Fearless Chapter 1 WASSAWASAW (c) 2011
“Put him in the back.”
WASSAWASAW
“But, he told us not to.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he said. The guy’s making my truck smell like puke!”
The beat up truck pulled over to the side of the inner state (I-10). They man handled me. Threw me in the back (bed) of the truck. The moon was replaced with the rising sun. There were five teenage girls tied together with ropes. Stained wool blankets covered their nude bodies. Their eyes were glazed over. I couldn’t quit vomiting into a five gallon bucket.
Off of the beaten path. Passed through back woods I had never traveled. I remembered seeing the New Orleans Saints symbol with big white lettered “Louisiana Bourbon Street . Routes that no one could remember.
-didn’t know if it was me or the smells of Bourbon Street sins. We were in an alley. So ugly with things like trash strewn every where. Broken bottles. Stray dogs and stray cats roaming. Definitely escaping the attractive allure I was reminded of when I saw the Pat O’Brian’s sign.
There was a bald headed dude with spikes coming out of his face. “Okay Kevin, what we got today?” raspy voice.
“We got five of em?”
“What about puke boy there?”
“Naw, he said to take him along for the ride.”
“No worries. Don’t think the boss is in the mood for a boy toy.”
“I really don’t think we should talk about this anymore in front of him.”
“Yea.”-with that they dragged the teen-aged girls, like cattle, into an ajar garage door.
…MISSING TEXT…
I remember…
-I REMEMBER-
I remember him giving me a pack of Lucky Stripes and a 32 ounce of Red Dog. Inside the Red Dog beer cap read “FOLLOW.”
I learned after ten minutes of being in the bed of the truck, that it’s difficult to smoke going seventy five down the inner state. Had to empty my puke bucket and use it to light my cigs. Drank the Red Dog so I could have something on my stomach. It made me puke more. Couldn’t pacify my mind from the fear of what were they gonna’ do to me. Where were you My Love? Hearing them laugh at my expense while they played deafening Death Metal in the tape deck made my paranoia worse.
“GET OUT YOU FUCKING LOSER!” I was frozen in fear shaking.
“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE TRUCK!” Slung me to the ground violently. Felt the stings of the beating he gave me. Tasted vomit, blood, and the dirt of the ground. “Fucken’ waste of air.” With that the truck sped away.
Looking up (was) saw a line of em’. I remember the sign: the white cross beneath it read “FEED MY SHEEP.” The worker opened the shelter and the homeless crowd bombarded the door. Scurrying to get in first they stepped over me. “Someone please save me.” Had to be my dying breath. More cars came.
His car was big and new. Smelled the new car smell when he opened the door. The smell lingered in the air for a few seconds after he shut the door. I saw his car tag “GOD1”. Surely he would pick me up off the ground. Walked right passed me. Maybe, he didn’t see me.
Felt and squinted (my eyes stung).
FIVE
Minutes after he walked in the door, those who walked in were hastily walking out. Started hearing dogs bark “Come on man.” Unseen hands were lifting me up.
“You need some food, man, and they’ll feed ya’. Let ya’ sleep. Give ya’ a place to stay. All you gotta’ do is play their game.”
“Huh?”
“Yea man, when they take ya’ to the backroom just start making up words. They’ll think you’re possessed by the devil and they’ll take good care of you. Go to the meetings. Go to the services and when you get tired of being here ya’ can just leave. But you can always COME BACK.”
“COME BACK?”
come back
…COME BACK…
Their entertainment room had one huge television. Only had two channels: Fox and Trinity Broadcasting Network. Seemed like the 1960’s Batman television show staring Adam West was constantly on.
: WILL OUR HERO REGAIN HIS SANITY AND ESCAPE THE BRAINWASHING SCENERIO IMPOSED UPON HIM?
WILL HE EVER BE ABLE TO FUNCTION AS A POSITIVE CONTRIBUTION TO SOCIETY? OR WILL HE BE DOOMED TO LIVE HIS LIFE INSTITUTIONALIZED?
-FOR THESE ANSWERS AND MORE TUNE IN NEXT WEEK…
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