Sunday, May 17, 2015

Kill A Cat 2


    Buddy Holly on the radio. Baby won’t you come out tonight? She’s dating some car dealer. Her pussy cracked open like a fortune cookie when he pulled up in that shiny new Audi convertible. A safe house outside of Detroit. A suitcase full of human flesh. A straight razor in the glove compartment. She laughed as he poured the drinks.
    She still occasionally did jobs on the side, even though it upset her boyfriend. She would play with her stockings mostly, and then let the john fondle the silk in his hands, hoping to get a small whiff. The most restrained form of sex play imaginable. She never let them touch her.
    At the bar later, she bumped into an old friend, from when she was a kid. He had been in college and hanging out at the party house her mom had rented out to a local pot dealer. They had become good friends. They drove to the zoo one time, and watched the Mandrill masturbate, then drove all the way to the beach that same day, until their heads exploded from sleep deprivation. They popped no-doz and watched the tide roll in. She always wondered why he never made a pass at her. She thought maybe he pictured himself as some kind of gentleman, or maybe it was that she had been underage at the time. Then she wondered if maybe he was gay.
    They had a couple drinks together and talked about old times, a few of her ex-boyfriends that he still kept in touch with. Old friends. She told him she was dating the car dealer and he laughed. He said they should get together, like go out. She looked at him with a cynical expression.
    “I don’t think it would be a good idea,” she said.
    He seemed to think about it for awhile, then finished his drink, paid his tab, and kissed her on the cheek before making for the door. She decided he wasn’t gay, just a nice guy.
    That’s when she met the Traveller. Skin like basalt, a pinstripe suit, and an old Studebaker in the gravel parking lot outside, where they’d found that guy beat to death last year. She found herself having a little too much to drink, and before she knew it, they went for a ride.
    The Traveller told her that he was from beyond space and time, and said he was preaching the transethical imperative. Kill a cat with nothing but your philosophy, to enter this room. She didn’t take it seriously. He was feeding her something with his smile, like a crooked line of white across his shadow face. She noticed that the stars were riding along with them, and found herself gasping as the universe opened like a chasm, to take her slowly into its maw.

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