Piecemeal June

PIECEMEAL JUNE JORDAN KRALL Eraserhead Press Portland, OR ERASERHEAD PRESS 205 NE BRYANT PORTLAND, OR 97211 WWW.ERASERHEADPRESS.COM ISBN: 1-933929-63-4 Copyright 2008 by Jordan Krall Cover art copyright 2008 by Jeff Powers ravenofsorrows.deviantart.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law. Printed in the USA. As he was walking home from a rough night of drinking at Fishervilles most well-known watering hole, the Rams Head Bar, Scotty hummed a song that had been playing on the jukebox. Then, just as he was getting to the chorus, he got the distinct feeling that he was being followed. He was the only one on the street except for the occasional car or junkie. It was close to four in the morning and most of the inhabitants of the area were sleeping, drunk, or nodding off somewhere quietly. Scotty was at the point where his tiredness was catching up with his alcohol buzz; he was starting to mistake parking meters for cacti. As his paranoia grew, Scotty slowly grabbed hold to one of the meters, being careful not to get stabbed by the non-existent spines of the non-existent cacti. Fucking things should be outlawed. Fucking dangerous. His mind was full of liquid cotton. God, did someone slip me something? Once Scotty squinted and let his brain take in his surroundings, he realized that he was drunk as hell but still well aware that he was in deep shit. He didnt see the three crab-things until it was too late. Each was the size of a small child, crab-human hybrids with long, stringy blond hair that hung over their faces like dirty pantyhose. Scotty caught a whiff of them; they smelt like seafood diarrhea. The crab-things descended upon him with razor-sharp claws and teeth. Scotty drunkenly surrendered to violent death. He had always imagined himself fighting tooth and nail if ever his life was threatened. He knew now that it was easier said than done. He also knew that the death of his physical body wasnt the end of all things. Needless to say, as the light of his mind flickered out in this world, he was quite a bit disappointed. Mom, Dad, Susan, Ill never see them again and I didnt even get to see the Alamo or the Grand Canyon. Is this life on other planets? I want to see some extraterrestrials. Its not fair. Why? Why death? As the first creature, Macchu, used his claw to reach into his entrails, Scotty was opened up to another consciousness, another reality. He was soon aware of his body being casually dissected by a group of bearded, diseased women. Where the hell am I? What is this? No longer was he just being attacked by those creatures against an apartment building. Instead he was fully aware of simultaneously being dismembered on the back of a wagon in a grassy field. In the distance he could see a city, its walls glistening with a sickening pink hue. As each body limb, organ, and orifice was hacked away, Scotty retained all sensation in each inch of flesh. One of the bearded dissectors took his foot and bit a toe, and he yelped in pain through his mouth which was several feet away. Meanwhile, another woman was using his scrotum as a piece of chewing gum. Scotty again let out a mental and aural vibration of anguish. His nose was three feet to the left of where his scrotum was being chewed and through it he could smell the contaminated pus of the women. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting... What is this? Scotty would have been horrified to find out the truth about this, his new reality. These women and their myriad diseases were considered attractive. Even with their cunts dripping dark yellow goo and their faces peppered with open sores, they were considered beauty incarnate. Meanwhile, the crab things: Macchu, Bacchu, and Frank, were busy sticking their claws and mouths in the bloody, pulpy remains of his body like pigeons picking apart a piece of chicken. They were fully aware of what they were doing: sending spare parts to the Women of the Gati who would bring them via wagon to Simon, God of Whores where theyd be put to good use as spare parts for his harem. As he was brought to the city on the wagon, Scottys consciousness waned until he was shaken awake by the sensation of his nose being violated. A small, thin penis entered his left nostril, splitting it open. It was pulled out and then shoved into his right nostril, splitting it even more than the left. Blood gushed as well as semen and the penis ejaculated into his nose as Scotty felt his arms on another body, his legs on yet another. He knew that if he cried out, the owner of the penis would not hear him for his mouth was far away in another room. He surrendered control and sniffled, dripping semen, mucus, and blood onto the feet of Simon, God of Whores. PIECEMEAL JUNE CHAPTER ONE Fisherville had one porn shop and Kevin lived above it. The rent was low and he had almost 24 hour access to all sorts of smut and filth. If it was 1 a.m. and Kevin got horny and was in the mood for some MILF porn, it was only twenty five steps away: down the stairs and to the right. If it was 7 a.m. and he had a hankering for a squirting scene: down the stairs and to the right. The porn was all there in all its golden, wet, gargling, pink, gaping glory. It was Friday afternoon and Kevin just got home from work at the PetPlace, a huge pet supply store that catered to every possible pet care need. Not a bad job, Kevin admitted, but it was ultimately a dead-end one. He wasnt even sure what he wanted to do but he knew it wasnt working in retail. Life was disappointment, he had decided, but he wasnt going to try to enjoy it anyway. Even before taking off his work clothes, Kevin put on a Flower TravellinBand album. After he got undressed, he got a beer out of the fridge and sat down in front of the television. He put it on mute and changed the channels, letting the music from the stereo provide the soundtrack to all of the surreal advertisements and visually abrasive late afternoon talk shows. Despite the trash on the television, he felt relaxed. The music simultaneously put him at ease and invigorated him. From out of his bedroom, his cat Mithra walked leisurely 9 Jordan Krall over to Kevin and rubbed up against his leg. In the cats mouth was a tarot card. Kevin shook his head. Not now, kid. Im not in the mood for a reading. Mithra made a pigeon noise and dropped the card down on the floor in front of him. The Ace of Cups stared up at Kevin. Maybe later, okay? The cat was obviously not satisfied with that answer and so he made another disgruntled sound and headed back into the bedroom. Kevin turned back to the television as a commercial came on, catching his attention. A red-headed woman in a business suit was walking down the sidewalk of a busy metropolitan street. Her high heels were silent, the Japanese psych band on the stereo providing the sound of her footsteps. Kevin could smell the sweat from the womans pantyhose. His mouth became dry so he took a swig of beer and kept his eyes on the woman. The meaning of the commercial was beyond Kevins comprehension. He was too busy watching himself delve deep into the sweaty crevices behind her knees. Kevin sniffed the television. He stuck his tongue out and caught static. The shock was the subtle burn of her salty sweat as she marched off to work. From behind him the music got more intense and sent Kevin into a delirium of pixilated stimulation. He fainted, partly from work exhaustion but mostly from the overwhelming mental stench of televised pantyhose. When he awoke, Kevin was face to face with a purring Mithra. In the cats mouth was a piece of something flesh-colored and about the size of a fist. He shook his head free of sleep and sat up. What the hell did you get now? Kevin ran his hand across the top of the cats head and the object dropped to the floor. It was an ankle. Or at least a reasonable facsimile of one. Kevins eyes widened, immediately thinking that his cat 10 Piecemeal June had stumbled upon a dismembered body and brought back a gruesome souvenir. The absence of blood or gore, however, put his mind at ease. Mithra gave the ankle a lick and meowed. Where the hell did you get this? Kevin rubbed his fur and then picked up what the cat had dragged in. He caressed it and found that it was made of some form of latex or rubber; he couldnt tell the difference. It was also moist. Eww, what is this? Sweat? Kevin grabbed an already dirty shirt that was lying on the floor and wiped the ankle free of moisture. Mithra walked over to the tarot card that he had dropped and fell onto it, rolling and meowing as if the card itself was made of catnip. Kevin rubbed the cats belly and stood up. He turned the television volume up and turned off the stereo. As he went to sit down on the couch he noticed something strange. The ankle looked wet again. He bent down and felt it. What is it? Sweating? Normally, any unknown wetness would have grossed him out but this time Kevin was oddly intrigued. This piece of strange jetsam was the color of lightly tanned flesh and reminded him of the ankle of every woman hed ever dated. With that thought in mind, he put his face to it and inhaled. His nostrils were filled with the musky scent of girl-sweat. Jesus H. Christ. Kevin walked away from the sweaty piece of rubber-latex and ran his hands through his hair. Shaking his head in both disbelief and self-doubt, he picked up the lone piece of faux flesh and brought it to the trash can. He dropped it on top of an empty box of donuts and watched it land in a chunky dollop of raspberry jelly. 11 CHAPTER TWO Kevin was used to Mithra bringing things from outside into to the apartment: dead mice, Twinkie wrappers, donut scraps, houseplants, and the occasional rabbit head. He didnt even allow Mithra to go outside but he always found a way out. Though the cat had yet to be hurt, Kevin had the underlying fear that Mithra would get injured either by accident or by an intentional act. Luck, however, always seemed to be on Mithras side. Mithra would sometimes stalk downstairs in the porn shop, looking for something interesting to play with. The owner, and Kevins landlord, Mr. Gregory Garglestock, would playfully chase the cat away with a pair of furry handcuffs. Gregory wasnt so much annoyed at the cat as he was worried that one of the perverts who frequented the store would take out their sexual urges on the animal. On Saturday morning, he was startled awake by the sound of scratching at the bathroom door. Mithra, what the hell you lock yourself in? Jesus, he mumbled as he walked zombie-like to let the cat out. There was more scratching and then a meow. Im coming, Im coming. Kevin scratched his underside of his balls and walked down the hall. When he opened the door the cat shot out and ran between his legs, almost causing Kevin to fall backwards. The bathroom smelt like cat shit. Kevin looked in the toilet and saw that Mithra had used it several times during the course 12 Piecemeal June of the night. The feces didnt look like it came from the cat, though. It was longer and thicker than any piece of shit that he ever scooped out of the litter box. What the fuck? Then something caught his eye. There was something small and white stuck in the feces. Kevin wrapped his hand in toilet paper and carefully got the object from the shit. It was an eyeball. It was made of glass and resembled a marble albeit a large one. He washed it in the sink and laid it on the windowsill. It stared at him but then again, how could it not? Kevin had the feeling that the eye was a prisoner without a choice. He could force it to watch him do anything. Though it wasnt a real human eyeball, Kevin sensed its personality. Bending over and putting his own eyes inches away from it, he had the distinct feeling that it held some form of consciousness that was taking the sight of him in and forming its own conclusions. Can you see me? Can anyone see me? Kevin had never really been one to look people in the eye and would often have a difficult time remembering the colors of peoples eyes. He treated this one, however, with more attention, memorizing each swirl of blue. Fucking beautiful. Like a marble. The swirls reminded him of a girl named Julia he used to date in high school. One night the two of them got to drinking at her house while her parents were at a KISS concert. She had too much vodka and Kool-aid and the vomit spewed out, a deluge of blue stomach-stew. Most of it landed on Kevins lap while some sprinkled his sneakers and made them look like they belonged to Jackson Pollock. Kevin lost himself in the stench of stomach juices and the sight of the chunky whirlpool of half-digested pizza. It was really rather unfortunate, he remembered, since he had counted on Julia giving him head that night. Now, Kevin stood in the bathroom, staring at the glass eye. He could almost smell Julias vomit and he realized that he didnt find it unpleasant although he knew that he probably should. 13 Jordan Krall Shaking himself out of it, he went back to the toilet, took a piss, and then flushed. When he turned around to leave, he saw something else. It was on the ground next to the doorway. After the eyeball and the ankle, this next piece made a strange sort of sense. It was a feminine hand with fingernails painted with the same swirls of blue that the eyes possessed. Upon closer inspection, Kevin saw that the knuckles looked extremely life-like. They were five wrinkled hills marking the start of five slender roads that ended at five sharp, erotic points. When he turned the hand over, he saw that the palm was marked with lines that didnt resemble the ones that hes used to seeing on hands. There seemed to be a deliberate order as if they were sacred sigils that were placed exactly where they needed to be in order to complete some purpose, lying there on his bathroom floor. Sweat was building on the hand as he picked it up, still groggy from sleep but aware enough of the absurdity of the situation. Putting the hand up to his nose, he inhaled the warm stink of sweat that wasnt his own. Kevin walked over to his bed, placed the hand on his pillow, and then walked over to the garbage to retrieve the ankle. It was smudged with jelly which he proceeded to clean off with his tongue. The stale, sweet taste brought Kevin back to childhood: eating a donut out on the back porch while his older brother was inside fucking the babysitter. Once the ankle was clean of jelly, Kevin placed it on the pillow next to the hand and then went into the bathroom to get the eye. He placed it on the palm of the hand. Then he jumped into the shower. When he came out, he saw Mithra lying on the bed, next to all of the pieces. In the cats mouth was a foot. Kevin couldnt control himself; he laughed