A. Theist

Arthur the Queer?

“God-damn this steak is good, Joe!”

The two men sat opposite at the table. Neal seeming ecstatic, as he zealously saws and chews his cut of meat like a man that’d just been released from prison, all the while only ceasing in conversation long enough to take another bite. But Joe was more at ease, like he’d been confined to a rocking chair for life,  just biding his time, pushing his fork round and round, taking the occasional bite, and chewing long, slow chews, while glancing at the window, as if he were somewhere else.

And Joe asks,

“You remember that feller by the name of Arthur Graham; runs that porno magazine, Horror Sleaze and Trash, or whatever?”

Neal lifts his head, revealing the flesh being ground behind dissolving teeth,

“You mean the one that’s seeing that India girl?”

Joes face half rises, and nods towards Neal’s plate.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Boy that India’s a fine motherfucker, now. I’d like to LaPlace it right up her ass! Heh heh heh. Know what I mean?”

Nodding,

“Oh, she’s purdy now, fur shore.”

“I heard it somewhere or another that, she “aspires” to be Queen of the Underworld one day, hah! You think she’ll manage?”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Neal shovels another forkful,

“I might just be high; wool hail, you know I’m high as a motherfucker, but I swear this is the best god-damned steak I ever ate…Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

Joe turns from the window, and looks down at his plate,

“Oh, it ain’t the cooking, it’s the quality of the meat that makes the difference.”

“Is zat right?”

Joe nods.

“Shiiiiittt.

A man could get used to eating like this.”

Joe stares off like he didn’t hear.

“Now, what was it you was saying ’bout ol’ Arthur; Arthur the queer?”

Neal flashes a devil’s grin, before returning his attention to his meal.

“Oh……just that I’d killed him.”

Neal freezes midchew,

“You what!?”

“You killed him!?”

Looking at the window,

Joe replies, “Mm-hm.”

He drops his arm, and stares,

“Well god-damn Joe! The way you say it makes me think you being for real!”

Taking another forkful,

he resumes chewing,

“You ain’t is ya?”

Joe nods.

Out the corner of his mouth, he says,

“Fed his innards to the hogs out yonder.”

Neal  looks at Joe sideways,

“No the hell you didn’t.”

And grins,

“Come on now, Joe…you fucking with me?”

With both hands resting on the table, Joe looks at his plate,

“Naw”.

“I killed him”.

“He’s dead.”

Neal takes another bite,

“You shore you ain’t just been up too damn long, ya damn tweeker? Lord knows you prone to seeing shit.”

“Aww, fuck ‘at bull-shit!”

“Ha!”

Neal grins,

“Shooting at a damn empty hammock? I don’t reckon I’ll ever forget that shit. You had the damn po-lice swarming all over the place, with Phil, and all them damn guns of his…and, and ol’ Mark passed out drunk in the back of the Jag.”

“Momma’s still pissed about that shit. I don’t think she’ll ever let me have your ass over again.”

Neal takes another forkful,

“Killed Arthur-fucking-Graham. God-damn, Joe. You so full of shit, your eyes turning brown.”

Joe slams a fist down, rattling the table, and looks at him square,

“Well you shore don’t seem to mind the god-damned taste of him!”

The sound of silverware colliding with ceramic pierce’s the air as he bolts upright, grabbing his throat, his body flexing in contortion to expel his disgust,

“BLLLUUUHHHPPP!”

Joes chair skids back, and lands with a crash,

“God-damn you Neal!”

6 thoughts on “A. Theist

  1. Everyone thinks they’re a poet! Some have talent, and some – like the clown who wrote this shit – do not. But he’ll keep trying. By the way, Everson is not my real name!

    Like

  2. I’ve given it some thought, and I’ve determined that a site like this that allows for any old shit to be posted by anyone (namely you in this case!) is a great idea. Why? Because then someone like myself can come along and post any old reply. For instance: This is fucking garbage! But garbage sells, so I’m sure you’re going to the next r.h. Sin. Bully for you! When that day comes, and I see your borrowed byline, Joe Christmas, I’ll know that there is one less worthless liberal bum no longer living in his/her/gender-neutral/its parent’s basement, smoking dope, and blaming Trump for all same’s woes. Good for you, Joe! More importantly, I will get the honor of hitting your first book on ScAmazon and Badreads with a 1 Star without even reading it first. Gee, I can’t wait!
    So keep writing, because it’s more productive than picking your nose – though probably less pleasurable than paddling your pickle!

    Like

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