Big Fat Ostrich

Well it’s about time that Juan sends us something to post. We understand that he can barely write his name half the time, but seriously, the guy is on contract to us for something like, 20 posts at least! Anyway, here’s his 5th installment. That bastard:

Cielo de la Entrepierna

Every time his fist connected with my jaw I saw the same constellations. Through cosmic dust I imagined my tormentor to be some genius master of time and space, as if he could transport me to Cassiopeia at will. I heard his voice as I drifted past Orion.

“Where’s the fucking hash?”

Suddenly I was traveling at a billion miles a second and I was back on Earth, tied to a chair in my soiled Dockers. Yeah, bullshit they’re stain proof.

“Hash?  No comprende, amigo.”

“I’m not your amigo. Now where’s the hash?”

I wished I could tell him. I hadn’t had a hashball in months, since before that statewide bust. Pickings were slim.

“I don’t have any. You want maybe some weed instead?”

Bang. I was back in space, but I was soon brought back by the voice that, were my hands free, I’d strangle the neck that housed those vocal chords.

“If I wanted weed, I’d mow the lawn with your face. I want the hash. NOW!”

“That’s it”, I thought. The space travel was losing its edge and the fucker’s voice was grating on me.

“You really want it?” I said. “Fine. But I’m warning you. It’s in my pants.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised, you sick perv. I heard about you and Poco Colima. And the blue waffle. That’s how I picked up your trail.”

Fucking Poco Colima. They’ll fuck you and keep on fucking you long after you’ve gone.

He first cuffed my hands and then untied them from the chair, releasing my legs next.

“Stand up”, he leveled the revolver at me. I did as I was told.

“Good…now I’m going to…oh what the fuck…jesus!”

The stench hit me pretty good as well although I was almost used to it. I can’t describe it but it was still topped with Poco Colima. He dropped to the floor. I couldn’t help but laugh, vomiting as I did so.

I knelt down and unwittingly finished him off. The proximity of my crotch proving to be too much for his nervous system.

I got the keys, freed my hands and took the dude’s cash as well as his revolver.

As I pulled up my pants, I thanked god that I didn’t own a belt.

The Radiation Juan Chronicles will be featured if Juan can dig himself out of that hole in the sand and find the coordination to use a pen. He’s finally back with his 4th installment:

Sombrero Samhain

The Radiation Juan Chronicles will be featured whenever Juan finds his way out of the desert and actually sends us something. Join him on his dangerous , drunken escapades.

The Sweet Green Glow

I walked into the bar and goddamn did I need a drink. The bartender was a hulking beast with a hateful slouch that told you he would not be listening to your sad stories.

He looked like he used to eat logs for a living but soon found out that it was an even shittier job than serving the locals at Los Diems on rte 70. All I wanted was a few hard shots of Toxiquilas to make the yesterday go away. Pine Nut looks at me and says, “We ain’t got none of that. Pick again”

But hell, I was determined. “Its not hard to make”, I told him. “Vermouth and tequila in a small shot…”

“I said we don’t got none”

Fine. So I leave the bar and head to the local liquor outlet.The door was locked but by my watch they’d be open at noon. 5 minutes later the door opens. God, I love these people for their punctuality. I walk back to Los Diems and swing the vermouth onto the bar. “Here y’ar. It’s on me”

I swear the very air fell on the floor. No one said a word or even looked at me.

Except for Johnny Tea Bag behind the bar.

“A present, eh?”
“Yeah. Now make me a drink. Its a shot. You mix vermouth with …”
“You telling me how to do my job?”
“…”
“Good.”

He never took his eyes off me as he cracked open the bottle and mixed my shot.

“That’s 4.25, buddy.”
“What…I just GAVE you a goddamn bottle.”
“No one drinks in my bar for free.”

I was done arguing.

So I paid. All day long and right through happy hour.

Read Chapter 2!

The Radiation Juan Chronicles will be featured whenever Juan gets off his drunken ass to actually send us something. Join him on his dangerous and sometimes disturbing (but usually disgusting) journey.

Remember the Alamo

By the time I crossed the river, the sun had set and I could see the lights from the town. They weren’t big city bright lights though. More like small town low-watt bulbs flickering in the dusty night air. Looked like my kinda town.

Yes. I had been here before. The night before in fact. It had been slowly seeping back to me all day as I walked. The taste in my mouth kept reminding me of that. Just as pain holds memories, so does taste and smell. And what I was tasting in my mouth conjured up shiny images of tequila bottles and rusty pliers. I had lost my sense of smell at least six years ago, but that didn’t stop the muscle memory of my taste buds from remembering a lousy pile of human misery named Osvaldo.

Read Chapter 1!

The Radiation Juan Chronicles will be featured whenever Juan gets off his drunken ass to actually send us something.  Join him on his dangerous and sometimes disturbing (but usually disgusting) journey.

Peyote and Pavement

I walked for longer than I expected to under the circumstances: uncountable miles from the closest bar, town, or hashball depot, with the sun searing my flesh which didn’t normally see any light brighter than a neon sign. I was thirsty too, yet the drip-drip coming from where my wisdom teeth had been somehow offered some sweet relief.

Looking back I could see the car in the distance. Barely a charcoal smudge against the beige plains. God knows how long I’d been out there, but the road was sloping up and I had a clear view from my vantage point. It didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t my car.

I spun around lazily and started back up the road. I could begin to see the tell tale signs of an approaching town: a sign up ahead, the refuse collecting in the ditches. I’d been this way before. I was sure of that.

Read the prologue!

The Radiation Juan Chronicles are a new semi-monthly feature written by Juan himself. Come along and join him on his dangerous, but mostly disturbing journey.

Born Into The Sun

When I woke up that day, I thought I was blind and that I had a mouthful of cotton balls. Hell, I thought I was dead. My hearing was botched too and well damn, all my senses were absolutely dulled.

I managed to kick the trunk open with the last ounce of strength I had. Ounces…that seemed to trigger some not so long ago memories…we were in a roadside bar…somewhere… But I was alone now, wasn’t I? There was no more “we”…

I crawled out onto the scorched highway, the world seemed coated in saran-wrap. I wasn’t blind after all and my hearing had returned. I did have cotton balls in my mouth though, and I spat the bloody things into my hand and gave them a quick once-over before I discarded them and began to walk…

Chapter 1 coming soon!