Scar Baby (A Cleanly Cut Stone)

Bernard exhaled a sigh of relief as he gazed out his kitchenette window, smelling the Hazelnut coffee from his French Press wafting into the devilishly flared nostrils of new morning. He was so grateful for a day off from his shit factory job at Kwimbee's making various idiotic shapes of dough. The most nefarious of the shapes was an perky elfish creature that had an overtly phallic nose that protruded upward like an obscenely erect penis. Oddly, it was Kwimbee's best seller, so Bernard had to look at the insipid smile on the elfin face day after day. His working conditions were so overheated and cramped with the feel of imminent death, that it felt like a well earned luxury being able to finally stumble around his house in an ancient ratty robe, cock out, and balls soft and sagging; absently watching his cat Yolanda lick her neglected crotch while purring in the sun that was tumbling in through the grimy kitchen windows. The plan was to rest, and exercise his wearily taxed body and really make shits bit of headway toward his ongoing attempts at Astral Projection. Bernard had picked up an intriguing New Age book from a pretentious head shop named Feu Follet that was entitled 'Astral Lovers' just for the occasion. Bernard had unflinchingly devoured the read; obsessed with the idea of meeting a eclectic woman from an alternate reality that was more spirit energy than fatally flawed human flesh. Bernard was slightly suspicious that the 'Astral Lovers' part was just accentuated to sell New Age books, so there was a reluctance to dive head first wholeheartedly. Whether or not the smoke and mirrors spiritual girlfriend entity part was true, Bernard was still very intrigued with the idea of leaving his body and inheriting the idealized gift of absolute freedom as he could dare imagine it. Almost every night he dreamt of flying above the houses of his crime ridden, yet magically impulsive and vibrant neighborhood.

Bernard was just about ready to find a comfortable supine position on his Yoga mat when he remembered he had to go to the bank. In a irritated huff, he pulled on his dirty grey work-out pants with the small tear on the left leg nearest to the knee, where his cock sometimes slipped out; cursing to no one in particular that he had to leave the comfort of his own home. Snuffing a freshly lit incense life out into it's wooden tray in a huff, Bernard was about to grab his coat off the rack when his landlord Mr. Petrov walked in to the living room with Bernard's apartment key dangling in his tightly clutched hand. He looked sweatier and more desperate that usual. His eyes were shifty and he seemed to be breathing heavy as he eyed Bernard up and down with his usual manner of disdain.

"What do you need?, " Asked Bernard, with hardly a veiled display of annoyance and disgust. This had been Mr. Petrov's third time in one month that he had let himself in to Bernard's apartment without allowance or warning, and the trend was getting real stale real quick, especially because it meant that Bernard had to make contact with his slum-lord fuck face of a landlord, when before Mr. Petrov was little more then a name on a sheet of paper that Bernard could easily separate himself from

"I need to get into the space inside your walk-in closet. I'll only be a couple minutes in there; ten minutes tops. No arguments please."

"Ok, but no funny business like last time when I found some creepy crawlies slathered all over my shoes. Do your meat slapping in your own closet like everyone else!"

Mr. Petrov rolled his eyes and shuffled away. The space that Mr. Petrov was referring to was the one and only area in the house that was sealed hermetically with a lock. Bernard always speculated over it's contents, thinking a few times of cutting the lock and perhaps restoring it with a similar looking piece of secure metal, but hadn't quite gotten to that stage Bernard did notice the bulge in Mr. Petrov's leisure suit, as he himself exited through the open window in the living room with access to the fire escape, closed it, and stood out on the damp metallic balcony that overlooked the backlot of the multi-dwelling unit (MDU). After a quick cigarette and a look-see at the beautiful sparkling city in the afternoon that lay sedated in spots under the heavy shadows and buildings; he descended down the fire escape like a careful mouse not wanting to be spied on. There was some construction going on in the downstairs of the building where all the mailboxes were situated. Bernard could more than likely navigate this noisy annoyance, but he just didn't want to communicate with anyone today; least of all his landlord. When Bernard's feet met the pavement he was back to his incognito hermetic persona again, ignoring the gaze of the others, and looking for alleyways that kept him sealed away from the daily throng as he hustled his ass down to the bank.

At the bank lobby of the 1st Westside Metropolitan Bernard was instantly greeted by the cloyingly oppressive Teller and Security Guard that played the role of Ventriloquist and Dummy with their almost menacing twin pair of crocodile smiles. Like wind-up toys they came alive as soon as he stepped in the room. The blonde security guard was seated in a chair not far from the glass enclosed checkout station, and looked as if she might have been ten years younger than the Teller, but all her mannerisms suggested she was sprung from the same womb.

Security Guard: "Hi there! Thanks for coming to see us today! My goodness, it looks like such a peach of a day out there! Hey we had a bet, and we were hoping a nice fella like you could share the deets...is it mild out there or is it a bit windy? I'm going with windy 'cuz I see the trees shaking the leaves a bit out there, so I'm leaning towards the gust."

Teller: "Now Stacy, you are always jumping the gosh-darn-don'tchya know gun! Why can't it be both? Why not mild and windy with a dash of the drearies'? (Motioning toward the guard and winking) She's a real cut-up this one! No, seriously, sir, what's the weather out there like? You can be honest, don't try and spare our feelings."

"It's a bit chilly, " Bernard moved toward the teller, emptied his wallet of his ID and credit card to make all indication that he had no time for idle chit-chat and stared blankly at the Teller.

Teller: "Any plans for this weekend?"

Her eyes were flirtatious but filed down, like a pencil that had spent too long in the cave of the sharpener, plunged in darkness amongst the blades and the gears, and rarely seeing the light of day but for to speculate from an outsiders point of view.

Security Guard: "We're heading down to HollowMan's Grove next to Bush Creek on Stapleton Drive tonight for Girl's Night! They got all night Karaoke starting at 9! Shooters all night, you know that's right! Do you like Karaoke? My go to is always Madonna's 'Like a Virgin', but sometimes I do Patti Smith's 'Because the Night' if I'm feeling lonely. Betch'ya didn't peg me for a Patti Smith fan, but I'm pretty open-minded. I listen to just to about anything except Country, Rap, and Metal."

Bernard didn't turn his head to the security guard but he could feel her smile burning into his neck hairs. The Teller was still quite lovely in her mid fifties aside for some black splotches on her neck that only accented her almost reptilian persona. Her eyes glided over him like a frog slyly sizing up a juicy water beetle.

"Oh that's great...I hope you have a fun night..."

When Bernard finally made it back to the door of his apartment he was exhausted and his cheeks ached from trying to imitate the twin simian smiles of the two glad-handing ladies back at the bank. He felt his eyeballs pried open in an unnatural way that seemed inherited from the dramatic duo. He twisted the doorknob to make sure it was latched but the door came open in his hands. Proceeding with caution, Bernhard now shuffled into the darkened room with caution. From the left and right two men pounced on him at once from opposite sides of the hollow blackness and flung him against the far left wall. One looked like a short, bald meatball with red blotchy unhealthy spots all over his ruined skin. He was raw and muscular and looked like he could do a fair amount of damage. The other was stork like in stature with a drooping rat shaped nose and a baseball hat that said the Miami Marlins. Both looked deadly serious and ready to extract some tainted information quick and painful like with their long fingers reaching out that resembled syringes in the half-light.

"Where's the goddamn money you stupid sonofabitch?"

Rat Man breathed heavy into Bernard's face, and Bernard could discern he just had a salami sandwich with day old spoiled milk and a couple of Whiskey Sours thrown in for good measure.

"I don't know you two!...How did you get in here?...What the Hell is going on?..."

For the first time Bernard noticed the crumpled heap of his landlord in the middle of the apartment living room. There were random red stains that covered the hill of his body. His head looked like it had been done in proper with a couple of calculated rough kicks. The gore on the carpet was fresh, and it had only just begun to stiffen in the more blackened areas of the floor where the blood had seeped in the most.

Meatball jammed his knee deep into Bernard's groin, and Rat Stork chopped him on the back of the head as he pitched forward in surprised pain. The darkness detonated through the tough shell of Bernard's skull like the messy ink from a squid. As Bernard collapsed downwards towards the floor, losing consciousness before his face hit the fast approaching catcher's mitt of the rug

*

Where in the devil was he? The night breeze was there at his neck, and Bernard heard night birds closing in, and bats as he dipped and swayed with the slightest of breezes that carried him so effortlessly. It took him a minute to decipher, but Bernard was flying over the sidewalk of his neighborhood! He was on a mission to find the small church on Locust street, and he was almost right above it. He had passed over two brown tiled roof tops, and then a house that was entirely covered in reflective metallic siding(though he saw no glimpse of his reflection), and then there he was! He could tell it was the church because of it's box shaped roof tops, except for one section that was spired over the front door. Bernard could see a multitude of stray cats milling around the front and the side of the church, snacking on the free cat food that was left out for them in a big ceramic blue bowl by the church's disguised side entrance that was almost entirely camouflaged by trees. Bernard could witness the snoozing birds in the branches of the tree snug in their feathers and huddled close together in their cleverly devised nests of feathers, straw and string as he slipped like a vapor, bypassing the structural limitations of the wood and slate of the church's crown. Passing through the ceiling of the church and finally landing on the floor, Bernard could see a group of people through the big glass windows, possibly of the local A.A. group that had just exited the church only moments ago. The group was individual smoking their treasured cigarettes and giving each other hugs as they slowly vanished one after another into the belly of the unknown night. Bernard wondered why he had instinctually flown over to the Locust street church at midnight. It wasn't until he thoughtlessly fumbled under the bottom of the big table, perching like a gargoyle in the middle of the room, and selected with precision a taped key beneath it which he now cradled in his left hand; that he realized that he had been Astral traveling this whole damn time! What a rush! In a total dumbstruck awe he fumbled around in the dark church and paused to touch paintings and a pencil that was resting on a podium at the far right corner of the large room populated mostly with empty wooden chairs. Now Bernard suddenly was feeling a tug that could only be his physical body calling his restless spirit body back home with an insistent sense of urgency. Bernard knew it was time to go, but wanted to make the moment last as long as humanly possible! My goodness, what a bizarre deck of cards he had been dealt today! With the key still pressed tightly in his firm grip, Bernard dashed back towards his apartment in the MDU like a skipped stone that was dancing across the surface of a fleshy lake of humanity after an expert toss by a clever and carefree child who had slipped out into the mysterious first glimmerings of a twilight's whisper.

The End?

7/1/24

Bunny Villaire

(Edit #8)