COLD BLACK MIRRORA Chapter by Danny Zil ALL 10 TALES. COLD BLACK MIRROR
DANNY ZIL
10 BLACK
FLASH TALES
ORDINARY
JOE
Ordinary Joe liked winter. The cold. The
grey skies. The rain. The darkness. You could hide in all that. Become
invisible. Disappear. Ordinary Joe hated summer. The heat. The
blue skies. The sunshine. The light. You couldn’t hide in all that. You were
visible. Couldn’t disappear. Things had started out fine for Ordinary
Joe. In his teens, they were lookin good. He was a handsome guy, beddin some of
the more attractive girls in his school. Hell, even a couple of their moms. He
was doin well in his studies. Engineerin. He was also throwin quarterback
passes that were attractin the attention of the pros. Yep, everythin was lookin good. Then a motorbike accident left him with a
metal pin in his throwin arm. Sure he could still use it okay but he couldn’t
make the passes anymore. That pissed him off real bad an his studies fell away. Then he got one of his girlfriends pregnant
an wound up havin to marry her. They had the kid and he had to give up his
studies an take factory work to support them. Then the mortgage. Then the second kid. The
end of dreams. Friends fell away. The drinkin started. The marriage fell away.
The divorce started. Now Ordinary Joe was in his forties. Livin
alone in a rented tenth floor flat. Not many friends. No real interests.
Occasional women but they got canned for one reason or another. Same way he got
canned from jobs for one reason or another. Christ one time he’d been so desperate for
money that he’d worked in one of them care homes for old folks. What a stinkin
job that was. Changin their diapers. Moppin their drool. Shovin mulched up s**t
into their toothless gobs. That didn’t last. Now it was a borin repetitive factory job
packin internet orders into boxes. He could go a whole shift an barely say a
word to anyone. Not that it mattered these days. Ordinary Joe had nothin much
to say anymore an hardly anybody interested him. For daytime, the drug of choice was valium.
For nitetime, the drink of choice was vodka. Ordinary Joe drank himself to
sleep most nites an drank himself unconscious at weekends. It would go on that way
until the end. Starin out the window at the downtown scene
on winter’s nites, Ordinary Joe could drink himself into the darkness. Sittin
there, smokin an watchin the snow fallin, he often thought about how bad it had
all become. Dead end job. Hardly saw his kids. Hardly any friends. Always
chasin money. No hope of ever achievin anythin anymore. He was just another
nobody. An ordinary joe. How good it had all looked when he was
sixteen, seventeen. ‘Christ, if you knew how your f****n life was goin to turn
out there’d be hardly any of us left,’ he decided. Every day it was the grim struggle. The
grim struggle to keep work. The grim struggle for money. The grim struggle to
stay sane. A convicted criminal was a prisoner on the inside. Ordinary Joe was
a prisoner on the outside. He was still a fairly bright guy but the
booze an the drugs an the depression an all the failures were beginnin to dull
that. He was glancin thru a magazine once an he saw a quote from an old German
philosopher an he was still smart enough to appreciate it. Nietzsche. The guy had written, ‘The first
best thing is never to have been born. The second best thing is to die soon.’ Ordinary Joe couldn’t have the first one.
Fingers crossed for the second.
CARE TO BUY A LOSER A DRINK?
It was gettin near midnight one time down
at Eddy’s. The usual crowd of bums an
no-hopers were proppin up the bar or were scattered round the tables. I kinda
liked the feel of the place especially on a wet Sunday night like this, besides
there was nothin waitin at home for me except Monday mornin. I was at my usual place at the far corner
of the bar where I could drink an smoke an watch the action so I spotted her as
soon as she walked in. Blonde, attractive, mid-thirties. Messy divorce written
all over her. She stood there a coupla minutes, lookin round an shakin rain
from her folded down umbrella. I watched her takin in the scene an I could
sense her despair as she realized she was now one of us losers. Hey lady, that’s why you drink at places like Eddy’s till two in the mornin. Maybe it was because some of the bums were
already droolin over her or maybe it was because she wanted to sit next to a
rugged, worn-lookin guy but she headed down in my direction anyway. She hitched
herself up on to the stool next to me. I could smell the rain off her. “What’s a good word for a female loser?” she asked. “You,” I replied. She glanced at me an lit a smoke. “Care to
buy a loser a drink then?” I nodded up to Eddy who was just puttin the
blackjack away. “What you havin?” I asked her. “Sour,” she told me. “Life or drink?” “Both,” she answered. Eddy brought us over the whiskeys an we
just sat around watchin the scene awhile. I knew where she was comin from. She
was finished an she just didn’t know it yet.
That last shred of hope had gone an now there was nothin. It took some time to
learn how to handle that one. If you ever could. “Funny how everythin can go in a few
months,” she said eventually. “Oh it can go a lot quicker than that,” I
told her. “Then you’ve lost--” I glanced sharply at her. There was a line
you didn’t cross. Not with me. Not at
Eddy’s this time of night. “Sorry,” she muttered an lit another smoke. We didn’t say anythin for a bit after that. Just sat there drinkin an smokin an
watchin the action. I knew she needed the company. I knew I didn’t. I sensed she couldn’t leave it alone. She sighed. “But it all could have
been so good,” she said wistfully. “So damn good.” “Isn’t it pretty to
think so,” I remarked. “Well what is there then?” she asked. “If
it’s all gone?” “Find somebody else or some kinda work you
can lose yourself in,” I told her. “I’ve already tried.
Both. Nothin worked.” “In that case it’ll take some time but you’ll learn.” “Learn what?” “To wake every mornin an not expect
anythin. Wake to nothin.” “Sounds pretty bad.” “It is,” I replied. I was growin tired of
this conversation. I had been through it a hundred times before. With myself. “Take me home with you. Just for tonight,”
she pleaded. For a second that note of pleadin in her
voice almost got to me. Almost. I shook my head. “Why not?” she asked. “Because spendin the night with you won’t
bring me back to life,” I replied flatly. She glanced at me. “You’ve given up then?” “The sun set for me some time ago,” I told
her. I finished my drink, nodded up to Eddy an left. Outside, the streets were empty except for
the rain. There were blurred reflections of shop lights an advertisin signs on
the wet sidewalks. I headed off, lookin for a cab.
ONLY DEGREES OF MISERY
I was lyin in bed
one afternoon, drinkin coffee an thinkin about how bad things were when the
phone rang. I couldn’t really be
bothered talkin to anybody but I answered it anyway. “Yeah?” “You have to help
me!” this female voice pleaded. “I can’t stand it any
longer! I’m going to kill myself!” “Fine,” I told
her. “Go ahead.” Silence from the
other end of the line. Don’t think it was
quite the response she expected. “You don’t understand,” she said eventually. “I’m planning to kill myself. I need your help.” “So you need help
with the plannin?” I asked. “Like you can’t think of a way
to do it yourself? Hey lady, there’s loads of ways.” There was a
muffled sob from her end. I half-expected her to hang up. I lit a smoke an waited. “Can’t you….can’t you try to talk
me out of it?” she begged. “Why should I?” I
replied. “I didn’t talk you into
it.” More muffled sobs.
More silence. It dragged on. This time I broke it. “Look, I don’t even know you,” I said. “You call me up an tell me
you’re plannin to kill yourself
an you want my help. How’d you get my
number anyway?” “Oh I just called
a number at random,” she told me. “You see I’m pretty desperate. Things aren’t too good at my
end of the line.” “They’re not too clever at my end either,” I informed her. “But I cry myself
to sleep every night,” she said. “Hey lady, I cry
myself awake!” “Oh!” More muffled
sobs. “Sorry,” she managed. She sounded kinda
nice. In a desperate sort of way. I decided to help. “Listen, this is
the only piece of advice I’m givin you, so
pay attention,” I said then paused. I
wanted this to sink in. “You’re not allowed to,” I told her. “Not allowed to
what?” “Not allowed to
kill yourself!!” I yelled. “What the hell d’you think I mean - not allowed to go out for coffee an f****n donuts!?” There was an
expected silence while she thought about that. “Why aren’t you allowed to kill yourself?” she finally asked. “Because the Big
Boss don’t like it,” I told her.
“Takes it as a serious insult after He’s granted you the precious
gift of life an all that crap. Really pisses Him off.” “You mean God?”
she asked. “Call Him what you
like,” I said, “but kill yourself an things will get even worse. A damn sight
worse an you won’t be able to escape it. Not like you can escape the s**t
here.” “How can things
get any worse?” “Believe me they
will,” I replied. “You get punished in the afterlife. Punished most severe.
Even Shakespeare thought you got punished an that was four hundred years ago.” “Who?” Jeeze. This was
one dumb broad. I explained who he was. “Will he help me
to kill myself?” “Nope.” “Will he help me
to be happy?” “Nope.” “But I used to be
so happy!” she wailed. “Now there’s just all
this….all this misery!” I laughed
derisively. “That old f****n illusion happiness!” She hesitated.
“Have you ever been happy?” she mumbled. I ignored the
question. “Happiness never lasts,” I told her instead. “It’s like a snow fall in the river - a moment white then
gone forever.” More silence while
she thought about that one. “Do you think people
get a second chance at life?” she asked. “I don’t think most of us get a first!” I replied. This was gettin
tedious. I sensed it could go on all day. I decided to bring the call to an
end. “Look lady, this
is my final word to you,” I said. “There’s no such thing as
lastin happiness. There’s only degrees of
misery. That’s all there is - only degrees
of misery. You just have to learn how to endure whatever yours is.” I hung up. I lit another
smoke an decided to change my number.
WAKE
TO NOTHIN
Just driftin thru dead days in that trailer
park. Don’t seem to come awake for long. When I do it’s tv an movies. Read
some. Stare out at the hills. Used to lie there sometimes just smokin an starin
out the window, breeze ripplin the curtains, darkness in my head an my heart.
Finished. Got a Vet’s pension from Don’t mix all that often. Family long since
gone or buried. Meant to be gettin married a while back but she left me half
way thru my tour. Only real friends I ever had were left in Not that there was much to come back to.
Hardly any work round these parts, besides I ain’t got no trade ’cept killin an
I’m done with that. Do some work now an again on the park
owner’s Harley. Sometimes take it for a spin up into the hills. Like it when it
rains. Pull up under the same big oak. Sit there an have a smoke an look out at
the rain an the woods. Can still see Charlie flittin among the trees. They were
never endin. Like ants. Didn’t matter how many you killed, was always hundreds
more. All that death. For what? All seems kinda pointless now. Never really
changed anythin, did it? Head down to Sam’s Waterin Hole some friday
nites. Just to break up time. Sit at the same spot. Have a few beers an watch
the action. Pool games. Slots. Dancin. Occasional brawl. Some folks would say
“Hi” an I’d nod back. She walked over one nite. Kinda pretty.
Carryin two beers. Sat down next to me. “These are mine,” she
announced, settin the beers down on the table. I shrugged. She laughed an slid one over. “Seen you
here a few times,” she said. “Some friday nites,” I told her. “You’re always sittin on your own.” “Don’t bother me none.” “Wanna come over an join us?” “Maybe next time.” We chatted some more then she went back to
her friends. Kept glancin over. Knew it would happen. She tagged after me when
I was leavin. Outside we stopped an lit smokes. “Where you headed?” she asked. “Got a place close by.” “Who’s waitin there?” “Nobody.” She smiled. “Be back?” “Next friday,” I replied an strolled off
into the nite. Only I wouldn’t. I had got used to it. The
big empty. Knew it could never be filled. Had stopped tryin. ‘Swept by the tide to this point an turnin
to look back on the best days.’ Read that somewhere once. Stayed with me. Kinda
summed me up. One hour walk back to the park. Six beers
waitin at the trailer. Smoke, drink, stare out at the dark nite from a dark
heart. Drift off. Wake to nothin.
GRAVEDIGGER
Just trampled the last of them thick grassy
wedges into the top of the grave when the rain started. Came on real heavy,
like. Kicked some rocks an deadwood over the spot then grabbed ma flashlight an
took me under a big beech tree for shelter. Half past midnight. Darker ’n hell round
here. Lit a smoke an sat down ’gainst that big ole beech trunk. Heavy rain
didn’t touch me none back there. Had brought me a jug from the still. Cousin
Ottis is off tendin it now. Nipped off a hit from the jug an looked over
towards the grave. That makes it number five by ma reckonin. They’ll never catch me. Ah’m real careful,
like. Known all these woods since Ah was a kid. Know just exactly where to hide
those graves so nobody’ll ever find them.
Been a gravedigger all ma life, see, diggin
them six feeters for corpses. Bothered me at first. Then you get used to it.
Then it’s just a job. Like a fella goin out to a store job or fact’ry work. Then Ah became a corpse maself. Rich drunk
b*****d mangled up mama an ma boys one nite drivin back from his rich man’s
club. Nearly ripped the pick-up in half. B*****d walked away from it. Mama an
the boys didn’t. Buried them maself. Shoulda buried me too. Walkin corpse is
all that Ah am now. Just carried on workins. What else could Ah
do? Then Ah got the idea. Overtime, some folks might call it. Only this was
different. Unpaid overtime, Ah’d say. Decided Ah’d surely change some of them
rich dogs. Change them when they least expected it. Just when they thought
everythin was goin fine. Like Ah did afores mama an the boys were tore from me. Was careful how Ah picked them. Watched
them awhiles, like, waitin to move in when they was alone with nobody round.
Lift one a coupla times a year in different towns in this state an the next.
Use that stun gun cousin Ottis gave me then bring the bodies back to these here
woods. Third to go down was that drunk b*****d
that wiped out ma fam’ly. Saw him at his rich aunt’s funeral. Rich friends made
sure he didn’t do no time. B*****d was drunk again. Hangin round with all them
other dogs, all slav’rin over how much they’d got comin in the will. Well it wasn’t money he had comin. It was me. “Now we’re the same, boy,” Ah said to him
when Ah stood on his grave, way out in these dark lonesome woods. “Ah lost it
all. An now, so have you.” Only it weren’t that easy for him to be
dyin. Or that pleasant. Durin the day Ah buried dead folks, see. On
special nites, Ah buried them when they was still alive. When they came to,
they was in a nine feeter. Cousin Ottis helps with the graves an the
bodies. He don’t like them rich dogs neither. Specially after they took the
farm off him. Worked it all his life he did, man an boy. Now he works on them. He likes to fool around with the bodies
afore we bury them. Ah gen’rally leaves him to it. Long as they’re goin down is
all Ah cares. An they’re goin down for sure. Just like her. Out there in that grave.
Take her awhile to go Ah reckons. Still, she’s got that flashlight to see where
she’ll be dyin. In the extra three feet at the bottom. With that thick wood
board above her. An six feet of cold dark earth above that.
SMOKIN
KILLS
To show they meant business they had
stripped me naked, handcuffed my wrists an ankles to a heavy wooden chair then
smashed both my kneecaps with hammers. When I came to they were standin there,
smokin an watchin. One of them threw a bucket of water over me. “Thanks,” I grunted. “I needed a shower.” Then they went back to work on me. With an
electric saw. This time when I came to I had bloody stumps instead of fingers
an thumbs. “Never run them thru my hair again,” I
muttered, starin at the pulpy mess on both hands. They laughed an sprinkled some petrol on my
head an set my hair on fire. They left me alone for a few minutes after that.
After I stopped screamin that is. Squintin through sweat an blood I could
just make out their silhouettes behind the bright light that was shinin on me.
There was only dark empty warehouse around us. Broken windows with bars on
them. Pools of water on the floor with rain drippin in from the leakin roof. They finished their smokes, flicked the
butts away into the darkness then casually strolled over an drilled out one of
my eyes. “Need one a them black eye patches now,” I
managed before I passed out again. They brought me round by throwin another
bucket of water over me. “Christ, that’s two showers in one day,” I
complained. I shook the water an blood outa my face an
peered thru my one good eye. The Boss had arrived. Tall guy. Jet black hair.
Expensive suit. They dusted down a chair for him an he sat down. “Before you ask,” I rasped, “I still ain’t
tellin you where Jimmy Hammond’s hidin out.” The Boss didn’t react. Just took a
cigarette from a silver case, lit it an sat there smokin. “Not much of me left,” I grunted. “Expect
that’ll be goin as well?” The Boss nodded. “Two last requests.” He waited. “A last smoke then you do it.” The Boss nodded again. He brought out his
cigarette case an flicked it open. One of them took out a smoke, lit it then
strolled over an shoved it in my mouth. “Let me hold it,” I muttered. The Boss said nothin. Just pointed at the
handcuffs on my right wrist. “I have to warn you �" I’m armed,” I
whispered to the guy as he bent an unlocked the cuffs. He shook his head an wedged the smoke
between a coupla my bloody stumps. “Won’t be holdin a baseball bat with that
hand no more,” I said, liftin it up. The Boss finished his smoke, flicked it
away then waited. I smoked mine down till there was a half inch of white left. “I’ll take a last draw then do it,” I told
him. He stood up, reached inside his jacket an
slipped out a handgun. I took the last draw. “You know,” I said to
him, smoke driftin down my nose, “I always thought smokin would kill me one
day.” I jammed the butt between my lips, closed my eyes an nodded. I heard him stroll over to me. No hurry.
Then a coupla seconds later he fired.
IT’S NOT
YOUR DAY, JFK
You prob’ly still come across this
question now and again in a magazine or maybe even on the TV �" where were you
an what were you doin when President Kennedy was assassinated? Well I know exactly
where I was an exactly what I was doin �" I was sittin at a window on the
sixth floor of The Texas School Book Depository in Watin for him to arrive. And the f****r
was late. Late! Which made me
late. Late for my origami class. Damn f****r an his damn b***h. Them paper-foldin classes are real
important to me. Not like this s**t. I just do this for the dollars. Usually
Mafia hits. This is a big deal though. Pays big deal dollars. Means I can open
up my ownCHRIST HERE IT COMES!! THE MOTORCADE!! THEM BIG-A*S HARLEYS ARE OUT IN
FRONT. DAMN THEY LOOK GOOD. LIKE THEY’RE JUST FLOATIN ALONG. MY SIGHTS. CHECK
MY SIGHTS. STILL SPOT ON. BE ONLY A MINUTE LONGER. Yeah, been doin them origami classes
awhile now. Makin all sorts of little folded paper things. Like swans an roses
an trees an buildins. First thing I’ve ever loved. Givin me real
purpose, real focus. Like I’ve finally found what I was meant to be
doin. Strange how it can take a man so long to find himself. Gettin real good at it too. Teacher says I’m
a natural. Good with my hands. With my fingers. My trigger finger. Could’ve
told her that anyways. Been good with my trigger finger since my MarineGOT HIM
IN MY SIGHTS!! CAN SEE HIS FACE!! HE’S SHAVED THIS MORNIN. WE’LL HE’S GOT
ANOTHER CLOSE SHAVE COMIN. FOR MAKIN ME LATE. CHRIST I COULD SHOOT A FLY UP THE
A*S FROM WAY OFF. BUT THE FIRST ONE’S GOIN IN HIS BACK. DELIBERATE. JUST FOR
MAKIN ME LATE. Yeah, my exams are comin up next year.
Lots of work to do before then. Makin this my last hit. So I can concentrate on
the paper foldin. Today we start the complicated stuff. Bigger stuff. People.
With expressions on their faces. Like there’s goin to be soon on Jackie’sTEN
SECONDS TO LIVE, JFK!! IF ONLY YOU KNEW!! WHAT CAN YOU DO IN TEN SECONDS?
COULDN’T EVEN F**K HER IN THAT. SLOWLY TIGHTEN ON THE TRIGGER. EASY NOW. DEEP
BREATH IN AND HOLD. FIRE. FIRST ONE IN HIS BACK. FOLLOW HIM. FIRE. SECOND ONE
IN. BRAINS FLYIN OUT. FOLLOW HIM. FIRE. THIRD ONE IN. JUST TO MAKE SURE. Just to make sure. Cos I need them big
deal dollars. Plannin on openin up my own origami shop after my exams. Sellin
just my own work. Gonna be the bestCHRIST JACKIE’S CRAWLIN ALL OVER THE F****N
CAR!! ALL OVER IT!! LOOKS PRETTY IN PINK. CRAWLIN ON HER HANDS AND KNEES.
WOND’RIN WHAT THE F**K’S GOIN ON. JFK’S GOIN DOWN. THAT’S WHAT’S GOIN ON. Think I’ll do a real intricate origami of
Jackie when I get good enough. Just for myself. F**k, she looked good crawlin
over that car. Do one of her on her hands and knees. Nude. Tits hangin down.
A*s in the air. Legs spread. And oh, that shaved p***y.
IS MY MUSIC
BOTHERIN YOU?
So I moved into this flat a coupla weeks
ago. Top floor. Another s**t view of the Turns out the deadbeats below me are two
deaf ole fuckers who drift into a Tylenol coma early every nite an don’t wake
up till mid-mornin, both havin pissed the bed. But the dicks in the flat next
door! A weedy lookin, specky little f****r with his mousy little wife an their
two brats. They’ll do! Next nite I gave them Metallica till the
early hours. Full blast. F****n windows were rattlin. Then I strolled along the
hallway. Kicked Weedy C**t’s door. Stood there. Six feet of bad attitude.
Sixteen stones of muscle. Beard. Earring. Tattoos. Denims. Weedy C**t answered
the door. Dressin gown, pyjamas an specs. Scared to look at me. “Just moved in,” I growled at him. “Is my
music botherin you?” He swallowed nervously. “Not so far,” he
mumbled. I grinned. “It will,” I told him an
swaggered back to my flat. Followin nite I gave Weedy C**t the Doors.
Every album. Full blast. F****n room was jumpin. Strolled along the hallway at
six. Kicked the door. Stood there. Big arms folded. Mean mother-f****n stare.
Weedy C**t arrived. Looked like he hadn’t slept. “Is my music botherin you?” I growled. “Not so far,” he mumbled, not darin to look
at me. I grinned. “It will,” I told him then
swaggered back to my flat an slammed the door. Carried on like that for a coupla weeks. I
gave them a Guns n’ Roses nite. Then a Meat Loaf nite. Then an AC/DC nite. Then
a Led Zep nite. Felt like goin next door an askin if they had any f****n
requests. A few days later I met Weedy C**t at the
lift. He was wearin a duffel coat. A f****n duffel coat! Looked like Woody
Allen. I strolled in an took up most of the lift space. Didn’t move for him. He
sidled in. Stood there lookin at the floor. I stared down at his thinnin hair, them
black specs an that weedy face all the way up to the top floor. The lift
stopped an the door slid open. “Is my music botherin you?” I growled at
him. “Not so far,” he mumbled then sidled out an
scurried along the hallway. I grinned. “It will,” I told him. I swaggered along to my flat. Got a big
nite planned. Case of Millers. Bottle of vodka. Some good grass. Gonna give
Weedy C**t the best hard rock an heavy metal trax in my entire collection. Full
blast. F****n buildin would be shakin. Towards dawn, between trax, I heard a timid
knock at the door. At last! Weedy C**t has finally come to complain. I grinned
an staggered to the door an glanced thru the peephole. It was him! Dressin
gown, pyjamas an specs. Looked like he was gonna s**t himself. He would after I
flattened him. I opened the door an f**k me if I wasn’t
starin at the barrels of a sawed-off twelve bore shotgun he’d been hidin. It
was pointed straight at my guts. Weedy C**t looked me right in the eye. “Is
my sawn-off twelve bore botherin you?” he growled. “Not so far,” I mumbled. He grinned. “It will,” he told me, then he
gave me both barrels. Christ, I’d hate to be the f****n cleanin
lady in that flat.
DO YOU KNOW
WHO I AM?
Them rich punk b******s. Rock stars, movie
stars, sports stars. They’re always pullin that, “Do you know who I am?” f****n
crap. Any time they get in trouble with the cops or they’re tryin to weasel
into a restaurant or a show or somethin it’s always that, “Do you know who I
am?” bullshit. Seriously gets on my f****n tits. Tonite we got us a Rock Star C**t comin
here. I’m leadin the front door squad. The boss. If he pulls any of that, “Do
you know who I am?” s**t with me, I’ll be ready for him. Rules have changed, see. Used to be the big
stars could park their big star cars out front of the venue. This was causin
too many traffic problems an now they have to park them round the side. So when
Rock Star C**t arrives, he’ll prob’ly park out front. Jump outa his shiny rock
star car an leave it there. That’s when I’ll step in. “Excuse me, sir,”
I’ll say. “You can’t park out front anymore. Has to be round the side.” Rock Star C**t will look at me. Amazed that
a mere door guy is tellin him what to do. Then it’ll be that, “Do you
know who I am?” bullshit. I’ll just grin an say, “Why, have you
forgotten!? Has your brain been frazzled by too many drugs!?” Yep, I’ll be ready for the a*****e. I’m not sayin who he is or where I work cos
they’ll both prob’ly sue me. The rat’s a Rock Star C**t. Mid-twenties. Long
black hair. Looks like a burglar in a suit. Bet he’s had more women in a year
than I’ve had in my life. His f****n car’ll be worth more’n my poxy apartment. So I’m standin there waitin. Ready for the
c**t. Place is surrounded by all his screamin fans. Movie premiere. I’m out front
an carryin a hidden piece. Glock 19. Shouldn’t have to use it on him but I
will. F****n ratbag. Earns more in a month than I
do in a year. I’m holdin down a factory job just now plus this s**t. Hope he
goes crazy on me. Then I can pull the Glock on him. Here comes the c**t now. He’s drivin.
Christ that car must be worth a coupla hundred grand. There’s a blonde bimbo
beside him. Jeeze, what a pair on her. Could balance an ashtray on the fuckers.
She can suck my Glock anytime. Rock Star C**t parks up an jumps out. Waves
to the screamin mob. Goes round an opens the door for Bimbo. Christ, she’s
wearin a tight skirt that hardly covers her a*s. Man, I could spend a long time
just kissin those bare suntanned thighs. Rock Star C**t an Bimbo come up the stairs. I stroll forward an hold out my hand an
stop him. “Excuse me, sir,” I say, “but the rules have changed. No parkin out
front anymore. Traffic was gettin blocked. Everybody has to park round the
side.” Rock Star C**t looks at me in surprise.
Turns an grins at Bimbo. Turns back an grins at me. He’s gonna say it. I know he’s gonna say
it. Come on, come on, say it. Say it you son of a b***h. Say, “Do you know who
I am?” Just say it you prick. Rock Star C**t looks back at the sports
car. Looks back at me. “Do you know,” he starts off. That’s it! Come on, say it you f****r! Say
it!! Say it!!! “Do you know, I think you’re right, man,”
he says. “Can see how it’ll block the traffic.” He grins at Bimbo. “Be right
back, baby. Won’t take but two minutes.” He strolls back to the sports car. Jumps in
and drives it round the side. All the fans are screamin. So am Rock Star C**t strolls back up to us. “Hey
bro, thanks for keepin me right,” he says to me. He takes out a wad of hundreds
thick as your wrist. Peels off a couple. Sticks them in my top pocket. “Have a
drink on me, dude,” he says, grinnin. He puts his arm round Bimbo’s waist an
they stroll off up the red carpet. The b*****d.
LEGEND
I’ve watched you from a distance watched you from afar I’ve got your pictures on my wall Mister Superstar.
I’ve listened to all your songs know them all by heart you’ve been my hero for long enough envied you from the start.
But I’m tired of all this distance this worship from afar John, it’s time to get close to you and change the way you really are.
Yeah one day I’ll get near, near to you, John yeah one day soon I’m gonna get close real close to you, John gonna get real close to you and there’s nothing you can do.
I jetted in from although I hate to fly passed the time cleaning my gun and reading Catcher In The Rye.
I checked out your apartment can’t afford a lapse as usual there were fans of yours taking photographs.
The one taken outside the Dakota hey man, ain’t that a laugh I’m standing right behind you just after you gave me your autograph!
Yeah I’ve got near near to you, John told you I’d get close real close to you, John closing in on you and there’s nothing you can do.
I returned a few hours later and waited patiently knew what I was gonna do understood my destiny.
My own life’s pretty shabby nothing quite worked out for me but it’s time for that to change to change from Mister Nobody.
You were walking on thin ice when you strolled to those stairs I drew the gun, I felt quite calm people screaming everywhere.
Yoko was right beside you but it’s you I’m here to kill saw four bullets hit you hey man, what a thrill!
And when the killing’s over yes and when they ask me why I’ll just shrug and maybe say that I’m just a jealous guy.
Yeah I got near near to you, John told you I’d get close real close to you, John well I got close to you and there was nothing you could do.
If there was anyone in this world anyone that I could be I’d love to have been you, John you were my double fantasy.
But there ain’t no room for both of us hey that’s what I’ll tell the Judge can’t have two of me in this world there’s only one of us.
The Court did not believe me but they couldn’t quite decide so it looks like I’ve committed this living suicide.
They sentenced me to life in jail seems like an eternity with other lunatics I’m caged never to be free.
So now I’m famous too, John but it’s quite a different kind whereas you are a legend I’m just a legend in my own mind.
But I got near near to you, John didn’t I get close real close to you, John yeah I got near near to you, John close, real close to you, John and there was nothing you could do just nothing you could do.
© 2016 Danny Zil |
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