I wouldn't go for the bicep. If I was gonna do it I would have the name branded right on my butt. Have you ever seen bulls with the big metal rings through their noses? They have them so ranchers can pull on them and get them to go where they need to go. Usually, to be slaughtered. One of my coworkers said that all married men have one of those rings in their noses, only it's invisible.
I notice it's just before eleven. I give my tattooed friend my card and he does the same, saying that he's playing in a couple of bands and he will let me know when he has a gig. I tell him that would be cool and wish him well, and then step back into the bright sun and across the street to the hotel where my slightly autistic friend lives.
I step into the lobby and am met by many birds. There are several wire cages stacked on top of one another to my left and a colorful parrot perched out in the open at the top of them, like a member of royalty. I can't tell if it's a king or queen parrot, because I'm not familiar with birds. I think female birds tend to be less colorful for survival reasons. It's the exact opposite with the sexes of our species. With us, it's the males that are less colorful for survival reasons. The ones wearing the blue and gray suits not only survive, but thrive.
I move past the birds, and begin going up the stairs, when the old white man working the desk tells me I need to register. I tell him I'm not interested in getting a room. I'm just visiting a friend. He says it doesn't matter. I need to sign in. There's a resident standing in front of him negotiating his bill. I go and look at the birds and wait for him to settle his account.
Finally, the old white man behind the counter and the resident come to a mutual payment agreement and I register. The old white man behind the counter asks for identification, and I show him my driver's license, and then he asks who I'm visiting. I tell him, and he has me sign my name on a clipboard. He writes the time next to my signature. He tells me my friend is on the second floor.
I'm walking up the stairs. The ceiling is low and the furnishings consist of second hand chairs. I make my way past the first floor, and once I get to the second floor, I walk it twice before I find the right room. I knock on the door and am greeted by my slightly autistic friend.
He invites me in and I'm stunned by the smallness of the room. It's about the size of a jail cell, or a walk-in closet. There's a bed and a dresser, a sink in the corner, a tiny closet, and a table that has a small refrigerator and television on top. There is a hot plate under the table on the floor.
He shuts the door and I take two baby steps over to the bed and sit. He works at the grocery store where I shop and I see him around. He mentioned once that he has been in the city for over three years and doesn't really know anyone. I gave him my number and told him to call. He did and that's why I'm here. He bought a telephone answering machine and wants help connecting it.
The television is a black and white model with fuzzy reception. I catch the occasional flickering clear picture of a cop show that was on many years ago. It deals with an old white guy as the cop. I would not be scared if he was on my trail. It would be a breeze to outrun that geezer.
I look around the room and see that he has several pictures up similar to ones I have in my room. You know, pictures of pretty girls. We talk and I find out that his birthday is near mine and that we are very close in age.
I get the weirdest feeling. Kinda like I'm looking in one of those funky mirrors that you might find in a carnival or the funhouse of an amusement park. The ones that distort your image so you look grotesque in some way. I feel like I could have been him, had things been different.
I do my best to shake this feeling and ask him to let me see his answering machine.
twenty-five
I'm home. And let me tell you, I have a new appreciation for this place. My bedroom is as big as that whole room in the hotel.
Sometimes, I see the homeless folks who are literally camped out on the sidewalk around here, and get the feeling that could have been me. They have tarps or blankets thrown over shopping carts and huddle underneath, claiming a spot for the night, trying to stay warm.
Things are fragile. All those Wall Street tycoons in the Twenties thought they were untouchable before the big crash. The next thing you know, they were out windows, like desperate divers into empty pools.
When E got back from San Luis Obispo, she called and said we probably wouldn't be getting together for Halloween. So, I made plans to go to this club that had an ad in the paper, promising fun for all. However, E called the day before Halloween. She said she wanted me to take the train down, and accompany her to a couple of parties. She told me to meet her at her work, and this time, I agreed. I didn't feel like waiting on top of a locker again for forty-five minutes.
I hadn't planned a costume for Halloween, so I decided to be the Devil. I know this is strange, but I didn't know what else to do. I don't think the Devil exists. Basically, I was dressing as something I don't believe. I didn't wear horns or a tail or anything like that. I just wore sharp clothes, and whenever anyone asked who was I supposed to be, I told them and smiled.
The train ride was the same as before. When I got off at my stop, I had to walk a good while in dressy shoes to get to E's work. It looked a lot closer on the train map. If I had known how far it actually was, I would have worn sneakers and carried my shoes. Oh well, I guess it was my payback for choosing to be the prince of darkness.
I walked along the main street passing the strip-mall businesses, you know, the pre-fab cookie-cuttered places that you see everywhere. The clone stores. It started to drizzle and I stood under the awning of a video store and waited for it to stop. I would catch some of the passengers going by in the cars do a double take at me. I was conspicuous. I looked like a movie star.
The drizzle stopped and I continued my fantastic journey along the main street until I finally got to E's work. I was about a half-hour early and decided to go into the coffee shop of the motel next door.
I got a cup of coffee and a slice of pecan pie. The people working at the coffee shop were dressed for Halloween. They seemed so sweet that if any of them asked me who I was supposed to be, I was gonna lie and say nobody in particular.
The waitress was dressed as a clown. She smiled the biggest smile I had seen in a while as she took my menu from me. She brought me my pie and I ate as slowly as I could, staring out the window at the grayness all around, listening to the hits from yesteryear that sneaked out from the restaurant's speakers overhead.
I don't know if it was that I had been walking for so long, and that the mere act of sitting caused everything to seem like it was going in slow motion or what, but everything did feel like it was going in slow motion. Not even the two cups of coffee I downed helped speed things. It was like trying to run in water.
Eventually, my watch hands creaked along to show that it was time to go. I paid the bill, left a tip and went next door to see E. I walked into her place and saw that everyone was in costume. She asked who I was supposed to be, and when I told her, she disapproved.
A co-worker of hers didn't seem to mind. It was obvious that she liked me. She was dressed as the actress from that old television program you've probably seen, about the group of folks ship wrecked on an island, and there was an obvious spark between us. When we made eye contact it was like there was an electric wire attached to our brains and I could feel it vibrate and hear it hum. E must have sensed this, because we didn't stick around very long.
E was dressed like a leopard and she had me wear her full-length leopard skin coat so we matched. I didn't mind, because the coat looked good, and even with that spark I had felt with her co-worker, she was the one I wanted.
We got in her car and she said, let's eat, and then go home and change before going to the parties. I said, wherever she wanted to do was fine. We went to this upscale place where we were the only ones dressed for Halloween. E knew the waitress and chatted to her about the restaurant she used to work at before this place. E used to date the waitress's old boss and appare
ntly he was a real jerk, because they both made it clear he was not someone they wanted to ever see again.
We ate and then left for E's place, so she could change. Inside, it was still the same. Everything everywhere. I waited downstairs while she went to her room to put on something new. There was a box of old oversized books next to the sofa and I sat and thumbed through one.
After I read many, many, poems, E appeared in full combat attire, wearing a green army outfit and camouflage paint on her face. She was holding a martial arts robe, asking me, wouldn't I rather be a karate man and I told her, no thanks, I was happy being who I was. She shrugged and tossed the robe on the sofa.
I asked her if I could wear her full-length leopard skin jacket and she said no, because she was no longer dressed like a cat. I told her we really didn't match with her dressed like a soldier, but she still said I couldn't wear her jacket, because it made me look like a pimp. I figured no meant no, so I didn't argue any longer. I wish I could have worn that jacket. It really looked good on me.
Before we went to the first party, we went around her neighborhood, visiting her favorite trick or treat houses. There was one that had a dinosaur head rigged up so that when you rang the doorbell, its mouth opened and offered some candy on its tongue. Another was a haunted house where a person dressed in a black robe and skeleton mask led us around, while ghouls and monsters leaped from behind doorways grabbing at us. The payoff for putting up with all that silliness was pretty good. The black robed skeleton was very generous with his treats. We also visited other neighbors of E's. They were friendly and glad to see her. Their house was impressive. They were obviously quite wealthy.
On the way to the first party, E drove me by Mr. White Christmas’s house. It was quite large and had a big gate. I asked her if she ever met him and she said she saw him in town once in a while. When I was a kid, I saw the kicker for my pro football team. A friend and I ran into him at the department store near my house. He had blown a game the week before, so we weren't exactly nice to him.
twenty-six
The first party was in a high rise apartment building next to E's gym. The people who invited her were from the gym. We parked on the street and followed the handwritten sign that pointed the way to the party. We went up stairs, elevators, and along hallways, eventually locating the lair. The door was open and we stepped into the company of children. I would say the average age of everyone was twenty-five and they were busy doing the things that twenty-five year olds do: heavy drinking and heavy petting.
E spotted the guys that invited her and we said hello. They asked who I was supposed to be and when I told them, they didn't know what to say. I smiled and told them their costumes looked great. One was dressed in a trench coat and when he opened it, he revealed a very large dangling replica of male genitalia.
Most of the girls at the party thought his costume was hilarious and I must say it was rather bold in its own way. The other gym guy was dressed in combat gear and had his face painted. Had he been better looking, he and E would have matched.
The kids made gelatin desserts with vodka. One of the girls was dressed like a prostitute. She wore a lot of make up and very little clothing. She walked around offering the treats from a large plate. When she made her way to me, I declined, and got a very, very, good look down the inside of her loose tank top.
E noticed this and elbowed me in the ribs very, very, hard. I looked at her and could see that she was angry. I told her she didn't have to elbow me so hard. She got huffy and went to the kitchen. She started flirting with the boys, especially the gym guy in combat gear.
I turned away and stepped out onto the balcony. There was a couple making out on a chair and we did our best to ignore one another. I rubbed my ribs and leaned on the balcony, looking down at the quiet suburban sidewalk and up at the moon.
E joined me. She did her best to ignore the couple making out in the chair. I asked her if we could please go to the next party and she said, didn't I want to stay longer and look down all the other girls' tops?
I stared at her, and then answered that, actually, I would prefer to leave. The couple in the chair was oblivious to us and continued slurping away. This bothered E and she said that we might as well go.
On our drive to the city where the next party was, I asked E if I was the only person she was seeing.
She said, of course not, and listed off three other guys' names and occupations that apparently were vying for her attention like myself. It felt like someone kicked me in the groin and I didn't say anything for a long time.
She said that she would try and come to the show I had invited her to the day after tomorrow and I absently answered that would be great.
I had forgotten that I had sent her a flier for a show my friend was playing on Monday night at the Hotel Utah, and was thinking that I would like to go ahead and jump out of the car. We were only going the speed limit, and if I landed right maybe I wouldn't actually die. Perhaps the worst I would suffer would be a broken neck or head. I already had a broken heart.
The second party was over the hill from my place and was a much more enjoyable scene. There were many more Devils beside myself. Some were quite elaborately presented with horns and tails.
If there is such a thing as Satan, I don't think he would make himself conspicuous like a cartoon character. My guess is that he would actually be a woman and look like the nicest girl you could ever want to meet.
The party had a movie screen over a garden courtyard, on which an old black and white scary movie was projected while techno music was playing. E's boss was the one throwing the party. We said hello and made small talk for a while before excusing ourselves to the kitchen to get Halloween punch.
Neither of us were in a very good mood. Mine was due to the fact that I wasn't her one and only and I had no idea why she was sour. My guess is that she was still mad at me for looking down that girl's tank top at the last party.
There was a room set up with a coffin leaned against the wall and an instamatic camera. I took the camera and told E to get into the coffin. She said no. I told her to smile and then took two quick pictures of her. She said she wanted to go. I put the wet and still developing pictures in my coat pocket and followed her to the car. She walked ahead. I stopped and let her go.
She noticed I wasn't following, and turned and told me to hurry. I told her I could walk home. She looked at me with a blank expression on her pretty face, said for me to suit myself, and left.
I sat on the steps of a home and looked at the big black sky. I thought about going back to the party. I didn't really feel like it, and since it was well after midnight anyway, I figured Halloween had ended. I stood and walked up the steep street, stopping at the top to look at the skyline of the city.
The lights on the Bay Bridge seemed stretched out to infinity. I remember muttering something to myself about E, and then turning and heading down the other side of the hilly street, walking home in absolute despair.
When I got to my room I pulled out the images of E and pinned them on my bulletin board. I took off my shoes and hung up my coat and then looked at the photos very intensely. A wave of panic crashed over me.
I removed the pictures and tore them into little pieces, vowing that I had to break up with E as soon as possible. The next day I called her, fully willing to talk to her live, but instead got her answering machine. I told her that I didn't want to see her again, and that I really had fun with her, but since she was dating three other guys anyway, it really should not be that big of a deal.
twenty-seven
It's Saturday night. I'm standing in line with a co-worker, waiting to get into this club that is open once a month. It bills itself as a large indoor adult entertainment playground and promises fun for all. That sounds good to me. The majority of the people in line are young white couples.
There are other types in line: transvestites, homosexuals and the Loners. Surprisingly, the Loners seem to be evenly divided between men and women. Won
derful. I think that Loner girl over there with the blonde pig-tails and glasses is cute.
My co-worker points out a Loner girl that he likes, an older, slightly overweight woman wearing all black. To each their own. She does have a pretty face.
We make it to the front desk and are greeted by a white homosexual man wearing very little, and what little he is wearing consists of black leather straps. There is a big sign on the wall with the club's rules, and as he takes our money and stamps our hand, he tells us to read them, which we do.
My co-worker wants to check his coat. We go into a black light room decorated with day-glow art and lava lamps. He hands his coat over to the coat check girl, who is really a black man made up like a girl.
We walk around the first floor, studying the rooms. Apart from the coat check room, there is a torture chamber where the hosts wear medieval type costumes, stretching people out on racks and teasing them with hot irons and whips. This room is very warm from the burning coals and the air is quite pungent.
Derek Henkel - Dirty Red Kiss.txt Page 10