Donkey shows (386 hits)
Category: Sound & MusicRating: -2 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by briokid666.at.hotmail.com (View user info) at 2007-06-12 12:19:00 EDT
Dying in Mexico
Sometimes when you wake up and the roof of your mouth is welded to your sandpaper tongue, you should just leave the world sideways for a while, but it's never up to you. Always gotta get up for something when you're in a state so regrettable. There's somebody who needs apologizing to, some piece of personal property to recompense for, some glass to sweep up. It never fails. The rule goes double for me. I've been told by close friends about the change in my eyes, the almost audible click when my fuse burns up and I begin self-destructing. I used to blame it on liquor, but beer has the same effect when I inhale enough of it. Pills never help.
The pills in my sock. I remember the pills in my sock when my leg twitches and the last few rattle around in the bottle. There were 100 in there when I got them from La Pharmacia last night. Sounds like maybe ten survived. Recollection in small swells now, like the mohawk and the liquor store/gift shop. Tecates in the Conjunto joint. The non-english-speaking whore. They all claim a lack of understanding-it helps them find an excuse to rip you off. Their trick is to quote a price and then up it afterward, counting on the sucker to believe the original price was lost in translation. God forbid they go to the pimp with the broken English and the sharpened letter-opener. He'll start rattling off terrible swears that don't make any sense, like "You go fucked! I'm no faggot brother!! PAY, PAY!!!"
The dollar shots in the sunny place, overpriced for Mexico. The greasy bastard with the gun for sale. What else?
The neon palm tree is still sideways, along with the ornamental jukebox. This close up, the table looks like a landscape painting of a bum's scalp. Smells worse. I get the sensation that if I move, the skin of my face will peel apart from the unfinished wood. My ear feels like it's been bleeding, and there's something with some weight in my lap. I'm scared to move. Leave it all sideways, until somebody comes to save me and my drugs and buys me a tiny comb for the crabs who are probably making a summer home above my dick. Just leave it sideways, but just like I said, that's never up to you.
I hear feet coming up stairs. I'm upstairs, apparently. This is bad. It's probably a kidnapper. Great, I got myself kidnapped. I swallow what feels and tastes like a cigarette butt and slowly try to lift my head.
I was right, it peeled away like saran wrap off the roll. I make it about four inches and look down at a rusty circle my ear made. Everything swims around for a minute and I contemplate vomiting, but think better of it. I never vomit, unless it's been a bad year and I'm puking blood. The feet are making their way up. I lean back against the chair and see it.
The gun. There's a fucking gun in my Goddamn lap.
A door opens behind me. I wait for the world to stop turning.
"What the fuck!? How are you still alive?!"
English, American English. It's my lucky day. I stuff the gun into my wasteband and twist my neck around. Not really, I actually just push the chair in a little circle because nothing's working but my feet. I can always count on them in case I have to run. It's Martin, and he looks like he's seen a hungover ghost.
"Where am I?" My voice sounds like I've been holding in a bong hit since high school.
"Get up, walk, we have to go now. The guy doesn't know you're here, he thinks we're looking for a lost wallet." Martin's playing the mother now.
I get up. I walk. It's rough going until I find my sea legs. The room sweeps around me, dormant neon signs, tables like mine with ashtrays and empty cans hiding their surfaces, a brass pole. The pills are shaking and accusing me from my sock. We make our way to the door and down the stairs, me twitching and rattling and adjusting the pistol under my belt. Does Martin know about the gun?
"Are those the Somas?" He asks, "I thought we had like a million of those."
"Somas?" I thought they had been Valiums, "Uh, yeah, I, uh, guess I took 'em..."
"You asshole, I drove six hours to get you fucked up and now I'm gonna be broke when we get back because you're ate up our reason for coming?!"
He yells it with a hint of a question mark, indicating that he's more disappointed than angry. He'll get over it.
We get to the bottom of the narrow staircase which is plastered with donkey show flyers. We went to some classy dives last night, Jesus. Now the only thing between myself and the freedom of the street is an angry little brown man yelling his head off and shaking a broomstick at me. I can't make out any of his spanish, but then, I don't speak any. He's pissed, that's the universal language. I consider pulling out the gun and scaring the shit out of everybody, but Martin puts me in a full nelson and drags me out the door.
Light, blinding ridiculous light, pouring into me. My ear is throbbing and burning under the sun. I reach into my pocket in a panic and yank out what's left of my sunglasses. A pack of cigarettes falls out with them. Jackpot. Martin is looking around for the rest of his search party, and I light a smoke with a book of matches from someplace called the "Pollo Loco." I put my shades on before I realize that there's only one lense left in them.
"Good enough." I mutter through the smoke.
"You look like a fuckin' retard." Martin says, smiling. He's cheering up already.
We make a left-face on the cobblestones and start walking towards a taco vendor.
"Breakfast." He says.
"The Crazy Chicken." I respond.
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-06-12 14:46:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-06-12 09:25:31 PDT (#)
Ranking: -2
This is so badly formatted I can't tell if it's the same as the other eye-raper you posted.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2007-06-12 14:17:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-06-12 14:11:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I cannot WAIT for the long version of this post to come out in hardcover.
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Must... not... make... peener... joke.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-06-12 14:11:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I cannot WAIT for the long version of this post to come out in hardcover.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2007-06-12 13:28:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Like cottage cheese this starts off cheap, gets worse with time, and eventually disappears, leaving only a sour odor and a stain.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2007-06-12 13:17:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
donkey shows make me think of Juliepie
Submitted by Flapjacksupreme (user info) at 2007-06-12 13:10:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Neato!
Submitted by Foolproof (user info) at 2007-06-12 13:08:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by Fungah (user info) at 2007-06-12 12:49:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
MY EYES!!!!!!!!!!
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-06-12 12:25:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
This is so badly formatted I can't tell if it's the same as the other eye-raper you posted.