Was it the meth or the mullet that made me mad? He slurred at his red rimmed red neck blacken eyes in the cracked mirror.

Was it me that was cracked or was it the mirror? Andy Aggie always hated deep morning thoughts like that.

And where the hell was he anyway? Was he still in Vegas?

It made his mind hurt as much as his bruised face did.

Still Andy said to the mirror, no matter the cowboy that cracked me or the condition my condition was in, at least my hair still looked damn good.

Even unwashed for a week....Andy Aggie thought as he mused, methed his mind, and moussed his hair in the motel mirror.

Fuck yeah...still looking good. Don't know how I got here or where I am but still looking prime time fucking fine.

That fucking cowboy...that was the last memory. Rubbing my fucking mullet and telling me I look damn purty for a crack head.

Andy ran the conversation in his head as he rubbed his eyes and rinsed his face.

Softly he spoke it in a hoarse voice.

Crack head? I said Fuck You cracker...then he cracked me once in the mouth and once wildly in the mullet. Not the fucking hair man Andy screamed thrashing calling him a cowboy cocksucker..

Andy was still talking, turning to piss in the blocked toilet, thinking about the cowboy punching him last night, when he saw the hand sticking from behind the dirty drawn bath curtain.

He froze, small dick shriveling, piss dripping, mullet erect, meth mad eyes wild.

The hand was long, elegant, with black nails topping long pale fingers. A sun and a moon tattoo shined on the motionless hand. The sun on the back of the hand, the moon on the front...

It was an exceptionally beautiful hand.

Andy stared, stepped, sniffled and said "Hey....."

Nothing.

Who was this this? Where was this?

What was this?

Slowly, delicately he touched the lovely hand. Attic ice cold.

Dead mans hand. Andy said softly. Dead ladies hand more like it moron a voice said deep inside his mullet.

Creeping forward he moved the torn stained curtain and screamed.

A naked, beautiful dead women. Hair half white, half black, slashed with purple, eyes wide, breasts perfect...bath water brown.

She was dead, right? Andy was confused, frightened his heart thumped, thumped, thumped... deep breathes he said.

"Hey are you dead..." he said and nudged her with his hand. "Hey...are you..?"

Suddenly she snapped opened here eyes, one brown, one emerald green and screamed.

Andy screamed and peed.

The dead girl screamed louder.

Someone began pounding on the room door shouting.

"Open the fuck up.... Erin I know your fucking in there. Now open the fuck up before I kick this fucking door down..."

--
Edited by boonedog at 11/05/2009 10:50 AM PST

"Black Lady on the River. Shit" Shrek the dealer said. Val wins again. Sonofabitch!

Smiling Vlad flipped up his hole cards, another black Queen and a King of Hearts.. "How do you know? Full House! Am I so easy to read my friend?" Val rubbed out a small cigar with a long, large hand. The other hand pulled in the chips "

Maybe its time for a new game. I am being read like a book..."

"Val me Lad No one reads anymore ya know that? Its all TV and video. Enlightened men like you and me." Red, thick, bald, and crimson faced blew cigarette smoke. "We are the last of a breed. An Endangered species,"

Popping another Budweiser the chunky Shrek crunched up his face coughing. " Keep smoking and your be endangered all right Red. Keep up the cancer sticks. Be deader then the Marlboro Man."

"Smoking wont kill you my friend. No Val tapped a long front tooth. No men die as they live. But you live wild and free. A free ranging trucker. Last of the cowboys. An out-lander. An outlaw."

"Here here!" Red raised his beer. "To the truckers game from 1968 till 2008. The best damn rollin poker game in the nation. From Five Stud to Texas by God damn fuckin Hold Em." Red and the other eight poker players raised their beers and drank. Except for Vlad who sipped a water&barely.

"Still a tee totaling trucker! I meant this fella, this mad fuckin Romanian, right when I came back from the Nam. Forty fuckin years and he aint hardly aged a bit."

"And still gets super stripper pussy".Biker Bob grinned showing broken, bad teeth. "Where do you find the pussy. My Gawd those two ye have with ya. They outta be porno stars"

"Mindy and Mandy. Yes Mindy and Mandy. Are.."  Val grinned wearing only a blue jean vest, worn jeans, and shiny snakeskin boots. "Well tremendous. Yes Amazing.. They are eating they shall be by soon."

Vlad petted the two huge wolf like dogs at his feet. Pulling a piece of dripping red meat from a cooler he put it in his mouth and leaned over to his pets.

"Here girlie, girls, here girls One at a time they snatched a piece from his mouth. Grinning he rubbed their ears, Good Girls,Good Girls!That's my girls.."

"Ya all shouda seen the chicks he had in the seventies." Red laughed. "Stoned out, super sexy hippie chicks. One was way out there the really beautiful one , stone cold crazy beautiful. Would sit right there and sip on blood. That's right blood. Way before that Jolie chick starting drinkin' old Billy Bob's blood. But she was a mean one. Not a word, not a grin, not a smile&.nothing. But an ass, an ass I still dream of. Whatever happened to her?"

"Yes I called her Circe the Stripper. She was, ah, old school. I recall she moved west went into movies. She got me a role in Convoy. Ever see it? Sam was sick and it was rather dreadful but I still love that Rubber Duckie song. Ah the old days. I love playing here in Nazareth. Just the name Nazareth. It rolls from the tongue. And I love that Band song. Was pulling into Nazareth..feeling bout half past dead" Val sang

"Yeah, yeah, the cell phone jingle. Lets play some poker. Skip the memory lane bullshit alright". Vinnie, small, wiry, tired looking and losing, as usual, hated table talk. "Were here to play right?"

"Ah Vincent, my friend. Life is so quick. Enjoy the moments with your friends. Poker is about friendship. Money." Val threw his ante in. "Money means nothing. Nothing."

"To you maybe." Vinnie outed his cigarette folded his cards. "Hell what do you haul? Shit you might be hauling heroin, Mex sex slaves, drugs, or fuckin hot dvd's. Ya never say? Just these fuckin' enjoy life lectures for twenty years."

"Well Vincent. One should enjoy the Good Times. Another cliche. Eh?" Val didn't smile. "Enjoy this safe haven we have found once a month. Never asking personal questions but enjoying a respite from the cruel world. Not enough for our Vincent, no? What would our Vincent like to know? Tell me?"

"Bump it fifty!"Biker Bob threw in his chips looking perplexed.

"Raise her 200 hundred!"LC, who looked like an aging, crumbling pirate rarely talked. "And Vincent shut the fuck up."

"No I mean what does he do? He has these beautiful playboy playmate women and piles of cash. And what he is a fucking Trucker? A Trucker? My Balls a trucker.. .And, no offense those weird fucking teeth. Ya say ye were a some type of biker and what ya filed yer fuckin teeth? Filed yer teeth? And those fuckin wolf dogs are plain weird"

"Maybe he's a vampire?." Biker Bob threw is his cards. "Fuck you LC. Ya shitted out another one.."..

"Perhaps?". Val smile showing two long fangs. "See my friend Vincent I was a biker long ago. And these?". He tapped them" These fuckers bit off a few noses. Better then some of these new foul blood diseases from tattoos They all laughed. And you don't like Athena and Artemis, either? When one has a dog for a thousand or years attachment grows. See I took her from a Viking Prince&ah I jest.."

"No it's a crazy thing I did as a child. Like tattoos. He tapped Red's arm who made a muscle with his marine devil dog. Filing yer teeth it stays with ya&.Maybe I was Gothic before there was Goth's.. Maybe I'm old school Goth. Like the Goth's that use to fight the Rome. Those Goths', I most assure you, would scare your Goth's"

"My Goth's.. "Vincent winced at his cards." Ain't my fuckin Goth's"..

"Well I am still Romanian at heart you see. Val peered at his cards. Raise 300. Your America is changing. Fear is upon you. The Goth's lived through strength till they became debauched pseudo Romans. Then the Mongols slaughtered them. Your America is debauched. Weak and Fearful."

"How the fuck do you know?". Vincent glared

"Come on guys lay off the politics..!" Fat Fred, soft face, and bubbly bodied, man bobbed, hated confrontational talk. "No politics in poker fellows!".

"Noo I wanna hear the solution to all my problems! Big Rick, eating burgers, muscle bound and wearing shades was losing and angry. Solve the ills of the world fucking Kissinger!".

"Whats with you guys? Red finished a Bud and Shrek tossed another Play some tunes. How bouts some old Stones. I brought Let It Bleed!" .

"Nothing but he knows everyfuckingthing!" Vincent gestured

"He's winning again is what you don't like!". Fat Fred mumbled

"Fuck You Fred." Vincent shot back.

"Such anger, my friends. This is how games end for good. Petty jealousies. Foolish questions and fears." Val pointed his cigar at Rick downing a second burger. "And Mister Big Rick your America . My family been fighting your newly discovered Muslim fanatics since before the Crusades. We out barbarianed the barbarians. Crucified them. Stuck poles up there asses out their mouth's. Fed them to pigs, Burnt them!"

"Yeah that's why Romania is such a world power."  Big Rick was chomping on his burger.

"What do you know of Romania worm? Have you ever left Route 80." Val eyes ignited briefly. Then flickered softly.

"I am sorry my friend unkind words are not called for!".

"Fuckin Worm?" Big Rick stopped chewing. "Fuck You Dracula."

"I apologized my old friend" But Val's dogs growled low and mean.

"Guys calm the fuck down have a drink. Tomorrow morn we will all be rollin up or down route eighty. It's the Rollin Trucker Game. Hooyah!"

"Anyways lets play some poker!"..LC mixed a rum and coke.

"Where's your women?" Fat Fred spat.

"Yeah where are the super sluts and your freaky friend fuckin Igor?".Rick had drank most of a bottle of Jack Daniels are wanted trouble. Val was a big man but Rick was the size of an NFL Defense End, a retired, out of shape redneck defensive end.

"Come on now?".It had gone far enough for Vincent.

"My freaky Friend, Rupert I presume you mean, is with the girls. Enjoying a late meal."

"Which one do you fuck. The little queer or the sluts. Or switch hit.? Ricks face flushed round his reddish beard. Ya Val the Switch Hitter. That's fuckin You?.ain't it?"

"I said fuckin enuff!".Red stood angry.

That's I'm done!" LC stood up.

"Time for bed" said Fat Fred.

"Ruin the god damn game again asshole" Red threw his cards at Vincent

"Fuck you man.. "Big Rick shoved Red into the wall hard.

Biker Bob shook his head and grabbed a beer.

Smiling Red grabbed a beer bottle by the top.

"Stop!" Val commanded "Enough. Always you want to see my girls and my truck. Come. Have a Drink with me, my old friends. Perhaps my girls will put on a small show for you. And I will drink to peace!"

"A show?" Rick stared at Val. He had lusted for Val's women for years and yearned to see his cargo. Vincent swore it had stashes of heroin, coke, porn, sex slaves or guns on each run. Val loved long runs to Mexico and Texas due to his love of brown eyed women. Something in their blood, a fiery something, Val had said he always craved.

Red putted the bottle down. In thirty years Val had never talk of his trucks contents or much on his travels. Much less drank with them.

Come we are all friends?Val led them away.

"Rupert?" Val tapped a heavy hand on the back of his all black truck. Rupert?

"Yessss masssterrrr?" Came from inside

See I told ya it was some queer S/M shit. Master? Rick whispered loudly to Vincent who elbowed him. Fat Fred sweated profusely thinking of a sex show. Red looked happy. LC bored while Shrek and Biker Bob giggled like school kids.

Tonight we have guests. Leave Mindy and Mandy at their meal we shall surprise them.

Val winked at his friends They love surprises so&..

The door creaked open Rupert hunched big eyed in the ultraviolet light.

Up my friends. I shall show you all my secrets and share my pleasures and pastimes&. Vlad grinned as they walked up the steps. The wolves padded behind. Following he slammed and locked door.

It smelled musty, earthy, and somewhat foul.

"Hit the lights man!' Rick said in near darkness. Red lights and laughter came from under the compartment ahead.

Fat Fred bumped hard into something. Vincent flicked a lighter. A wolf growled.

"What the fuck is that a coffin? What ya got in there? Weed? Body parts? Heroin?" Vincent tapped it.
"Fuckin solid."

"Ahead my friends go to the light and Mindy and Mandy will make your dreams come true!'

"Yes a Lesbian Love show!". Biker Bob high fived Shrek in the darkness "Vlad is the man!"

"I don't like this!".. LC said slowly

Rupert swung open the inner doors.

"The hitchhikers master are almost done! But we saved some.."

Two blond beautiful, naked, blood covered women looked up from a feast of body parts in a crimson covered room. The green eyed blond had a young long haired lost looking girl's neck in her bloody , fanged mouth, the dying girls legs twitched with each blood swallow of the naked women. The other woman sat among two moaning men in torn hiking gear. Her eyes her rolled back in her head and she twitched in ecstasy sitting in a pool of hot blood. The room looked like a butcher shop nightmare. An overflowing pitcher of fresh blood sat on a table.

Mindy Val snapped his fingers "Dessert!"

The girl with the rolled backed eyes leaped, grinning eyes opening wide like a tiger and ripped open Fat Fred's throat, then before he fell to his knees attached herself to Shrek. Gnawing madly, tearing on his neck as he screamed and banged into the walls hopelessly.

Sorry my old friend. Val said to Red and snapped his neck. I enjoyed the game. But every game ends.

The second girls was almost purring, ripping and snapping up a still twitching LC who had run to the back of the slaughter truck and was banging on the doors screaming. Grinning Vincent lifted Big Rick with one hand repeatedly banging his head hard on the roof saying

"So I am some type of Vampire Faggot eh? Hate Romanian huh? Faggot the Vampire." Then he threw him barely conscious into the truck wall.

Well Mister Rick you were right about Rupert. Hes likely to eat you dick first. Rupert he's yours.

Rupert drooled and leaped onto Rick's crotch. Big Rick began to make guttural groans and moans.

"I think he likes it!'"Val leaned over trembling Vincent who had fell hard over a coffin and froze. My sweet Vincent what are we to do with you? Vincent, Vincent, Vincent. You ruined a good card game. One of my few relaxations in this heartless world. And your big mouth ruined it. I loved playing cards in Nazareth. Even a vampire needs a break from the rat, er, the blood race. But now even that's ruined. And the damn government taking away my Internet poker. Imagine. A no fun world your America has become. Damn spoiled big boomers. Anyways what to do. What to do?

Vlad tapped a long finger. "I got it. Its always Circe this Circe that from you. How hot Circe was. Where did Circe go? What did Circe do? Well you really wanna see the old bitch I will give you as a gift. A 1700 year birthday present if you will. I mean Vincent you have not seen a bitchy, I mean just a nasty, vampire, till ya meet Circe at a feed. You thought she was cranky as a hippie&..See everyone thought she was this doped out Hippie chick really she's a 1700 year old mean Magyar bitch., but Its Circe for you big mouth. Methinks she is in San Fran yet,e shall see! Ever meet an old school Magyar Vincent?

Mindy and Mandy growled. They had hated Circe for centuries.

Shut up and eat. Val snapped." I got driving to do!Wheres my Super Trucking Trucker Songs CD Rupert... "

Rupert raised his bloody face from Big Rick's crotch

"In the CD case in your red suitcase master!."

When your done clean up the damn mess. And chain the moron. Circe always loved a long, lingering meal&And save some for the doggies.

So Vincent ya always wanted adventure didn't ya? A purring tabby jumped into Val's lap.  "A PussPire?A Vamp Cat. He winked at the trembling Vincent chained in the chamber behind him. Shit Vincent don't look so scared. Not everyone gets to be eaten by a piece of ass like Mindy and Mandy?".

See Vincent Vampires are the ultimate freedom lovers. I love America. Who in the hell never wanted to be a Cowboy? Hell Vincent I've killed Redcoats, Rebs, Indians, Turks, Nazi's, and Commie serving my country. Ate more Commies then McCarthy. Was a CIA man for awhile. Bumping round South America but ye had to be careful. See them Incas, Aztecs, and Maya, well they have old things in the mountains that even I don't wanna encounter if ya get my drift.

But now its full circle. And I love killing them Islamic nut jobs. Been eating Muslims all round this country. Free Gratis. Actually the taste is sickening me. See I shook the agency after they helped to off old JFK. Fuck he would have made a great Pire. I mean for the conversation, Vinnie. See Mindy and Mandy not much on the talk. And they are such jealous bitches. Seriously you don't understand how many chicks nowadays beg to be bitten? Being eternally young is the American Dream, right Vinnie?" He grinned.

"Beautiful women, and men, have begged me to bit them. This one Cali blond, Vinnie,baby. Magnificent. Just Incredible. Funny. Smart, Crazy, and mean. And I was gonna immortalize her Vinnie. I really was. And I let her alone and those two, and Circe Super Vampire bitch that she is, well when I came back the three of em were killing and eating her. Evil, jealous, greedy bitches. Vinnie. Jealous. That women was special. Once after seeing the Cincinnati Kid I vowed to get Tuesday Weld but&&.Long ago. And that reminds me Vinnie You ruined my poker game. Tsk Tsk Tsk?..So it goes Vinnie So it goes. You, my friend, just drew a bad hand"

Pulling out Val put on his cowboy hat. It had been a damn good game. A monthly break for the damned from the damned. The living they refuse to enjoy the moment. Refuse to enjoy the ride. Ah well so it goes Vlad mumbled pushing in the CD "Head west young Vampire. An undead ever-restless King of the Road.."

"Come on girls.."

Vlad called to his wolves which quickly jumped up in the cab and licked his face.

"Rolling outta Nazareth feel like feeding on the near dead just need to find a place where I can lay my coffin!"

--
Edited by boonedog at 11/02/2009 7:55 AM PST

Chapter 13

The Sioux Ghost Shirt Religious Movement of 1890 and the Three Wolf T Shirt Society Religious Movement of 2010.

Like most sudden feverish religious manias the start of the Three Wolf Society Movement of 2010 is lost in myth and demagoguery.

The stunning changes wrought in American Society by the Three Wolf Society from 2010 to 2033 have been studied by scholars for decades.

Like the Sioux Ghost Dance the religious Three Wolf movement began in the depressed minds of an alienated segment of a society being swept by massive changes. A way of life was disappearing, strange people they neither liked nor understood strode across what was once their land, it was change they did not like...suddenly they were strangers in a suddenly strange land and they longed for the old ways...the old days...and it all began on the road to Walmart.....

I was cutting the rug
Down at a place called the jug
With a girl named Linda Lu
When in walked a man
With a gun in his hand
And he was looking for you know who.
He said, hey there fellow,
With the hair colored yellow,
Watcha tryin to prove?
cause thats my woman there
And Im a man who cares
And this might be all for you.


Smokey loved that part, the hey fat fellow with the hair colored yellow part, he always imagined himself shouting that out to some fat jackass with pretty hair trying to move in on his lady thing down at the Last Resort, so now as he sang it god damn loud and proud in his old camouflaged truck as he roared to Wal mart on a Saturday morning he felt fucking good.

Skynyrd in the morning fucking good...no fucking awesome.

Skynyrd in the morning still drunk from the night... even better.

"Yipppie ha ha mudda fuckers!" He yelled out his open truck window, flicking a sparking stub of a Salem smoke out, but no one could hear him much over the rumble of his ancient almost muffler less, terribly rusted truck.

"Yipppie ha ha mudda fuckers!"He had saw that in a movie this morning. The one he liked with the bald guy fighting them Nazi fucks in a California hotel near Christmas or something.

Up all night drinking and smoking some mighty fine weed Smokey felt right fine. He had slept a little but he was still a cob web headed son of a bitch.

Matter of fact the cobweb in his head felt like one spun by that mean mother fucker of an ass kicking spider in that elf and goblin movie.

Even after a quick BC bud wake and bake. Fucking degenerate brain spider bitch sure liked the weed yes she did.

He tried to slay that fucking bad ass spider web spinning whore with a powerful perocet this morning but the evil spider bitch just gobbled it down and smiled sweetly at him and spun some more wicked whiskey and weed head webs.

Fuck the head webs... and damn he liked his Skynyrd.

Why didn't them old boys ever make an action movie with a spider? Smokey thought laughing out loud so hard it started a deep racking lung cough.

Hell he sure was hungry he couldn't wait for his egg McMuffins and a big McSteak breakie bomb. That clean all his toxins right out. Always did...every Saturday and Sunday.

Hell sometimes he stayed on that McDeath bathroom toxic toilet for an hour after eating.

Only one more mile to paradise Smokey took a deep drink from his hair of the hound morning keystone light pounder and fired up another smoke. Simple Man, was two songs up, maybe he jumped up to it...skip that fucking Freebird bullshit.

Leaning for his radio his cigarette ash broke off onto his favorite wolf shirt. The three wolf howling at the moon shirt...his fucking soul shirt, his party shirt, his get in the pants of a lucky lady fucking shirt.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."He said smacking the ashes and spilling the Keystone beer on his balls. Well his ball because he was wearing his Saturday morning go to the Walmart torn jeans.

The ones torn at the crotch just so that one of his big balls would show if he leaned just right and the lady behind him in line looked just right..

"Goddamn..." The beer was cold on his balls. And his favorite wolf, the one howling loud and proud, looked like it had a burn hole in it. "Fuck..."

Then he saw the snake. It's big black head slithering up from under his seat. Cold, pissed off, fucking hungry, and its head was almost between his legs.

Almost at his fucking dick for Christ sakes. Hell he hoped it was a hallucination but it wasn't.

No he knew the snake and the fucking snake knew him.

He could tell by the look in its black glittering evil eyes he hated him..even though he sometimes feed him captured or bought rodents.

It was Loki Longsnake, one of his cousin Snakey's favorite and largest pets, and it loved Smokey's truck because field mice loved to nest in the glove compartment, in the trash filled truck bed, and under the seats where he dropped his subway scraps.

It was a big mean, forearmed sized, black bastard of a water snake black snake mean snake mix and it was perched between his balls.

And it look really pissed off. Eight feet of pissed off black snake mix.

Fuck...Smokey thought.

"Now Loki..." Smokey said as the truck swerved and a horn blared. "Now Loki be nice now...We can go, we can go..to the pet shop and we can...."

The snake stared in Smokey's eyes. Smokey tried to send a message of mutual understanding. peace and love. Like he did with cranky strippers who thought him to drunk and grabby...

The reptiles long tongue twitched out reaching.. the snake seem to smile.

An ash slowly dropped from his cigarette, Smokey watched it slowly tumble smoking, he shouted noooo, it took forever, the red ash, dancing down sparking settling, simmering on the snakes big black head.


And be a simple kind of man.
Be something you love and understand.

The snake snapped snatching, biting onto his ball. Fangs latching muscular mean body twisting..turning...rolling.

Smokey screamed.

The truck rolled, over and over and over, into the the big grassy, trash filled ditch beside the walmart.

People ran, drove, motor carted, stumbled, weaved, waddled, and walked from the Wal mart to the smoking ruins of Smokey's truck.

Sirens wailed.

"Hain't no one coming out of that..." One short fat fellow said with a glitter in his eyes as he rushed over. "Come on Momma..lets look"

One lady with wild eyes and wilder white hair began praying. A group formed and they knelt and prayed holding hands.

A few dozen folks babbled into cell phones or snapped action shots of the simmering truck.

Camera phones rolled.

"Get closer..."

"Is he dead...?"

"I got me a movie camera..let me through!"

"He's back there...in the grass."

"He gots to be dead...It rolled on him didn't it?"

"I never seen nothing like it..."

"Let me in with my camera..."

"Is he dead?"

"Jesus H Christ..." A big man gray bearded man with tattoos on his forearms shouted as he approached Smokey. "He's got a goddamn black snake on his balls."

Smokey moaned. His legs hurt. His head hurt. His ribs made it hard to breath, but it was his balls he was worried about.

"Don't move son...don't move." The bearded man looked at him stunned. "How the hell did that snake get on your balls boy? You weren't....doing weird things with it were ye boy?"

Not another morning snake fucker, the old timer, thought fumbling for his flask. Not this early...not driving in his truck seeking snake head. The world has gone weird.

"The Lord is with you son...the lord is here." The Wild haired lady grabbed at Smokey's hands.

Smokey groaned. Cameras clicked. Sirens sang. Skynyrd sang. Smokey wiped blood from his eyes and reached for his boot.

"Satan..." Smokey said and cut off Loki Longsnakes head with a swipe of his boot knife. "Cocksucker..."

As he passed out he worried about his wolf shirt. His shirt, and the rusted door of his truck, had saved him.

And he knew his cousin would be furious if he found out he killed Loki Longsnake.

"Saved by shirt....Satan.." He whispered to the wild women and then everything went black.

"Yess...Yess..." The women wailed. "Look at the shirt." A wolf was smeared with a hand-print of blood.

"Look the wolf has the mark of the Lord. Look the wolf has the mark of the Lord...The Lord Wolf saved him, showed him the way."

Cell Cameras clicked and rolled.

She grabbed the headless serpent and held its still writhing body aloft.. the ambulance men worked on Smokey strapping him down.

Cell Cameras snapped and rolled.

The wild haired women grinned.

"Satan came for this boy and he slew the dark beast...and the Lord left his mark on this man's wolf, on this man's minds, the Lord left his mark on us. The man named the beast and the man wears the mark of the Lord on his wolf shirt...This man will lead us...This man has been sent to show us the way and slay sin, slay Satan and to salvage our savage souls.."

"Save us!'

The cops held a crush of the curious back as Smokey was loaded onto the ambulance. People shouted, pushed, snapped pictures, rolled film.

Smokey raised a hand, flashed a thumbs up. The crowd cheered. Someone shouted about buying one of them damn Wolf shirts. Another voice said hell ya why not three?

Smokey grabbed an EMT he had gone to high school with whispered..

"Save my Wolf shirt..." Pulled him close. Bad breath close.

"And my weed its in the truck bed lock box..."

Dan Dority was dead.

In the end Dan hesitated just a fatal second to say Johnny God Damn it no...!

And Johnny shotgunned his best friend.

Both barrels.

Blew him in a red mist of bright blood back onto the glass behind the bar, bottles broke, red speckled glass cracked.

"Fucking Johnny!" Silas said drawing firing and missing, firing and missing. A whore screamed collapsed spitting blood, rolling some miners dived under a table.

Johnny fumbling for shells, crying, raging. "He shouldn't have done what he done he shouldn't have done what he done."

"You stupid cocksucker..." Al was coming now. Down the stairs fast, in just his dirty underwear his dick and a knife out. "Stupid..."

The shotgun clicked shut. Johnny raised it. Screaming "You shouldn't have killed her..."

Then Silas shoot him in the head stepping close, pistol almost to his ear, and Johnny's brains flew across the Gem covering Al.

"Fucking Jesus Christ..." Al grabbed a blood splattered bottle from the bar. Drank deep. "Fucking stupid bastard all this over a cunt..and would have thought he had all these fucking brains. Ah...Doomed Fucking Dan"

"I gotta get out of this town..." Silas shaken said kneeling over dead Dority. "I gotta fucking go."

"Al what did you fucking do?" Trixie screamed from the doorway. "Johnny!"

Al drank deeper. His liver hurt, his legs were going bad, and his mind was filled with fire.

Bullock and a plump man in spectacles appeared in the doorway. Merrick mumbling, grabbing for a bottle.

"What the fuck happened?" Bullock grunted as the dying whore bled out. The easterner, the dandy cowboy, looked stunned.

Later Al sat alone,torch light dancing, with his whiskey and the Chief's head.

The carcass of Dority was propped in the corner a bottle in his hand.

Johnny and the whore went with Wu.

Pig fucking food and you make damn sure of that Al told Wu.

"Here's to you Dan you magnificent mean cocksucker. Laid low by a moron...as we all must fucking be in the end. And to you fucking Chief another magnificent doomed cocksucker..."

Silas was gone. Gone to California he said.

Utter had saw the wreckage and said he was leaving to maybe fucking somewhere like South America where people were not so fucking cunt crazed and mad eyed mean.

Utter hadn't been right since he found Cy and his whore dead. Big Mose outside, eyes bulging, throat slashed ear to ear. Joanie dead, shot, stabbed, slumped in a chair then finally Cy drunk doing himself....Charlie, running towards the screams, heaing his last laugh and choking cry then the shot.

Doc, hacking blood badly for months, had looked at the carnage and gone home and got drunk and died three days later. Wasted away, a sad skeleton grimacing and coughing out in a bloody bed.

But Doc had saved Sophie. Alma had been gone. Gone in her fucking mind anyway for a long time after Ellsworth. Sitting, staring, at nothing.

The girl growing and pained by dreams of the dead and the look of the living had stolen the sweet drink from Alma.

The girl had wandered to close to Cy when seeking the sweet drink. Cy was passing her a bottle asking her if she wanted work when Nuttal put the shotgun behind his ear.

"You'll die for that Tom.." Cy hissed as Doc grabbed the girl and packed her east with Alma.

"Want to die now cocksucker?" Nuttal said.

No one told Bullock. No one needed his rage. The days of rage were gone and politics and his pal Roosevelt beckoned him.

Though Bullock had left for Denver City when someone in New York had telegraphed that Sophie had run away west. Maybe Denver, maybe San Francisco..maybe Old Mexico.

No one ever found her. Just another soul being sucked away west. Another lost soul haunting Bullock's nights.

Alone ine the bar with his beloved dead Al waved the orange torch and the black bottle.

Even Trixie had gone, gone with her fucking Jew to eat with the oh so fucking lovely Bullocks.

"Nothing like a civilized fucking whore..." Al shouted to dead Dan. "Nothing like a mad cunt to get you murdered."

"Fucking civilization has no place for us. Not me or you Dan and certainly not for the fucking heathen Chief. Nor for Wild Fucking Bill Hickok that town taming, whore fucking, dead cocksucker...no place for him...Back of the fucking head was best."

"It all seems a fucking dream with in a fucking dream, eh, Dan or a fucking nightmare within a fucking nightmare, ain't that right Chief? Here's to the bloody fucking future and the cocksuckers bleeding us out...always bleeding us out!"

"Another one Dan you dead limber dicked cocksucker...No? We'll I'll take it then. Well fucking Chief looks like we go like your doom seeking fucking heathen brethren..."

Al poured a bottle on the dead Chief's head.

"A drink Chief? Time flies like a fucking falcon doesn't it chief? Cheers chief! To Custer fuck him and his...You, and your heathen hordes, did for him didn't you? Loud mouth bastard had it coming but don't we all?

"Well Dan, Chief, this is goodbye. Up the fucking trail time, leave the land to the fucking Jew and his cock breathed whore and the up fucking standing Bullocks..."

Al finished the bottle. Smashed it. Grabbed a few more.

"Good bye chief...enjoy the Happy Fucking Heathen Hunting ground..Good bye Dan!"

Al lighted the decayed Chiefs head and then the bar.

Al looked back once and did a little mad dance as the Chief's head melted into a lunatic grin.

A single tear, or perhaps simple sweat, ran down Al's smoke blackened cheek as he pushed through the door.

Outside a drunk cursing Jane, in the thick mud, was nursing a battered, moaning EB who Al had beaten badly, and thrown in a puddle, earlier for inquiring about Dan's estate.

Al climbed painfully on his wagon. His team snorted.

"Shut the fuck up." he said

He stared at Jane who shouted drunken oaths at him as the Gem erupted in flames behind them.

"Shut the fuck up..." Al said and tossed her a bottle.

Al drank as the flames danced. He reached in the back and grabbed something. Something live.

"Here you always need something to fucking nurse...so nurse this fucking bar hound."

The dog landed with a splash, yelping in the mud beside Jane.

"What a fucking town...." Al said and whipped the horses as the beams of the Gem collapsed and a fire truck and frenzied firemen, rolled towards the flames. Somewhere Bullock was shouting commands.

"Fuck civilization..." Al said and lifted the bottle to the red moon. "It sure fucked us..."

--
Edited by boonedog at 08/26/2009 8:00 AM PDT

ose's Bad Day continued.....

The man beside began softly sobbing before the tank was even sealed.

In minutes Jose was soaked in sweat. He was swallowed in unforgiving blackness. A few splinters of sunlight sparkled through the air holes but it felt like a tomb.

His tomb. His mothers tomb. His heart began to race and he slowly sobbed.

Stop. Do not hyperventilate. But it has to be over a hundred in here.

But what's taking them so long? We must move and we must move soon.

We are being toasted in our tombs. Slow cooked....

Outside voices were arguing. Then Loco's voice raspy and ugly snapping a command.

Don't panic, Jose repeated it over and over in his mind as the man beside tried to stifle a sob.

We can't even move our arms. The sealed packages were piled tight around them.

Jose twitched his toes. He controlled his breathing. He dreamed of Rita. He prayed for Rita, he prayed for himself. Beside him the man was grinding his finger nails on the tank crying.

Maybe hyperventilating. Maybe dying. Why aren't we moving?

It had only been minutes but it seemed like hours, days, lifetimes....his life danced behind his clenched eyes illuminating the blackness, fighting the darkness.

Dig yourself out of this tomb Jose thought rubbing St Christopher's face. Soon you will be home....

"Okay..."The sudden rap scared him. Loco's voice was flat and hard. "We go. We move fast. You must be silent to survive. Breath, breath, breath and do not panic. Do not cry out."

Steps a final burst of angry words and the truck roared to life. Jose heard a garage door lift and they were away, rolling, rocking in the mid day heat.

The roar of the engine drowned out the man beside Jose's heavy breathing.

Loco had the radio on. Mexican pop filtered through the blackness.

Jesus was Loco listening and singing along to Rickey Martin? Jose concentrated but Loco was singing and singing badly.

Sin querer me he vuelto a enamorar
? no será que siempre ocurre a mi edad?
Fué un amor relámpago
Que me hace combatir

Eres mi principio mi final
El infierno el cielo y todo lo demás
Por un beso tímido
Te dí mi corazón

Fuego contra fuego es amar
Fuego del que no puedo escapar
Donde nadie oye mi voz
Ahí te espero yo.

The man beside him groaned. Apparently not a Martin man either.

Jose counted black minutes in his mind. A quick trip the man said. Back roads then a fast trip over the border. Beware of the dogs but Loco said his man at the Border said today was the Dog mans day off.

That was good. Jose had a fear of dogs. Especially big dogs. Big snarling dogs like the black suited border guards had. Once, in what the guard called, an unfortunate biting incident a border dog had bitten Jose in the balls.

For a promise not to report the guard had driven Jose over the border as he grabbed his bleeding balls bawling while the hound howled in the back seat. Jose worried that dog might be on duty today.

Jose was soaked in sweat and his throat was parched when he heard the siren and heard Loco swear.

Ricky Martin went silent and Loco cursed some more as the siren closed. The truck rattle, Jose heard gravel, then he bucked badly upward.

Luckily upward was only six inches. Still he painfully crunched his broken nose and shattered shin. His fucking brother still mad because he banged his girlfriend...

And even the pain pills and booze couldn't quite kill the pain in his battered legs..if he could reach them he take another, and another. But he couldn't move his arms which were trapped at his side.

The truck bounced, bucked, and stopped. The siren got closer and stopped.

Loco's voice. A hello. Jose hoped he knew the officers...and he could bribe them.

A door slamming. More voices. Loco's voice from a distance. Angry voices from further away.

Was that Loco shouting Fuck you?

A loud crack. A gun shot. Jose jumped. Another. And another.

The man beside him whimpered. Jose whispered stop.

Laughter. Closer.

Men talking searching the truck. Seats being slit. Curses.

Be silent or die, Jose thought.

A kick to the trucks side. A curse. Voices cutting the blackness.

"Come back for it later."

"I'll send Alfredo. He'll strip it. When he gets back."

"I need a drink..."

"Me too....."

Should I scream Jose thought? No they will kill us like they did Loco. But to die in here? Sealed alive in my tomb.

Scream, no someone will come. Someone else will stop then we scream. Then we are saved. Someone will come the border is close.

More voices. Doors slamming. Laughter. Someone taking a piss. A car leaving.

Silence. Heat. Darkness.

Eternity.

Jose spoke softly. "Someone will come. They would have killed us. Maybe burned us alive."

The man said yes someone will come. And began praying.

Jose thought it was three or four hours later when the man convulsed, fouled himself, foamed and died.

The heat and the stench were unbearable.

It had to be daytime. Jose could hear birds. Crows cackling he thought.

He always hated Crows. His Mother, in her tomb, always said Crows spread lies.

Jose just hoped they weren't vultures.

Sometime he passed out and dreamed of Rita. He awoke in utter darkness thinking he was in Kentucky. Brushing the horses, shoveling shit wasn't all that bad. No.

The dead man smelled terrible. Worse then Kentucky horse shit. Or maybe it was Jose himself he thought because sometime he had soiled himself.

Jose twisted, turned, thrashed screamed shouted, tried to kick, dig, roll himself free.

He bit his tongue badly. He banged his head. He bled. He passed out. He awoke and screamed and passed out again.

He awoke in an oven cooking tried to scream and could not.

The man beside him had a grinning Crow's head and was cackling. Rita was reaching for him and her hand turned into a talon.

The water bottle was right there, against his face. So close.

Tantalizing. Touching his cheek. It turned into Villa laughing then it turned into a vulture spinning, sinking. Rita...with a pitcher of icy water.

His mother turned to him in her tomb and cried. Day turned to night and to day. He dreamed of a lake.

Crows cackling. Crows mocking. Tired. Trapped. Trapped in a tomb. Trapped in his tomb. A scream was it his? Or was the dead man screaming? Or was it Rita?

Cooking. Sweating. Alone. Rita.

The dead man was Rita alive. No dead. Noooo

Trapped. Tomb tired. I tried. I tried.

No one will ever know. Oh Rita...I tried...

Night.

Day.

When Alfredo arrived late and hungover after a three day whiskey binge first he noticed the crows and vultures circling the truck.

Some were a little further away in the desert, dancing like demons and ravaging Loco.

Eating Loco's eyes and spreading lies.

That truck really stinks, Alfredo thought, pulling a red bandanna over his face. What the fuck was in it? And why would those cops want a truck that stank like that?

Alfredo always got the shit jobs. And they paid him shit still he needed the dough. Times were fucking tough and he had six kids.

So he grabbed his shovel, cursed at the carrion birds, and walked towards Loco thinking not so fucking tough now eh Senor Loco? Tough luck for mister tough guy... how ya like that lizard eating your fucking nose?

But what the fuck was up with that funky smell in the truck? No one was in it....

Hey Crow, Alfredo shouted, what's up with the fucking truck?

The hopping Crow look at Alfredo then laughed and flew far away to find easier prey.

Jose's Bad Day or Border Dreams

"She's dead and buried." His brother said before hitting him and breaking his nose.

Jose knelt bright red blood pooling on the steaming stones. His brother apparently was still pissed about Rita, and the baby not being his.

His brother throw a bundle of bills at him some fluttered into his simmering blood. "Half of what she had and I never want to see your dog fucking face again. Her last words were Where's Jose? What's taking him so long?"

His brother slammed the door. Jose gathered the blood speckled money it looked like about five thousand bucks. He'd need it to get back across the border.

His wife just went into early labor and her sister had just called and said it wasn't going well. And then she hissed what the fuck you doing in Mexico anyway, fucking Jose?

Jose took some flowers to his mothers small grave and said a few prayers for her tired soul. But he had to move and move fast if he wanted to trek across the border tonight.

As he walked from the crumbling graveyard past a pair oe wailing black covered old women he planned his border crossing in his mind. He had done it dozens of times but it never got any easier.

And he was older...and he was tired. So damn tired he just wanted to lie down. He tried to reach his wife on his cell. no service, damnation.

He needed water..he need energy bars. He needed socks and foot powder. He needed a good knife...

The teenager was flying on his small scooter trying to call his girlfriend when he ran off the road and clip Jose on his right leg.

The scooter tumbled, twisting and turning the kid flew and flipped cracking his head. Crying, crashing Jose flew into a small shrine of road rocks left to mourn some dead man splattered on this very spot.

The kid rose like a cat, blood from a gash rolling red down his panicked, pallid face, and ran away madly weaving through the chipped tombstones and dead flowers.

The cop careened to the scene as Jose was writhing on the rocks holding his knee, holding his hip, holding his nose, trying to gather his wits.

"You okay?" the jowly sweating cop said. "You don't look so good."

The cop lite a cigarette. Looked at Jose's leg."Anything broke? Want a smoke? Your leg looks fucked up." He leaned in closer.

"Yep its fucked up. Maybe broke. No bones sticking out though. That's always a bonus" He blew smoke. "You don't look like a fellow with insurance. You have any money? the kid he's gone, the scooter its stolen. He's not gonna pay. I know a Doctor if you have cash. Say five hundred to fix you up."

Jose tried to stand, couldn't and crumbled. "Okay...I have cash."

"Good." the cop smiled teeth black and missing. "And a hundred delivery fee more me, okay?"

"Okay.." Jose grimaced as the cop grabbed him and helped him to his car.

The doctor look drained. The doctor looked drunk. The doctor looked deranged. The doctor looked debauched.

"Five hundred bucks." the doctor said without emotion. "Up front..."

Jose handed him five hundred blood covered bucks. The doctor handed him a half empty bottle of cheap tequila and said drink.

Jose drank.

"It seems broke but my x ray machine is broke. So I wrap the knee. Splint the shin." The doctors shirt was stained he moved his hands and smoked as he talked. "Take these...." He tossed him a vial of unmarked pills. "And get to a hospital."

The Doctor began cleaning his abrasions hard. Jose grimaced.

"Take the pills with the tequila." The Doctor mumbled. "You want crutches? I have some. three hundred bucks, hand made by a craftsman. Me!" he said and laughed suddenly and hard at his own joke then began to cough uncontrollably.

"Excuse.." The Doctor said and downed a long tequila shot and winced then hacked some more. "Excuse..."

The one crutch was cracked but Jose didn't care as he hobbled towards the cantina.

Inside a bored barkeep watched a soccer match and sweated heavily. A big American man sat solemnly sipping beer bottles with a grinning whispering large Mexican man.

Several men were entranced with the soccer match. Jose felt like crying. He popped a pill and tried his wife. No service. Jose felt tears rolling and he put his head in his hands.

"What's wrong, friend? You bet on the wrong team, eh? or is it pussy problems?" The large Mexican was looking at him and grinning. "Life can't be that bad, eh? Your alive in a cantina, eh?"

Jose wiped his face. Be a man he thought. "My mother just died, my brother broke my nose, and my wife is sick in Kentucky and some asshole just hit with a bike and broke my fucking leg..."

"Oh..that sure sucks. Have a beer." The man handed him a beer. "What the fucks in Kentucky?"

"My wife..."Jose said and drank half the beer in one swallow. It tasted delicious.

"But what do you do? You a jockey or something?"

"I shovel horse shit in a stall..."

"Oh that sucks.." The man extended a big hardened hand. " I am called Villa. You have money I can help. I get you across the border today for three thousand. You have three thousand?"

Jose nodded his head and finished his beer.

"Really? Three thousand?" Villa grinned. "Then we go." he yelled to the American "Me and my friend must go? You be okay?"

The grim American nodded and drank a shot.

"He has pussy problems too." Villa said as they walked to his large new truck. "Everybody has pussy problems. Even in Kentucky there is pussy problems."

Villa was counting the money grinning. "Good. Good. We go, my friend." A forty five was stuck in waistband holster. Jose stared.

"No worry about that man. Villa is your friend. My good friend is going across the border near noon so we must move. We must get you back to your Kentucky pussy. How is Kentucky pussy anyway? You giving it to a gringo girl? Gringo girls need Mexican dick." Villa opened a beer and began drinking it. He handed one to Jose.

"Hydrate my friend..See we will never beat the gringos with our guns but we will beat them with our cocks." Villa patted first his pistol then his crotch. "You do Villa and old Mexico a favor when you get to Kentucky. You fuck, fuck, fuck every gringo bitch you can find. You just fuck, fuck, fuck all them gringo girls. You find Ashley Judd you fuck, fuck, fuck her. They like brown dick you see and that's how we will win. Not by the gun, no gringos are still good at killing but not so good at fucking no more, no we fuck, fuck fuck...the gringos girls and we brownize them you see? They become us, we become them, we brownize them. Yes we fuck the USA away. Fuckings better then killing, no? So you fuck for your friend Villa, you fuck Kentucky for him."

Jose just stared. "My wife's Mexican. She's a maid."

"So what...fuck the gringo bitches. You'll see Villa's plan is brilliant. We will win." He finished his beer and burped loudly. "We here..."

Inside some men were working on a large green truck. Villa called a small muscular heavy tattooed man aside and whispered and pointed at Jose. The man nodded.

Villa called Jose over. The tatted man had Indian features and dead, black eyes. "This is Loco he will take you." Villa pointed to a small man huddled in the corner. "You do not go today."

The man began to speak. "Don't argue with me. My friend has problems you go Saturday instead. So" Villa turned to Jose. "Good luck my friend and remember to fuck Kentucky for me...and Mexico. Fuck the USA away. It will be better then the fucking Alamo."

Villa turned to leave. "Oh and tip Loco first its always a good thing..." Villa laughed and left.

"We don't have much time." Loco said.

Jose handed him two hundred blood stained dollars. Loco said nothing and pointed a scorpion tattooed hand to a gas tank stuffed with wrapped packages. A small sad looking balding man stood beside it staring with wet eyes. He appeared to be praying softly to himself.

"Listen and do not talk because I do not have time." He followed Loco. "Lay in there."

Jose stared at him.

"Now! We don't have time..."

Jose laid in the tank. The sad man crawled in beside him. Loco began stuffing packages in while speaking softly.

"Have no fear I have done this hundreds of times. We put the tank on the truck. We build quickly around it. We move fast to the border. The truck is run by gas through the window wiper fluid container. We have enough to make the border then the safe house. It will be cramped but you will survive. You will be able to breath. The journey will be hot but it will be quick.:

Loco tossed them so water bottles as they lay down in the tank bed eyes wide, panic close at hand. Jose thought of Rita.

"You must not panic. You must breath. Breath." Loco breathed deep. "To panic is to die. Panic is death. Fear is death. The border smells fear. It feeds panic. Feed neither demon. And most importantly make no sounds. Speak no words."

Loco hissed "Shhhhhussssss! To speak is to die. Are you ready?"

They nodded. "Good. Seal them."

Before the tank was closed a slender, solemn girl rushed forward and handed them small medals.

"St Christopher... " She whispered. "Will protect... you."

She was beautiful Jose thought as they sealed the tank and he disappeared into blackness . So beautiful....

Flashback....

It was the dope and dual dish feed that did them in.

Snakey was slightly stoned, Smokey was very stoned, and the snakes squirming in the aquarium were extremely stoned due to the tube Snakey rigged up to blow them old serpents some sweet smelling smoke.

The snakes hissed in delight. Smokey purred. "Damn she's smoking hot..." then coughed badly sending spittle flying snakeward.

"Don't spit your rotting lungs on me you bastard." Snakey grabbed a Keystone light pounder he didn't know how long he could stand his fucked upped cousin but the heat was on in the Poconos and Cousin Smokey always had excellent smoke and a safe house.

"Look at them titties they need motor boarded..." Smokey coughed.

One screen had Nailin' Palin a rather well acted porn flick in Snakey's self proclaimed porn king opinion the other CNN with the lovely Governess of Alaska in the very fine flesh.

"Its motor boating you stupid stoned shit. What you finally bake your fucking brain...? Look at her...that fine little behind and she likes guns and fishing too?"

"Think she smokes?" Smokey was entranced by a rather randy turn of events on Nailin' Palin. "I mean dope not salmon or cigars or nothing like that..."

"Everyone up there gets stoned. Its fucking legal. Don't ya know nothing?"

Snakey was getting miserable it not even noon and the beer was about dead and his snakes were baked.

Slithering smiling. Dancing, singing, hissing, and pissing, hell they likely wouldn't even want to talk to him later. Snakey hated a group of happy stoned silent snakes.

Suddenly, as a secretary with immense fake breasts materialized on the screen, Snakey had a vision.

"Let's go to Alaska. Fuck this place. Pack your dope. Snatch up your shit. I'll by some beer and we roll. We roll light and we roll fucking fast. Don't think about, man just fucking do it."

Smokey looked at him stunned as smoke swirled around his red eyes.

"Dude sometimes your like General God damn Patton or something. Let's fucking roll...." Smokey actually jumped like a stoned going to flab middle aged massively mulleted bunny. Then he stopped. "Man we don't have wheels...that sucks."

Snakey lite a camel "Don't you worry. Just drop your cock and grab your socks boy lets go...Leave the logistics to the old Snake."

Smokey couldn't stop laughing as he gathered his gear and drank a beer. it was always a fucking adventure with his cousin. Now where did he put that pill vial?



"Its Operation Stinkovich...." Snakey crumbled his can and dropped it in the woods where old Mrs Zimmerman had dropped them from her buick with a wave and a have fun in the woods boys farewell.

It was Bob Sinkovich's deer camp. Bob was known as Stinkovich because of his love for Slavic food, especially high dosages, of cabbage, and the sulfur smell that Bob often emitted.

Still old Stinkovich always got skin. A certain honky tonk women always fell for the good old gaseous boy especially when he crowed Willie Nelson and lied about touring with Waylon and playing football at Ole Miss in the sixties.

"Ole Stink a Bitch is getting him some tonight" The boys would yell and bang the bar as Bob grabbed a big ass of a smashed bar babe and began licking her ear.

But more important to Smokey and Snakey was that Bob was away this weekend. Up state somewhere on another mad beer bender with some aging, chain smoking stripper sisters he meant at a race in the Poconos.

But Bob had left his camp truck behind. And Bob always hid his truck keys under the sun blistered camp yard gnome. The camp keys were always under the handmade "Bob, Bears, Bastards, and Beer Be Near" Camp Sign that announced "You Are Going Deep".

"Eureka..."Snakey grinned. "Let's check the beer supply."

Damn they were rolling fucking Bob had just stocked up on camp beer. They only took four cases and a bottle of Beam. Snakey almost squealed when he found snap traps with four dead but not quite decayed mice in them.

Carefully he gathered his catch and lovingly feed his still stoned snakes as they slowly slithered over each other in his travel aquarium.

"Daddy lovvvesss you. Seeeee."He said as Prince Bandar his new big black rattler snatched up two mice.

"Bandar don't be a damn bully..Share. Don't be a damn hog." He blew camel smoke at Prince Bandar and poured a bit of warm beer on him. "Damn you greedy Arab bastard I said stop..."

The snake snapped upwards eyes black, beer covered and angry.

"You no good fucking camel fucker..." Snakey said. "Jihad rattling snake bastard....I stop.."

Smokey staggered out laughing. "Man look what I fucking found....you ain't gonna believe it."

Snakey grinned turned the CD "Fucking perfect." He put his serpent tattooed paw on his cousins shoulder. "The Gods are with us..."

"Let me leave a note..." Snakey scrawled.

"Bob be back soon. Borrowed the truck and some beer. Thanks...Snakey. I'm good for it."

Snakey started the truck. Looked at the gas gauge.

"Can you believe the foul smelling fat fuck only has a quarter tank. Jesus. What if there be an emergency? What then? Poppa always said keep a full tank in the emergency withdrawal vehicle...always. damn, drunken lazy Bob...Got any money Smokey?"

"Not much. But I grabbed the change jars. But we got tuneage.."

"Put her in.." Snakey said with a grin. "Put the bitch in..."

Smokey fumbled with the CD. "Johnny fucking Horton. Perfect. What are the fucking odds? what are the odds?'

"I said this journey is blessed..."

They left the dirt road grinning, dust flying, and voices singing....

Way up north, (North To Alaska.)
Way up north, (North To Alaska.)
North to Alaska,
They're goin' North, the rush is on.
North to Alaska,
They're goin' North, the rush is on.

Big Sam left Seattle in the year of '92,
With George Pratt, his partner, and brother, Billy, too.
They crossed the Yukon River and found the bonanza gold.
Below that old white mountain just a little south-east of Nome.

Sam crossed the majestic mountains to the valleys far below.
He talked to his team of huskies as he mushed on through the snow.
With the northern lights a-running wild in the land of the midnight sun,
Yes, Sam McCord was a mighty man in the year of nineteen-one

How a dark Horse Saved the Millennium or All Things Must Pass...

"Michael rolled and lost. Again. And again.

"Double down?" Laughed the red faced man.

Michael grunted, grimaced, he was always a grim man and not much of a gambler.

"Okay..."

Snake eyes smiled.

"Again?" The red man grinned. "What will ye wager?"

This was wrong but Michael was mad. Michael's madness muddled his mind. The red man knew this.

"Well Big Boy? Play or run away?" Fangs grinned.

'What do ye wish, ye bat winged bastard?"

"Oh not much...a world wide computer crash. A panic. A pandemonium. Violence. Murder. Mayhem. Just one more Saturday night...but if your done your done." Razor nailed long fingers grabbed the dice.

"No" Michael smashed the tabled the red man winced. "One more roll..."

The red man picked his yellow tooth with a black finger.

"The bet is a Beatle. If he wins? Peace and happiness and no disturbing... all that silly shit ye love so very, very much. The Beatle bites it pandemonium and terror on the land? Are we on big boy?"

Michael was in a rage. He shouldn't do this. But in eternity what was a day, what was a decade, what was a millennium, by gosh things got boring some times in eternity and what were they but toys....

"Your on asshole." He said knowing he was in trouble win or lose.

The red man grinned and rolled the dice. My man is on the way is all he said

George wasn't really worried about the computer crash or the millennium end times terror or most anything. All he wanted was a quiet night at home with his beloved and a safe millennium eve.

He smoked. He shouldn't. He thought of John. He shouldn't. He thought of fate and death. He shouldn't. He thought how quick it all bloody went. He shouldn't.

He thought of the rolling Ganges. The eternal river of souls. He should think of that.

He tried so very hard.

He relaxed.

Still he paced. It was late. It was bedtime.

He sat bedside smoking. Too much smoking.

Were the sixties that far gone?

Damn the trip was quick.

He looked at his wife she was lovely.

A noise.

Unnatural. A smash. No guards.

Had to be something falling, he thought heart racing.

Another crash. Things falling. His things falling.

A voice. A man. A strange man. In his house. In the darkness. The darkness...

"Someones here." He whispers those dreaded words to his wife in the dark. "In the house..."

More smashing. More heart racing. Not this, not now....

"Call the police..."

Down the steps. Heart racing, Adrenalin worse then any concert. Don't pee. Don't have a heart attack, don't die. Fight, flight, fight, flight, fight, flight, no where to go....

"Who?" he asks

"Die!" the voice answers from the dark.

A mad face. Slobber. A knife slashing his hand. Oh John. A madman. Blood flying, Rolling mad curses. Mad words. Stop! More stabs. Scratch the bastard. Stop!

Save my wife, save my life. Blood on the walls.

Pain. Blood. Mad, mean devil eyes.

"Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!" Help me Hara Krishna.

Rolling on bloody broken glass. Did he bite me? Must stop the knife. Hit him, oh it hurts. Oh another madman, why John, why? What did we ever do?

On his feet swinging the mad man slashing laughing crying. Nooo! Yesss! Whyyy!

Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna! Stop him somehow but it hurts, sweet lord it hurts, and I'm tired.

My wife fighting, crawling, clawing, screaming, ripping, must not go down. She won't.

The madman comes on. Slashing. Oh my sweet lord we are both doomed, done, dead. We are going to die here! Noooo!

The mad man for a moment seemed a snarling seven foot demon.

Blink. Bite. Grab the knife. Save my life. Save my wife.

Grab the knife.

Blood. Blood, Blood. More blood. Mine. His. Mine. Hers. Mine. Johns. Why?

How did it all end like this? Just like John...

She's hitting him. Hard. A poker. Screaming. It hurts, he's bloody down, the bastard.. he's down. She still swings.

The bloody bastard. Why?

She screams swinging blood covered, blood flying. Blood splattering.

The demon moans no. The demon wails. The demon says stoppppp!

Not a demon but a bloody mad man.

Sirens.

Shouts.

Cops.

Ambulance.

John.

A siren. His last song. Our last song. Is that a sitar somewhere?

Our last song a siren song somehow. Somewhere. Fuck he needed a smoke.

Strapped. Rocked and rolled. Voices screaming. Blood and badness.

Who would have thought it ended like this.

Later.

Voices from the hallway.

"Sometimes it pays being married to a super model she swung that damn poker like a bloody baseball player...."

"I worked security in the sixties. Who ever would have thought we go from Meet the Beatles to Kill the bloody Beatles. Strange fuckin' times...my man strange bloody fucking times"

"All we need is love, eh? Fuckin unreal...And he was the fuckin' peaceful one? Fuck Ringo will out live 'em all."

"So's it goes. Happy New Year anyways...."

"Sames..what a bloody millennium it will be, eh?"

"So I fears...a bloody one, but" Glasses clink. "Cheers!"

"But we made it! Cheers!"

"To you, George, and the bloody Beatles...all ye need is love, eh?"

"And a supermodel with a bloody baseball swing..."

"Ain't that the bloody truth. Well Ringo has that Bond girl so maybe that's why they don't fuck so much with him...."

"Why don't they bugger the Stones?"

"Well the bloody Stones have sympathy for the devil...."

Laughter, glasses clinking, laughter....fading.



Dice thrown. Anger.

"Always a poor sport...?" Michael grins. "Always have to be the bastard..."

"Fuck off..." The red man crumbles the dice to dust, scatters them to the forlorn stars. "You got fucking lucky. Usually you don't get lucky...Don't ye have to get home to master? Isn't he gonna whip his favorite dog if he finds out how ye be fucking around? "

"Mister lucky" Michael grinned. "How's luck treated ye of late?"

"Tomorrows another day, tomorrows another play..." The red man flickered a finger and spark a seegar. Then he began to laugh and laugh and laugh.....

"I'll be seeing you...." he said as Michael spun away. "I'll be seeing ya soon...."

"Tell 'em where ya got it...." The red man blew smoke upwards. "Tell 'em the fun ye had.....hahahahahahahahha"

--
It's all a dream we dreamed
one afternoon long ago