UGR Round I - count to purple backwards (1332 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: fiction
Rating: 1.31 on 32 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by scourgeoftheseas (View user info) at 2006-06-22 00:00:39 EDT
"I can count to purple, backwards,
I can scream myself asleep,
I can count to purple, backwards
I can scratch the surface deep,
I can count to purple, backwards
I can scream myself awake
I can count to purple, backwards,
There's only so much I can take.
I can count to purple, backwards
I can scream myself asleep..."
Over and over again, the same way he always sang it. Same volume, same pitch. Not too loud, nor too soft.
As you first walked up you would think he was mumbling nothing, a regular street bum, muttering to himself, maybe answering the voices inside his head, talking to God perhaps. But as you got a bit closer you heard the words, the little song that Jake had named the 'oblivion song', a steady stream, nothing interrupting it, never a change in the cadence.
It was one of the two states that Bo was invariably in.
The other was a manic, desperate, attention seeking hyperactivity. In that one he was all motion, a frenetic madman; the energy burning off of him in everything he did. Every action an outlet, one of a million opportunities to release a seemingly enormous pressure.
He was a sieve without enough holes to let it all out.
Asking rapid fire questions, barely waiting for the answer to one before it was followed by the next. Statements made with a certainty that only the mad or the brilliant can have.
All of it accompanied by grand gestures, arms sweeping through the air, fingers drawing delicate pictures, snapping, popping, swooping low and soaring high over his head, pulling out the waist of whatever dirty shirt was tucked into the grubby denim pants that seemed to be the only garment he owned for covering the lower half of his body. Exposing a pale white belly, scrawny and lean, tight and hard from a lack of eating, from walking the streets all day and night. All the nervous exertions keeping him from ever becoming soft.
It was a brutal hardness, wiry and tough, like a weed growing from a crack in the concrete...
He shuffled his feet in this state. A dance that didn't match the rhythm of his words or his hands. Brought high his knees, stamping the soles of his boots against the ground as he spoke.
The words a torrent, a flood, a veritable tsunami of verbiage, that washed over any attempt by others to hold something resembling a real conversation with him.
Most finally gave up. They got tired of trying to interact. Handed the demanded cigarettes over, nodded a few times, muttered some nothing back at him and went on their way.
This was the polar opposite of the other. The oblivious state. The near catatonia of his singing. The repetition of the nonsensical words.
It was the same every time.
The wrought iron and wood slatted bench in front of the corner sandwich shop his perch. The guys who worked there had quit trying to chase him away. They had adopted him as a sort of bizarre mascot, a living sign for the store.
That's where Jake had first seen him.
=============
He started working at the sub shop after dropping out of high school. One of the guys he smoked with, same guy who sold him the shit they smoked turned him on to the scene at the shop.
All the guys who worked there were into the same scene, the same music, the same appreciation for good herb; for not being a slave to what society thought they should be.
It was the end of his first week when Bo walked up, muttering to himself, and sat down on the bench, waving his hands in the air, drawing at the cigarette he had likely pulled half finished from a street side ashtray. Always pressed tightly against the iron arm of the bench, the rest of the seat wide open, a no mans land. Most people couldn't stand the smell that came off the man
As he finished the cigarette he started to draw into what would become a familiar pose.
The oblivion pose.
His legs would cross, tight, at the knees.
He would start to sway back and forth, slowly at first, the movement almost indiscernible.
---Jake laughed as he passed the hitter back to Simon, asking what was going on, why Bo had finally quit talking. The other guys hushed him, told him to wait and watch since he had never seen the transformation happen before---
Next he'd lay one arm across his stomach, lean over it and begin rocking a bit faster, the other hand cupping his jaw, its elbow lying across the hand of the lower arm.
Then the sing song chant would begin.
"I can count to purple, backwards,
I can scream myself asleep..."
Over and over, the same words every time.
Once it was loud enough to hear he was gone.
His eyes would cease to blink, face held expressionless, dead. Nothing external could touch his mind or provoke a response.
No amount of yelling, no offer of money, food, sex, booze could garner a response from the man.
Some of them had played with screaming directly into his face, his ears.
The bigger assholes among them had gone so far as to try and physically rouse him.
A timid push at first, a single finger against the shoulder and barely a shove. Bo would sway a bit to the side and come back to center, the rocking and chanting undisturbed.
The next time a full hand against the chest, holding him back against the bench, trying to anyway, he would continue to thrust back and forth against the hand holding him, the chanting undisturbed.
This experimentation stopped when one of the younger kids at the shop had gone full bore in his attempt to make the other guys laugh.
Edmund shoved the bum as hard as he could from behind, knocking him from the bench, pointing and laughing at him as he hit the ground. The others laughed as well...
...until the rocking that still hadn't seized began to peel the skin from the cheek that lay against the ground. His blood pooling under his face, his arm pulled to his belly, the words flowing from his mouth uninterrupted.
"I can count to purple, backwards,
I can scratch the surface deep,
I can count to purple, backwards
I can scream myself awake..."
When one of his front teeth caught on the pavement and cracked in half they decided that they had reached an end of the attempts to rouse him.
=======
As he walked down the path through the trees, Bo felt good.
The filtered sun warmed his back and reminded him how good life really was. The trees leaned over the foot worn dirt path, keeping the ground cool under the soles of his feet.
There were no worries here.
Nobody else to avoid.
Food grew from the next tree, the next shrub.
No enemies, no pressure.
Nothing to get out.
=====
Most of the guys merely accepted him, handed him a coffee, a free sub, a cigarette or some change when he was at his most normal and simply steered clear when he was operating at one of the extremes.
They didn't let kids on the street bother him. Chased them off when they started to throw shit at him, when they'd taunt him, or spit on him.
But Jake grew fascinated.
When the store would close he'd stop and sit down to watch the empty husk as it continued in it's predictable and comforting motions.
Like a hypnotist's watch, the back and forth would calm his mind, ease his concerns. Jake could go home and ignore the screaming, the demands of his parents. Their insistence that he do something with his life.
They would get the Buddha smile, a nod and a reassurance that he just needed some time to find himself.
===
Jake adopted his own familiar pose.
Opposite end of the bench, thigh pressed hard against the iron arm, legs wide open at the knees. His forearms resting atop his thighs hands dangling down between. One hand occasionally bringing a cigarette, or, if it was late enough and there was no need to worry about repercussions, a joint.
=
As he strode naked, Bo felt the power in his body, his muscles strong, ready to jump, climb drop and roll.
Sometimes, just to feel the sensation, he'd break into a run. The only sounds the birds in the trees, his bare feet hitting the ground, his heavy breath.
A gasp as it was pulled in, the exhale an explosion.
=
The soothing rhythm pulled him in.
Jake began to rock in time with the grimy man.
Back
Forward
back
forward
back
===
The birds fell silent.
The first time this had ever happened, it caused Bo to falter in his stride.
=====
As he rocked and stared at the bum Jake talked back to him.
Asking him questions. Where had he come from? Did he have a family? Parents, siblings, an estranged wife? Kids? What had turned someone's baby into this?
His words, unanswered, took on the cadence of the song, the rhythm.
Then he told him about his own life, his parents, perennially disappointed in the failures of their son. His ambitions, how meaningless they were. His plans, failed before they were ever properly hatched.
His disappointment in himself.
You can come to the end of your own life too. Your questions to yourself can go unanswered. Your plans and your hopes, your dreams for yourself can turn you into nothing but a piece of shit.
Once he ran out of words, Jake rocked in silence for a while. Then he joined in the chant.
"I can count to purple, backwards,
There's only so much I can take.
I can count to purple, backwards
I can scream myself asleep..."
=======
Proceeding nervously, Bo questioned the silence, the feeling of anxiety that had overtaken him. This was a new sensation. Something he had never felt before.
As he rounded a corner, he saw a man. Young and fresh, just sitting up, as though he had awoken from a deep sleep.
Slowing, he came to the man just as he came fully to his feet.
Eye to eye, the two didn't speak.
Jake stared at the older man.
Then, as he turned on his heel, breaking into a broad smile and striding away, the older man disappeared.
=============
Beauregard sprang from the uncomfortable bench.
He felt nasty. Soiled and abused.
And what the hell was this kid doing next to him? Rocking back and forth, spouting some gibberish...
"What the fuck's wrong with you kid?"
"I can count to purple, backwards,
I can scream myself asleep,
I can count to purple, backwards
I can scratch the surface deep,
I can count to purple, backwards
I can scream myself awake
I can count to purple, backwards,
There's only so much I can take.
I can count to purple, backwards
I can scream myself asleep..."
He eyed the little stoner punk for another minute or so before he spat in his face and walked off, down the street
"Fucking nonsense."
User Reviews
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2007-08-19 19:42:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Use of my name
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-08-16 01:22:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-05-18 12:54:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-10-31 22:31:48 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
I've had it up to here with your shennanigans, I'm going through and -1ing ALL of your posts!
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-27 14:43:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I LOVE MYSELF!!
SIGNED,
SCOURGEY
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-27 13:46:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-10-27 13:39:58 (#)
Ranking: -2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/95020#2202073
banning attempt
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-10-02 21:05:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This entire piece sucked balls and...
Asshole!! I plan to whup yer ass in round 2 of UMIV.
Well.....
Submitted by Coleslaw_Murphy (user info) at 2006-08-28 20:34:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I want to like this better than mine, I really do. 'Cause I respect the people's opinions below.
Alas, I cannot. I am too biased, naturally.
If I had to rate this honestly, I'd probably still give it a two, but just say that it jumped around a bit more than I prefer.
Also, I'm slightly glad that I didn't have to write something with "Tiptoe Through the Tulips", so everyone spared me (and the scourge vs ghola versions were more entertaining anyway).
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-06-22 17:51:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I know Dave, and others who've mentioned it, but really I had no fucking clue how to work with this title. So, I sat down with a 12 pack and started typing and drinking last night when I got home. I was going to weave a little tale into the forest-ey bit, some adventure if you will, but ran out of time.
Ah well.
Here it is anyway.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-06-22 17:33:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-06-22 17:30:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was a great story, but not really action/adventure.
+1.5
-Dave
Submitted by marginwalker (user info) at 2006-06-22 15:32:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I am most definetely a Fugazi fan - but most definetely NOT ETS. That would require a penis.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-06-22 15:00:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
However, given that neither of the entries for this title worked within the genre, I have to say that I thought this piece was superior to the other. This was a great story - very engaging, wicked turn of events at the end - and the writing really carried a lot of the weight here. It didn't support the story per se, as your plot stands on its own, but it certainly helped take it up a serious notch.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-06-22 14:57:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
This didn't have much to do with action or adventure.
I took a point away from your competitor for the same reason.
Submitted by MyTeeOne (user info) at 2006-06-22 14:18:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I knows whats i like, and I likes this.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-06-22 11:33:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
for smashedness.
Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2006-06-22 11:04:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
huh?
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-06-22 10:55:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-06-22 10:55:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this was really good. i liked the way you used the title. i liked the way it progressed. but i'm gonna give this a 1.5 because i don't think it fits the category, i think it'd be more under fantasy or something along those lines. if you wrote this drunk i'd be even more impressed.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-06-22 10:48:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Fuck you Sphagnum. You're an obsessed piece of shit.
Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2006-06-22 10:45:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
ZZZzzzzzz....
Submitted by Spacegrass (user info) at 2006-06-22 10:20:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Well I really liked this.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-06-22 10:09:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-06-22 08:31:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
good use of the title.
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-06-22 08:19:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I know it's too late to rate, but I enjoyed the story and hated the ending. Overall, it was done well, written well, and had good use of the title. I fail to see where this is action or adventure though.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-06-22 03:48:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent.
Shit - I think I have to post something
*sigh*
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2006-06-22 03:38:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yep mighty fine piece.
Submitted by the_lone_stranger (user info) at 2006-06-22 02:36:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh noes! Issa people gonna die?
Submitted by Average_Dan (user info) at 2006-06-22 01:11:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This...
Wow, this was farking_Amazing. Truly you must be disturbed. A little?
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-06-22 00:19:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Kickass, indeed. What a great piece to end my night with. See what I did there?
Your premise was ace, and you always write well. Though, I had to read it twice, as the first time I kept seeing "smoke, cigarette, cigarette..'"
I'm so high right now. Oh, thank you for the relief, sweet leaf.
Submitted by gravitas (user info) at 2006-06-22 00:13:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
it was a kickass title.
and a kickass story.
have some positivetwo-nessssss.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-06-22 00:09:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Or, as my competitor suggested, you could look use the following link as a possible SECOND submission for this title.
Second and NSFW submission: http://www.fuck.org/
anti, thanks for the name.
ghola, the last line is dedicated to the suggestor/suggestion of this horrendous title.