To a fan that would get it - db

distance, has no way of making love understandable, he once said

sitting there, heart in hand, don’t cry, it laughed, then bled

fluttered valves and reversed current

you sit and think and sometimes believe it weren’t

what was i thinking when i let go of you

: yankee : hotel : foxtrot : zantazoo :

and indeed i’ll answer that call, i will comply

but aren’t i just one other guy?

for if there weren’t such expendable recruits

maybe we wouldn’t be so reluctant to re-lace our boots

and so the time comes to start a new

but what was i thinking when i let go of  you

v3 - (sectioned: paragraph 5, shortened)

Jake began to sit up now, but he hesitated every few seconds. He had been trying this for a while now. His body slowly crept up the side of the cubby. When he was finally upright, he officially docked his back against the panel door and breathed heavily. His left hand was placed firmly in the middle of his upper body. The entire kitchen was freezing but the kitchen floor especially. He lay there not moving for several minuets starring at the ceiling. The sink was still on. The white noise provided an unwelcome, soothing blanket of comfort. Jake shook his head violently. He clenched his other hand as the pain started to increase. His eyelids were now starting to descend. He felt as if he were falling. Small traces of black were rushing across his vision now. He shook his head again and again trying to recirculate himself. The pain increased even more so. His arms were now pulsating very heavily and he could feel that his body was getting hotter. A sweat drop fell off the edge of his right eyebrow and rolled off onto his red stained shirt. He clenched his hands several times once again and leaned forward slightly. He brought his legs in and used the side of the cubby to lift himself. He stood hunched over now, leaking. His eyes were starting to water. Jake pulled back his hair with his right hand and blinked his eyes harshly. He stood still, upright. Suddenly the entire house shifted violently and Jake lost control and hit the floor. His skin smacked the tiling and more pain arose from within. His hand, now removed from his chest, let it all out. The floor was covered in it now. He quickly reapplied pressure and lay back against the cubby sitting up. He sat there for several more minuets exhaling violently. The puddle underneath him was now extensively large and he could see it without shifting his eyes. In the reflection of his body’s pond he could finally understand; the valves in his heart had reversed. His thoughts launched themselves directly from his childish mind, through his chest and onto the tiled floor where it would stay. Slowly the pain loosened its grip over him. He could see clearly again. Calm, Jake stood up one last time, removed his t-shirt and starred down at himself. The hole was gone.

Authors notes -(unedited, unrevised)version 10, fuck a dick, yeah, 10. yeah.)

At least fifty men were divided randomly throughout the circular card tables that wadded like lily pads on the pond of cigarette smoke and crude laughter. Women were scarce in places like this one, but there still managed to always be a few near the bar flirting. If they weren’t inside they were outside, lined up together with mini skirts that would make you drop a jaw or two. The young bartender had retired for the night and the owner was now working overtime through the after-hours.

Jet and Sam sat turned away from the bar, they’re backs against the rest, facing the door. Jet took a sip of his flask even though the previous two were all empty ones.

“So how much is this one anyway, Jet?” Sam inquired.

“It’s not much, but at least it’ll buy us food for next week,” Jet replied emptily.

                 “Are you kidding? That’s all we’re dealing with! You said the next one was gonna be a real whopper. You said!”

                 “Hey, it’s not my fault. The market’s been real slow lately. How am I supposed to control what people do. With this new police expansion there hasn’t even been a lousy murder in this god forsaken city for an entire month.”

“So why are we here? Forget this city. Can’t we go to New York?”

                 “How many times do I have to tell you, Manhattan is way too crowded for guys like us. The market is seized. We’d never get a hit. And even if we did, chances are we wouldn’t catch it first.”

Sam slumped in the bar stool and let out a long sigh.

“Not tonight Sam, we can’t afford to miss this. Stay frosty.”

“Why are you so anxious about this job anyway? I mean, besides the money, you look a little concerned.”

“The electric company is up our asses again. They sent a red notice today. They said if we don’t get last months bill money in, we’re fucked.”

“Fucked? What are they gonna do? Inflate us again. Big deal, we can take it!”

“Were you listening to a god damn word I was saying? They sent a red notice this time. That means we’ll get tagged if we don’t pay up.”

“Can they really do that? I mean, it’s only an electric-”

“Shh, quiet!.”

Sam’s head shifted toward the door. A tall, lanky man had entered. He wore brown slacks with a short leather jacket that made him resemble that of a spruced-up fighter pilot. They both watched as he made his way over to an empty table. The man’s short, fluffy, blonde hair almost made him look pathetically easy but Jet wasn’t one to let his guard down. Jet’s mind sparked and Sam could feel it.

“Do you wanna handle this?” asked Sam.

“Does a hooker ask twice?”

Jet got up from his barstool and made his way through the crowd to the tall, lanky man. He was sitting now, elbows on the table. Jet put his plan to motion.

                “Excuse me, can I get you anything?”

                “…Huh? Oh, uh yeah, sure. I’ll have a drink, bring me anything.”

                “Coming right up sir!”

Jet made his way back to the barstool but faced inward and away from Sam.

                 “Heavy?” asked Sam.

                 “Yeah, something big. It’s in his breast pocket, stickin’ out like a fucking candy cane.”

“I knew it. This might be tougher than we thought.” Sam sighed.

“Hopefully it’ll be a class 3 and that’ll give us a little extra. If I had the one we stole last time we could plant it on him but there’s too much work involved in that. Ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this over with.”

Sam lifted himself out of the bar stool and headed over toward the man. Jet waited a few seconds and saw his target call him over. Jet made his way over once again and stood in front of the man with a stern look focused on his breast pocket.

“Hey, where’s my drink?”

“It’s right here,” whispered Sam from behind as he forced his warm gun into the back of the man’s neck.

“Are you going to come quietly or are you gonna make this a show, cause I’ve been bored all night. I wouldn't mind a little rush.”

“You guys don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you…”

“Did we ask you to speak, asshole?” Sam pulled back on the hammer.

Jet started to sweat, something wasn’t right. Suddenly, the man whipped his hand around and pulled Sam over his back flipping him into the table crushing it underneath. With the wind knocked out of him, he began to take short breaths and wheeze. Sam, bewildered, became unconscious. Simultaneously, Jet and the man fled to opposite ends of the bar. The surrounding noises of intermingled conversations became silent. Jet jumped over and down into the bar station. Various and familiar screaming sounds erupted as the mugs and glasses above him now began to shatter. He sat up with his back up and against the bar station. Jet pulled out his weapon, cocked it and took a breath as the raining shards bounced off of his closed eyes and face. He could hear snippets of wood being struck out and so he waited. Finally silence again. The bar was empty. He could tell.

Cocked and ready, Jet backed away from the bar station and began to contract. He leaped and propelled himself clean over the bar station and rolled into a near by turned over, card table. Bullets blindly hit the table vibrating it rhythmically. He breathed again. Finally waiting for the last bullet to leave the chamber, silence once again. Jet stood up casually, outstretched his arm and fired a shot clean into the man’s forehead. The man ricocheted back as a thin string of red liquid trailed behind him and fallowed him to the floor. Caked in dirt and dust, Jet reloaded his weapon, placed it back into his breast pocket, and cracked his neck with his grimy hands. He walked over to the table that was spilt directly in half. Sam lay there with his eyes open now.

            “Come on. Up, up.” Jet hoisted Sam onto his feet.

            “Fuck, Jet! That was the worst plan ever.”

            “It wouldn’t have been so bad if you didn’t let your guard down. Besides I still got ‘em.” Jet looked down at the pool of red, it had just reached his boot.

            “Jesus…agh. Walk me back to the car will ya?”

            “Shh, I’m on,” Jet returned his mouth to his cell phone, “Yeah, we got ‘em, Thurston street, the bar, the building number is 606…”

Sam sat down on damaged table bit but hesitated slightly from the pain. The floor was covered in dusty glass and wood splinters. He could hear the distant sirens of the police coming down the block.

            “Hey, and woulda call an ambulance too.”

            “It’s coming.” Jet snapped his phone and dropped it into his side pocket.

            “You know,” Sam, said, “I really hope this covers the electric.”

            “Yeah well, I’m just worried about the medical now.”

Take 2 – (Rewritten and edited, “for the fuck of it.”)  

Author's Notes: Don’t ask.

Mrs. Woodworm paced back and forth in front of her division of rowed slouchers and organized daydreamers. The large auditorium sized room, a normal collage atmosphere that would scare the chalk buts out of an elementary school teacher, was a drop in the bucket for her. She stopped mid way and turned on the heal of her slightly white powdered shoes that she had worn everyday that year. Unlike other women of her age she cycled the same seven outfits over and over and wore the same ones on the same days of the week. Today had to have been Thursday because of the green blouse, green skirt, and green accessories that included matching stone-emerald earrings and bracelets. Her watch was the one thing she always wore to work everyday. It was a gift from her husband. It was a terrible, brightly yellow, gold, squared-off timepiece that had spiraled bands that fallowed around to the other side. The base held a life long battery and an inscription that read, “I’d never look away if I only knew…” the rest was chipped away from the one time she dropped it on the kitchen tile. The important thing was that she knew what it used to say and the accident left enough on there to remember the rest perfectly. It almost made it even more mystical, in a sense. He said it all the time to her so she never needed to check it, even though she always did.

“Now class, can anyone tell me why the British were defeated during this battle? Hmm. Yes…Mr. Austin, why don’t you tell the class.”

A young man that was being externally volunteered lifted his sleepy head off of his de-circulated hand, rubbed his eyes and unlocked his dry mouth. She denied him of a chance to even answer the question wrong and moved on to another student with a guilt-imposing frown that could agitate the heart of The Pope on Sunday.

Jim sat alone in the dark corner of the room. His head rest on his arm, which lay on the desk over his blank page. The page was indeed blank except for his name, the date, and the words “My Social Studies Notes.” It was the only class he had on Thursday. His hair drooped over his head and spread out all over his opened binder. He was drifting back and forth from the worlds of daydream and the late 1700’s in class. He could hear his classmates failing to answer the questions correctly and also see the rocket ship in which he was about to take off in. 10, 9… “The tower has prepared itself for launch captain.” 8, 7… “So when was the constitution made?” 6, 5… “Begin systems check and green lighting for take off, sir.” 4, 3… “Come on people, you can’t all not know this stuff, and it’s going to be on the test Friday. Which mind you is tomorrow!” 2… “Ready captain, beginning launch, strap in and hold on tight!” 1… “Friday is tomorrow, I’ve had it with all of you, the majority of you are wasting away, and this is preposterous!” 0… “Blastoff sir, oh, and I hope you fail the quiz too…” The rocket took off but Jim himself was lifted out of his seat and flown behind his space chair. He hit his head on the wall and fell onto the cold floor. Jim, realizing he had created quite a disturbance in class now noticed the blanket of tranquil silence that had never before been present in the room. He gathered himself, stood up, and zeroed in on Mrs. Woodworm’s eyes.

“Jim,” she had never before used his first name, “Why don’t you excuse yourself from the room and come back when you and the rest of the class are more alert. You can go to the office for me now and ask Mr. D. if he could come down here and repeat his lecture from yesterday.”

The class moaned with deep anguish, and sorrow as Jim fallowed his feet and removed himself from the room while waving to everyone with regret.

As he ducked out the “Push” door he quickened his pace to the end of the hall and leaned against the left wall. He reached into his pocket, grabbed his rocket ship by the antenna and yanked it out. He unfolded the clam shelled casing and read the message.

<meet me in the bathroom>

                Jim’s chest seemed to explode with surprise as he closed the phone and looked into the flickering florescent lighting. He sighed with excitement as his choir for Mrs. Woodworm dissolved out of his skull and left a puddle of responsibility where he once sat 2 minuets ago.

                Jim had been walking down the hall looking for the women’s restroom. Finally he came to the door and stood outside it. It was shut. He gathered up his strength and cleared his throat.

                “Uh, Hello?”

No one answered back. He tried again, but still no answer. He wondered and pushed against the door, but it didn’t shift. Harder this time, still nothing. He sighed and leaned against the door thinking. Then it struck him with simplistic irony, and therefore became funny. He raced down the hallway not realizing he should be keeping a low profile.

                Jim ran past the men’s bathroom, skidded to a halt and returned to the door. He waited a minute to catch his breath and caught his reflection in a display case for student artwork. He used the profiled image to fix his hair. He cracked his hands as he always did before starting anything in his life, and proceeded through the door.

                After closing the door behind him he looked up and saw the courtesy divider that was build to guard users from prying eyes when the door was left open. He slowly walked across the wet tile as his sneakers squeaked along behind him as he began to turn the corner. Before he could turn she jumped in front of him and he yelled from surprise. She clasped his face with both hands on his checks and stared at him. Her eyes enthralled him and made him forget they were in a bathroom. She apparently had already done this as she moved in to kiss him. She thrust her soft supple tongue down his mouth and he reciprocated this action rhythmically over and over. The two of them moved into one another and she pinned him up against the wall while pressing her body into his as if there was nothing behind him. He ran his hand up her back and felt the familiar pattern of his favorite sweater that she always wore whenever they went out. She must have also been wearing jeans because the fabrics were now creating an excessive amount of friction between the two surfaces. Within all the heat they rolled across the wall repeatedly pinning each other as they advanced down the western side of the lavatory. While rolling they would take short breaks to breath heavily and then continue to proceed over the hand dryer, which he slightly caught and tore his shirt on. They persisted to the adjacent wall where they passed over the proximity-censored urinals. As they pushed over each, the previous one flushed and by the end of the wall a urinal quartet was singing a cascading, stream-like melody.

                After they were through expressing themselves Jim removed his hand from under her shirt and rested his forehead against hers and stared into her. She opened her eyes and stared back. They both smiled and turned around to overlook the restroom. The room was exceptionally loud due to the fact that all the censors that oversaw the sinks, urinals and hand dryers were tripped on. Jim stared back at her as if to question what they had just did. He spoke.

“Slow day?”

“Yeah Social Studies and Astrology.”

“Mm, me too.”