The Sickest thing I Ever Wrote. Part 2 (458 hits)
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Submitted by Johnny Mac <wjmcintyre.at.gmail.com> (View user info) at 2006-10-26 11:35:09 EDT
I dont know how long I lay on the floor of that bathroom and slept, but when I awoke the sun was no longer dripping through the broken glass. I felt a little better. The aches and hangover were gone, but I could still feel the ass-whooping that pimp gave me, and my mouth had swollen up pretty badly. I was Filthy, covered in a new layer of sludge that no doubt came from me sleeping in that filthy bathroom. My hands and feet were covered in Human waste. Standing fully erect for the first time in what seemed like days, I opened the door to hear the primal grunting of the crack head, probably still laying into the hooker. I needed something to take the edge off. I still had no idea where I was, and no Idea how to get home, wherever home would end up being that night. Remembering the Meth in the Hookers bag. I followed the grunting. It wasnt going to be pretty, but I needed that shit to make it through the night.
Looking back on it. This was the scariest thing I have ever seen in my life, and I have admittedly seen more than my share of twisted sick shit, living on the streets. I walked into the den, or whatever it used to be, and found the two of them. It was too dark to make out the freakish crack fiend, but I could see her head dangling limply off of the couch. Her eyes were fixed directly ahead staring, it took me a minute, slowly getting closer and close, as quietly as I could as not to alarm the freak, to realize I was looking at a dead hooker, her neck had some sort of protrusion, and it was twisted at an awkward angle. She almost looked peaceful as her body shuddered with every thrust of her attacker. I was almost sick again just watching this display. Luckily I could not clearly make him out from my angle, but from what I could see, he was giving it all he had. Huffing, puffing, and groping her for all he was worth. I was almost to the purse sitting on the television when the body hit the floor, I was turned away when I heard the dull thump. I turned and got my first full view of her crumpled form. Her breasts looked like something had chewed on them, pieces of flesh missing and hanging off of her graying skin, there was blood all over her, but nowhere as prevalent as from her thighs. And towering above her, looking like a triumphant hunter over his kill, was the crack head.
"You wants another turn little man?" The old Junkie asked, as friendly as if he was offering me a piece of gum. I turned and stood, clutching the purse.
"Youre a sick fucker, you know that?" was all I could think to say, appalled at the sin against nature I had just witnessed. Then, as if I had said the most offensive thing to the man he had ever heard, he spit in my face and grabbed for the bag. Earlier this guy may have won, but since I had a few hours rest, some of my strength had returned. I pulled against his grip and it took no more than a flick of my wrist to free the handbag. It wasnt that I was strong , this shell of a human facing me was just that weak. Earlier when we met in a haze, he seemed scary, threatening. Now, with at least two out of five senses functioning, I saw the fiend as a weak, crippled, diseased naked old man, addicted to every drug ever invented, and desperate. He did not even have the appearance of a human any longer. The growths and warts all over his naked body gave him the appearance of some kind of monster. Pity might have overtaken me if he hadnt taken the opportunity to punch me directly in the testicles while I was momentarily stunned by the decaying human form.
My mind reeled from the blow. I was far from feeling good to begin with. The old man once again grabbed at the purse, I threw my shoulder into him and turned, hiding the precious drugs like a football, fighting back the dizziness that was beginning to make me want to sleep again. My fucking balls hurt like hell.
The old man was relentless in his pursuit, finally I threw the bag to the ground and grabbed him by the neck with my left hand. Protecting myself from the repeated attack on my groin the old man was trying to inflict. He then appeared to lose interest in the bag as my thumb and forefinger found their way to his trachea. Both of his hands grabbed my wrist. The stink on the old fucker was almost overwhelming. I squeezed, pinching the soft tube in his throat with all the strength I had, what did I take last night to still have me this weakened?
And where the fuck am I!!!!????
There was a sound like a small pop, like bubble wrap, as my fingers touched through the loose skin of his throat. The old man Let my wrist go immediately and clutched his neck, making gurgling and choking sounds. He fell to the filthy floor making failed attempts at gasps for air. He began to slap his hands on the floor, and his chest and throat. Even in the dark I could see his eyes fixed on me the whole time, as if he desperately wanted to tell me something. It was like watching a fish take its last failed attempts at breaths, it only took about thirty seconds for his eyes to roll into his skull and for the old man to collapse onto the couch and go limp. I was about to turn away, but at the same time could not. All I could think was how sudden his death came.
The tattered rags he called pants were lain over the arm of the couch. After confirming that the purse I had just fought with my life on the line for, was empty, logic dictated that I would have to search the dead mans clothes. In his pockets were a collection of junkie accessories: two needles, some pennies, the wad of money he had taken off of the pimp, along with a large bag of cocaine I can only guess was the cause of his sexual mania, as displayed on the hooker, half a raw hot dog and a gold crucifix. I sat down on the couch and took a few bumps of the coke. The drug hit me like a ton of bricks. Immediately my senses came back, and I felt almost human again. I looked around the dark, abandoned house, for the first time taking stock of the place.
It was an old house, that was for sure. The walls were stripped to the support beams in most places, which explained the sheetrock and pipe laying all over the bare wooden floor. The ceiling in the den I was in had a gaping hole, as if someone had actually fallen through the floor. And it wouldnt have surprised me if that actually was the case Looking around I remembered the filth on the floor of this place. My whole body stank from the unwashed old man, my own blood, and the filth I was forced to sleep on in the bathroom. I was covered in sludge , sweat, and the piss and shit of a thousand bums. Just taking this in for the first time, I gagged and spit bile on the already grungy wooden floor.
It was dark, but I had to get out of this house, I pocketed the Meth, Coke and the Money and decided now was a good a time as any to figure out where I was. In bare, bleeding feet, I slowly and carefully made my way out of the den, stepping over the dead hooker, it was almost sad to see her laying there. She had told me the night before in one of the few moments I could remember at the bar before that fucking gorilla bouncer attacked me that she was fifteen and had run away from her abusive father. What a waste.
The Pimp was still in the hallway, there was a rat with its upper body buried deep into his mouth at this point, no doubt feasting on all the goodies a dead human body has to offer. Without remorse I stamped on his head with my bare foot on to his face, over and over, until I felt the satisfying crunch of his nose flattening to his face. In doing this I had also forcefully crammed the rat into his throat, even its back legs which were struggling to free itself from the carcass, were buried too deep in the mans mouth. The rat was as doomed as its would be dinner. Payback is a bitch, Playa.
I stepped into the cold night and looked around. In front of the house was a streetlight, the only one on the street that functioned, all the rest were out, making me feel like I was under a spotlight. A deformed, beaten spectacle, for the first time exposed to the world. How long had this drug binge lasted? How did I get into this dump? Looking back at the house, it was barely standing, one side of it actually leaning about 30 degrees. The yard was nothing but bare dirt and empty, broken bottles. This might have been a nice house once. But the neighborhood around it changed. Across the street that ran in front of the house was a twelve foot high wooden fence. A sign that said MDS was hanging from it. I had never heard of the acronym before. There seemed to be nothing but one dilapidated house within eyesight of where I was on my side of the street. The rest looked like empty lots some with fires burning in barrels, I could make out some people around one of them. My eyesight was admittedly fuzzy due to the swelling over my right eye from one of the pimps kicks, But, MDS? Was this some kind of clue? How did I get here?
WHERE THE HELL AM I?!!?!
I needed to find a hotel. With the money I had I could get a room, figure out where the hell I was, take a shower, get something to drink, and sleep. God, I wanted to sleep for days. The walk wasnt so bad once I got started. I found an old sock to put over my punctured foot. That cushioned the blows from the rough, loose gravel that was left from where a sidewalk used to be. The street was cracked in many places, littered with pot holes and the hulls of cars long abandoned. In one place there was even a baby stroller, in the middle of the street.
The street people looked out at me from their shantys and nooks. Nobody said a thing, and to be honest I really couldnt make anyone out. But you can feel that many eyes on you. The look of me must have done more than words could ever say to keep them at bay. The smell must not have hurt either.
After what seemed like hours of walking, I came to a bus stop with a bench. Realizing I still had the pimps wad, I took a dollar out and stuffed the roll quickly back in my pocket. It was still dark, but the light blue tinges towards the east told me dawn was approaching. It as only then that everything started to make sense, and at the same time got that much more confusing. At least now I knew where the hell I was, and why the whole place was a fucking dump. To the Northeast I caught my first glimpse of a city skyline. I recognized it immediately.
The Bus Sign read: Centaur Bus Lines
MDS I think I get it.
All these homeless, the houses and neighborhoods abandoned to the homeless.
Why would I, HOW could I, in any drug and alchahol induced stupor, get this far, or come HERE of all places.
User Reviews
Submitted by littledan (user info) at 2006-10-26 21:32:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I looked on DoJo Productions and I can't find this story, can you post a link?
This story is great, by the way. I can't wait to read more.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-10-26 20:53:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Grotesque in it's beauty...
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-10-26 17:16:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff, keep it up.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-10-26 15:30:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JohnnyMac (user info) at 2006-10-26 12:09:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Glad you liked it, The title of the story is actually "Where the hell am I". More of it is available on DoJo Productions.com
While I like the graphic, I see where ol' buddy is coming from, it is kinda skate-parkish. The people still respond to it on my site though. I reccomend drinking bleach in any case, not to harm you, just because it works as an excellent laxative.
Submitted by lechuza (user info) at 2006-10-26 12:08:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't wait to read the next one
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-10-26 12:03:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-26 12:00:09 (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-10-26 11:42:16 (#)
Ranking: 2
It is recommended that you ignore the fag below.
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It is recommended that you go suck down a quart of Clorox.
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So aggresive.
Chill out a bit dude.
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-26 12:00:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-10-26 11:42:16 (#)
Ranking: 2
It is recommended that you ignore the fag below.
===
It is recommended that you go suck down a quart of Clorox.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2006-10-26 11:51:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good story (both parts), lame title.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-10-26 11:42:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It is recommended that you ignore the fag below.
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-26 11:37:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Good writing, but this image is very tired and reminiscent of skatepark grafitti.