Saturday, November 2, 2013

YOUNG MORTAL SPIES WITH PRYING EYES... Tomas meets a stalker 11/2/13

The ghost 'drowned' in molten lead wouldn't tell his name and made jokes about it. Certain fragments of popular culture penetrated his solitude over the centuries. I don't know. Maybe he picks up radio waves. When Tomas asked him, he'd say 'Howdy Doody,' or 'Puff the Magic Dragon,' or 'Gertie's Dirty Bloomers.' Last one must be a nineteenth century reference. Sounds 'Flora Dora Girl' and all that.  So Tomas gave him one. A name, I mean. Called him 'Parrot,' 'cause his spiritual presence seemed to hover right by our vampiric hero's left ear. But the ghost what got dunked in molten lead liked Gertie's Dirty Bloomers best. Ghosts is like that.

And in that way they wandered through the woods, parks and forests of Southeastern Pennsylvania, sleeping in old, abandoned root cellars. As you know, vampires, especially the traveling sort positively dote on root cellars and there are many long forgotten ones out there. Tomas would curl up in a deep dark corner and the ghost would tell him stories. Night-folk love old tales. The ghost crooned ancient, Scots drinking songs and Breton madrigals, which were already quite passe by his time. Tomas never stopped him. He liked the company and didn't care one bit. In fact the only time 'Gertie's Dirty Bloomers' was ever quiet was when Tomas 'culled' someone. Then he'd just watch and look and wait. Death was a major event to the tortured spirit and he always treated it reverently.  Loved that moment where the teeth break the skin. Claimed he 'heard' it. The 'cool' blue fire part at the end when the body goes bye-bye unnerved him a bit. I suppose it reminded him of his death, the heat and all... the fires... Look, they call the blue flames 'cool' or 'cold' because nothing else around them ever burns. But they're still fire. It's still flame. Make no mistake about that. 

One night they found a hit man... a real murder for hire, mafia style hit man. You know they love dumping people in the woods. The amoral, satanic 'gentleman' smoked a cigar behind the wheel of his car. A big, black Chrysler, I think it was. The slaughtered party, now rendered into seven or eight, easy transportable plastic wrapped parcels (not from a roll..not like you'd use to seal a salad bowl.. big, thick, garbage bags, I mean) waited in the trunk. I don't know where they were gonna bury him. Who cares? .. Gertie's Dirty Bloomers tried talking to him. The one in the trunk, I mean. But he only spoke Korean and he was scared and still in shock from being diced up and all. You know, them little chain saws they sell for like suburban home owners come in handy for jobs like that. Yeah, you can use 'em for firewood. But they ain't all sold for firewood. Lemme tell you that. Look, you think the guy at Sears don't know?! 

Tomas goes over to the big, black Chrysler, yanks open the door and goes - Yo, schmuck face, get the hell out a the car!... You know he can talk that way when he has to 'cause a livin' in the city and all. Mafia guy goes - Who the hell are you, you 'P.R.' (Puerto Rican) son of a bitch. 'Cause like he can hear some a the Spanish and all. You know sometimes Tomas still sounds that way. They used to joke in the townhouse. Used to say - Lucy, I'm home... But they were family, so he didn't care.... Grabs the mafia guy. Drags him out. Slams him against the car and goes - Lemme tell you who I am.... Then he gives him the 'vampire grin' right then and there. Guy almost shits himself. Fumbles for his gun. Yeah, lot a good that's gonna do him. Two heartbeats later, Tomas chokes the guy, turns him around and chokes him some more. Bastid starts kickin' his feet and coughin' and sputterin'. Gertie's Dirty Bloomers likes seein' other guys get tortured, so he don't say nothin'. Then we get the big finale. Whoa! Do we ever.  Vampire tilts back his head, slams it down, drives the fangs right through the skull and draws out the blood directly from the brain. Guy's eyes go all jerky-like. Starts fartin'. Starts shitin'.  But he's mostly dead. Few heartbeats more and he's all dead. Tomas drops him, catches his breath (not that he needs the oxygen, but they still inhale and exhale, you know) and belches like grandpop at a barbecue. Then he kicks the body away from the car, slumps in the driver's seat and watches it burn. When it's over he looks up in the trees. Most a the leaves is down, but not all, and says - You can come down now..... Kid's voice goes - I don't wanna..... Tomas goes - Why?.... Kid's voice goes - 'Cause I'm scared.... Tomas goes - What for?... Kid goes - 'Cause I'm scared you're gonna get me..... Tomas goes - I'm not gonna get you. Are you a low-life?... Kid goes - N-no.... Tomas goes - Well, I'm not gonna get you...... But nothing.... Then he goes WHOOSH and sublimates up through the air, hovering maybe three feet in front a the kid and goes - I'd get you now, if I was gonna get you. But I'm not gonna get you, so get down.... Kid's really shaken, but he makes it down. Young, maybe like a year or two less than Tomas when they 'turned' him. Stands there with his hands in his pockets, still shakin' and all. Tomas goes - Take them God damn hands out a your pockets!..... Kid does.... Tomas goes - Now why you here?

Kid tells him.... But the other one, the one that's still up in a tree, the one who masked his scent (somebody must a helped him) is still runnin' the camera...


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1 comment:

John L. Harmon said...

'Gertie's Dirty Bloomers.' could be a spin-off piece of blog fiction!