Street-Addled Crack (764 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.93 on 18 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by charminglybeef (View user info) at 2006-08-21 02:04:27 EDT
It's these damn crack-addled streets, man. Look at that crack in the road; that crack in the building; that crack in the sidewalk; that crack in the pipe.
And from these cracks -- from this crack, man! -- the misery of an entire city seeps. And not in like, that artsy, figurative sense, man -- you can actually see it! It's like, right there! -- that greenish, slippery ooze, man.
And them perpendicular people -- knees and hips and arms bent at opposite angles all day -- they scream right over top of it, all day and every day. Flying past each other -- screaming through space and time, always bent to regimental degrees, in their cars; at their desks; at their dinner tables; in their beds -- not actually oblivious to the curvy, gum-spotted streets; just pretending to be. Just trying to forget that the ooze is coming out of their neighbours and friends and former co-perpendiculars and daughters, even.
Ignore them -- ignore those gaunt, hopeless faces -- the ones that wander out of the movies or magazines or newspapers. They're not real -- they can't be! There's no such thing as zombies.
"Brains!"
"Gear!"
"Meth!"
And yet, there they are, wandering, arms somehow in front of them, seeking -- seething -- with a lust so basic, for base or junk or crystal or death. Maybe their's; maybe your's.
Flash to the front page, man. Look at that piece of shit, sitting! -- on the street! -- with his back against a garbage can -- a garbage can! -- dirty, floppy hat stuck to his aenemic fingers. But it's only a picture -- thank god! No smell; no movement. None of that disgusting jawing or rocking. No crack dance -- thank god!
And it occurs to me: I am becoming one of them. My mouth moves on its own. My clothes are plaid, borrowed, stolen or stained. My shoes have no brand. My dentist...
My dentist! He sent me a letter! He misses me, or something. Yes, he wants to see me. And he has money. Dentists have money! And drugs! Oh, the rich dentist! All fancy cars and magazine glamour shots and exclusive parties and fabulous, unfathomable wealth! Drugs you've never even heard of! And daughters! With perfect, shining smiles!
Yes, yes! I must go to the dentist! It's been so long -- so very long. Two years now? My teeth -- my tooth -- it needs a cleaning. And maybe while he's at it -- working expertly, those sparkling instruments of torture -- he can get the rest of the plaque. The stuff that without proper brushing hardens like gum in the sun, on blacktop! That shit on my dick -- the scabs on my face. The cement in my brain.
Maybe he can take care of that too.
And here it is! -- my dentist! Only, it's not my dentist. Mine is far, far away. Two bridges, perhaps? But this will do. Bars over the windows, eh!? What's he protecting! Daughters, perhaps?
"Dentist!" I hiss at the receptionist. "Dentist!"
She looks mean. Fat. Ugly.
She presses a button under the desk, and I know what that means! Some metro hunter faggot. Some sparkling asshole with sparkling white leather coat and his dick is a fucking machine gun zombie hunter!
Don't they realize that my powers have grown!? I laugh raucously -- spitting blood and teeth and full on hate! Yes! -- let it all come out -- show them how it has grown and how it shall spread! Let them be the next to feel it!
Piss! Shit! Bile! Hah!
Here they come -- all white coats and nametags. Only one thing to do, certainly: run! -- fast and far! Ignore the man in the doorway, or spit in his face -- opaque, stringy saliva.
Got hep?
Fucking zombie hunters.
And it all spills out into the street -- the screaming and the disgust of extras in a bad horror movie. So I stumble, and collapse, and ultimately vomit. More of that green goo -- I must be leaking too -- I must be cracked myself.
It's not an individual. It's not a person. It's slime -- flowing through the sewers of all of humanity -- and if you crack or split or explode, it will come gushing out of you, too. If you're lucky, they'll patch you up with rubber cement or anti-depressants or spirituality -- provided you're still worth saving. Provided you can sit still, on that awful white table for long enough.
I wonder -- can I still be patched up? Maybe it's just a little leak -- a tiny, pressurized jet, probing the world beyond my tubing. Yeah -- it's just a spurt! A tampon -- a tampon would fix me up! The smiling, sterile white ones! Maybe if I could just stick it in the hole it'll expand and sort me out for a couple days -- let me get my shit back in order.
"Percocet, bitch!" I laugh maniacally. "And where are the tampons?" She's a zombie hunter too -- all white clothes and name tag. But not yet powerful enough to stop the likes of me! Stomp her foot and she screams, mouth wide open. I spit heroically and right down her thraot. The ooze will be coming out of her soon. Maybe a year or so.
More hunters. Assume the stance. Wait for it. Scream! Flick them aside like insects. Stronger than I had expected. The nose is loose -- another fucking hole for the ooze! Ahh, shit -- it's gone red, and flows freely. White tiles, red streaks. Gotta keep moving.
Stumbling, blindly, tangling with the bricks beside me. Another goddamned sidewalk, full of contorted faces, and straight, bisecting lines. My back is curved -- there's are straight. But not for long!
"How about you, little boy? Have you seen the ooze?" He runs, and I catch him. "Not fast enough, my perpendicular little purveyor of pusillanimous piety!" I am screaming, kness on his shoulders, and so is he. The ooze flows in streams of hot, milk chocolate from my latest breach, and into his nostrils, flaring, and mouth, agape. He begins to gurgle and I shriek -- "now isn't that better, my boy!?
"Isn't that a whole fuckload better!?"
The sentence barely escapes before I belch up shit. Brown and maloderant anyways, whatever it is. The mouth goes on sputtering like a motorboat, but no more words. They all left -- fleeing the shit.
This kid! -- what a bloody mess! Who is he? Stop. Fucking. Screaming. "You little shit!" And my fist meets his front teeth as the boots of the fucking zombie hunters thump at my ribs.
I am a large, painful drum.
"Not painful enough!" I gasp. They won't dare touch me -- afraid of the ooze. Feet are okay, but hands -- hands are a few blocks too far east on Hastings. It's like reaching blindly into those alley-boxes marked "Used Rigs Here Please" -- or so the hunters say.
But you -- you might be surprised by the treasure stored within! "You can touch me!" I bellow -- "I'm one of you!"
"Die, you sick fucking junkie!"
It's all teeth and eyes now. The occasional shoe-sole. Silence. Darkeness. Death.
But no, I'm on my back, beside a fucking garbage can, and man, it's coming out of every pore! Rub my face -- mush it around a bit. Lots of loose stuff -- loose stuff everywhere. Roll over and it sounds like I'm hollow, save maybe a few tumbling rocks. Bubbles of the good stuff explode from my nostrils. Yep -- it's really got a hold of me now. Ain't just a leak no more.
Gotta find help. Gotta see mom.
I've never known it to dry, but hey, here we are. Fingers all hardened and brown -- hair stuck violently to my face. The left eye crunches when blunk. Fuck yeah -- blunk.
"Mom, it's me." Fucking intercom. Smash. All. Buttons. "Mom, it's me!"
"David honey, is that you?"
"Yeah mom -- it's me. The fucking ooze got me, mom. I need help."
"David, what are you talking about?" All crunching and interfering.
"Mom I can't talk to you through this fucking robot! -- let me in!"
"David honey, what ooze?"
"THE fucking OOZE, mom!" I forget not to mention it! -- for here it comes again, out my fucking nose!
"David honey, you're scaring me."
"You fucking bitch it's gone right through me!" I scream. "Now fucking let me in YOU STUPID BITCH OR YOU DON'T GET ANY CANDY!"
Much laughing now. Much laughing, and much ooze.
Ooze.
User Reviews
Submitted by Still-Life (user info) at 2006-09-12 06:18:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought this was made of entirely too much asskicking.
Submitted by Allyson (user info) at 2006-09-12 03:11:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2006-09-12 03:09:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Impressive.
Submitted by SPECIALk (user info) at 2006-08-21 17:06:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Code white! code white!
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-08-21 16:43:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I see it too man; Hasting's and main is damn near submerged. It floods out of ragged cement and broken faces all over New Westminster and Surrey. My shoes are stained with it.
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-08-21 16:30:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Rawr?
Submitted by RPharazon (user info) at 2006-08-21 15:05:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2006-08-21 04:11:52 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-08-21 04:01:56 (#)
Ranking: 2
Extremely weird and fucked. Yet strangely amusing...
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2006-08-21 09:31:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No comment.
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-08-21 09:03:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Nice and abstract. Just the way I like 'em.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-08-21 07:43:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I need to read this again later. But I watched Basketball Diaries last night and couldn't help but be reminded of it a little bit. Ooze, junkies, etc.
Also, "there's, their's, and your's"..made ME crazy.
This was bizarre, but I like it. Back later.
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2006-08-21 04:20:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Die, you sick fucking junkie!"
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2006-08-21 04:11:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-08-21 04:01:56 (#)
Ranking: 2
Extremely weird and fucked. Yet strangely amusing...
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-08-21 04:01:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Extremely weird and fucked. Yet strangely amusing...
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-08-21 04:01:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
stagger, gabbly that shit!
http://gabbly.com/http://www.ubersite.com
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-08-21 03:58:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Really good.
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2006-08-21 03:34:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't know what I just read but I liked it.
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-08-21 02:09:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
stok, i'm not sure what you're trying to say, but i appreciate it.
Submitted by stok (user info) at 2006-08-21 02:08:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
the storey is good and you should feel good