The Mind is a Razorblade

by Max Booth III

  Off in some other world, Molly manages to climb out of the dumpster, brushing sticky globs of garbage off her clothing in disgust.

  “Eww!” Ezzy laughs, using her tiny thumb and index finger to squeeze her nostrils together. “Yuck!”

  “Yeah, honey, yuck is the right word,” Molly says, flinging what appears to be a used condom over in the Rev’s direction. Unfortunately her aim is just a little off and it goes SPLAT! against the brick wall behind him.

  The Rev flinches, as if he’s expecting another round of condom attacks, and says, “Eh, the hell? That was unsanitary as shit.”

  “And leaving my child in a dumpster wasn’t?” Molly asks.

  “Oh, you’d rather I took her upstairs to the fookin’ gun show, yeah? Come off it, Mol. And besides, it’s not like I threw a splooge balloon at her or anything. Really, that was just uncalled for.”

  Molly sighs and grabs Ezzy from me, pressing her head against her shoulder. I am stricken with the urge to take her back and yell MINE! but somehow at the last second I am able to stop myself. “All right, you may have a point. But I’m still upset with you.”

  The Rev offers a white flag of laughter as we all head out of the alley. “Yeah, when aren’t you? Hell, last week you were pissed at me ‘cause I brought Bob-O home with a tat of Betty Boop on his ass.”

  I stop walking. “Wait, I have a tattoo on my ass?”

  “Betty Boop is a whore,” Molly says.

  “Whore!” Ezzy echoes.

  * * *

  Not wanting Ezzy to see the dead bodies in our apartment, we have the Rev stay outside with her on the sidewalk while Molly and I go back up to retrieve the duffel bag, along with her shoes and my...uh, slippers. I make sure to stash one of the submachine guns in my coat pocket for safe keeping. This thing is long from over. A part of me feels like it will never end.

  When we return outside, the Rev gives my funny bunnies one look and nods in approval. “Right on.”

  “Thanks.” I shuffle the weight of the duffel bag in my arms.

  “Well, now what?” Molly asks, holding Ezzy close to her chest. The baby’s eyes are closed and she couldn’t look more at peace with the world.

  “I guess you lot could start by filling me in on what wonderful adventure I seem to have missed out on.”

  “We need to get moving first,” I say. “It isn’t safe here anymore. How far away is your place?”

  He looks at me like I must be joking. It is a look I’ve come familiar with tonight. “Nice one, mate.”

  “It isn’t too far, Bobby,” Molly says. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  We head down the sidewalk, the Rev stumbling behind us, trying to make sense of the situation. “Bob, I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but you aren’t well tonight, are you?”

  “What was your first clue?”

  “Well, uh, probably the dead dude up in your apartment.”

  “Two dead dudes.”

  “Oh, shit. Okay, then the two dead dudes up in your apartment. Yeah, that was my first clue. But, uh, you see mate, you got some black shit all over your neck there.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

  “Man, what the hell is that? Now I know that shit isn’t sanitary. Not at all.”

  “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

  “It looks like you gave Cancer a blowjob and it blew its load out through your fucking throat.”

  “Nice.”

  “Oh my God!” Molly exclaims, then hushes down her tone as she remembers the nearly sleeping baby in her arms. “He’s right.”

  “Thank you, Molly,” I say.

  “So are any of your blokes gonna tell me what the hell is going on or what?” the Rev asks.

  “You really want to hear it?”

  “No, I don’t want to hear anything about how you straight up murdered a motherfucker and chugged down on Cancer’s monstrous dong. What do you think?”

  “Okay, okay, it’s just a long story is all, and pretty...weird.”

  “It’s very fucking crazy is what it is,” Molly says.

  “All right, now I must hear it.”

  “Well...okay.”

  And I tell him.

  When I’m finished, the only question he has for me is why I felt the need to go into detail during my and Molly’s sex scene.

  “Just because,” I tell him. “Just because.”

  * * *

  I don't know how it's possible, but the Rev's place is even shittier than my own apartment. What he lives in doesn't even qualify as an apartment. A motel room wouldn't do the place justice. The word "garage" comes to mind, yet that isn't exactly right, either. It's this big open space with a stone floor, four walls, and a heavy titanium door that we have to push up to get inside. There are a dozen identical garages lined up next to each other—whether other people live in those, I have no idea. To be honest, I'm a little shocked that the Rev lives here. But he does. At least someone does—the half-broken futon and the myriad piles of discarded clothing make enough of a case.

  We pull the door down, hiding us from the outside world. There is no way to lock it from the inside, so any real safety is more imagined than factual. The Rev pulls a long chain down from the center of the ceiling and a dim light bulb brightens next to it. For the moment, we have escaped the darkness. Although I know it is not far behind.

  Ezzy scrambles in Molly’s grasp until she sets her down on the floor. She immediately crawls over to the futon and snatches up a purple teddy bear, hugging it close to her soft chest.

  "Oh, shit, didn't even realize I had forgotten Donut," the Rev said. He bends over a small refrigerator plugged into the corner of the room and grabs three bottles of beer out of it, giving one to myself and one to Molly.

  "You know damn well we would have never gotten her to sleep tonight if she didn't have that bear," Molly says.

  The Rev shrugs. "Then I guess it's a good thing your boy here pissed off the whole city and you had to end up killing some dudes."

  "Yeah. I guess so," Molly says.

  "Shouldn't she be asleep right now, anyway?" I ask.

  "I think tonight we can make an exception," Molly says. "Now bend over by the light so I can look at your neck."

  I get down and Molly and the Rev both hover over me.

  "Oh, God," Molly gasps.

  "That is the fucking grossest thing I have ever seen, hands down," the Rev says.

  Their disgust is well hidden.

  "Describe it to me, would ya?" I ask. The itch is becoming overwhelming. "What does it look like?"

  "I don't know, mate, kind of like you got shot, to be honest. It's just this disgusting fucking hole, and it's all black goo inside. But...fuck me, it's like the goo is moving, I guess? Pulsating or some shit."

  "What, like it's alive?" I cry out.

  "Shit," the Rev says, and doesn't follow through with another response.

  "Now, don't freak out, baby," Molly says.

  Which obviously makes me freak the hell out.

  "I said don't freak out!"

  "I can't help it!" I shout. "This is pretty goddamn worthy of freaking out!"

  Both Mol and the Rev hold me down on the floor, struggling to keep my body calm as they examine the animated cancer in my neck. I feel like a mental patient attempting to escape from an asylum. It's not happening. It'll never happen. Dream on.

  "Okay, fuck this," the Rev says. "Sorry, mate, but I can't help it. I'm gonna have to touch this thing."

  "What? No, you don't have to touch it! Why the hell would you have to do something like that?"

  "Dude, you aren't seeing what I'm seeing. I gotta touch this. So, sorry and whatever. But I'm gonna."

  "No you're not! Do not fucking touch it!"

  "Okay, fine, I won't."

  "Thank you." I sigh, attempting to breathe normally again.

  The room goes silent save for our heavy breathing and Ezzy's curious giggling. Then the Rev's grip tightens around me.

  "All right, so I lied."
<
br />   "Whaa—AAARRRGGHHHHFFFUUUUUCCCKKYOOOOUU."

  It's like the back of my neck is a nuclear bomb and his finger is the detonator, and when they connect, total Armageddon erupts. His finger probes the source of my pain and every nerve in my body screams at once. He's found the single most agonizing spot in all of humanity, and he sure as hell isn't being gentle about it. All thought escapes me, my head filling with a fiery white blankness. Even my teeth shriek of pain. I try to get up and run away, but it's no use. They're both on top of me now, and I'm just in too weak of a state to fight. They're killing me. They're fucking murdering me just like I've murdered God knows how many other people. It is my time.

  "Da-doo! Da-doo!" Ezzy shouts, crying now too, frightened at what is happening to her father. With the side of my face pushing against the cold floor of the Rev's residence, I watch my daughter staring at me with absolute horror. She hugs her purple teddy tightly against her chest and I try to forge a smile to let her know everything is okay. Unfortunately, that smile is quickly replaced with another scream.

  Because seriously, holy crap, ow.

  "GET OFF OF ME GODDAMMIT!"

  "Hold on, you pussy." The Rev grunts from atop me. "Hold still, I almost got it..."

  "Almost got what?"

  "Just...hold still...almost...almost...I think I got it. Holy shit, I got it, I got it! Holy shit!"

  A massive weight is pulled from my neck and my migraine evaporates like smoke through a vacuum. Molly and the Rev jump off me and I roll around on my back, panting like a dog. The Rev stands above me, holding something up to the light bulb, his face animated and intense. Molly's fallen on her ass, and is now scooting over to Ezzy, both of them crying.

  "What is it? Tell me!" I try to stand, but I’m drowning in nausea. The room spins and I do what I can to hold on to consciousness. Hold on.

  The Rev looks at me, looks at the thing in his hand, then looks back at me. He appears about as pale as I feel.

  "Mate," he says softly, "this...uh, this..."

  "What? What is it? What the fuck is it?"

  "This is, uh, this is seriously, undoubtedly, the most fucked up thing I have ever seen. Besides your penis, of course."

  I try not to wonder why and how he’s seen my penis. "Shut up and just show me!"

  He shrugs and turns his hands around, presenting something big and black dangling in his grip. It isn't just dangling, no, it's squirming. And then I realize he is holding the thing by one of its legs. One of its many, many legs.

  He's holding a spider.

  A spider which he has pulled out of my neck.

  Out of me.

  Oh my God.

  My mind surrenders to darkness and the last thing I feel is my head smacking against the floor.

  (memoria iv)

  when the darkness finally evaporates and the light returns, I’m lying flat on my back. the rays of the sun glare down above me and penetrate through my body. i know the sun is supposed to be hot and bright, yet it fazes my eyes no more than a small cobweb would my legs. i don't even want to get up, i’m content lying here on this sidewalk, never to move again. there are no concerns or worries or anything else bad when you're on the ground, looking up at the sky. there are no cult leaders tracking you down, no ghost doctors exploding, no funny bunny slippers, no hearts in coolers.

  there aren't any spiders crawling out of your neck.

  but of course, nothing good can last, nothing gold can stay. soon my body begins to levitate up, a mysterious set of god-like arms pushing me into a standing position, and once again i am on my feet, facing a world of oblivion. me #2 stands in front of me, leaning against the brick wall of some huge building, taking long drags off a cigarette. this downtown section is much different than the area of downtown i've experienced. instead of a sea of vagabonds, the street is actually littered with passing automobiles. everyone is driving past us, not giving us the time of day. they have their own futures to live. we might as well be nothing more than floating orbs to them.

  i turn back to me #2 and say, ‘well, what are we doing here then?’

  and of course he doesn't respond, because that would just make things easy.

  the door to the building swings open and out strolls a man buzzed hair. a demented grin extends across his scarred face as he jogs down the steps. he carries a brown paper bag as he approaches my younger self against the wall.

  i am immediately reminded of the harvested heart i'd discovered in the cooler, and freeze up.

  please don't be another heart. i don't think i can handle two of those today. christ no.

  ‘you ready?’ the man asks.

  ‘you get it?’ me #2 says.

  ‘of course i fuckin' got it.’ he holds up the brown paper bag for emphasis.

  ‘well, then let me see. i need to know what one of these babies looks like.’

  the man scans his surroundings, and reluctantly conceals the bag in his pants pocket. ‘later. there's too many people around.’

  me #2 sighs. ‘pussy.’

  ‘screw you, bobby.’

  me #2 laughs and drops his cigarette butt to the ground. "let's go, dave. before...someone sees us."

  i follow behind as the two men head down the sidewalk. i guess i should just be relieved that i'm not back at the rev's place, fighting a goddamn neck spider. because seriously, neck spiders are just awful.

  ‘how sure are you this thing is going to be here?’ me #2 asks.

  the other guy—dave—shrugs. ‘if lamb says he's going to be here, he's going to be here. lamb's never wrong about this shit.’

  ‘yeah,’ me #2 says, ‘but wasn't lamb also the same guy who thought new england was a country?’

  ‘yup,’ dave says. ‘also the same dude who butchered that one man's entire family because he corrected him about new england not being a country, too. so, there's that.’

  ‘fair enough.’

  dave laughs and gives me #2 a friendly, almost patronizing slap on the back. ‘alls i'm sayin' is you gotta be careful what you say about certain people. don't matter if you don't think anyone can hear. stuff like that gets around, ya know? words travel with the wind, and in this city, it gets awfully windy.’

  and just like that, the three of us are interrupted by a black sedan pulling up against the curb. me #2 tenses up, while dave doesn't seem to give it a second thought. however, once a man in a suit gets out of the car and slams the door behind him, dave decides that this new arrival may be of importance after all.

  ‘yo, you gotta problem, buddy?’ dave says. his smirk drops dead at the sight of the man's badge.

  ‘detective marvin oasis,’ the man in the suit says, approaching us with a bright, cheery grin. ‘how's it hangin', boys?’

  oasis.

  now there's a name i recognize.

  this is a dead man in front of us.

  a man i’ve killed.

  ‘what do you want?’ me #2 says, giving the cop a mean stare. dave seems a little startled at past me's attitude with the officer. honestly, so am i.

  oasis laughs. ‘what do i want? you mean, like, right now? or in the long scheme of things? because, in the long scheme of things, well, i suppose i want indigo. but right now? boy, i tell ya, i could really go for a meatball sandwich.’

  ‘we're not subway,’ me #2 says. ‘guess you better keep looking.’

  oasis seems thoroughly amused. ‘well, i was actually on my way to subway right now, when, by some magnificent stroke of luck, i happened to see you two trottin' down the sidewalk. and methinks, why, i know these two. they're always hanging out with jason lamb's lot. and if there's one person i truly can't stand, it's jason lamb. so, methinks, methinks...what are these two doing out here in the middle of the day, walking down my neighborhood for? i just wanted a meatball sub, but now i'm gonna have to actually do my job. which, honestly, is a damn shame.’

  he clocks his fist against dave's unsuspecting face, sending him to the ground and shouting a rather inappropriate obscenity. me #2 leaps
at the detective, but is blocked and thrown against a nearby trashcan. i just stand, watching in awe, thinking this dude is completely insane.

  in a city of lunatics, who is the most mad?

  ‘so, you all gonna start emptying those pockets, or am i gonna have to frisk ya?’ oasis asks. the way he asks, it’s like he would rather frisk us. like he enjoys doing things the hard way.

  ‘i’m pretty sure this is against protocol, just a little bit,’ me #2 says, standing back up.

  ‘this is fucking bullshit, is what it is,’ dave shouts, remaining seated on the ground, rubbing his jaw.

  ‘are two criminals seriously giving me lip about breaking the law?’ oasis laughs, nearly giggling. ‘give me a break. now empty your pockets, and let’s see what i can arrest you for.’

  staring down the detective like he’s the cause of all horrors in the world, me #2 digs into his pockets and pulls out a wallet, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes.

  ‘unless tobacco has become illegal overnight, i doubt you’ll found much cause there, bucko,’ me #2 says. the cop takes one look at the stuff in his hands and smacks it to the ground.

  then he looks down at dave. ‘now you.’

  the bleeding thug reluctantly empties his pockets: a wad of cash, matches, casino chips (the same kind i found at the river), a few gold chains, and a pack of gum. he shrugs. ‘that’s it. i swear.’

  ‘bullshit,’ oasis says. ‘you don’t have that big ol’ jacket on for no reason. cough up the goods, baby.’

  dave gives me #2 a look, as if asking what to do, and me #2 just shrugs, implying to go ahead. and i’m standing here in the middle of all this just praying to god he isn’t about to pull out a fucking heart.

  just walk away, oasis. before it’s too late.

  ‘fine,’ dave says, reaching in his jacket and coming back out with the brown paper bag. oasis snags it from the thug’s hand.

  ‘here we go,’ he says, opening it greedily. he pokes an eye inside, peeking through in what i presume to be his way of checking for any syringes waiting to poke him. once he determines the coast is clear, he dumps the bag’s contents out into his other hand. a small, silver whistle drops into his palm.

  he looks at the whistle calmly, examining its every inch. i’m right in front of him, looking at it just as perplexed. what the hell?