~ All written works contained herein or by link are the property of Gerald Edwin Chule ~ circusanarquista@gmail.com (for business or pleasure) ~

~ three

Scott - "Poison."

Roger - "It was her, wasn't it."

Scott - "I guess she thought it was easier than the break-up.  And the old boss.  Death curse.  Killing me was the only thing they agreed on, without even knowing it."

Roger - "Why ?"

Scott - "Hated my ex.  Killed my cat."

Roger - "Damn."

Scott - "Then came my best friend ... hand around my throat.  Wanna talk about trust issues ?"

Roger - "He really did throw it all at you.  Got close.  Warmed right up to you."  A look to the side and a spit.  "Such bitchery."

Scott - "It's pathetic, he does it from hiding because he knows.  So the hunt goes on."

Roger - "Do you get mad at his victims ?  The ones he turns on you ?"

...

Scott - "I try not to ... but it always rings in the back of the mind that he uses their already existent natures.  Like maybe that side wouldn't have taken over, but it was always there."

My friend was always secretly jealous, I saw it, but always came up with or created ways to avoid the actual path.  My ex ... my boss ... both very territorial women, each feeling I was being taken from them by the other.  It was there ... but ... "

Roger - "But if you weren't being hunted, if they never knew you ... "

Scott - "They wouldn't have gotten the good parts either.  Both were going nowhere fast, using up whatever man they could, however they could, to survive.  I kept them going a minute, we did things."

Roger - "Things worth dying for ?" ... they pass a bodega with some street standing in front of it.

Scott - Smiles ... "I guess so.  Smokes."

Roger - "Sodas."

Scott - A glance to the corner, "Weed."

Roger - "Yep."

Scott enters the store while Roger talks to the guys on the corner.
_______

The bus crosses the finish line just before the competing truck.
_______

Roger - Rolling, "Is that when it started ?"  Licks it, "When you started feeling ... "  Lights.

Scott - "Like a patchwork fucking Frankenstein ?  No.  Gimme."  Smokes.  "That was always true."

Roger - "Huh."  Takes and hits, "I'm just wondering if you did die, maybe you're not the same person anymore.  Maybe you're not even a person at all, like on some sort of remote control."

...

Scott - "That is the most fucked up cruel possibly true thing you ever said to me."

Roger - "Is that when you started feeling like 'her' ?"

...

Scott - "No.  But it might be when ... 'she' ... " a look ... "became more undeniable."

Roger - "So maybe she always was you, and all that died was the lie."  Smokes.

...

Scott - "Second most most fucked up yet possibly true thing you ever said.  Enough.  I tap out you win.  "Your turn.  What the fuck happened to you.  You were gone for years and all you've told me since is 'some shit went down'."

Roger - "And it got ugly."

Scott - "Yeah, some shit went down and it got ugly.  So ?  All this lovely time in the sun with sodas and weed and your good old friend."

Roger - "Sorry doll.  I don't know you."

...

Scott - "That actually hurt."

Roger - "Good.  So maybe I do.  You knew what I was off to do, how pretty was it gonna be ?"

Scott - "Yeah but ... you know I'm not the only one who came back different."

Roger - A sigh ... stops walking.  "Yeah.  So we got there.  There were all these people in rooms, a whole complex of ... horror.  One room a dead girl hanging by her wrists, posed in the rigor to tantalize beyond, another one in a chair still twitching from the voltage that killed her ... dome guys gathered around ... laughing nervously ... no idea that in that moment they were indoctrinated, that forced laughter the key.

"Another room a fat man rage fucking something you couldn't see beneath his ... disgusting girth.  The next a man strangles a woman to death while cumming, a cat distracted him and just the worst time, he swatted it away and tried to get back into it ... but the moment was gone.  

"Another and another and another ... then came the meat processing facility.  Like the back room of a fifties diner, old tiles, faded and blood stained yellow and white check, old meat grinders dropping our hamburger on the floor next to a couple of shovels, vintage round clock on the wall above.  That's when I finally got it.

"They were making art.  

"The entire passageway, the entire complex, filled with rooms and horror.  They were making art.  And it was beautiful.  Like Hell.  I went insane."

Scott - "That's the part I did know.  You blew cover and ... "

Roger - "Yeah.  No regrets."

Scott - "None taken."

Roger - "That's when I really understood.  Not only the depth of evil, truly Hell on Earth being physically created on these bodies, but how much everything we've trusted all this time, protected it.  Everything we stood for, everything we believed in.  Fought for.  Killed for.  Died for.

"It was for this.  So yeah.  Even if it destroyed our world, it had to stop.  You know me.  I calculate.  'Caring' is not in my protocol.  That was the day I learned to give a fuck.  The day that old me died.  The one you knew."

Scott - "The one I know.  Giving a fuck looks good on you."

Roger - "Thank you.  You look about the same dead."

Scott - "Thanks.  Roll it up."

Roger - "Yes sir ... "  Pulls out the bag.