Wednesday, March 13, 2013

PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK gettin' all juiced up..... 3/14/13

Annie came in and slammed the door. She threw a little paper bag of Scrunchies and other hair ornaments on the hall table. Then she stomped into the little, book-lined den and clicked on the television. Edith (who'd been quietly crocheting in a corner) looked up and said - What the hell happened to you?..... Nuthin' - said the stringy haired, little vampirina, as she punched in the numbers for the History Channel. Something about the Union-Pacific Railroad came on. She didn't like that and yelled - F*CK! F*UK! F*CK! F*CK! F*CK!..... Edith went - Will you shut the front door, you foul-mouthed little thing you?!.... Annie didn't answer, but just burrowed deeper into the throw pillows, scowling at the screen..... Where the hell's Hitler!? Ain't this the ALL-HITLER station? - she yelled. Annie likes to watch killing, perversion and satanic mayhem and this choo-choo train crap wasn't doin' it for her.

Edith went over to the desk, got a little green apple candle out of a drawer, put it in like a big shot glass (from the same drawer), lit it and gave it to her...... Here - she said, calm your little psycho self down, you weird, little bastid. Where'd you go tonight. Before the CVS for all the hair crap, I mean....

But Annie didn't answer... And Edith already knew. She just wanted her to talk about it. Witchy, Piney-Wimmen know everything. They just don't wanna look stuck up is all..... Equinox comin'. Big doings. Red Paint People in the Pines (other more or less human varieties too) got this big 'Matilda' thing comin', 'bout some girl what got herself all killed up 'fore she supposed to. She like meant to be a Talk-To-God women. That their medicine woman. That their shaman...... Horsey Skeezix, the little Jersey Debbil kid (that what you call a baby Jersey Devil) say he see her smoky ghost wafting 'round like a hula dancer. He real surprised. He say -Who you!?..... She say - Don't look at me, you little son-of-a-bitch..... So he spit his saltwater taffy right through her and she go away, flyin' back into them pine trees. 

Tomas all juiced up too. He get that way 'round Passover Time. Sit in his talk-to-God room lookin' at candles. Not aroma candles. These religious candles. You can tell, 'cause they ain't got no fancy colors in 'em Look like what old time folks used a burn on top a skulls....... And Johannon, he the disembodied spirit of the guy what saved Tomas from the fire, when them Crusader goomers try an' burn his still mortal self up in some French, Jew-church all them years ago (lemme take a breath)... wanna come back and tell it all. He wanna be the narrator. 

But them what knows us understand how territorial Mister Never You Mind can be..... That me. That who doin' the story tellin' now.

Philadelphia after dark really startin' a perk-a-late. But 'least Johnny Jump Up ain't gonna trouble nobody. Not for little while anyway. 

Little Bastid Annie see to that...

An' you best remember... We just pretend this is fiction...

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1 comment:

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