Rain Dogs (1338 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.98 on 52 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Stagger Lee (View user info) at 2007-02-15 10:33:34 EST
Bug Train has a cat cornered again. It doesn't matter. He'll never catch one. He's got a bee in his bonnet about catching cats. He thinks they'll cook well, that he could dine like a king for days. Fuck knows what he's planning to do with the leftovers; refrigeration is hard to come by.
The cat hisses. A train rattles past overhead, running hard over the rails. It's impossible to talk. At this time of night, trains run every nine minutes, give or take. Every nine minutes we all have to shut up and we're forced inside our own heads. None of us like that. But it's deal with our thoughts in the underpass, or wander the streets. Nobody hassles us down here, the cops don't run us in. In the old days, being run in was pretty much a guarantee for a hot meal. Now, they feed you maybe once in every five.
We're fucking hungry; why else would Bug Train chase cats?
Duchess yells something; I see her face work, egging Bug Train on, most likely. The train finishes the run above us, hurtling into the night, pushing on downtown. I catch the end of Duchess' tirade.
" - waiting for? Get it, Bug! Get it!"
Bug Train is scared of the claws. The cat is arched, tense, trembling where it crouches, backed up against the overpass. Bug Train feints, and the cat swipes, hissing again, its fangs bared. Bug Train steps back, alarmed, and the cat goes for it, bolting off to Bug Train's left. It springs over Silent Ed, as he sits on the ground, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself in a constant stream of nonsense. Silent Ed ignores the cat completely.
"Shitlicker!" Bug Train shrieks after the cat. He turns his ire on Ed. "Fuck your mother! How could you let it go?"
Silent Ed looks at Bug Train, cocking his head quizzically, never ceasing his babble.
"Did you hear me?" Bug Train asks, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring. Sweat is beginning to roll down his face, cutting streaks in the grime. Beneath that grime his face is flushed, pink with rage. "I said fuck your diseased mother!"
Duchess watches this, and I watch her as she watches. Her face is flushed too. She's excited. Her tongue runs over her dry lips, and then her lips pull back in a grimace, pulling some of her wrinkles taut.
Bug Train shoves Ed. Ed falls backwards, catching himself on his elbows. His mouth continues to speak, faster and faster, but above that ceaselessly flapping hole his eyes staring and terrified.
"He's not right, Bug," I say, trying to keep my voice calm, feeling edgy and not knowing why. "You know he's not right, let him be."
Bug turns to me, clumsily, nearly tripping on his own feet in haste and rage. "He let it go!"
"He's not right. He didn't mean to. He didn't know."
Bug stands there, in his mismatched clothes. I try not to judge his clothes. Hell, we're all dressed the same; whatever we can find to keep warm. Necessity Chic. Have you got yours? I've got mine. His fists clench and unclench; indecisive as always.
"They're gonna get into it anyway!" a voice calls from behind me. I turn, and see two men approaching the underpass. They're not like us. They've got jeans, clean ones. They're shaven, washed, wearing long-sleeved shirts. I see a gold and silver glint on their wrists and fingers. I can smell their cologne from twenty feet away. I envy them and I hate them, a visceral reaction that leaves me feeling nauseous.
The man who hadn't spoken elbowed the one who had. "Shut up, they would've if you hadn't fucking mouthed off," he says.
They're carrying plastic bags, opaque and mysterious. Fuck them and their bags.
"Clear off!" I shouted, hating the ragged sound of my own voice. Hating how crazy I must sound.
"It's a free country," the first speaker replies.
"We've got an offer for you," the second guy says.
"That's right."
These fuckers with their cologne, playing game show hosts.
"You and that guy," the first guy says. "Fight each other."
He means Bug Train. Bug doesn't seem to get it. I throw up my hands in disgust.
"What the hell do you think this is?"
"Come on," the first guy says. He holds up his bag. I don't trust him, and I don't wanna see what's in there, but I find myself unable to look away. He shows us what's in there; it's food and booze. My mouth waters, shooting hot jets of saliva.
"No," I say.
"Hell yes!" exclaims Bug.
Silent Ed watches the proceedings with great interest, but offers no comment. His babble slows slightly. Duchess licks her lips some more. I think of sandpaper dragging across rough wood. Her eyes flick from one faced to the next.
"Straight up trade," the second guy says, smug and secure. They both walk close to us, til they are no more than six feet away. "You fight, and you fight for real, goddamnit. Three rounds. We judge it. Then you get the goods." He brings a video camera out of his bag, a relatively cheap one. Relative to their clothes and smug fucking voices, that is.
Bug Train is up for it. I can see it in his darting eyes and tense shoulders. I'm bigger than he is, longer reach, but he's a bit of headcase, and he's wiry as fuck. The only way to stop someone like him is to put him down and make sure he says down.
I don't feel right about this.
Second guy gets the camera pointed at us.
"Is it running?" first guy asks.
"Fuck it, I think so."
"Alright! Round one!"
Bug squares up to me. He's staring at me, but he's not really seeing me, he's seeing cold turkey and cans of lager. His fists are clenched into tight little balls of rage. I wanted to talk to him about the fight, wanted to tell him to take it easy. If he would, I would, surely we could put on a show for these fuckers.
With the first punch he throws, I know he's fighting for real. There's no show here. He comes at me, almost leaping, and his right hand hooks around and strikes my cheekbone. There are no gloves; it stings like hell. My hands weren't even up. I become painfully aware of the whir of the camera, an insidious, hateful little sound.
Bug fires off a flurry of hurried, uneven punches, scattering inaccurate jabs across my ribs and gut. I know in that moment that he's not gonna last this fight. I can barely feel the punches through my layers of clothing. The smug fuckers with the camera don't realise that. Amateurs.
I bring my hands up and blows rain upon my forearms. Bug's punches are already weakening. I lay a jab right into his jaw. I pull it at the last second, but he still staggers as though pole-axed. His arms flail for balance and I step in. I almost hit him again, but I turn it into a shove and he falls onto the ground.
Duchess crows, breathy and excited. I can't make out any words.
"Hold up!" the guy with the camera says.
"What?" his friend asks.
I stop, and turn to them. They're having camera trouble. The guy with the camera is turning the thing over in his hands, examining it. His friend leans in.
"The fuck did you do?" he asks.
I bend down and hold out my hand to Bug. He shies away, and spits on the ground. He's enraged.
"Bug," I say, "Listen to me." I strive to make my voice reasonable.
A couple more tears run down his face. I know how he feels. Helpless. Worthless. Wasted.
"Just listen to me," I say, trying to break through that wall of his anger. "You're fighting the wrong man."
"What?" Suspicious; he doesn't trust me.
"Why fight me? I don't have what you want."
Realisation dawns on his face, lighting it, dispelling the ugly clouds of rage for a moment. Then his face contorts again, only this time, his anger isn't directionless and unfocused. This time, his rage has a purpose.
Bug gets to his feet and we charge them, as they try to fix their camera. I seize the whirring fucker from the camera man's hands and hit him across the face with it. He twists away, and blood flies into the night as the plastic casing crunches. Bug tackles the other guy around the waist, bearing him to the ground.
The Duchess screams, and I can't tell whether she is delighted, afraid, angry, whatever.
I kick out and get lucky; my foot cracks into the camera guy's knee. He falls, hard; the wind blasts from his lungs into the cold night air. I turn to the other man, who just about has Bug pried away from him. I lean down and grab his hair, and then, steeling myself, I slam his head into the pavement. His eyes become glassy, dead.
"Get the bags, Bug," I say, and turn to the camera guy. He's conscious, gaining his feet, still winded. There's blood from his face dripping onto his collar. Not so smug now.
"And you," I say, "You get the fuck out of here. Take your friend."
He looks at me, not with hatred or anger, but with befuddlement. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, not in his mind. He hadn't considered this outcome.
Bug retrieved the bags. Duchess was applauding and whistling. Silent Ed was babbling at an almost unprecedented rate.
The camera man picked up his friend, getting his shoulder into his friend's armpit. He began to inch his way back up the street, back the way they had came before they ran into a wall fashioned from our desperation. The same desperation they had wanted to exploit.
I pick up the broken camera and hurl it after them. It doesn't land anywhere near them, but it shatters with a satisfactory sound. The camera guy doesn't even look.
"We showed 'em, didn't we?" says Bug Train. There's pride in his voice, sure, but also a tinge of something else. Still desperate, I guess. Desperate to feel like he's accomplished something.
"We sure did, Bug," I say. "Showed them good."
They'll be back, I know; maybe with the cops. They won't take a beating like that without seeking something some sort of reprisal. Not guys like them.
Time to move on.
User Reviews
Submitted by Phallic_Cymbals (user info) at 2008-07-14 23:55:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I can get some/
Satisfaction.
Submitted by Mike-Mc (user info) at 2007-10-26 08:33:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Really good .
Submitted by Coleslaw_Murphy (user info) at 2007-10-23 02:44:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Just re-found this for some reason.
Still good, and still a great use of a Tom Waits phrase.
Also, the reviews below are just... informative (which is good).
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2007-06-04 22:38:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-06-04 22:27:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-02-19 20:38:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow, real writing. Best I've seen in months.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-19 20:18:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks, Miss Licious. Personally, I think that's a damn good idea.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-02-19 20:09:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Taxi, we'd rather walk..
Justice was served here, with an extra side of death.
I read this whole thing in Tom Waits' voice. Now I'm wondering why I don't do that with each one of your posts, and from now on, I'm gonna.
Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-02-19 19:43:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
1.5 motherfucker
Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-02-19 19:42:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
no, mate if I thought you were being sarcastic I wouldn't have bothered. The reason I responded at length is because you seem like a reasonable dude.
Now I have to fucking rate again after this to keep it at 1.5, goddamn you.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-19 19:30:23 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
Yeah, so feel free to keep rating it 1.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-19 19:29:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Thanks for the advice, mate.
There was no sarcasm in my earlier comment, if that's what you thought. I think some people would be offended that you "broke the streak" but I was just happy to get another review.
Thanks again for reading.
Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-02-19 19:24:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
hey Stagger,
Sorry brother, I thought some of your other stuff was a bit stronger. Some of your word choices bothered me a bit here, but that's pretty picky, I realize. It's a lot easier to be picky if there's something there, you know what I mean?
Lately I have just been clicking on best of the week so as to avoid all the stupid shit that fills the front page most of the time.
Ironically, I sometimes only rate the ones whose user names I recognize because I like their stuff.
But this was on the top again today, so I gave it another look and saw your comment.
I probably always expect your stuff to be excellent, and may be grading you against yourself, since, let's face it, if it was you compared to uber, you would always be a +2 and uber would be, generally speaking of course, an "I've seen better."
For example, I never rated but I really liked your stories about the monster who just appeared in the woods.
Excellent stuff, but for some reason I don't rate old stuff too much.
Maybe I'll do that, because I'm sure some people miss it if it isn't new.
There is absolutely NO fucking market for short stories, but here's some advice if you want it:
LONGER.
The rare stories that sell are 5000 words, minimum. I've noticed everybody here (the decent writers) seems to be writing shorter stuff.
1.5, long story short. (haha)
cheers
Zebra
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-19 08:02:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I appreciate it, Zebra, for real.
Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-02-19 02:49:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-18 03:23:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, pretty much. Fuckers.
Submitted by Coleslaw_Murphy (user info) at 2007-02-16 10:15:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
By the way, this is exactly what *should* happen to those fools who pay bums to fight.
Submitted by HealthyCorpse (user info) at 2007-02-16 08:06:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2007-02-16 04:06:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Just as I expected; a great read.
Good show.
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2007-02-16 04:03:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellence is a standard for your writing.
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-02-16 03:42:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm impressed.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-16 03:02:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
My thanks, peeps.
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-02-16 02:32:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Day-yamn! Stag.
This is as good as your noir stuff.
Still dark and brooding, but with a bit more lift and hope-tinged.
I'd love to see more of your underpass people.
Submitted by Ducky (user info) at 2007-02-16 01:49:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Very nice Mr. Stagger_Lee.
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2007-02-16 01:38:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Caulaincourt (user info) at 2007-02-16 00:12:54 (#)
Ranking: 2
you write short sentences. that's great and hard to do without sounding like a 6 years old.
***
I was gunna say in the same my review{s}, that he was sneaky like that. But it helps with people with ADD.
Also, in The DaVinci Code, it's the same, where the average chapter is 4-5 pages. He knows how to work us dumb people, even tho I've read Joyce, who didn't even bother to use punctuation or paragraphs. But Joyce stole that from Virginia Woolf, who ~in a twisted way ~stole stream of consciousness writing back from Faulkner, who actually stole it from her and Joyce!
The lit "gods" are in perpetual orgy, the offspring oft what we call masterpieces.
Trust me, I've argued this with English lit majors, and found little resistance from them.
Submitted by Bob_Dole (user info) at 2007-02-16 00:49:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
very cool
Submitted by Caulaincourt (user info) at 2007-02-16 00:12:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you write short sentences. that's great and hard to do without sounding like a 6 years old.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-02-15 23:41:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I heard "Red Right Hand" on the radio two days ago. I thought of you. Damn, I'm sweet.
Back to work for me.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-15 23:36:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Nighthawks is actually pretty far down my list. Rain Dogs is my favourite. I listened to it a lot in Munich. Damn good.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-02-15 23:34:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I Love, Part II:
Tom Waits
"Nighthawks at the Diner" is better, though.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-15 23:32:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Rain Dogs fan below?
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-02-15 23:20:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Eh...per usual.
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2007-02-15 22:07:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Dang, Bubba, your name is a misnomer. Thanks, now I can impress my stoner friends.
I've always imagined you living off in the Colorado sticks in a cabin with NO TRESSPASSING signs swinging from barbed wire fences. You're like the Unascholar.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2007-02-15 21:30:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Great work, Stag. I would also like to see this continued.
Wisher, I remembered the guy who coined "the great unwashed" was British, not American. I also knew he was most famous for "It was a dark and stormy night." I couldn't recall his name to save my ass, so I had to Google it...
Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton (May 25, 1803-January 18, 1873) was an English novelist, playwright, and politician. Lord Lytton was a florid, popular writer of his day, who coined such phrases as "the great unwashed", "pursuit of the almighty dollar", "the pen is mightier than the sword", and the infamous incipit "It was a dark and stormy night." Today his name is known as a byword for bad writing. San Jose State University's annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest for bad writing is named after him.
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2007-02-15 20:21:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-15 20:04:41 (#)
Ranking: 0
I wouldn't mind expanding this, but these characters never existed before last night when I wrote this.
***
That'd be good reading, especially if you added gypsy cabbies, like one find's in NY~ renegade cad drivers rule, and cost less, usually, and they'd know such underpass-dwelling people. Well, off to chop onions and garlic. I have one of those As Seen ON TV Choppers, I LOVE that thing.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-15 20:04:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I wouldn't mind expanding this, but these characters never existed before last night when I wrote this.
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2007-02-15 19:58:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I get it now, the title. It's like "the great unwashed." {Or Grateful Dead unwashed. {{I have lots of Deadhead friends that don't bathe~ enough ~and that line always threw me till someone explained that it was from some amazing American poet that I cain't remember. Or maybe musician. Thanks. I need guidance, someone to set boundaries and explain things. Sometimes.}}
Also, I thought of mentioning that it seemed you knew the characters a bit too well, as if, just maybe, you'd taken them, and the scene, from a much larger body of work {your work} and chopped it down to make a post. It's just an unfounded suspicion.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-15 19:30:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2007-02-15 18:26:36 (#)
Ranking: 2
For a moment I thought Bug Train was a dog~ maybe that they were all dogs.
-----------------------------------------
from urban dictionary:
===================
1. Rain dog
A Rain Dog is a dog caught in the rain, with its whole trail washed away by the water so he can't get back home. A stranded dog, who wants nothing better than to get home.
People who live outdoors, people who sleep in doorways, loners knit together by some corporeal way of sharing pain and discomfort.
A term coined by Tom Waits on his album named Rain Dogs
Inside a broken clock
Splashing the wine with all the rain dogs
Taxi, we'd rather walk
Huddle a doorway with the rain dogs
For I am a rain dog too
===============================
I think they're wrong about one thing, I don't thing Tom Waits invented the term, he just collects old bits of slang.
----------------------------------------
Submitted by Coleslaw_Murphy (user info) at 2007-02-15 15:59:10 (#)
Ranking: 2
Good shit.
On another note, I can't seem to wrap my head around this Nick Cave lyric:
"And I'll crawl over 50 good pussies
just to get to one fat boy's asshole,
said Stagger Lee"
Ummm... wtf?
--------------------
Well, I'm no expert, but it would seem to me that the character in question would rather fuck a fat little piggy than 50 hot pussies.
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2007-02-15 18:26:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
For a moment I thought Bug Train was a dog~ maybe that they were all dogs. This was a really well written story. Even though the characters couldn't be developed much in a piece this short, you did a good job of making them come alive.
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2007-02-15 16:48:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2007-02-15 16:42:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
crazy
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2007-02-15 16:10:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
a little faster pace would make this even better
Submitted by Coleslaw_Murphy (user info) at 2007-02-15 15:59:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good shit.
On another note, I can't seem to wrap my head around this Nick Cave lyric:
"And I'll crawl over 50 good pussies
just to get to one fat boy's asshole,
said Stagger Lee"
Ummm... wtf?
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-02-15 14:53:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Mint story dude, I was listening to 'The Wrong Side of Relaxation' by Barry Adamson at the time, it really fit.
Submitted by ticklish_squirrel (user info) at 2007-02-15 14:18:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good story
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-02-15 14:11:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Bumfights were invented in San Diego, btw...
Submitted by odin (user info) at 2007-02-15 13:42:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-02-15 11:55:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2007-02-15 11:34:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
okay
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2007-02-15 11:30:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice work.
Submitted by BUTCH_HERO (user info) at 2007-02-15 10:54:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff, could be a series...
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2007-02-15 10:39:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
interesting