Records Spin

Side A: Tracks 1-3
1. Lamb of God
2. Anatomy of a Stain
3. Simian King

Under the highway you blink and you miss it.  I know its there and I still pass by without realizing I've gone too far.  Occasionally.  The watering hole.  The place I go.  The drinks are cheap and they know my name and have the decency not to use it when referring to me.

"Heyyy!  Ole Masky's back!" says the bald guy.

"And old Masky's front," I say, "I'm all here!"

"Shut the fuck up," says a guy at the bar, half spinning around on his barstool with an angry look in his paunchy eyes, "I'm telling a story here."

"Joel's telling a story here," the bartender informs me in a conspiratorial whisper.  "Whadalya have?"

"Let's start light and go dark."

"If I had to kill someone to save my family I probably would," says Joel.  "Like that time I killed a guy to save my family.

"You killed a guy?"

"I warned him.  'I'll fuckin' do it,' I said 'don't think I won't'.  So he says to me 'if you do, I'll fuckin' kill your family.  And then I killed him.  And sure enough, mysteriously, next day my family's been murdered."

"So to save your family you got them killed."

"I didn't get 'em killed.  It's a mystery.  I said that.  Fuckin' keep up."

"So whadja do?"

"I got a new family.  But first I spent the next half-decade living free out in the wilds of American generosity.  Some weep for the wayward soul of man, but not I.  We live in a generous land full of generous spirits.  Hobos, tramps and whores.  I slept on trains, woke to the sight of the countryside appearing and disappearing frame by frame out my window.  Then I met a girl and settled down.  Popped out a few more kids and were doin' great but then she died.

"Your second wife."

"Third.  But yeah, my wife."

"So whadja do?"

"Well we had an extra bedroom.  So my daughter asks if her boyfriend could move in.  She was 11 or 12 then so I figured it was alright.  The guy seemed cool.  Kept borrowing my razors though, that was a pain in the ass, but the guy was alright.

"Your twelve year old daughter had a boyfriend who shaved?"

"Yeah.  Alex, or Alan or something.  He was in college.  Bastard bought me this here pen."  Joel picked a fountain pen out of his shirt pocket and displayed it to the huddled throng.

"What was the occasion."

"Father's day.  I'm a granddaddy."

"Today."

"Yesterday.  Ariel Lee Scriebner.  6 pounds and some ounces."

A few people clap. 

I grappled at a complimentary bowl of week-old popcorn, the door in the back opens and Jeff emerges, stumbling.

"Shit yourself out a baby?" Joel asks. 

Jeff squints.  "I fucking feel like crap," he says with no enthusiasm.  Jeff's the big guy who works the door.

"See some ID Dayton?"

"It's Michael," I say, squirming to free my stolen wallet from my left rear jeans pocket.  Jeff glances at the license without looking at it.  He hawks a revolting wet cough and retreats to slump on his perch at the door to watch no one come in.  The bartender sets another beer on the bar for me and I move it onto my napkin coaster.  A dark ring emerges.  I take a sip and set down the cup again and again, in an effort to draw the Olympic rings.

"Guinness," the bartender says, "A velvet universe in a red Dixie cup."

Three guys are playing Magic the Gathering at a dark table in the back.  An Elton John song comes on the jukebox and everybody groans.

"We used to listen to this song back in high school," someone says.  "I had a chemistry teacher who fought in 'Nam.  He used to tell some crazy stories.  We never had to do any work.  Just get him started talking."

The bartender blinks.  The bald man orders another drink, by setting down his empty glass.  Hearing no objection, the guy telling the story continues:

"One time he told us about how they found this chimpanzee right?  Or orangutan or something.  Anyway, everybody in this village was dead but the monkey lived so they kept it around as a kind of a mascot, and one day the guys in the outfit were hanging around having an arm wrestling contest.  Seems somebody thought it'd be a good idea to let the monkey in, which was a stupid idea since monkeys have infinitely stronger arm muscles than any human ever could."

"Infinitely." I repeat.

"So they let him in and he beats everybody in the outfit.  All of 'em.  Just WHOMP, and its over.  Heh heh.  Trouble was, the monkey thought he was the alpha male after that and started beating up on 'em and trying to get 'em to do things for him.  So they had to shoot 'im."

 

 

SIDE B: Tracks 1-3

1. Elegy for the Written Word

2. All Hallows Eve

3. Brothers

There's a camaraderie in the place that feels like home.  Maybe it's the musky smell of countless cigarettes, hops and mops.  The guys in there don't get out much because the world doesn't offer anything but punishment, and inside this dim cavern is a haven where the drinks keep coming as long as you occasionally pay, and the conversation flows like the heat off a warm country hearth. 

"What if deep space were filled with flesh-eating bats?" someone asks.

"Then I guess we'd be fucked."

"I was just thinkin' 'bout it cuza sumthin' I read."  A new guy walks in and Jeff holds out his hand to check ID but the new guy doesn't see it and walks on past.  Jeff doesn't object.  He looks like he's going to be sick.

"What's the last thing you read," I asked the bald man.

"Godel Escher Bach," he said.

"You mean like recreationally?" the new guy asked.

"Yeah.  For fun."

"My cousin's buddy's dad's Playboys.  Had a not-so-secret stash right next to the toilet.  Hell I'd spend more time on that shitter than I would home in bed!"

Jeff made a bursting noise and ran along the bar for the restroom again.  We heard him lock himself in and groan painfully.

"What's eating him?"

The bartender shrugged.

"What's the last thing you read," the new guys asks, pointing to the house tap where the bartender fizzles out a pale brew.

"Cicero."

 "You're looking a bit scruffy," Bill says, "when's the last time you shaved?"

"April."

"How's that girl you were seeing?"

"Dead."

"You still seeing her?" Joel asks.  The new guy punches him. Joel sniggers like a little ogre.  "What?  He's Dumb-Ass'd Man.  Just cuz she's dead don't mean he can't still tap the girl."

"That's Da Masqued Man," I correct.

"Ya I been meaning to ask about that," the new guy proves, eager to ask a question he's been harboring since I came in, "What's the deal with the mask?"

"Halloween was a hard time for me, I'll tell ya.  Little kids on the street laugh 'cus it looks like I'm dressed up in my costume early all those few weeks leading up to it with the mask and all, then the night of people ask why I don't dress up."

"What'd you dress up as?"

"Last year I dressed up as myself."

"So, without the mask?"

"Yeah.  I looked just like a normal person."

The clock on the wall chimes and someone points out that it's now midnight.  Wednesday.  Game day.

"Yay."

"Alright let's play a game."

The bald guy perked up. "Still writing those?"

"I thought you wrote poetry on some web blog?"

"It's called Blogetry," I said "and yes, I am still writing them."

"Have you written anything good lately?" the new guy asks.  I pulled out my little black notepad.

Everyone's in everyone.

Capsized hulls salty all

lucky not to get

Caught

In tidal pools of stars

Where gulls cry

deep seas swell and sigh

Eating

Rose and fall and dark and all

Tired souls whisper "Gone"

And dead and live are one.

Silence.  The bartender stares at me.

"You should go back to college," the new guy says, "that's good stuff."

"Not bad."  Joel scoffs.

Jeff flushes the toilet but doesn't emerge.  The dishwasher rattles'n hums and the guys playing cards "Hurrah!" and stomp their feet.

"Have you got a brother?" the bartender asks.

"None of your business."

"Well, I think he was my business.  Last week.  You read that thing and it made me think.  That voice.  Guy sounds just like you.  Looks sorta like you.  Had a pretty girl on his arm, shorter hair, drank a lot and left a lousy tip…"

"Sure sounds like my brother.  But that's impossible."  Last I knew Nigel was in Milwaukee.

"The guy said he was out here on business.  Had on a nice suit.  Treated that pretty little girl like shit."

"You've got a brother Masky?" the bald man asked.

"Yeah," said the bartender, "you remember right?  Last Tuesday.  That jerk with the pretty girl.  We don't get too many guys like that in here."

"Or girls.  When's the last time you talked to your brother Masky?"