Iron Ghost

Iron ghost Chapter Two

Iron Ghost

Chapter Two;

Washington Square Park  Friday, Drug User’s Bench;
A.M. August 15th  2006

“I’m not even sure what day it is anymore.  It’s not Tuesday…that’s for sure.  I mean on Tuesday…I was a junkie…today…I’m his…yes! Yes! I’m his!!!”

The spider stands still on the park bench.

“Soon I’ll be superior too!”

Twelve pigeons gather around my park bench and coo and peck like a team of sex teases might do in a Satanic porn video, they do this at my feet…my feet and around my park bench…my park bench!  A Puerto Rican lady looks up at my park bench and makes her way down the…public…path like a refrigerator moving on a hand truck going up small steps.

The spider remains still.

My knees drop to the ground in front of the spider. My hands wave into air and my head drops and twitches and my mouth spits and…and…you park people want to hear my story?
He said, soon…everyone will want to hear my story…all the details…yes he did tell me that.
The spider moves about in a bouncy, jumping fashion.

I stand and jump and bounce.

Puerto-Rican woman without enough make-up looks down, not in my direction, and sits on my bench.  All the way….she sits down , all the way …on my bench!

“Lose the make-up.”

She knows my words are for her. She doesn’t have to look at me…

“You’re pretending…you hear me!  You’re like a refrigerator that can’t close cause its packed with raw meat!  You fat!”

Her lips curl like a rubber raft inflating.  She remains still and silent. 

Here’s my story!

“That’s how Lori got…Lori,  Ahhh?  Still and silent…Lori.  Lori wanted to be a blonde…she, Lori…she really wanted to…my mind could feel it….blonde….bouncy blonde… yes Lori wanted to be a bouncy blonde…and  sing opera on the karaoke for me!!!  Such potential!  Why did she insist on acting like a brunette while she sang to me!”
One policeman looks at the black-dotted Puerto Rican getting up and holding onto her purse as if it had something valuable in it…makes her feel important, and then he peers toward me.

You officers want me to crack, eh?

So my mouth sings my rhyme.

“ Lorrr…ri,…
was a whorrrrie…
Lorrr…ri,
was a whorrrrie…”

My head would bounce and twitch and jump pretty fast, not as fast as nigger heads, but still not slow, you know my head would do that when my mouth was singing to her, and only a little bit, well not too much, now.

This Puerto Rican’s gonna fart…just wait…just like this one to...ruin my story.

“Lori?  Oh yeah, Lori…who wants to hear about Lori?  She would smile at me when uh…uh…I…  would sing my rhyme to her…to Lori…my mind knew what she was trying to do…she was smart…it was working, too…she was going to have her way with me…until …Until my mind measured what she had over me versus what my mind had over her!…He taught me to do that.  Why…Why!  Why should my mind always come up short!!!”

My mouth laughs.

“Hey?…Ahh?  Get it? Yes.  Yes, my mind…yes, my mind just made a funny.  Ask Leslie…who came up short?  Yeah…That’s a good one.  She had nice legs.”

The policeman walk and each one increases the volume of his squelching radio when they get near me.

Yeah they want me to crack. But he taught me how not to get caught.  The most important thing is how not to get caught…and now…I know how.

Forgive me a devilish smile.

“Lu-Anne…she knew my mind was funny…she would laugh…a funny habit for a girl who…my first date, uh…my only date, with LuAnne was a lot like getting a platter of cold eggs in a diner.  You know.  That ever happen to you?  You know when you’re waiting for something you really want and you…you know…you could taste it…make yourself taste it.”

The policeman are long past and they will miss my story...

“My story…oh yeah eggs… I was talking about eggs at the diner…It was Tuesday…just the other day, I go into a diner for eggs, a diner not far from here, it is the same kind of diner you go into, anyways, this attractive young girl, taller than me but still attractive and in a waitress outfit comes up to me and says, “What can I get for you?” Just like that…nothing else.  Eventually, my mouth says, “eggs… Over easy.” Just like that, ‘over easy’  you know. My mouth said it like that…as if she were any attractive girl in a waitress outfit…and…”

My head twitches and shakes.

Her gold name tag reads..“… La…La…Lin…Linda…” I stand.  “…the bitch waitress’s name, doesn’t give me much of a reaction…Yeah!..La..La...”

My head jerks down and shakes hard.

“…Linda… she’s got three buttons undone…you know where…that bitch…and…Linda is complaining to a guy, another guy, a construction guy,  while she writes my order, she’s complaining about college tuition… to him, while she is writing my order…and a few minutes later she drops cold eggs in front of me on my table, makes this clattering bang sending a shiver to come up my spine and makes my head go twitching…she never says ‘sorry’, just turns her head real quick and he, the construction guy, puts his head down and grins at the newspaper in front of him and the cold eggs are in front of me and I’m twitching and she turns the rest of her body, like she’s hiding her head or something and her skirt is loose and she’s wearing sneakers…and never even bent over when she dropped the cold eggs in front of my face…even though she’s got two  buttons undone…and she wants a tip from me and she asks the construction guy, “What would you like?” Now she goes to him and she got three buttons undone. Uh…uh…she bent over a little too much and stayed bent over way too long when she said that to him, the construction guy, the one who, at that moment was no longer looking at the newspaper.”
The spider crawls.  My body lifts off the bench and drops to my knees and crawls.
Stars start flying around inside my head, right there in broad daylight at my park bench while my head is twitching and drool slips and slides and stretches landing on my arm and slides down gathering in a pool in my palm…and here goes my story...
My body stands and then sits on my bench.

“No niggers at least. Okay. Yes..yes…we did it.  Yes we did.  You want to hear my story…yes you do.”

No pigeons or zombies are near me…their loss.  Here it is anyway.

Better. Better now.  My hand wipes drool off my mouth and rubs plenty into my Addidas tee shirt.

“Well, who do you now want me to talk about!”

There are no more pigeons or Puerto Rican sausage toes or police officers or niggers on skateboards or park maggots just this pretty big piece of green area and asphalt walk up to my bench.

Yes, much better.

“Libby!  Yes…yes! Of coarse! Libby!!!”

Fine, just fine, now.

“…Libby was libidinous
…Libby was libidinous”

My head would get going good and my feet too…not like niggers but not slow either.

…She would never smile at me when I sang that rhyme to her…even if her head was upright, well, even if she could smile…she would not have.

So what story do you want me to tell you about?  Huh?

“Okay, I’ll finish my story with Linda.  I…, go to the shack by  my boarding house and go down the trapdoor into the sub-floor hole and open a steel box, the kind of steel box you see on construction jobs…the kind construction guys lock their tools in overnight.”
My head steadies and then wobbles and steadies and pigeons gather and flutter and coo as a nigger beggar in a Reebok tee shirt walks by me.  He smells okay. He must hear me say ‘construction guy’ because he picks up his pace and my head wobbles and my feet shuffle and slide and my head balances eventually when more drool slides and narrows into dropping string and…oh yeah…my story…I…

The spider listens.

“I remember it was Tuesday, just this past Tuesday when the dinner shift waitresses start stepping into the diner from the parking lot. Linda left the diner a long time after serving me eggs and got into her car, her back folding out over her legs bending and fitting together nicely as her…butt… kind of slides over the driver’s seat, making a tiny squeaking noise,  the seat that is, and that is when I first noticed only one button undone and her tip money was still in her whore hand and she pushed over easy after I punched her in the stomach once, without my knife...and right there in her own driver seat her cell phone popped out of her blouse like I would want her …breasts… to…and her skirt came over her…butt… after I punched her twice again…that is when I see she was wearing black underwear and I now understand her skin color is not that color by nature but rather from a college vacation tan and that is when I wonder if her hair is really that color silk chestnut or…so I punch her four or five times real hard and then it occurs to me…for that matter…if there is anything real about this bitch.

What exactly was I looking at instead of eating my eggs…my cold eggs.  I mean she could afford a vacation like that or that kind of time off and complain about tuition, she takes me for a fool…I mean she must take me for a huge fool because she obviously wasn’t interested at all in complaining, just talking to that guy, that construction guy, and for that matter the color of her eyes…holy shit…that’s when my mind figured it out. Those eyes of hers might be colored contacts, that color, you know the color I really….like…the dollar-bill green…that color comes in contacts…it comes in eyes too…I once had a poster…when I was twelve…of a girl holding a six pack on a beach with dollar-bill green color eyes.  And if Linda’s eyes are not naturally that color green and she got me going because of those eyes then…then…they are going to be really…red. Yes.

That’s when I decide.

Okay, her…breasts… are real when she jerks like a fish flopping on a dock and those gasping whimpers cannot be fake…right there in her front seat.  Those noises grew and her mouth cheeks was pumping and popping and then these animal-like flabbergasted noises started coming out of it, like someone just threw ice cream on her in the high school cafeteria in front of everyone, in a neat rhythm moving to the sound of her chest pumping back and forth, really big and fast, and her…breasts… hang right out there out of her ripped blouse. Not a bad show at all for Off-Broadway…and I didn’t even use my knife.”

My head is balancing good now and my hands don’t move so I’ll stay on this park bench and finish my story.

  She lost all her attitude during the ride with my knife pointing into her kidney and she kept her head down looking into the passenger side floorboards probably because she figures I like looking at her black underwear but it is way too late for that.  She was doing that dog slobbering-whimpering thing the whole ride probably because she knows her…butt… is sticking up and her head is down and she figures I like it that way.
  "What a pig.”

So my story goes…now my hands start waving and my head jumps about as my feet kick out and back and everyone is gone from the bench across from me and colors are kind of scattering around the green, like marbles spilling across the floor, all this right in the middle of my story.  So things…well, the story gets a bit louder.

“She starts out of the blue…out of no-where…she screams and screams and screams and just won’t compose herself when she goes into my dark shack hole and sees Leslie fully dressed…mostly in black…but I could not get Leslie’s legs back into her pants, the pants were too thin and her legs too long, and some parts of Lori and Lucy were about the place, those naked pieces positioned around Leslie, and her mouth…Lucy’s mouth that is…Linda sees Lucy’s mouth…not far off of my reaction come to think of it…and she screams these dry noises I never heard before…it looks like most of the noise is coming out of her nostrils for the first few minutes.  So I start laughing…I know it is rude but I can’t help it.  The closest one who made noises like that was Lucy?  Yeah…Lucy. She did the dry heaving can’t breath noise, too.  I don’t really remember.  Anyways, I get back to punching her many times and never on the face, and always without my knife, and about a half hour later she crawls over undressing the rest of…her top self…as she slips toward me in my chair and opens her wide mouth wider, it gets much bigger than I would have guessed…even after she saw Lucy’s mouth.  Now it is really wet and she gets her slobber all over my jeans and she gets me going at the same time.  She’s gonna get that tip anyways but that ain’t …they always get confused.  I pull her head up and I hold the sharp point of my knife next to her eyes…because I figure it is time to see if she is wearing contacts…and she stops all that noise and breaths…tiny popping air bubbles…repeat, in a tense rhythm through her nostrils and I say, ‘Good.’  Just like that ‘good’.

Her head starts twitching.

‘Better. Yes Better.’ I put the knife partly down. And there is plenty of drool covering her chin. I figure she just might make it.  I say, ‘Please me.’ Just like that, nothing else to it, and now she successfully rips off the remains of her…bottom wear…and pulls my hands up and over her …breasts…”

My head steadies.

“Her nipples look like sunny-side up pink eggs, and she presses hard against my hand panting and licking and doing a fine job of pleasing me…if I were a pig…and I bring the knife back up to her eyes.  So I guess she figures me to be… the knife goes much closer, pressing tight…and my knife scraps over her cheekbone and not too much make-up comes off and maybe she will make it.”

My hands are flying about and my mouth and head must be moving pretty good at this point in the story because both my head and my hands hurt a bit…my butt slips off the bench…and…so the story gets much louder…in front of a crowd of no-one!  No-one!

“I bring her over to the steel box and tell her I’m gonna bury her alive and then I tell her to get in and she whimpers and crawls a little and then crawls in making sure her semi-white…butt… is sticking up most of the time so I lift my boot heel and kick it in, hard, aiming for her…bottom cheeks between those tan lines…and keep kicking until the lid closes…The first scream is a good one and I know I have her…but then the noise gets long like a strong animal dying deep in the far-away woods from a gut shot going poison, so I jerk-off but her scream or that bowel-stretching noise coming from inside a steel box…thing…keeps going for a bit…and that pisses me off…but I got a construction job to do and he would punish me…if the job ain’t done right.  And her screams go on for a bit more and then some spurt of silence follows and I wonder… I figure it is time to open the lid and pull her out.  once there is enough fear but not enough to have a heart attack or something…I mean you never can tell when she is medium rare…I wish it were…but it is not like cooking eggs...  He told me that himself. I yank open the lid, anyways, like I were yanking a smoking bar-b-que lid open and…anyways…figuring…”

The green of her eyes are completely gone.

‘Two black centers the size of dimes stare at the direction of my voice and each black center looks very much like the eye of a dead mackerel, cold and motionless set inside the frosted glass at the fish market. Her…breasts… hang a bit more than usual and her nipples are now soft-purple.

I say, ‘Linda, can you hear my voice?’

My voice is soft and I like that and she nods like a puppet will when the marionette so wishes.

‘You can hear my voice.’  She nods.

‘Listen carefully, carefully.”  I say, “Good, listen to the tone of my voice.”

Her torso is motionless but her…breasts… still move a bit when she nods.

‘I say…do you want to go back into the box?  I mean I did not bury you alive…yet.’ 
She whimpers and shakes her head…the whimper works… considering where it is coming from…and I figure now I have plenty of time.

I say, “ Understand this above all else…his instructions to you…you have been chosen…not selected.  He told me you must first understand to use your free will to accept his proposal. You like sex?”

She nods.

“You like great sex?”

She nods quicker and with more fury.

I giggle.

“Good.  You can get what you want.”

She smiles and nods slower.

‘Good.  Do you want to avoid the box?”

She cries.

“Give me an answer.

Crying, she nods.  Real fast.

“Good.  You can avoid the box and have great sex after you give me what I want.”

Her head is nodding nicely.

“Yes.  I need your free will.”

“Good.  Enter what I am about to tell you into your mind: You can enter what you want to or need to enter into your mind the same as you enter data into your computer.  Will you do that?

She nods.

“Good.  He has chosen…not selected…chosen you.  You have the right look…he needs your eyes…you will be a messenger…the messenger that carries the secret that will cause a nuclear war between America and Israel.  That would make the Devil himself…that would make him very, very happy. Can you do that?”

She nods.

“There is the secret Israel cannot afford to have the world know.  It is held by the one most powerful.  But he is not here…”

Her eyebrows lift.

“I see you are curious.  My leader is not here but he knows how to travel…he needs messengers to tell the secret at the right time.  But first he must get America’s attention.”
Her eyebrows come together a bit.

“I see I have captured your curiosity…My leader needs credibility with Americans. Do you know how to get credibility?  You must demonstrate ability…or in this case…superiority.  Specifically, superiority over the FBI”

I look up.

“You see he likes being superior but never did he need to demonstrate his superiority as much as he does now.  My leader will tell you it is no small irony that the same secret that destroys Israel destroys his credibility.  You see we must thread that needle.  My leader relies on fear to get what he wants.  The secret is such a simple truth.  You want to know that secret?”

She nods.

“Of coarse you do. An eleven year old, white male Christian…An American boy, his love was wrestling, had a greater will than my leader’s ability to instill fear.  You see in 1972 that boy in New Jersey spat in Dr. Mengle’s face.  The boy was being brainwashed and was watching Mengle’s friends torture his friend in a neighbors basement.  Have you any idea how many Jews stood before Dr. Mengle…grown men about to die…and what did thousands of them do…”  Kind of like putting a picture of Jesus in a bottle of piss on the cover of Time Magazine.

I laugh quite a bit.

“…they walked into the gas chambers with their woman and children.”

“During his exile, my leader hides in Ramsey, New Jersey after the war and continues his experiments.  He refines those ratios necessary for travel.  In 1978 his health begins to deteriorate so he conceives his final earthly machination.  Before he dies he cuts a deal…he turns himself in, that makes America happy and he turns over the film of the boy spitting in his face.  That makes Israel happy.  In return he gets a few of his Gestapo friends jobs in the FBI and the satisfaction of getting even with the boy.  You see he knows the American left wing will betray the boy, who is now a grown man, for Israel’s favor. So he tells them that the boy has the strongest will of any human he knows of.  My leader bets Israel will use the American left wing to break the brainwashed man’s will.  And so they try…they exploit his wife, molest his eldest son, sever his left testicle, and Hillary tortures his four year old son in front of him on an abortion table in Englewood, N.J.  And my leader’s final plan… so straightforward…a plan to kill more Jews than Hitler…become the Devil Himself.  It’s a true story.

I exhale slowly after I finish.

“There is more.  He will tell you which American politicians betrayed their own for Israel’s favor at another time.  Like any secret this story is true…but we will tell some of it in the form of fiction.  For now you should know you are going to carry his message…that is what I want from you.  You will be a messenger back and forth for him.  He told me to tell you that is your job.”

Her black dime sized eyes stare and follow the direction of my voice as I sit down.

I say, ‘If  I give you what you like…are you a girl of your word?”

Her head is steady and then she nods before I can extend my question.

‘Good.  You remember Lucy’s mouth?  Lucy told me what I wanted to hear…she thought she could…well lets just say she left me less than a believer…’ 
A tear appears and rolls off Linda’s fish eye.

‘ It is okay…you do not get punished for crying…’ She nods a little, little, bit.  “Good…good. Remember if I give you what you like, you give me what I like.  What could be more fair than that?’ 

She nods, so very convincingly again and her pretty teeth, making a pretty smile etched in by dimples the shape of miniature crescent moons, appear so white against her tan and tight and soft…face cheeks…I …I  want to…another of her tear drops rolls off her cheek and lands…on the blade my knife.

My knife… I close my smile, the smile she cannot see, and drop my head and look to my knife and hold my breath as I turn my head past her blank fixed eyes and turn a bit more shifting my eyes off hers and onto gray soft daylight from the open trapdoor…the daylight  is dropping into the black musty smelly hole and onto the chestnut brown dirt floor and…the daylight…laying on the floor and turning the brown dirt floor a golden-yellow paste and appears like it were glued down or like it were painted onto a canvas or something and casting light on Leslie’ head with wide black frozen like spots for eyes with one of her own legs propped up against each of her own ears, like a…bad taste in earrings contest…and Lori’s facial expression and Lucy, her mouth in tact, Lucy’s mouth that is, and opened to the size of a baby’s head, as if she were mad because she did not approve of Lori’s body  positioned in front of her without a head and all this time the heavy gray daylight funnels down from the trapdoor highlighting each of their hair color, naturally a blonde and naturally, two brunettes, chestnut colored brunettes..  I do not allow myself to admire their beauty too long and before I shift my eyes back to Linda’s eyes, still fixed into the voice space of my last words…I wonder if Linda’s eyes are a natural….She must hear my breaths return because the black dimes twitch a bit when I lift the point of my knife…my knife with her tear drop still on it… to touch the inside edge of her eye and I say,  “Hold still.”  And her eyeball starts vibrating tightly when another tear appears from the edge of her eyelid and loosens her contact lens so my knife point can better pop it out, her contact that is, easily…and I do and I admit, yes, I do… I hold my breath as I look to verify the color of the contact…and I watch her eye vibration grow into a higher nerve-frequency of movement and tighter with every passing moment and her breasts are perfectly still and I swear the human mind will never cease to amaze me and I look at the contact color and I sigh and say, before I sigh again, “Then we have a deal…and…”  I watch her motionless eyes remain motionless.  ‘…a deal is a deal…’.

He told me to say that.  Yes.  Yes he did.

Each of her crescent charm-like dimples catch a tear and hold it before either can fall onto my knife and that makes me smile and I am happy.

After I explain to her each step on how I will please her and how she will please me she breathes very quietly.  I mean she will be a service to the master. I cannot help but to think of newlyweds promising each other passion and  I …  I almost bring myself to tears but I finish by saying,  ‘I want you to forget what happened here today.  You would like that, wouldn’t you?’  She nods. I say, ‘yes, no-one who wants to enjoy sex wants to remember this…do not worry I am not offended…’  She smiles and nods and her breasts move a little.  I say,‘…but first you must put a picture of me and Lucy and Leslie and do not forget Lori, and each of their body parts…put those pictures into your mind, like  photos into an album, can you do that?’

Her breasts jump when she nods  making me giggle.

‘…and…always…always remember the sound of my voice.’

She never sees my smile enlarge, after she nods, again, so very convincingly.  She doesn’t realize what she does with her breasts and what that does to me when she smiles and nods…and I decide I am not going to tell her.

My hands drop and land flat on my park bench and my head, now pretty steady, looks around and finds no-one and my voice is dry and it hurts…no-one listened to my story…except maybe that nigger with the knit cap…so I figure...

“No-one!  This whole park and my story means nothing to no-one!  Ahh! But the spider watched.”

I figure I’d better go to the diner before the shift changes.

On Wednesday she places the platters down in front of each police officer, smiling and leaning over a bit, but not too much, before she notices me. Her hair bounces as she turns toward the aisle and undoes the third button, of her blouse, allowing her shiny, chestnut colored wave of hair to fall forward and hide her shy face holding those dimples for me.  She slips off her sneakers behind the counter and jumps a little before she slows to a walk, once she reaches the booth area, and, while still approaching me, yet…before she is close, she says, “how may I serve you?”, just like that nothing more… like she is in love.  Her voice comes from behind that same wave of chestnut hair, now pulling back and exposing her green eyes with large black centers.

Each policeman turns, as if the same marionette radioed in that order, and steadies his head and fixes his glance and peers at Linda and then, at me.  Each officer stops chewing when he finds Linda’s back and then holds back from swallowing when he looks to me.

My mouth says, “over easy”, just like that, nothing more, and my head stops and steadies and nods in the direction of the officers, just like that, nothing more…I mean I know…I…am not in love, but I did tell her I was …to please her, but…well she sure did please me…and as I sigh, right then, out of the corner of my eye a bouncy blonde in the parking lot jumps out of her convertible and waves heartily to a red sports car…red…pulling in…red!  And I…I make myself smile and laugh a bit and…I twitch…then…I return my attention to Linda…and then to the officers and…then back to the window when I see this guy…

My head twitches.

…and he gets out of the sports car…

My hands rise and flutter as my head twitches more.

….the red sports car…and that bouncy blonde runs…I mean Linda walked to me…and this blonde runs to that guy with the…the blonde hair…

And…my head…

The spider lowers his back legs and raises his front joining and separating the tips in a clapping fashion.

my hands rise and open palms facing each other and join and separate and join …and…separate.