Degan Shore: Part One

Degan Shore: Part One

1

 Degan Shore stared at her lap. A few stringy reddish-brown strands fell into her eyes as she lowered her head. Her fingers curled into her palms. She stiffened in her seat. Stifled laughter made her ears twitch. Her eyes narrowed. In the ray of sunlight pouring through the window her skin paled. She appreciated its warmth but its extreme brightness hurt. Her jaw tightened as she swallowed hard. She didn't care much for the day. Night was easier to withstand.

As her fingers coursed down a collection of books in front of her she felt a leather spine. She drew in a deep breath. A variety of perfumes and colognes filled her nostrils. Staring at the chalkboard she envisioned its hard black surface softening. She wanted hands to reach out and snatch Karen Knutson before she left the room. The dirty blonde cheerleader sat behind her. Since the beginning of class she relentlessly poked Candace's shoulder with the tip of a pencil.

Just die already, Degan thought. She shuffled the order of school books and transferred another one to the top. She had prayed for guidance. She had prayed for solace. It never came. Slowly her faith expired. It lay dead among many other tried religions that failed her. She thought the universe conceived worlds out of mistake, that life existed simply because the laws of physics and gravity allowed it, but science could only explain so much.

The pristine white sheet of parchment nearly glowed beneath her gaze as she opened the book. Reaching for her black ball point pen a dark grin sketched her features. Her heavily kohl lined eyes darted from left to right. Feeling the page vibrate beneath her fingernails she rubbed its corner with the pad of her thumb. She paused, thinking how to word what she was about to write. It had to be poetic, perfect and simply horrific.

Degan lowered the pen onto the page and scribbled whatever her mind invented. Karen Knutson was a name she learned to dislike. It looked awkward in the paragraph she composed and yet it was a well knitted web of wishes plunging it into nightmares. Her heart beat against her ribs as her busy hand started another brief line. When she finished she closed the book, lay down her pen and waited.

 The harsh light beating down from the fluorescent strip made her squint. It made everything nearly white out. She linked her fingers together. In the end those who deserve what is coming to them will meet a horrible fate. She believed this as much as she felt a tingle race across her skin as soon as she heard gasps turn into screams.

"Karen," she heard someone yell. It sounded like Joseph. The wiry coward didn't know his butt from a hole in the ground and yet he was the king of pigs.

The voice inside her head melted around her. She welcomed it, praised it with a silent smile and imagined Karen Knutson with large boils breaking out across every inch of her skin. Once the boils popped they became sucking sores oozing clear liquid. Like little mouths they opened and closed.

 Suffer unto me the little children, the voice rasped. Its guttural tone dripped with malice.

 Karen Knutson screamed. Through her veins coursed a black mass that sketched along her skin a roadmap of pain. Her tongue danced in her mouth, curled and swelled. It flapped up and down as it gave birth to green bulging pimples.

 Souls of the faint shall perish, the voice seethed.

 Degan suppressed a giggle. Blood was an instrument she could play without regret. So many times had it been shed in vain, but now she knew the power within it, the possibilities it had. She clutched the leather clad book closer to her chest.

"Call an ambulance right now," she listened to another boy yell.

Call them, she thought. Call them and watch them fail. Nothing can save her now. She deserves this. If she hadn't been such a horrid excuse for a human being none of this would be happening. She deserves everything she gets and then some.

Her fingers itched. It was calling her, telling her to read further and so she opened it to a newly written text. The smell of blood drifted from the words. Around her the classroom erupted into chaos as Karen Knutson collapsed and convulsed on a checkered pattern floor tiles. Foam pumped from her mouth as her eyes rolled back into her head.

 There was a moment where sound faded into silence. She looked up at the clock mounted over the chalkboard. Its hands were still. As her gaze swept the room faces were frozen in terror, bodies holding poses in mid actions, and she gathered her books. Embracing them in a crook of an arm with her pen in her hand, she stood.

2

What are they fighting for? Don't they realize it is all for nothing? This is a reality that doesn't want them.

As threads of golden spun around the horizon she stared through the window and sighed. Whispers of wind were at the nape of her neck and gently brushing aside strands of her hair when a horn honked and she looked to see who the dumb a*s was blowing it. Curse words stained her lips and she nearly told the douchebag in the rusted Ford to go home and impregnate his dog when her attention again snapped to the window.

In the recent days she had come to accept some people never change. They will always be the same b*****s and b******s as always and although you strive to be a better person yourself their constant insults to what you hold sacred never cease to fly from their little decayed lips. What a bunch of crap they spouted about forgiveness this and forgiveness that. It was all a front to make their sagging jugs look like something a man might lick while sober. But no, that dried up old hag beside the d****e gave her a glance and snorted. Was it any wonder why his male appendage was searching for greener pastors?

Degan consulted her wrist watch. Five minutes had passed since the last time she checked. The hands could not have been moving any slower and as she lowered her arm she gritted her teeth. Through the pane of the front window display she saw him standing at the counter. That sheepish look on his face was going to blow the whole thing but she could not very well go in there and demand the prick hurry up. Still the urge was mounting and in another five minutes if his a*s was not out that door she was taking off. To hell with waiting while he made small talk with the cashier.

As she turned to search the best route home her heart leapt into her throat. Her eyes widened to medium saucers and suddenly her legs became pillars of thick lead. The black and white car with its blue and red lights on top could not have had a more haunted look about it. Even now as she stood frozen to the sidewalk outside Murphy's Liquor two uniformed officers were getting out with crisp caps tight on their heads.

 Quickly she turned away and swallowed the bile at the back of her throat. She stood still a moment, listened to their footsteps and believed for a second they were coming toward her. She folded her arms across her chest and licked her lips. If they asked her what she was doing here she was going to lie. Then her mind locked up and lying seemed almost foreign. She swore under breath and chewed the inside of her lip when she noticed the footsteps had stopped.

 Slowly she looked over her shoulder. Empty space stared back at here and then her vision wandered to the inside of the store. There she saw the two policemen shuffle past Stone who was finally hooking his hands through the hoops of the bags and retreating. Once he was outside with the goods Degan seized him by the shoulder and yanked him into the alleyway.

 "What took so long," she screamed.

 Looking around at the unsanitary conditions of the narrow space, Stone replied, "Do you think this is the best place to discuss this, Degan?"

Degan's eyes bulged from their sockets. "Is that all you care about?"

From under a piece of spread newspaper a man stirred. His filthy attire and toothless grin suggested this was his place of residence. His dirt caked face tilted up to catch a better view of the screaming Degan who by now was silent and staring narrowly in disgust.

"Degan," Stone urged, his voice squeaking. "I think we better leave."

 "Hell, no," Degan countered. "This alley is not private property. We have every right to be here."

 Stone grabbed her by the arm and tugged her back onto the sidewalk. She might have resisted had the cops not been two doors down. She began to amble alongside him though perhaps he was right about one thing. This area of town was considered not the safest at night. Hell, people were getting mugged and raped during the day here. Still, if anyone tried laying a hand on her she would not hesitate in opening a can of whoop a*s.

"Are you sure about this," he asked for the tenth time.

She listened to the items clinking inside the bags and sighed. "For crap's sake, Stone, yes, I am sure as rainbows represent gay pride which is a good thing if you ask me."

Stone pushed up his wire rimmed spectacles with his forefinger and looked away. "I don't feel right about this."

Degan rolled her eyes. "Will you feel right with your dingdong in Emma's mouth, Stone? Because I guarantee you if you serve her booze tonight you would have the pleasures of violating any one of her many holes. You don't want to stay a virgin forever do you?"

He shook his head. "But I don't want to take advantage of her."

She slowed in her pace as they turned the corner onto Hanes and Weston. Flipping a corkscrew lock of hair over her shoulders she shot him an irritated glance.

"You won't be taking advantage of her. Think of it as a wise career move. If you start plugging vaginas now you will be a shoe in for major babes in college."

They both came to a halt as a man wearing a mask darted out in front of them. It was hard to tell where exactly he came from. All Degan knew was he was a major obstacle and then she saw the gun. Its dark eyes stared at her as his rough voice snapped her thoughts in two.

"Give me all your cash and whatever is in those bags," he growled.

Degan raised an eyebrow and pressed her lips into a wrinkled O. In one spinning kick the gun was knocked out of his hand and as he looked in the direction it flew she delivered another one between his legs. As he sank to his knees, hands cupping his privates, she doubled her fists and punched first the left then the right eye until his head lowered. He began to recover but another rapid spinning kick sent him flying backward into a cluster of aluminum garbage cans where he landed and did not get up until they were out of sight.

 "So it is your choice," Degan continued, acting as though they were not just about to become worm food.

Stone only now seemed to be able to breathe. Color melted back into his face with first flushing his cheeks a deep pink. He looked behind them as though expecting the man to be chasing after them.

"Don't worry about that d****e," Degan said and took a deep breath. "He won't be looking for us again."

 Stone made a whimpering noise. His voice was squeaky again and fluctuating between octaves. "I couldn't handle that guy back there. You are more of a man than I am."

 She nodded. "I agree but with my help you will be more man than these girls know what to do with."

 "And how are you going to do that, Degan?  You can't work miracles."

 She smiled as they stopped at an intersection. As she watched for the opportunity to cross she answered, "How do you know I can't, Stone?"

Once the traffic thinned they galloped to the other side where their conversation continued. She never expected him to be as pathetic as he was now, but that didn't make any difference in what she knew needed to be done.

 With the cement slapping against her feet, Degan watched the white laces of her tennis shoes bounce. She jumped to the left to avoid a puddle and grimaced. Judging by the color and sour smell it emitted she guessed it was vomit. The shame of it all weighed down society with more and more bull. She twisted her face skyward. Soft purple hues were bringing the stars out to shine. In another hour navy richness would be upon them and the perverts would be crawling out of the wood work just to slim their way into women’s panties. She glanced at Stone. He was a target for them as well.

"Stone," she said and sighed. "Listen to me carefully, Stone. You shouldn’t be scared. Just relax. Believe me when I say you will know what to do."

Stone squirmed and looked up, then back down at the bags in his hands.

    Degan grabbed hold of his collar and tugged him aside as a burly man and his rotund woman neared. They took up most of the walk way, leaving them little if no room to maneuver. Luckily they passed with just a hard stern look. In the past such people would block your way and feel you up for a quarter. She shivered at the thought and pressed on.

Stone cast a sideways glance. "Aren't you afraid of anything?"

They moved swiftly through the next block. Around the corner they swung and then dashed across another street before reaching a neighborhood cluttered with parked cars on both sides. Houses were not what you call run down but they certainly lacked luster. Peeling paint and broken windows marked most of them in a rather charming way if you were homeless and in need of a place no matter how hideous.

She screwed up her face at the awkward thought. Did that even make sense? In her mind it strangely did but she kept it to herself. Any mention of it and Stone might think she was even loonier than before. A section of wood fence started up along the next few patches of broken cement. It used to be white but now was a dull gray, peeling and abandoned. Each yard had some dog. They reminded her of the sort of dog's guarding junk yards and that hicks kept.

 It was a two story house they came upon just before eight o'clock. Degan consulted her wristwatch and nodded as the red glow of numbers confirmed her suspicion. She tugged Stone's sleeve and gestured toward the door. It yawned to let out a stumbling guy with long shaggy hair and beady blue eyes. They sidestepped him on the cobblestone pathway and paused as he wobbled a circle around them. His lips pulled in one corner while the other corner remained straight. It was a powerful lewd smirk that sent chills down her spine.

Words came to her mind she knew were better unspoken but as his stare continued it was more and more difficult to keep them from spilling out. Stone hooked his arm with hers and pulled her toward the door. Her inner being figured denial was the best opinion. After all it was never easy being alive in a morbid hell like the one thrust upon humans and their lesser creatures.

Once inside Degan looked about and gave an approved glance Stone's way. Through a busy crowd of giggling and grunting dancers, they managed to locate a table where a generic layout of crackers and ham lay on a glass platter. Beside it was a large bowl with red liquid. She sniffed it and thought it to be fruit punch. It was incredibly cliché. All that was missing was the hidden keg of beer and some loud jock wheeling out yelling, "Here is the refreshment!"

Degan rolled her eyes at the concept. It was so juvenile and yet expected of these teens. After all that was what made their lives fun and enjoyable. She had nothing against that. Her idea of enjoyment varied from moment to moment. Right now nothing would satisfy her more than seeing Stone getting a piece of the action.

"If I were a guy right now I’d be in paradise," Degan said and gestured toward Emma who was thrusting the air in rhythm to the song playing over the mammoth stereo system.  "Go over there and give her the bottle you got her."

Stone sat the bags on the table and fished inside the first one. His quick upward glances toward Emma were not without their gasps and whimpers. He wiped his hands on his pants and then pulled out the bottle of Vodka. The liquid sparkled under the bright beams of light from lamps and overhead bulbs as he ambled through the band of hoots and hollers.

Degan watched and began swishing her hips to the music. She wasn't much of a dancer but the song beating against the speaker caught her attention and her body could not help itself. She turned to admire the growing crowd and then turned back to see Stone stumbling toward Emma. She stopped dry humping the air to accept the bottle he handed her. Her mouth moved but Degan could not decipher what she was saying. By the look at her face she was grateful but Degan felt a twinge of something in her belly that made her frown.

"Hey, Degan," said the drunkard from the pathway. He was now swaying beside her and staring her up and down. "Are you here with anyone?"

"I am here with a .45 and a shovel. Do you want to press your luck," she asked, her eyes shimmering with ill intent and slowly he backed away. She rubbed her lips together to even out her gloss and nodded, "That is right, insect.”

Another body came into her line of view. Stone was blocked by a solid hairy chest and gold chains. She followed it up to see his smile and arched a brow. Either this dude was awfully mature for his age or he was having a midlife crisis.

 "May I help you," Degan asked.

 "You look like you fell from heaven," he said in a husky voice.

"I came from hell," she answered.

His smile broadened. "Is that right? I could use a hellion."

"I am asexual," she said. "So nothing you say or do can make me offer you any comfort for your tootsie roll."

"Well maybe you need a real man to show you what you have been missing," he urged, stepping closer.

 She backed away and said, "You are violating my personal bubble."

He filled the gap between them with his wide body. The smell about him was one of booze and cheap cologne. "Don't play hard to get, baby."

Degan felt heat rush to her face. As her muscles tensed she spun around with a kick that sent him backwards and up against a wall where he sunk to the floor in an unconscious heap.  In that moment all was silent except for the endless wave of musical angst, but she paid them no attention. She looked for Stone and spied him sitting alone on a sofa close to where Emma had been. His head dipped low. His hands clasped together and hung between his knees.  She hurried toward him, sat down and rubbed his back.

 "It didn't go so well, did it,” she asked softly.

"She was just using me to get her alcohol," Stone replied after a moment. "That fake I.D. my brother made for me is useless now."

She shook her head and sighed. "Stone, there are other girls who will appreciate who you are instead of what you can give them. Trust me on this."

Degan’s eyes glazed over with memory.  For a moment the music had died out. It lingered only as a pained whispered hanging from a dying creature's mouth before blaring full force again. She placed her hands on her hips, her thumbs wiggled through the hoops of her jeans and as she sighed her eyes wandered upward. The stain on the ceiling gave her a chill. Though it was a simple blotch it sort of reminded her of something...ancient. Tear drops trickled from it and formed another large pool of brown. It must have been years old, but she wondered if anyone ever noticed. Many things in life go unnoticed and for what reason?

Her mind snapped to, her head spun and as she turned to find Stone. Through a sea of dancers she swam toward the door where she spied his profile exiting. If he left now there was no telling when the next chance would come but as she began pushing her way into the night she paused.  People made such a big deal out of sex these days. Somehow, somewhere, it had become a discomfort in her thoughts.

"Stone," she called after him and he stopped, turned and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"I can't do it," he said.   His fingers splayed and captured bundles of his shirt as she stood there gazing into his weepy dark eyes.  It was like watching a baby bird being thrown from a nest.

 "You can," she said softly.

 Stone looked up, drying his tears with his sleeve.

Her vision wandered upward. Twinkling stars peeked out from clusters of navy blue. Flecked between them were heavy purple and occasional clouds. As she drifted among them nothing mattered. The party was a bust, but in time this night would not even exist. Her attention slowly drifted back to Stone.   The air was crisp. It nibbled at their cheeks and the ends of their noses. As they trekked the pathway shoulder to shoulder she shoved her hands in her pockets and sighed.

"Come on, Stone," she said. "I beat a Dairy Queen blizzard would hit the spot. What do you say?"

He nodded. "Sure. I have nothing better to do."

3

The weave of night sprawled on. In its mysteries challenges were made, promises were broken and for a guy name Stone time was a b***h in heat. Sooner or later his turn would come. It may not be this night or the next but Degan was as sure as she was of anything that he would have his moment. Some b*****s might give him s**t while angels soothe his heart. In a way she reckoned it was her job to distinguish the two before he got even more hurt. But then again life was all about experiences she supposed. It would take a lot of hurt before things were made right.

Degan stared up at the tangerine light. Around its bulb flew various insects that occasionally bumped into the glass. She titled her head in wonder as she continued to watch the creatures. There was nothing more pathetic than something that just did not get the hint. There was nothing lamer than a pest who never knew when to quit. Then she found Stone. He leaned against the post showered in not just its low beam but something else as well.

A shaky finger pushed up his glasses as she approached. Behind them the music from the party faded. Laughter rose and fell quickly but too was drowned out. A sigh escaped her lips and she laid a hand on his bony shoulder.

"Stone," she began and then stopped herself. What could she possible say to make him feel better? She glanced down at her feet and then back up at the light. "There is always tomorrow," she said at last. She bit her tongue when he looked up. The hurt in his eyes pierced her and she felt her hand fall away.

"I think it is just a lame idea," he said. "No girl is going to want to be with me. Let's face it. I am just a geek, Degan."

Degan's eyes narrowed. Perhaps there was truth to that but no one called him a geek except her. She folded her arms across her chest and snickered. Now he looked sharply at her.

"Then maybe you are a loser," she said. "The only thing that makes you better is the fact you haven't sold out. You are who you are and you are not afraid of being so. And even if you are afraid you do a great job of hiding it."

"That is easy for you to say," he said, now starting to walk away.

She moved with him. Down the dark street with an occasional splash of orange light guided them back the way they came. With her arms still folded she bumped his shoulder with hers and continued on. "Perhaps it is easy for me to say."

Stone rubbed his wrists, unbuttoned and then buttoned his sleeves and then cleared his throat. "You can be anything you want to be."

“So can you,” she replied, hinting at a truth they both shared.

"I am just too ugly," he then said.

Degan rolled her eyes. Some place a car door opened and slammed shut. It sounded close. She glanced to her left and then to her right. A porch light fluttered on. Sitting there in an old wicker chair was a toothless old man.

 "Degan," Stone said for the third time.

Degan looked ahead. The car was parked at an angle on the sidewalk. From the back seat bass boomed from some rap group she never heard of. As they drew near a man hopped out from the passenger side and blew a thick stream of smoke from his mouth. He glared at them while cracking a smile. Degan readily noticed his silver capped front tooth and thought what an awful cliché that was. She shook her head as the driver's door then opened.

"Look what we found," the passenger said to the driver. They exchanged glances and laughed lowly. Directing his attention to Degan, he asked, "Hey, Princess, what are you doing walking the streets alone? Is this your brother or something?"

Degan felt Stone stiffen next to her. He took a few steps back and bowed his head. He reached out and tugged on the back of her dress, but she jerked free and unfolded her arms as she replied, "Now why would I tell a inbreed jerk like you anything?"

The driver made a sound as though trouble was brewing. He then reached into his torn denim jacket and withdrew a pistol. She acknowledged the pistol but her focus was the jacket. Why did these thugs always wear denim or leather? She shook her head again and raised a brow.

"This is starting to get ludicrous," she said dully. She sluggishly took a few steps forward and shrugged her shoulders. "Why is it you never learn your lesson? Why do you always come back for more?"

"Degan,” Stone hissed behind her.

 "Now I am going to give you boys' one more warning and after that there is no more playing nice. Do you understand?" She said slowly as though each word she uttered was far too complicated for them to grasp. "So what is it going to be?"

Don't forget the plan. Don't forget what we came here to do!

4

A siren wailed behind her, caused her and Stone to nearly jump out of their skins. Instantly the driver plunge the pistol into his jacket as rotating blue and red lights raced over them. Before any of them knew it two officers approached with flashlights. Degan saw they hand one hand caressing their firearms still in their holsters.

"Is there any problem here," the first officer asked, shining the light in Stone's face and then Degan's.

Degan replied quickly, "No, officer. These gentlemen where just going on their way when you showed up. There is no trouble here."

No trouble, she thought. There may not be trouble yet, but just wait. Trouble always seemed to find them wherever they went.

The shine from the flashlights made her squint. Together they watched the two door car speed off in the distance. The red highlights blinked a few times but as they became no more than two little specks she turned toward the officers and nodded, a smile breaking across her face. She tapped the first officer's wrist and he lowered the showering light, pushed the switch and although darkness splashed before him a tiny smile was beginning to spread, turning his lips upward to expose his pearl teeth.

"That was cool," Degan said and the second officer burst with laughter.

Do not abandon the war.

She shifted her weight to one foot. Glancing at the end of the avenue she gave a weak smile to anyone who passed by and dared to look at the two officers and teenagers. Then as the lamp next to them flickered, its bulb ready to give way to shadows, the first officer thrust his pelvis at the air as though pretending to bump ugly with an imagination woman. When his episode came to an end he stood perfectly tall once more and stared with unmoving features.

Stone stammered, looked from Degan to the first officer and then the second. He pushed his glasses up with a shaky forefinger and shuffled closer to the lamp post where it beamed a dully. She tugged at his sleeve and nodded toward the police car. Its spinning lights ceased as the first officer hopped in the driver's seat.

"Come on, Stone," Degan said and was pulling him along toward the back where the second officer was standing with his hand on the handle.

 "Are we being arrested," he asked, Degan pushing him into the small caged seat. Staring through a steel mesh, he asked, "What is going on?"

Moments later they were riding into the night. Soft music was playing over the radio but only at a whisper as the two officers engaged in conversation. They hardly spoke like authority figures and Degan sensed Stone must be in a world of questions but as they sat with silence between them she simply smiled.

"I believe introductions are in order," said the driving policeman. "I am Officer Black. This here next to me is Officer Greene. Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Degan?"

Degan snickered as the squad car rushed through a yellow light. The four way intersection hardly gave notice. "This is Stone."

 Officer Black glanced at him. His eyes in the rearview mirror glinted then returned to the avenue. "Degan, what is his story?"

Stone squeezed her wrist. A silent exchange between broke when she answered, "Well, I was hoping maybe you can help us with a little something. You see, my boy here needs some hot--"

"Degan," Stone hissed, the cords of his neck standing out as heat flushed his cheeks hot pink.

Officer Greene chuckled. "I know exactly what you mean."

Stone sank back, arms folded and lower lip quivering. It was classic Stone. He was a small town boy without a clue how a big city worked. Then again there were things that he firmly acknowledged. That was what made her choose him in the first place. He was not like them other clowns who paraded around with their c***s hanging out their pants. He didn't regard women as objects solely for men to pleasure themselves with. Perhaps it was also what made her job a little more frustrating, but no matter. Looking at him under the occasional splash of orange light as the car sped freely down the avenue she saw a true man in the works.

As the car swung left silence settled in the cap space. Separated by steel mesh, the officers casually whispered to one another. The only interruption came with a brief fan of music as it swelled over the radio but even that was a note hardly able to hear. In the back seat sitting like a statue Stone rubbed his chest and again sought answers in Degan's eyes as he tossed her a glance. All she offered was a smile and continued to gaze into the night from her window.

"You know," Officer Greene spoke. His voice was normal toned yet loud in the silence and Stone jumped. "Have you ever seen two gay guys after they finish inside each other?"

Degan shook her head. "Why would I want to see something like that?"

"Well," Greene continued, "crap comes out the back door in huge globs. Black and I were called to this apartment a while back. There was some jerk complaining about a party or something and so we arrive and almost have to break down the door. Some skinny dude comes to the door wearing a doughnut around his pecker. I stood there staring at the jelly dripping off his pathetic appendage and wondered why in the hell some dude would have sex with a jelly doughnut."

"That guy was arrested previously for having sex with cheeseburgers in Burger King," Black added as he veered the car around another left corner. Speeding down a narrow street he said, "He said hamburger really was a turn on."

Greene laughed. "Anyway, we push our way inside and hear what sounds like two cats fighting. Curious I go to investigate and behind door number one were two guys just pulling out of one another. My first reaction was how can two guys sound like cats fighting and then as my mind drifted I saw the poop flopping out of their yawning holes. I threw up. Not because of two gay guys having sex but because of feces. I cannot look at it."

"Seriously he can't," Black added.

 "I think gay sex is a beautiful thing. I would never personally try it, but have you ever seen the Crying Game? I suppose if something like that happened to me and I fell in love with a woman who was a man I can honestly say I might give it a shot, especially if the man looked like Jennifer Lopez," Greene rambled.

"I think they call her J-Lo now," Black added, taking a right at the next intersection.

 "Well no matter what you call her she has a fine butt. Why are women so worried about having a fat butt? I think huge butts are sexy," Greene said. "That reminds me, if I were a gay man I would definitely do Richard Simmons."

 In unison Degan and Black exclaimed, "What?"

"I am sorry," Greene said, holding both hands up. "The man reminds me of a chick."

"Dude," Black said, "Richard Simmons is ugly. If you must do a Simmons …why not Gene Simmons from Kiss?"

 "Gene Simmons isn't gay."

 "I know he isn't, but in your own little fantasy world believe he is."

Greene nodded. "Oh yeah, then I would definitely get a piece of that."

5

Over the string of tree tops, her vision narrowed. Gray clouds slipped seamlessly over the moon. Now all that shrouded her was darkness. She turned to shift her gaze. One side of the road looked just like the other side and at both ends eternal blackness mocked her. As she continued to walk her heels clicked on the pavement. It was a dull sound that might have gone unnoticed except the blaring silence had muted everything else.  Degan swayed. As she approached tire grooves her pace slowed. Around the bend, in the sleeve of darkness where tall Pines hugged either side of the path, she sensed their presence.

Once you remember you might be surprised.

The voice called out to her from some shallow grave where she had hoped to bury it, but apparently her mind was not deep enough.

 In your glory days you had nations kneel before you.

Degan froze in her tracks. The brew of her poison as it had become known to her was beginning to churn and bubble.

But it is not poison! It is power!

"Shut up! I have been listening to your babble for centuries,” she hissed.

Under an enclosure of shadow Degan once again came into view. She took to the steps in a slow and graceful manner. The door was rough and scaled beneath her knuckles as she knocked. Through the splintered wood abused by years of harsh winters and hot summers she perceived a staggering man wearing a wife beater and sweatpants. They were plastered to his ample frame. Sweat stains were great, yellow oceans across the cotton fabric. The crotch of the sweatpants had begun to wear thin and a small pin sized hole started to form. He kicked a few stray beer cans aside and belched.

“It’s you,” he grumbled and stepped aside to allow her entry.