Tales From North Of God's Country 3

Marlene was sitting on the edge of an ugly brown recliner in the corner of the living room/dining room/kitchen of her single-wide giving head to a client when Tipper and I burst through her door.
“Where’s the money Marlene?” I shouted.
Marlene said nothing as she struggled to cover both of her breasts with her one arm and the John tried to pull up trou.
“Where is it?” I used the bat in my left hand to knock over a lamp on an ugly thrift store end table next to the door. Tipper just stood quietly next to me, arms and feet crossed, leaning against the wall on the other side of the doorway, looking tough.
I walked over to the John who was still standing dumb founded next to the recliner. I politely asked him to lie down on the ground with the butt of my bat then I turned my attention back to Marlene who was now in Tipper’s capable hands on the ground as well.
I asked Tipper to get a rope out of the car and he headed out back down the wrought iron landing to the car. I knelt down between the Marlene and her monetary companion and turned and whispered in her ear.
“Just tell us where it is now and you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble.” A planted a cruel kiss on her cheek. Turning back towards the John I could tell by the smell of him he had pissed his pants, not an easy thing to do at half mast.
“What’s your name then?”
“A-Alex” he stammered.
“Well A-Alex” I laughed. “Don’t you think you’re a little old to be messing yourself?” I stood up and kicked him in the groin just to listen to his shrieking and pleading while Tipper came back and worked on tying him and Marlene up.
Now came my favorite part of any job. I don’t think it’s so much the blood and gore as the idea that these people are completely under your control. It’s like the best most twisted parental urges you’ll ever get, like candy-flipping through an orgasm on payday, the ultimate high, if such a thing exists. I stood up and headed back towards the ajar door and as I closed it, I turned back around and gave them the smile of a million demons in my soul as the last daylight they ever saw slivered and disappeared.

Tales from North Of God's Country 2

Marlene was a one armed hooker who lived just outside of God’s country in a trailer that looked as if she built it with her own two hands. I say “was” because she’s laying dead on the floor of her single wide with her few possessions scattered about her feet.
She was a small woman, standing only about four foot nine in her uneven stilettos who was actually a decent fuck, providing of course you weren’t into doggy style as it was trying to mount a three wheeled Geo Metro with the back hatch ripped off, wobbly and a loose fit.
Tipper and I first met Marlene through Johnny; our mutual hash dealer. Oh I still remember Johnny laughing as he told us about Marlene the poor bitch of a whore who would never make it out of her RV. But he was wrong, she had a shot at it, she really, honestly did…if she wouldn’t have been so stupid as to talk about the intricacies of her financial situation with people who couldn’t be trusted, which was anyone in God’s country besides yourself and who you made the deal with, especially when there was money involved. Once we found that out, Leo just had to have his take, he always had to have his fucking take.
As I drive northward with Tipper riding a queasy shotgun, today’s events are running through my mind. I wanted to talk but Tipper didn’t look like he was in the mood. How did it happen again? Leo…Leo wanted her dead. It’s funny how unimportant that all seemed now, driving at a steady fifty-five towards the beautiful rows of trees of the northern countryside. When I was young I remember wondering how they grew in perfect rows along the roadside. I asked my father and he just laughed, saying that these weren’t true forests, they had been planted by humans. Just a long play on the theater of the roadside…and I remember thinking that I had bought into it. That was the most important lesson you learned growing up fast, things weren’t always what they appeared. I felt bad, wondering why Marlene hadn’t managed to learn that one.
So there I sat, and there Tipper sat, and there Marlene rotted fifteen miles back down the road. It was getting dark, my eyes were growing sleepy and I still couldn’t get the picture of the dead woman’s eyes out of my mind…
* * *

Tales from North Of God's Country 1

I will be posting a story I am writing in sections while I finish it.

Tales from North Of God's Country

We were flying north on Irvine towards County 15 just at dusk over the cobbley potholes of the unkempt streets to the safety of the tree dotted country side. The last whispers of daylight were screaming to be heard as they were eaten by the blanket night directly in front of us. The roar of the engine, the wind blowing through my hair, a cigarette and the open road; for the first time in the day I felt alright. As long as I was running, always running from the weird badness that crept up my spine and attacked my head relentlessly if I sat still. I wish I could say the same for my companion.
He sat shotgun, clinging to the armrest as if he were some tired and lost traveler with no idea how to keep moving. He had a gigantic wad of someone else’s money shoved into his front left pocket. Tens and twenties were poking out, and looked as if they were battling for air with one another.
“Do you think she’s dead?” He turned and looked at me.
“Yeah Tipper…you shot her in the fucking head.” I replied.
“Oh”
I laughed nervously and turned back to the road.
“Pull over, PULL OVER!” Tipper opened the door and barfed all over the pavement and the car as I slammed on the breaks.
“Don’t barf on my car you goddam pussy, pull yourself together for god sake’s. We’ve got to make it to Leo’s by sunrise and we never will if we have to puke and rally every fifteen fucking minutes while you come to grips with what you’ve done.” I got out of the car and propped myself against the front driver’s quarter panel. Lighting a cigarette, I waved to some old man driving 42 down the middle of the road.
There I sat, somewhere north of God’s country leaning against my car listening to my best friends puke his guts out in the ditch behind me.
* * *

Badass image

For those of you who ever doubted the badass image would ever come to pruition, I offer up the events of early this morning. At roughly 3:30 AM after about four silos of Steel Reserve and three Busch Lights, I allowed Tipper to brand the initials JL onto the front of my right shoulder. Some people may call it drunken stupidity but I care not, I'm a Badass...I do what I want. I didn't cry either, which was a nice plus on the badass checklist...but I did moan like a whore. The J turned out really well but I dont think you be able to see the L in a few weeks.
-Youdubya

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