, sat down In my chair and listened to the touching of everything outside by the rain.

The rain it lasted only a minute but it was twenty minutes I sat there listening to the run offs' grow drought.

I should have been on the porch.

I gathered my stuff and made me way upfront from the back room, Deno was sleeping on the couch in the living room but with a healthy crack problem, sleep was never the near. I held everything in a cradle, 2 beers one opened, my bottle of gin with half a pint left, my tobacco pouch 2 lighters a bowl my sack of dirt weed, my notebook, a pen and keys to the front door.

In flip flops you walk with the outside of your feet and your heels to be unheard, learned that from early Asian cinema. I made it by with out a sound but he still stirred and new I was getting by.

I made it to the door. Unlocked already I gripped the handle and escaped. I laid everything around the ash tray on the porch love seat. A green plastic thing that was going to break some day. It sits, gets washed over in the warm rains and then bakes in the sun; it’s already cracked in spots, it won’t last another winter, you’re either going to go flying off the porch or hit your tail bone pretty bad. As most things plastic and left to the weather; don’t let you know them forever, it’s just cosmetic and mirage.

I sat down slowly; I picked up the gin just in case and looked at everything next to me. It wasn’t the breaking point today. It all sat nicely together like a city around the ashtray.

I propped the book on my lap as I deseeded the weed. I popped the stems and the seeds in the tray.

I smoked a bowl, lit my cigarette, I let the smoke take me in as I looked out on.

The Bears cat appeared on to the porch like a bolt of lightning and stopped like a statue. Ears like little rotating satellite dishes, she listened for place and direction. Licked her paw then stopped looked to the left for something with her paw still held up. She then put her paw down and went to the edge of the porch laid about and flapped her tail. I called her name but she payed me no mind. I said yeah it sucks it rained it’s all wet out there. Flees leaped off the porch attracted to the water on the grass from the street lights bellow Glistening. I knew the cat knew what she was doing. I felt bad for her neglect, but I couldn’t touch her, my allergies where just too much, sure I could run my hand along the pillars out front but I’m stoned and I’d end up with itchy eyes.

Ah hell. I knelt down she meowed and held out her cheek she guided me to her ear then to the other cheek, then to her other ear, eyes closed and ruling the world.

I walked down the porch and rubbed my hands on the lawn. Patted my pants and went back the green plastic love seat. Another will get bought but when? I thought. Will it fall in fall or will it fall in winter? I drank the beer and looked at the smokes.

I watched the cat deal with its boredom, a lick here, a lick there, chews on her tail, makes small bite on her paw; then an ear shot up and she looked to the right. She was hawking I thought, I said what is it girl? She made no register of me.

I stood up and stood in her line of view. I looked for something then a rat runs out then in from the gutter sewer. She popped and hydraulic’d. I said come on that rat is over half the size of you. The rat appeared again and started making it way down the street. I looked to the cat and she was off before I could reach for her. By the time I got to the porch edge she was honing in close. Her feet couldn’t be heard as the wires and trees still dripped all around us.

I saw the cat disappear where the rat could last be seen, a car about 3 house down.

I hoped for the best and now I realized how she’s been getting sick and pukes all the time. She need’s a new hobby, hunting all these sewer rats are… well what am I to do tell The Bear to lock the cat up at night? Well it may lead to less food and fur balls and puke on the porch.

The Bear looks at the puke and says to the cat “You bulimic?” The cat just looks at him and the bear takes a drink and walks away.

The other night I was standing in his hall and he looked at the cat as it puked and he said to it awww you sick little one?

And the cat hacked and it all came out. The bear took a drink and said sputtering spit and vodka; well you shouldn’t have gotten left here with me, if she hadn’t left me for the hamburgler you wouldn’t be here. So blame her she left you here. She could give a rat’s ass.

The rain started up again and I held my notebook in front of me. What do I say? The cat ran out from the car I saw her disappear from and made it to the car across the street from the house.

She didn’t run up the steps to the porch, even though it was less of a distance then she’d just ran. I tried to assure her but I wasn’t her owner and I wasn’t a cat.

She sat there under the car waiting for the rain to let up.

I half-walked in and out of the house for an umbrella and over to the car I stood there blocking the rain and crouched; I look under, she was in the only dry spot left and I called her name but she just looked at me.

Come on I’ll hold you, you ain’t gonna get wet. I don't care if I itch later. Come on girl.

This went on for a few minutes and I knew it was just about time, her own; I walked back alone.

I sat on the porch and drank the two beers and finished off the gin smoked 2 bowls, the cat still sat under the car and I passed out.

I woke up to the thud of the paper boy’s delivery. The rain had stopped and the cat sat on the porch licking her paws.

I stood and stretched cracking all over. I took a deep breath in and a yawn followed. My esophagus felt like the Minneapolis 500 confirming tomorrow night, won’t be a gin night or today I mean.

I rolled a cigarette and went for the news today of yesterday.

Barversations #84 The.

He puts the drink down and twitches it past his wind pipe, It can be just too much.

Of course, like last night I was working at the job and a co-worker smokes crack.

What the fuck man, on the site?

Long story, the guy hot boxes the fucking room. I get a cloud that moves into my head and I can’t think of where to stroke the paint, I can’t tell what was painted… and I don’t think about the brush the angle of the bristles the build up at the edges, cutting in, became impossible, I streaked all over. I was thinking about what’s wrong now. How fucked up this situation is.

No shit.

All shit, is more like it. The prick did it on purpose. He could go outside and fucking do it or do it in the back shed.

Why’d he do it in on purpose.

Nother long story. But let me just call him a distracter.

What like a gremlin.

Yeah only human, religious, drug addicted and controlled by redeemers that are selling anonymity and blind eyes to corruption… it’s assisted suicide.

He didn’t say anything and then said I can’t say anything.

It’s alright. I’m use to it.

So what happened?

I said hold on, ordered another drink, lit a cigarette, waited for the tip to give and the drink to be given, took a drink and said, it’s hard to say, I can hardly remember it, I received a few emails from women, and wrote a few back and emailed the few friends I have… though some of them… If they’re life was real and less like making mine a movie… or a set back, distraction in reality, my reality, see if you always think you’re acting you’re acting and not directing because you’re bouncing off there directions.

Wait a second. Living RPG.

How many people in your life have you met that seam to know who you are already? Who inhabit traits of people you spent time with, but they look kinda like some one to you and then you befriend them and then all this drama ensues and distracts you from your own life and gets you caught up in there’s and it’s all faked to keep you from living your own life, because you’re a thinker. They know detailsabout your life… but you can’t say anything because you know they’ll just say you’re crazy or if you do say something they’ll pull your string again. Coincidence or god.

Can’t say that I have he says and looks down the bar at another guy who drinks to him as they lock eyes. He turns back to me and says…

Barversations #24 National Pornographic

Old 97’s “Too far to care” poured from the speakers.

We’d been talking awhile about trivialities of life and I asked him, So what do you do?

Seriously?

Well yeah, seriously, I say.

Ok, you ever see those ads in the weekly’s, that say nude photo’s, need models, wanted stills?

I slide the ashtray closer to me, Yeah.

Ok well what I do is I take the pictures. He takes out a lighter and places it on the bar, then pulls a cigarette from his pocket with out removing the pack.

Interesting job.

For those who own the rights.

A few seconds go buy thinking about women.

Well do you hate spam? He says and I say, Of course.

Well you know on twitter, MySpace, yahoo and in chat rooms, those hi my name is want to sex you up.

Yeah.

Well the pics’ are one person but the typing is another.

I see.

He nods at me taking a drink.

I take a drag, So they take the pics’ and let some one…

Interrupting, Follow a script, exactly.

A patron leaves; the light of day flashes off the mirror in front of us.

Did you know this? You know those live animal shows? The hunting and living of wild creatures.

Yeah.

Well these guys are union and do you really think they are going to let some guy sit for three months trying to capture a lion mating eating and licking its paws at union wages?

Silence.

I took a drink and swallowed, never thought about it, to tell you the truth... that sucks.

Well welcome to the reality of animals in a porno political planet. It’s not how it was back in the day where a guy or a small crew actually spent six to 8 months trying to capture reality. Now that the unions have everybody by the balls with a shot gun to our faces… The crew goes to a well rehearsed set. The animals starved and the prey?

No kidding I always thought when they stick a camera in a bee hive or an ant hill from the Amazon why isn’t PETA or some agency saying hey… but Obama swats a fly and he’s…

Yeah mate, this is how it goes, they build the hives around the camera or the dirt mound, the exterior is shot on the zoo grounds in the country they can get away with out fear of animal rights… though some might be filmed here. He laughs and takes a drink, Shit… the stuff they do.

You see the people on the street, we’re no different.

That a whole of other bag of beans.

Statistics meet means and then goals are provided.

But when the shit is fake… you get a fake society that makes a fake world.

Jane asks if we need anything and the photographer says nothing and I say yes.

What’ll be Dear?

I say a Johnny Walker Black.

Neat or Nice?

I lay my hand flat on the bar, However you prefer… that’ll work.
She pulls the bottle, unscrews the cap takes a step, place the cap on it’s top and grabs a glass and pours my last one till home.

Hear you go Jane says sliding the glass over, I thank her and pull a five and a
George. I notice how he stopped the conversation and decided to just watch me and
her. The job when it’s yours never escapes.

Thank you.

No problem. Jane takes the cash,You need a cab tonight?

No’ll be alright.

Alright she turns to the register.

The Photographer takes a drink, You notice how they put the register on the other side of the bar in everyplace you go now?

Of course less likely-hood.

Yep.

Jane says you know I don’t know but something is really wrong with women right now the last month has been crazy.

The photographer says are you talking about the woman who set her self on fire yesterday at the mall of America?

Yeah, Jane lights a cigarette, She set herself on fire runs around then get extinguished and everyone is in so much shock that she just walks out of the place.

No one knows what to help her I’m sure they all feared having to touch her… maybe some people said hey where you going?

Yeah, they found her in the parking lot.

She was burned over 75 percent of her body and she’s just standing in the parking lot of a mall.

The is happened yesterday? I say.

Jane says yeah here’s the paper. I’d like to see video of her approaching the mall and what she was doing before she did this and of course what was her job? What was her life?... Did she have one? What Happened to her?

I flip through and search the bold print, for fire.

Jane pours a drink, you know I just don’t want to believe it but it’s real, did you hear about the women who thought her new born baby was possessed by the devil and it told her to kill it and she did.

The Photographer says, Yeah Otty Sanchez.

My arm goes slack and it falls to the bar with the cup… What?

It’s one of the sickest things I’ve heard. Jane continues, She killed her new born child by biting a couple of it’s toes off, ripping the body apart with a knife then cuts off it’s head and eats it’s brain.

Dear god comes to my lips I breathe more silence.

The photographer turns to Jane rattling his beer in his hand, Do you know about that the woman in New Hampshire who cut out the baby of the womb of her friend? Killed her.

Holy shit I say, hearing that and reading the Otty article at the same time.

I mean killed her and then cut out the baby and kidnapped the baby?

Jane hits the bar, Yes! That’s what I was just going to bring up as well…What the Fuck is going on?

From the far end of the bar by the front door a guy says towards us, this shit has been going on all over the world forever. No study, no research into it… the leading get fed.

Ruby Tuesday starts.

Barversations #205 Iggy Pop's new album and the truth about

Have you heard the new Iggy Pop? I take a sip of my drink.

No man I haven’t, I don’t think I’ve heard anything on the radio since candy.

I didn’t even know they played candy on the radio.

Wait, I did there was a Rolling Stone with the Jonas Twits on the cover and a small paragraph about the new album. I couldn’t bring myself to read that. I mean what the fuck?

Well it’s really good. It about being a dog. Well it is and it isn’t.

That’s cool, he’s bringing it around.

I laugh, Yeah you could say that.

Pete takes a drink.

I light a smoke and say, Well here’s the funny thing there’s this great track on it that talks about the owner of dogs because he like’s… well, their obedience.

Pete nods, Dogs are like sports.

I jut my hand out like a waiter carrying trays and nod, The funny thing is well. There’s no one truth about cats or dogs, but there is many.

He pulls his pack out, I couldn’t agree more.

I take a drag, Well the other night at home I came out and on my porch there was a cat that I had seen a few times walking on the streets, it’s one of strangest cat’s I’d ever seen, really skinny and runt like sickly skinny, it was skidish and I would call it when I saw it coming by but the cat was nervous as all hell and it runs or walks away as quickly as possible. This went on for about 2 weeks and well one night I drank too much to early and woke up about 4 am, I couldn’t fall back to sleep, so about 45 minutes later I go out to see if the paper has come because I can’t get back to sleep.

I fucking hate those mornings.

I do too. Nothing to do? Jerk off? Pound some booze?

Totally, the worst is taking a hit, you’re wired for hours.

Yeah I never smoke any pot unless I have something I’m going to write. Pete nods and I continue, So… the other morning I go outside to see if the paper was here yet and here is this cat. And I was like hey their, it’s tail went up and it came over to me and I petted it and just fell in loves zipping back and forth around my legs rubbing it check on my toes. Well I read the paper the cat was laying on the porch like it owned the place and my cat P.W. came out and this cat was jealous it was like what up bitch.

Pete brushes the right side of his neck with his finger nails, Dogs are that way too but you don’t see it as much.

Totally that’s my point. I take a hit of my cigarette, One thing is a cat has tunnel vision, more so than a dog, I mean a dog knows fetch the ball is a sport, so yeah it knows the ball is separate from you. But a cat with stick and a ball at the end, it’s all about the ball… nothing else exists… but when you pat or rub either cat or dog they both know it’s you.

Pete takes out a smoke, hmmm’s and says well yeah I can see that. I’ve seen some cats do some strange things and I’ve seen dogs do the same.

Yeah they allow and disallow based on trivialities.

Chasing a tail.

Yeah that’s one.

We take a drink and laugh to ourselves and watch the game on the screen.

Pete says you if your god you’d see zero’s.

I don’t believe in god Pete but don’t you think god is equal at least and would stand next to you.

I don’t know.

We watch a goal protected. Nothing changes, the people in line wait. The cooks and cashiers and the person at the lead all do the same. Pete looks over at me and says, You know I never thought about that.

Barverstions # 113 A Good Mexican?

“Come on have another.” His head bobbing like an intent chicken.

The Guy was lonely and lived his days at different bars. He’ll find someone alone and walk over in his cowboy boots and Stetson hat, pursed lips with his hands propped upon his belt buckle of Texas, jean shirt with jeans to match. He comes off a prize fighter especially the way he displays his buckle, but he’s something you find in a boxes of cracker jacks, easy to loose. You heard him coming and when you made eye contact with him he flicks his arm up and gives a wave off the brim of his hat and a Hey there! Good to see you. Even if you don’t know or never seen him, he’ll pretend you do. He sits down before anyone detests and says to the Bartender, Say what ever they’re having, give’m another and make it with the next best thing. His name was Guy, so it was easy to remember though he was known as The Guy who was always looking for another some one to be his friend.

Looks I don’t necessarily like to brag, but I’m pretty wealthy. So let me buy your next round.

There’s no next round, this is last call till home. I bring my lips to the drink thankfully; it’s half empty. Again out of the corner of my eye his lips and bobbing head are egging me on silently. The moment ruined again. I put the bottle down and turn to him and say So Guy are you in cattle?

No. Why?

Just wondering.

Nope my father invented the steam cleaning suction cup clothes hanger.

I imagined him having been raised in a chicken coup as no one wanted nothing to do with him but I say what will hopefully be some of the last words to him, Oh like the fold away hanger?

No it’s different, though Navin Johnson is at the expos and trade shows, we always run into each other and have a discussion about somethin’or ruther.

I wasn’t sure what to say, I never been to anything like that. The silence didn’t stop Guy, It’s big with business on the go type folks. You put it in the hotel bathroom and it sticks to your mirror and while you’re taking your morning shower the steam takes out any wrinkles.

That’s nifty.

The People sure thought so. Lips pursed like he sucking on a lemon.

I took a drink only a few more sips to go. The same image was there, his bobbing head his lemon sucking lips but this time he spoke. You know we got so big because of the condo’s, the association enjoys are product so much they made it part of the condo process. In certain cities you can’t find a condo that doesn’t come with one.

Here’s a funny fact did you know that the real plague will be hepatitis from shared coke straws. I read that on the wall in the bathroom.

Guy pinches his nostrils and says really.

Yeah some other guy said below it that’s why I use my own keys.

He laughs to himself either he’s nervous or he’s not sure what I’m talking about, You sure you don’t want a drink?

Sorry but I do have to get back to work.

It’s late you got a night job at a manufacturing plant?

No I work days I mean where I’m staying. It’s an unfinished house.

You live were you work?

Yeah.

Like some Mexican?

I ignored his crap, Well it’s better to have a job then living on the streets.

I’d rather be on the streets then Mexican.

For the fuck of it, I put my bottle on the counter hard still gripping it I say angrily, Look Guy my mother’s Mexican.

He drops his drink and it falls over on the counter. Wide eyed, he backs off the stool taking steps back, Look, I’m sorry, I meant no harm you look like a construction worker and I know they hate all the damn Mexicans taken there jobs. His hands wavering about in front of him, Look, I can give you a Steam Hanger for free I got a whole trunk full of em.

He thumbs over at the door.

The bartender asks if there’s a problem, I say no I don’t have one but I’m not sure about Guy here though.

Guy takes his wallet out, No I gots’ no problem. Here’s a 20 for the misunderstanding.

The bartender takes the twenty and wipes up the counter. You want another one?

I tell him no, The Guy says Sure thing; take it out of that twenty. The bartender looks up mid wipe and says sure thing, leaving half a spill and the towel. Guy slides the stool a few inches to get distance and says You sure you don’t want one hombre?

I got a bottle of sake at home, they don’t serve the good stuff here.

I would like to say I actually know lot’s of good Mexicans.

I pawn him off with, Do they do your lawn?

The bartender places the drink in front of The Guy leaving no change.

No. I got a stone yard.

Saves you money.

It certainly does. Not just gas for the mower, the water bills are the major ease.

I finish the drink pushing it forward, I gotta get back. As I get off my seat, I pay Guy no eye contact. Waved at the bartender looking at a porn mag at the end of bar and said have a good one, he didn’t notice and I made my way to the door.

Guy spinning on the stool Well you need a ride?

No I got my donkey out front.