~Radical Lament~

By WordWulf, 24th Feb 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/owhc332s/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

~riding Harleys side-by-side with monster men~laughing and dodging bullets~throwing back a few myself~some of us didn’t make it~when the bad ones go down it’s good~most times it’s not~we livin’ the madman chronicles~

~Radical Lament~

Madman Chronicles:

On Self-pitying Madness

"Don't you stare me down," she cries, a fistful of pennies.. "Stop looking at me!" ..dripping from her hand.. "I can see right through you!" ..plink plink plink on the floor. Four o' clock in the morning; she weeps, her head down. Night shadows own the room, the flickering candle between them. Pondering a puddle of pennies, her resolve slipping away; the face in the mirror laughs.

On Incipient Rage

Between the spokes of his machine, a gun shoved down his pants. Calloused fingers push, caress cloth on steel, barrel tight a crack of ass, chromed steel, bated awe. Palm sweat itch, he strokes his piece. This motor room florescent will quite ignore the dawn, though chill winds creep the glass. He hears her against the wall. Pistol leaps into his hand, barks a hole into her forehead, which photograph tickles the breeze.

On Pregnant Paws

Her audience awaits, eyes swimming, fever. She giggles and swears. No one understands her, tongue swollen, a fat lizard lying in her mouth spitting venom epithet. Translucent waves of pain, a hamster writhing in the jaws of the cat. Man music swallows her screams, her body arches primal. A splash of blood between her legs; she holds it down the toilet drown.

On Implicit Revenge

"Please help me," she implores, holds him, kisses his spider. "Don' you worry none, sweetie." He pats her head, buries the length of himself in her mouth. "Lemme hold dem tits. Nice finish you done there." He squeezes her while she wipes off his tattoo. He hands her two pennies.. "Dem's for his eyes." ..and a tiny white envelope.. "Dat's for his fit, Girl, now don' you forget."

On Priorities/Desire

A hungry growl of devils, roars his machine. Leather ‘n steel; flesh and blood muscles jump as he twists the throttle, drops the clutch and rides, mad in his hunger, anticipation of lust. "She better score." He grins, rides the white line between cages full of citizens, white whores and their brats. Cross-town traffic; he's feelin' phat and mean.

On Danger/Preparation

She watches him back into the curb, closes her eyes, startled, jumps when he kicks in the door. She steps back but he is quick, cups a hand between her legs. "You ready for Daddy?" he asks. She pulls up her loose dress, bends over. He slaps her bare ass. "Hold on, hot stuff! Where's my fix?" She points toward the table, damning her trembling fingers. He drags the envelope off the edge. Two pennies fall to the floor.

On Illegal Entry

She grips the bed rail, listens to familiar sounds, the snap of rubber on flesh, plumping the vein, tin metal spoon lighter flick, thin sigh - rubber on glass, click-click fingernail bubble. A step, she looks back between her legs. Needle held high, "Got somethin' for ya." Terrified, she watches the needle. He thrusts himself against her, enters her roughly .

On Insatiate Device

Between groans he speaks. "I'm gon' uh.. uh.. shoot 'fore I shoot; Grab my balls, baby grab my balls." She reaches between her legs, finger and thumb circle the base of his thrusting member. Three fingers left, she squeezes. He gasps as he slips the needle in. His hands crawl up her back, close around her throat. She feels his surge of orgasm. His fingers tighten, snap snap. Some thing wrong, her hands claw empty air... darkness; she just slips away.

On Parallel Existence

Sun slips between the edges. These slice, shaft of light, fall upon a startled face of death and twinkle the mirror, a space in disarray, some litter of pennies and bodies. The eyes of a dust dragon, witnessing instant blink, return to dust form at once. Death is betrayed by movement, thump-thump, leather boot. She crawls out, flops him up face first in the process.

On First Wrongs and Last Rites

Disbelief wears his face, blank horror, wide open eyes. Her body begins to shudder, teeth chattering, aching, grinding. "Uh... uh.. uh." Gorge fills her mouth. She draws it back through her nose, crawls away, swallowing, sobbing. His issue runs down her legs when she stands wobbling, hands splayed at odd angles; they flutter like birds. With puppet movements are two pennies plinked onto his eyes.

On Medicine Men and Damsels

The spider man's hands are rough but gentle and cleansing, water vapor steam swirling, his voice a deep monster... protector. "You clean up real nice, girl. Don' you worry 'bout a thing. My people clean your crib, bring your things over here. My man downtown, he pick up that trash on the floor. Too bad all dem down junky O. D.'s." He holds the bag of waters high. She feels warm down there... sighs.

On Poets and Madmen

"See... I'm a poet, that's the deal with the pennies. There are stories and myths about penny poets. That's the trouble, no one ever sees poets as having worth, so I'm a warrior but a poet first. These golden are for you." He sprinkles golden pennies on her flesh, then covers her with kisses. They are white and black in the afternoon. One begins, the other ends, bad pennies, American Rune.

~Tom (WordWulf) Sterner~
~Alms for the Digger~
~For Madmen Only~
~KEo/Legend of New Horse~

Meet the author

WordWulf
Tom Sterner lives in Redding, California and Arvada, Colorado with wife Kathy. He has been published in numerous magazines and on the internet, including Howling Dog Press/Omega, Skyline Literary Review, The Storyteller, and Flashquake. His interne...(more)