A Crusty Dilemma

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne

   I am on my way to the train tracks. So, really, like I had said, nobody drives down my road, much less my street. It’s kind of sort of a dead end.The clouds are mostly always dark as they circle around like vultures. There is a train that passes by. The tracks run through the docks somewhere behind my house. That is where I am headed now. However… on the opposite side of the entrance to my cul-de-sac, hidden underneath wild grass, is another set of train tracks. That used to be the old railway, such a long, long time ago. Those tracks contain ghosts of the past. Too many souls were killed in the process. Next to the tracks is a tiny pond that is equally hidden by the wild grass. Look at that, wild grass claiming a set of forgotten tracks and a pond. But little does the grass know that it too, belongs to me. It does. It does.

   As I walk to the docks to flatten the itchy coins in my pocket, I remember a movie I saw once about ravens that would suck out human eyes. I curiously sewed together a rag doll and set it outside overnight. Maybe the ravens wouldn’t know the difference, I thought, and they’d suck out the beady eyes. Well, I never found out because the rag dolls were always gone the next day. I tried it a few times. Maybe the ravens took the dolls for themselves. That’s ok. At least they had company. 

   I continue walking down the road that the stranger must have taken before she graced me with her uninvited presence. Another memory comes slowly drifting into my head. Actually, a whole set of sequences from various events in my life decide to pop in. They wish to be heard. So, being a pretty fair person myself, I decide to listen. One ticket down Memory Lane. Here we go! 

The Junkie and The Knife:

   There was a junkie once. In the city. He would stand all day on the corner of the bus stop that was located in front of the bank. Smart fella, huh? He realized that if he voiced the pitiful events of his life to people, they would offer a coin or two. Cunning. But, hey, people like to be suckered into emptying their pockets for a charity case.

   I would not have called this junkie a charity case under any circumstance. So this junkie, after a day's work, would sneak to the back of an alley and place a call. Always to the same number. He would then rampage through the garbage containers while he waited for his fix. Once it arrived he'd eat, shoot up and go into a world that was purely his own. The next day, he'd wake up in his own discarding and go back to beg for more. If you ask me, he was one of the most sickening persons I've ever laid eyes upon. Just the sight of him created and a battle between my lunch and the acids in my stomach.

   I watched him from a distance. I became obsessed with his every move. I would sit on the bench across the corner where he would always stand. One day I saw him dispose of his body fluids as he stood in what he was brought into this feeble world with.

Right.

In front.

Of the kids. 

On the corner.

Of the sidewalk.

   That’s when I decided I no longer wished to obsess over his presence. I did the unworthy inhabitants a favor - the people of the city. I followed him to the back of the alley. I called to him just as he was about to reach under a wooden box where he kept the mangled flip phone. He froze in mid-air. The alley was a dead end and he was trapped. 

    One point for Knife Holder, zero points for Walking Disgrace. He looked at me alarmed. I could smell his stench all the way from where I stood. His hair rotted and crumbled. His face, falling and wrinkly. His eyes were full of envy and malice. I could tell because the shadows in his eyes danced with glee. His body was a lump of waste. Sweat formed below his dirt-dried armpits and he started looking frantically around for some sort of savior.

   "Old man, you have taken your last breath today!” I spoke, taking out my knife from the side of my boot. I smiled a quirky smile as he took deep breaths at the sight of my knife. I didn’t really care for his blood, or for his humanity for that matter. I was selfish and he, a sore sight that I wanted gone. 

   I walked slowly his way without losing sight of his weakened eyes. Loss of eye contact means loss of control. Uncertainty. I wanted the last thing he saw to be me. I had to weaken him first. His eyes darted from side to side. He was probably thinking of a way out. The gears in his mind working overtime. I doubt he had thought this much in a very long time.

   I stood there, knife in hand. I studied him. I decided to go for his knees first. I walked over to him calmly. This caused him to run at me. I tricked him by pretending to foolishly attack his throat. I then slashed his knees as he hid behind his arms. The junkie yelled a grunt of despair. He fell upon them. His knees. He was disabled. His years of begging had diminished his strength.

   Close up he smelled of urine, crust and disease. His stench was extreme. My eyes turned over the option of leaping out and running away. I must dispose of such waste quickly. He had landed in a crawl position taking in big gulps of breath. His back arched as he tried to breath. More than likely his lungs were also crusted with sores. I kicked his ribs. This made him fall on his back. He screamed in horror triggering a sense of excitement in my chest. I let loose. I kneeled down before him and dragged the knife down his stomach revealing a nice crimson river. The steady pleas he composed just brought forth that excitement that built up like a melody in my head. The horror before me danced vividly in my eyes. He saw the nature of pure delight in my face and screamed for help. 

   Yes. His stench was becoming my victory. He was under my control. I dragged my knife to his place of sin. The one object a man purely thinks with. Where brains are absent. The only mind a man has when such quick decisions are made. I saw his eyes, how they grew at the site of where my knife paused. If ever once horror shone on such disgrace it was now. He made a reach to save his manhood but I was quick. I easily manipulated both his hands above his head and stabbed my knife through his palms. His shrieks of pain were enough to wake up the whole city. But I didn’t care. No, I didn’t care. 

   "Do you know why I’m doing this?" I stood up and danced around him. His eyes sent mixed signals like paint coming together; like water gathering from many rivers of far away places.

"Nu…no! I have never done nothin’ to ya, bro WTF?!!" I pulled out my knife from his bleeding palms and squatted down before his face. 

   “Your life is a disgrace. You used to be a human but you’ve given up on life! And the disgusting act of disrespect…” I didn’t get to finish because he glitched. Like, he was there but then he wasn’t. Then he glitched again and he was back. What kind of game was this? I furrowed my eyebrows. I needed to hurry. With my fingers I stretched his eyelids apart and dug the knife under his eyeball and ripped it out. I did the same to the other side. His agonizing shrills were of my contempt. I slid my knife down his bare chest, over his blood-quenched stomach and onto his existence. I punctured both sacs deeply and slowly inserted my knife tearing a mighty opening for his next needful public business. I stood up and admired my work. I left him lying in rotting pools of blood. Maybe the ground will grow hungry and swallow him whole. His voice had seized the opportunity and it too ran from him. No more shrills. No more excitement. All there was were deep lonely breaths hanging on to every once of life left over.

"Silly old junkie, t'was just a game. That was all." I smiled at him and was on my way.

   As I turned around to take a gander one last time, he was gone. But how? The Earth. It must’ve been extremely hungry and swallowed him whole. I walked back to where I left him. No blood. No eyeballs. He was just here. And now he's not! I looked behind the trash compactor. No sign of the junkie. 

   The ground must have definitely swallowed him whole. I shrugged.