Obstreperous Scintillation

by: (Ty) John Ashley Whitaker

 Part one: Symmetry in Nature

Rising Sun was a gay and vibrant place before B.S. Angel came along. It was a satellite community of the original state capital of Kansas. Every day when B.S. Angel awakens she lies in bed thinking about what lies she will tell that day and who she will tell them to. Her intention isn’t to hurt others, but to help herself get by and she just doesn’t know a better way to go about it. Hark is her landlord and her only friend in the world. At least that's the way B.S. presents it to people they meet while Hark transports her to do her errands. He wants nothing to do with her, she wants everything from him. She fears more than anything, Hark turning on her. Hark is just trying to get rid of her with grace and without being a total asshole. She will take whatever she can, time, money, Hark's hard earned scrap metal he's saving for a rainy day. He thinks he should have known she was crazy much sooner and feels like a fool for letting her move into the house down the hill from him in the sleepy little river town on the muddy banks of the Kaw river. He can't stand to think about her and when he does he gets fired up and punches the air and stomps on the ground. His head starts hurting and he gets acid indigestion. Ever since he met her he is being scorched and tormented. Each day is a new nightmare for Hark, everyday B.S. creates another lie to haunt him, she robs him and laughs while she does it. The day he meets her he notices a hawk following him, for days it screeched at him. It perched on an oak tree right outside his door and tried to warn him. He has been too nice of a guy now and enables her delusions. A day never passes in which he doesn’t wish had listened to the hawk. He knows that something has to change and he knows how to change things quickly for the better. Tomorrow he is going to kill her, then turn the spirit of Life against her. Hark has a katana blade made of hi-carbon steel, it's so sharp it can quietly cut through bone. He has a friend who will help him get rid of the body. Hark wields the knife sparklingly with quiet grace, he is a skilled and trained artisan devoted to the lessons of the blade. He will get up before 4:20 during the quiescent morning to study the Scroll of Emptiness and light a blunt, puffing tea while he stokes the fire in his heat stove. The vanguard of the moment, at the time right before light begins to shine while she walks he will wait for her and take her life when she least expects it. There will be no sound and no one will know because Hark knows the art of assassination—his blade is silent. Hark is also in a crushing mood, his confidence is high in his blade which has never failed him. The killing is the easy part; it’s transforming it back into dust in a timely manner without getting caught which is the challenge. It is the task of total inhalation by which a grand burden is placed.

He wraps up the body in an oily old canvas tarp and puts it in the back of his truck with a topper. He goes home and drinks his coffee and makes a ham, egg and potato burrito before heading up north to wipe the body from existence. He eats breakfast and decides to take a short nap and masturbate twice to some women interested in him on pof.com, he is thinking of emailing one of them, but after having an orgasm he decides he didn't want to. He doesn’t mind keeping his lovers at a distance, preferably cyber-space and feels isolation is better than being smothered with neediness. He decides to drink a beer before leaving north to regain his outlook on life a little bit and gather his thoughts. “Whatever happens today?” He thinks, then thinks further “Is between you me and the fence post.” Hark ponders then loads up a cooler full of natty lights and some beef jerky. He tells the dogs he loves them and kisses the kitty cats on their heads. He then starts up his mini truck and heads towards McSanto farms where he will seek a favor from an old friend. Hark loves leaving his place cruising north through the valley with beautiful hues of light shining off the tallgrass prairie, it makes him feel loved and grateful. When he sees the scenery he feels beautiful because he is surrounded by beauty and he knows he is part of it and it is part of him. He is feeling especially grateful though because he has a dead cunt in the back of his truck and knows he's going to get away with murder.

“It's a good day.” Exclaims Hark to himself while he does 45 on a gravel road no other cars in sight. “Why?, Why is it a good day?...Well, cause I ain't got no more bullshit in my life no more!” He cracks open another natty and lights up one of the doobies he had rolled before he left. “Man, ain't life fucking great!” He smiles and feels nervous for the first time. “Keep yr feet on the ground.” He says to himself. He smokes about half the joint and puts the roach in the ash tray, rolls down both windows and has about an hour drive ahead of him with two stops on the way. The first stop is to pick up some BBQ ribs at Hickory Point then to swing by a liquor store in Pardee, grab a six pack of natty tall boys and a bottle of Powers Irish whiskey. Hark turns on the radio and “Highway to Hell” is playing, he loves old AC/DC and Bon Scott's rugged greasy voice, sings it aloud in his truck and hustles his balls. Right before arriving at Hickory Point he passes the Jefferson county jail and highway patrolman pulls out behind him. Hark never panics, he knows he is going to Chunkie Dunker's BBQ and he is a local anyway. Plus, the only law he is breaking doesn't mean God damn shit to him. Everybody ought to know damn well, he is doing the world a big fucking favor. “I’m not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit today.” He says to himself. He turns up the radio louder and finishes his beer. He turns on his left blinker and negotiates the turn flawlessly. The patrolman goes strait. Hark parks his truck in front of the BBQ joint and grabs his wallet leaving the truck unlocked. It's a nice sunny early winter day and even though there is a little snow on the ground the air is dry and there is a constant breeze. Walking through the door at the same time Hark bumps into another highway patrol man. “Excuse me, young man.” Say's the officer. When Hark looks into his eyes of the man he sees the blackest darkness deadness he has ever seen, he believes he sees death itself. It is indescribable to tell what he saw, but he feels tingles go through his body like he is in the presence of the supernatural. Hark is trying to play it calm and cool, his bones shaking with fear and he feels completely encompassed by the darkness, like a prisoner in time and space. He reacts by saying. “Watch where you're going you old fuck...” The patrolman stunned, Hark in one swift action taking no more than two seconds reached for his katana blade and cleanly cutting the man's head off, it rolls across the sidewalk into a sewer drain. Blood was pooled up right outside the restaurant door and the man's body lay totally motionless in Hark's arms. The man’s name plate reads Officer D.E. Star. “God fucking damn it!, I'm hungry. Why the fuck did I just do that?” The thought rattles around in his skull. Everything happened so fast, Hark never thought twice. He takes the dead weight by the shoulders and huffs and puffs and drags it across the walk to the back of his mini truck and tosses it in with B.S. Looking at the sewer drain, it looked like a vacuum of never ending blackness. “That god damned head could be anywhere, God damn it!” he thinks. Suddenly he felts panic and didn't even think to look if anyone had seen anything until then. On one hand he wants to eat some ribs and take some up to the farm on the other hand he had just killed his second person of the day and there was blood all over him, he has a big knife, blood all over the front door of the building and leading to the back of the truck where there are now two bodies. Even a lazy pig might look into that sort of thing—Hark jumps in the truck and figures the head in the sewer would be okay. No one will ever find it down there. There wasn't much blood because it rolled in there pretty fast after it got a good bounce. “Well, fuck it. I'm just going to stop and get some fried chicken after I get some beer in Pardee.” Hark is angry and disappointed. He had his heart set on pulled pork and ribs. He is somewhat scared of what he saw in D.E. Star’s eyes, it wasn’t like a black hole that sucks in light, it was more like a black star that emanates the negative.

Hark then gets onto the highway and heads north. When he gets out of Hickory Point there are no other vehicles in sight. All of a sudden Hark needs to take a shit. Not like needs to take a shit, but in the process of shitting his seat. He pulls over just north of Hickory Point, opens the door and squats on the side of the road as soon as he gets out of the truck. This is the smelliest shit in the history of shit. He feels like a demon is leaving his body and he feels a sharp pain in his anus. There is the same highway patrolman who was behind him about 10 minutes earlier coming back south right as he finishes his bowel movement. Right as the patrol car passes he sees the light come on and the car turnaround. He was almost unconscious for a moment without any recollection of time. Suddenly, police lights are fast approaching. Then another momentary lapse of time unaccounted for followed by the officer walking up to him. “Buddy you’re bleeding bad.” The officer says. Hark looks down and there is a pool of blood coming from his ass. He has sat on his blade. It was so sharp he couldn't even feel it until the blood began to flow. He withdrew the blade from his anus and in one stroke slicing the throat of the officer. He wrenches in pain and blood is on eyes tints his vision. “God damn mother fucker, God damn mother fucker...”Hark hummed in mantra to withstand the pain. “Who the fuck sits on a God damn knife?” The blood was pretty bad, but mainly just got the ass check. Hark wrapped it up with an old sweatshirt behind his seat was still hell bent on getting some fried chicken and more beer. He grabs an old t-shirt to wipe his ass end. The officer’s body lay lifeless on the side of the road, but he was only five minutes away from town where he could mix in with other traffic and be on his way. Hark gimps over and pick-ups the body and adds it to the other two. “I'm gonna make some money off this nigger. God damn motherfucker rolling up on me when I’m shitting blood. I wish people would just mind their own God damn fucking business.” he thinks. He scrambles to grab another natty and drinks it fast thinking he'll drink two before getting to THC to help take away the pain. He could get out at THC and take a leak, maybe clean up a bit without out anyone noticing too much of what’s going on. Every time Hark finishes a beer he smashes it with his right hand and tosses it behind his seat. After Pardee, Hark still has about another 20 minutes of country driving before getting to Jet McSanto's place where they will get rid of the bodies. The pain is bad, but mixed with the beer it feels kind of soothing to Hark and he can’t help but think as he is rolling into town that he kind of likes the way he feels. He is also thinking about what to order from THC. He knows Jethro would want some fried chicken to and he only has 13 bucks for food. Maybe he will get a couple sandwiches off the dollar menu and order a bucket. He does not know and cannot decide. He really starts to get nervous about what chicken to order. Hark never likes talking to people at fast food restaurants, he feels like he is giving them an inconvenience when he speaks. The last thing he would want to do is trouble someone who makes minimum wage. Hark never likes to talk to too many people and work out business, he pretty much is busy enough with his own bullshit. As he approaches Pardee there is a lot of traffic and as he thought his little truck blended right in. He dives right up to the front door of a small liquor store after crossing some railroad tracks and merging into traffic. After getting a six pack of natty light tall boys he heads down the block to THC still undecided about what to order. The sandwiches are cheap, but Hark has been reading about how bad modern grain is for the human body and he knows if he reads it on the internet it has to be true. On top of that he is hungry for meat and cartilage. It would be grain fed chickens that where genetically modified, but at least it wasn't white bread. One of his new year’s resolutions is to eat a little better. He came to this goal after realizing that if money was no issue and success was his all that would matter at that point in life was his health not only physically, but mentally and spiritually. He thought to be proactive—he would start getting healthy immediately. He decides to go in and order since the drive through person would be able to see the dead cop in the back of the truck. He parks out away from the store and goes inside with his 13 bucks. When he walks in he sees only one person eating at a table by himself. He slips into the restroom quietly and is the only one in there. He quickly cleans the blood of himself and turns his shirt inside out. The only blood visible now is on his jeans and shoes. There wasn’t anything he could do about it so he just took a piss and walked out to order some chicken. The clerk immediately asks him for his order. “Umm, ughh.” he mumbles. “I'll take that bucket of chicken for 9.99.” Hark orders. “Okay sir, would you like that original, grilled or extra crispy?” Hark orders, extra crispy and nothing else. He is so glad that part is over. He hands over the money and gets his change. Now coming through the door are two city cops. Hark knows they are just coming into eat, he feels like he is in a good position and doesn't look suspicious aside from all the blood on his jeans. He stands alongside the trash can to wait for his order, nervous and his palms are sweating. The cops are busy looking at the menu and thinking over what they are going to have for lunch not noticing Hark’s blood stained pants when Hark grabs his order and quietly walks out the door.

Now Hark is driving north and cruising a smooth 55 miles an hour on country roads. He feels he is as good as there. He eats two drumsticks and two thighs, Hark always prefers the dark meat and hopes Jet won’t mind too much then washes it all down with an ice cold natty. He drinks about half the natty and lights up the rest of the doobie from before. He is about 10 minutes to his destination, crossing through the glacial hills of north Kansas. He is looking at old farmsteads and fields full of dead corn stalks and stacks of hay bales the sky is blue and cloudy the wind blowing pretty strong and he thinks to himself. “This looks like heaven.” The tea he is smoking is really strong and he is feeling the alcohol start to work. He decides to also take a belt of Powers. As he turns to go down the little gravel road leading to McSanto farms there is the old cold brick Catholic church on the right side and a grave yard. Jethro lives about a quarter mile down the road from the church then his nearest neighbor is about two miles away. No one is at the church that day the only movement he sees is Jethro’s dog, Harper is running up to his truck as he is parking next to Jet's indigo Hudson Hornet. The wind is really strong when Hark steps out of his truck and takes his beers, chicken bucket and also his pre-rolled doobies. He walks through the entry way of Jethro's old farm house and can immediately smell stale cigarette smoke and rotting trash. When he takes his first step in he hears dog food crunching between his shoes and the floor. It sounds loud in the quiet house. It's warm when he walks inside and all is still and silent accept for the corn puffs that are being smashed on the kitchen floor as he is walking through. There are dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty soda cans and cans full of cigarette butts, every inch of the house is covered in some sort of trash, half-finished fast food hamburgers, smashed up magazines, books and cloths scattered. In the corner of the kitchen is a strip of bug tape hanging from the ceiling with enough bugs to feed a frog farm for a week. Hark has to clear out a spot on the kitchen table to rest the chicken bucket after he tosses the beers in the almost empty freezer. He lights up a doobie and goes into the room where his old friend Jet McSanto is sleeping. He begins to blow smoke on his sleeping friend and singing softly, “Wake up, wake up...” Jet lets out a sigh of relief and opens his eyes and reaches for the doobie. He takes a long puff and deeply inhales, coughing loudly as he hands the doobie back. “Good morning, good morning, holy shit, what time is it?” Jethro says. “Wakie, bakie tiz-ime.” Hark replied. “That is some tasty tea. What’s it called?” asks Jet. “Its name is the Obstreperous Scintillation.” The both laughed a second. McSanto was still naked under his blankets and asked, “Hey man can you toss me that bottle of Powers.” “Sure man, I have a new one in the truck to I just picked up, so finish this one.” “Jet took a belt of what was left in the bottle, which was maybe only about three shots. “Hell yhea!” Jet Exclaims. “What a good way to start the day, good to see you bro.” adds Jet, then Hark say's “I brought THC to, extra crispy in the kitchen.” “Fucking A, I'm ready for some breakfast.” Jet jumps out of bed while Hark walks into the kitchen. “I ate most the dark meat.” Hark admits. “It’s cool.” Jet responds then puts on some overalls with no underpants and no shirt and slips on some boots with no socks. He lights up a cigarette and lets out a rigorous cough. He has his cigarette in one hand and a chicken breast in the other. Hark reaches in the freezer and cracks a beer. He was glad he ate in the car, he didn't know if he could have eaten in Jet’s kitchen which had a large trash can that smelled of rotting meat and a pan full of rancid grease on the stove filled with gnats and flies. “Well Jet, I need to get rid of some bodies man.” Jet looks serious, but not too surprised. “How many?” Jet asks. “Three minus one nigger cop and one head. It rolled in the sewer. I also cut my ass, but not too bad, but if you got some pants I can where that would be prima.” Hark replies and Jet points to a laundry basket and say's “Any of those jeans there bud.” “Cool, man. Yhea, I had to deal with some bullshit today. It's been a long day already and I've been trying to get drunk and high. I feel like I'm a third of the way. That trifling scrap-heap scalawag had me all fucked-up.” Hark was changing pants. He turns his ass cheek towards Jet and asks. “Does it look bad?” “Oh' you'll live, want some peroxide?” Asks Jet while going for it at the same time and then adds, “here I'll just pour some on the wound”. Hark gets his shoes back on and Jet tosses on a shirt over his overalls and they both walk outside. The sky is starting to get dark and a storm is rolling in from the west. McSanto farms is high up on a gently rolling hill and when you're there is seems like you're on top of the planet earth. The only thing in sight besides farm land is the Catholic Church and the grave yard. Hark first gets in the cab and unscrews the bottle of Powers takes a swig and passes it to Jet who takes a double swig. Hark opens up the back of the camper shell and shows Jet the bodies. “Man we need to call up ol' Maxwell O’Neil about that nigger, we can make some fat cash off that man. Hell if I do say so myself, that is a good looking nigger.” Jethro says. “I texted Maxwell about a half hour ago, he is on his way.” Says Hark. “ It's about to storm, Jet. A good time to have a tire burning party don't you think?” “Perfect timing” Jet says, he then adds, “You gotta another doob?” “Ready to go, let's roll” They hop into Hark's truck and ride down through a huge crop field.

Within about 300 feet they are no longer visible from the remote road, they go deep into a valley through an old cow pasture and come up on a bone yard littered with old cow bones and this whole time Jet's dog Harper was running alongside the truck. After passing through the mess of bones they come upon a dumpsite rumored to have once been a resort known as Eagle Springs. There are old kitchen appliances, asphalt shingles, tires, swing sets, rusted cars and mangled hedge woods. Most of all what stands out is all the teevees that have been shot up with 12 gage double ought and high powered rifles. There are piles of mangled up metal that have been shot to oblivion. They get out of the truck and start looking around for a nice pit to have fire hot enough to destroy the bodies. They find a low spot about nine feet from the dump site and stack hedge limbs in it. They stack hedge limbs up to the top of the pit which is about 11 feet wide and three feet deep in the middle. Then Hark backs up his truck to the pile of limbs. One by one they pull the bodies out to the car, leaving B.S. wrapped up in the oily tarp and tossing her cunty carcass in the pit. They take the headless cop off and Jethro pulls a bowie knife from his boot, cuts off the man’s forearm and gives it to Harper. They take the other cop and lay him to the side. “Damn I forgot to bring gas.” Said Jet. “No worries, I have some WD40” Replied Hark. Hark then gets a small bunch of small twigs and places them on the edge of the pile of limbs. He then sprays it with WD40, then sprays it around the whole pit. He pulls his truck away about 33 feet. By now it was starting to sprinkle and the wind is picking up. Jet is over by the dump pile pulling out old tractor tires to put on the fire. Hark uses his lighter to light the small bunch of twigs and they take off as soon as he lights it, then the rest of the WD40 made a ring of fire around the pit. As it was burning Hark is spraying the rest of the WD40 on the fire then tossed the can on to. He then adds some more small twigs on top to the twigs he just lit. He has started the fire just about nine minutes before it really starts to rain. He and Jet gather three tires and toss them all on the fire as the bodies ooze and hiss. The rain begins to really pick-up and Jet and Hark take shelter in the truck. Hark lights up a doob and takes another belt from the bottle of Powers. The sky is as dark as can be and the rain is staying steady as the fire begins to blaze with a magnificent intensity and thick black smoke mixing right into the dark stormy sky. “We ought to make a run out there again and throw some more tires on there you think, Jet?” Asks Hark. “May as well get that fire as hot as we can” Replies Jethro. “Let's finish this doobie first. Then make a run for it.” Says Hark. They sit and smoke and are already about halfway done with the bottle of Powers. “Man it feels good to get this bullshit cleaned up.” says Hark then he adds, “That is pure evil burning in that fire right there.” Jet sat thinking then says, “As soon as you told me she was an old Hell's Angel biker whore, I knew we would end up here with her. I've seen it so many times those fucking sluts go through life getting everything for free. When they’re young their pussy gets them a lot, but when they're older they just are a dead weight on society. You’re a saint and a good man, Hark. I'm glad were bros.” “Thanks man, I really just was at my breaking point, a man can only put up with so much bullshit. Next time I meet someone like her I'm just going to slice her up right of the bat and save myself some time and anguish. Life is too short to fuck with people’s bullshit. I wish I would have brought that bucket of chicken with us.” They sit and talk awhile and the rain starts to slow down a bit, the wind is still roaring and the fire still has plenty of hot fuel from the rubber. “Okay, Jet lets mix some more hedge and tires together and really get drunk.” They get out of the truck start tossing tires and hedge wood into the blazing fire while black smoke continues to mix right into the stormy air. They work on it in the rain for about five minutes in silence until they finish. They get back in the truck and catch their breath. “That is going to be one hot mother fucker in about two minutes, Hark. I want to sit here and watch it for a minute.” Said Jet as he cracks the window and lights another cigarette. “I'm perfectly comfy right here, man this is perfect timing.” Says Hark. Hedge hissed and popped as the fire really began to roar. It was a good thing most people would be inside their houses otherwise the fire and cloud of black smoke would be seen for miles also the stench of burning rubber. Hark and Jet knew those tires would be burning all night and into the next day if it wasn't for the downpour. There would be no trace of this fire come dawn. Jet and Hark would just fire up the old massy Ferguson tractor and cover it up with some dirt and manure, they'd scatter some debris around it and no one would ever notice a thing for at least 99 years. They didn't know for sure if the fire destroys everything, but they knew there wasn't much left after a fire that hot. Hark steps out of his truck as the rain begins to slow down and wind gusts. He hustles his balls, unzips his pants and takes a leak. Jet follows suit. Then Hark opens another beer while he also takes his empty cans and throws each one in the fire, watching them melt in seconds. Right now was a fantastic site, not many people ever see a fire burn like this one.

Just to think three murders had been committed that day that no one would ever know about. The rain continues to come down softer and softer, but those tires just keep burning as hot as hell and that hedge kept popping like roman candles in the darkness. Jet and Hark continue to toss limbs on the fire every once in a while. It was still only about three o'clock in the afternoon, but the sky was already almost black as the cold rain kept on coming down in a fine mist. It seems like the whole time they were focusing on the fire time was irrelevant, hunger was not there and everything seems obsolete to them. It seems like an eternity to Hark that he’s had a belt of Powers when out of habit he reaches for the bottle, still about halfway done he takes a nice glug and hands the bottle to Jet. Jet takes a swig and screwed the cap back on. “You gotta another doob, Hark?” “Of course I do, wait...no, but... I got a blunt.” “Even better” Says Jet. Hark adds “Man, this is the shit. We are sitting here like the old days, just watching the fire and about to make some fat bank off a fat black dead ass pig cop. Want to get out and feel the heat while we smoke this blunt?” Jet replied, “Let’s do it, I'm just about half drunk.” The two of them step out of the truck with the lit blunt going approach the fire, standing in front of the intense heat. “That fucking cunt is history, thank baby Jesus!” Hark says with a smile then adds, “Thank you brother McSanto, my life is now free of bullshit. I feel like I see the light, I am saved and liberated. Once again a happy man” Jet grins and says, “You're welcome Hark, anytime.” “What’s out here besides us anyway Jet?” Jet responds, “Well, besides this fire going which will be out soon and maybe a few hibernating rattlesnakes, it's just you me and the fence post. Hark then replies, “That's just the way I like it Jet. But them rattlesnakes can just keep on hibernating as far as I’m concerned. I don’t like them motherfuckers one bit.” “Don’t worry Hark, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.” Jet says. Hark says, “I know that’s fucking right.” He grasps his katana knife. “You’re more likely to die of getting toppled over in a land slide than get killed by a rattlesnake our here.” Jet responds. “I suppose yr right I ought not to be so afraid of serpents, I guess?” Hark goes on and then adds, “Man, I’ve been thinking a lot about the spirit of Life, spiritually and metaphysics. I’ve been really inspired and feel really alive right now. I cut down that bitch B.S. and I knew that headless cop because had to get cut down, but that nigger just pissed me off. I probably shouldn’t have killed that guy, but since I did I got to make it worth it, I guess?”

Part two: The spirit of Life doesn’t always have yr back

Jet and Hark are drinking and smoking while Harper is on his haunches under a cedar tree and has got the arm Jet have him down to one long bone that he is still chewing on. Then out of the dark stillness they see head lights. They know who it is and soon Maxwell O’Neil pulls up in his covered in mud 1990 Mercedes Benz. He has three people with him, one old skinny white guy with a classy old fashion snap brim hat—it looks kind of like a magic hat he also has a suit on and two middle aged Asian males are also with him. Maxwell exits the car and approaches Jet and Hark. He is about 6 feet tall 240 lbs. and wearing a leather suit that is tight on him, the pants are short like high waters and he is wearing white socks and shoes made out of recycled tires. He has on a big silver watch that that twinkles in the light from the flame. Underneath his leather coat he is wearing a t-shirt with a graphic of the Persian coat of arms, a golden lion holding a sword with the rising sun in the background. Maxwell has about half a head of hair even though he is about 35 years old. He doesn't look old except for being almost bald. He looks like a football player or throwback wrester. He is big, muscular and mean looking, he is all business. At the same time he is kind of goofy and mostly smiling. “Hey fella's, you got a belt of Powers for a proud lion on a cold rainy night?” Asks Maxwell as he and his associates are now standing in front of Jet and Hark, the two Asians where dressed in strange cloths. One is wearing a monks robe and the other was wearing a suit top with a dress shirt and tie and instead of pants had on transparent shorts like a giant condom that covers his whole mid-section from around his waist to his knees. It is clear that the man's penis was erect, a trifling specimen, only about three inches long while fully erect and looked like a nipple inside of the latex sex shorts. He has a 44 magnum on his hip in a holster. When Hark sees this he thinks of the art of swordlessness, that gun was his gun as far as he was concerned and he thought to himself, “The bigger the gun the smaller the dick.” It was also obvious the man had ejaculated in the condom shorts. They had a logo on the side that reads, “Doctor Bake's Sex Shorts”. “Who the fuck dressed you faggots?” Asks Hark. “Nice shorts!” Jet exclaims. “This is genuine leather motherfucker! Check out this fucking watch. I’m selling these motherfuckers on eBay. You guys wanna buy a watch?” says Maxwell. Then adds “What the fuck are you guys wearing? You look like a couple crazy honky-rednecks. Where's the nigger?, I need to make some money off these freaks I brought with me.” whispers Maxwell to Hark. “Come, follow me” says Hark. They walk around the truck and laying on the other side is the cop Hark murdered. Maxwell looks him over and looks at his name badge which reads, “Sergeant Venerate”. “Tell you what I'll pay you 50 bucks for this one. I’m gonna get 50 bucks a piece from these faggots and you make 50.” Maxwell says. “Done deal.” says Hark. Hark takes a 50 dollar bill from Maxwell and Maxwell motions for his guests.

As they are approaching, the old man say's “Let’s just get this straight what I'm paying for. I want fourth in line.” Maxwell was stunned. “But there is only 3 of you flaming faggots.” says Maxwell. “I want to be forth. If I'm not forth I'm not interested and pay nothing at all.” the old man reinforces. The old man then adds, “I will pay an extra 500 dollars in gold to whoever wants to be third in line. Maxwell, Hark and Jet look at each other in disbelief, Harper growls and savors his raw meaty bone. “I ain't fucking no dead nigger’s ass for a small nickel.” Hark exclaims. “Five hundred?” ponders Maxwell while Jet smirks as he is writing something in his little notebook. “Hold on here old man.” adds Hark. “I have an offer for you. In fact, how about I make all the offers and you tell me yes or no.” Hark unleashes his katana blade and tries to strike the old man, but the old man disappears. “Where did that motherfucker go?” yells Maxwell. Hark never looks excited or nervous he just holds his blade, moving it in a steady rhythmus. “Man I’ve done worse for money. I’ll fuck this dead nigger. I don’t give a fuck. I’m leaving this field tonight with shit on my dick and money on my hip!” says Maxwell. The old man reappears like an apparition only about 10 feet away. Hark is keen and alert. The old man says, “I thought one of you might have a change of heart.” “Put down your blade, Hark. We got a deal made. I don’t give a fuck man. I need the money.” Maxwell says. Hark responds, “Not only are you a fucking faggot, you’re a faggot that is also a nigger lover and a necrophiliac who runs a peep show for creepy old men.” “I’m not really into this. Please don’t tell anyone. I really need the money and this old man means business. Look at what he just did. He has supernatural abilities. I’ve seen him turn things into gold and I need that gold man.” Jet joins the conversation after watching the old man begin to hop around the fire like a frog, repeating to himself, “ribit, ribit”. “How are you going to get it up if you’re not turned on?” Jet questions Maxwell. “I’ll just think about pussy.” Answers Max. “Don’t deny yr natural urges is all I have to say” Jet laughs. Hark can’t help but think the old man looks awfully familiar to him, but he can’t remember where. He almost thinks he’s had dreams about the man before, but only remembers him when he is in the dream state. “Let’s get this show started then. Stretch that asshole out for me big fella, I have yr gold right here” Says the old man “I hope you don’t mind if I have a few guests.” Then a giant boulder falls from the sky and smashes into the dirt in front of them. Appearing out of thin air are three naked men. They have a shroud of mystery emanating from their bodies, like angelic creatures from the golden eternity. The old man comes out of his frog stance, walking towards the naked men. “It sure is nice to see you fellas. It’s a cold night aren’t you cold?” asks the old man. “Not with that fire going old friend, who do you have here?” One of the naked men says. He is pale with a hairy chest, bald on top with curly long black hair on the sides and back of his head and a curly black beard. One of the other naked men who is also a white guy, but clean shaven and handsome with nice combed black hair says, “I wish you faggots wouldn’t bring me along for this gay shit.” The other naked man is lean and muscular with a chiseled face and blond hair. Behind Hark’s truck one of the Asian men is butt fucking the dead corpse while the other man is watching from about 4 feet away, fingering his own asshole and masturbating. Each of them was wearing Dr. Bake’s Sex Shorts. The men are both frosty eyed and completely indulging in the sexual desire of the moment—everything becomes silent and everyone is watching as the man with his penis up the dead man’s ass begins to moan and then in a thick Asian accent began to say “I like Martin Luther King Jr. Civil rights activist—I fucking for God. Stupid American crap-hatch whore.” He repeats “I fucking for God” several times as he squeezes every last pleasure sensation out of his orgasm. He then slowed down and shortened his humping strokes—his voice begins to crack and he bites down on his thumb as he is totally spent with his eyes glazed with bliss. The other man moves in as soon as the first man lies down beside the truck in the wet green prairie grass. He slowly inserts his tiny penis into the dead man’s ass and begins to hump in short little Mickey Mouse strokes, moaning and his voice cracking with pleasure. “By gay shit sir, do you mean gaiety or gayness of the anus? This is by far a mixture of both.” “Did you say frothy broth?” Hark laughs then Jet adds, “You mean Rick Santorum?” The naked men all smile at each other. Everyone laughs together. “It may be gaiety for you dirty faggots, but I just come along for the booze and smoke, you degenerates can kiss my heterosexual ass.” “You know we would.” The naked men joke with each other. “You’re next Maxwell, you got your sex shorts on?” asks Hark. “I wasn’t planning on having any sex, I came to pimp.” Maxwell says. “Well, you better not bare bone that dead nigger unless you want your dick to fall off, pimp. He just got fucked by two of the most fucked up freaks I’ve ever seen.” Jethro says. “I got a plastic grocery sack behind my seat you can use.” Says Hark. “A fucking grocery sack for a condom” Shouts Maxwell. “Hey man just double-wrap it.” Jethro says. “I’ve done it before on some whores in Mexico. I’m healthy.” “He is almost done Maxwell, you better get naked and get it up.” Shouts Hark. “I don’t want you guys watching.” Max says. “We already seen about as much fucked-up shit as we can see in one night, seeing you get gay ain’t going to make any difference at this point.” Says Hark. Both Asian men where now laying on the ground, totally spent and completely relaxed looking up at the dark solemn sky.

Max snags the grocery sack from Hark’s hands, hustles his balls and walks over towards the dead body which is lying face down on the ground, his metal name badge now lying in the mud. Maxwell drops his pants and closes his eyes, placing the plastic grocery sack around his penis twice. His penis was rock hard and about five inches long, but full of girth. “Well glad you didn’t have much problem getting hard, Maxwell.” Hark taunts Max. Max rolls his eyes and says, “Don’t fucking tell anyone, dude. I need the fucking money.” The old man and his naked friends gather around closely to watch. The clean cut naked guy who is now sipping out of wine bottle say’s did this faggot put you up to this?” pointing at the old man. “He says he will give me five hundred bucks to go third, he wants only to go forth.” Maxwell says. “Why do you suppose that is?” asks the naked man, chuckling. Maxwell looked at him confused and says. “I guess he is a degenerate fuck.” “No doubt about that.” The naked man laughs. Maxwell’s boner is starting to go down. One of the other naked men who is muscular with blond radiant hair points at his pecker and says. “You better do something about that or I might have to go third and collect the reward myself.” Maxwell closes his eyes and tries to get his penis hard again. “Are you thinking about that retarded bitch you used to fuck?” jokes Hark. “Shut the fuck up dude. I just want to get this over with.” Maxwell’s penis is about half hard when he tries to jam it in the dead man’s ass. It bends like a broken chic-o-stick inside the plastic bag. “There you go forth now.” Maxwell points to the old man. “That’s not worth 500 bucks, I want to see you pound that dead nigger with a hard cock until you have an orgasm.” Says the old man. “How about you try out my orgone accumulator?” A wooden box appears on top of the boulder which fell from the sky, it has a wooden chair inside it, the inside is lined with stainless steel “Go ahead, my boy, get inside”. Max reluctantly goes inside the box and the old man say’s to him, “Give it just a few minutes, my boy, you’ll be hard as stone.” Max sits in the orgone accumulator for several minutes, it is just a box with a chair inside with no openings, Maxwell begins to get excited then the old man opens the door and Max looks like a vibrant new man. Suddenly a beautiful naked woman appears, walking up to Maxwell and caressing his penis which instantly was rock hard. She begins to kiss him and whispers in his ear. “Go ahead and fuck the man now.” “Who are you?” Max questions the woman. “I’m your siren fluff girl you dream about in your deepest sleep.” She says as she gazes into his eyes and he seems to be in a hypnotic trance.

He begins to copulate with the dead man, penetrating his hard penis which was wrapped inside the plastic grocery sack into the man’s dead ass. The dead man began to bleed from his asshole and a stream of bright red blood runs down his chocolate colored leg. The white plastic bag is covered with shit and blood. You can hear his pelvis slapping against his ass cheeks. All is quiet while he pumps his pulsating cock in the lifeless ass. He looks like a mad lion as he spews his semen into the bloody plastic bag. All the time keeping his hands on the breasts of the naked woman and licking her neck and kissing her. Hark was born and raised in a racist family and taught to hate the black man for no good reason, but just because. He never really thought about it much or questioned it. He always referred to blacks as niggers and really didn’t like the way they smell or look, but especially he hates how loud and boastful they seemed to him in public. He thought all blacks were rude and dumb degenerate assholes—but when he saw Maxwell ramming this handsome dead man’s ass and blood coming out the man’s mouth—he saw something disgusting going on and felt sad he had called the man a nigger so many times, sad that he thought of the man as a degenerate for no good reason. The two perverted Asians, the creepy old man and Maxwell humping away with his head of sheep’s wool—they all looked like barbaric animals—they were—and it was he who put this whole display together—all this mess was his doing. Maxwell continues to kiss the woman and closes his eyes as he is having the orgasm. He opens his eyes when he finishes and sees that he is kissing one of the naked men who had temporarily transformed into the beautiful women. He spits and wipes his mouth as if he can remove the kissing and licking. He is shocked and yell’s, “You fucking faggots. I will goddamn throw all of you in that fucking fire. I want my gold!” “Hold on there boy, now we made a deal and I’m going to honor it. I enjoyed what you just did and I think you have his asshole stretched out just enough for me. Now I am plenty horney and don’t need any Viagra.” The old man says. He takes the shinny gold coin and places it in Maxwell’s hand. “Who are you’re friends anyway? Where did they come from?” Maxwell asks. “Don’t worry about that.” Says the old man as he walks away hustling his balls and unzips his light grey slacks, releasing from his pants a six foot long penis with the blunt head of a snake and the distinct diamond pattern of a rattlesnake. “Have you heard of the Moche culture, my boy?” He says to Hark. “If one wants to have communion with dead. This is way, my boy.” The snake penis slithered into the dead man’s ass, moved through his body and stuck it’s head out the man’s mouth. The dead man suddenly was no longer dead. He opened his eyes and had the rattlesnake head protruding from his mouth stuck out its tongue and hissed.

The old man is in ecstatic pleasure with his snake penis connecting him to the dead man and protruding through him. “I have unfinished business with death. It’s not about the orgasm at my age, my boy. It’s about the pleasure in getting one, you see? ” The old man says. The fire was so hot the flame was ice blue. The man’s eyes opened looking at Hark with disapproval and his voice choked by the rattlesnake dick says. “Tell your friend to throw the pages in the fire.” Hark couldn’t believe his eyes, the Asian men where in the backseat of Maxwell’s car, they had both shit themselves inside their sex shorts, they both where sucking on their thumbs and praying that Maxwell would start up his car and leave. The black man looked over to Maxwell and the Asian men who had raped him and looked at Hark who had killed him. Jethro was finishing off the bottle of Powers and scribbling in a notebook with a pencil. “Whataya writing Jethro?” asks Maxwell. Hark looks on in terror. Sgt. Venerate say’s again, “Throw the pages in the fire.” Then in his most skillful strike he thinks he had ever made as a bladesmen Hark removes the head of the snake, spins and then in the same motion cuts Venerate in half from his head down through his asshole. In the process he also cuts the rattlesnake body long way in perfect halves stopping right before the old man’s body. The old man is not fazed by the injury to his penis. He stands in silent meditation as each half of the snake penis takes form in to a snake of its own, each with two heads. The rattlesnake head rolls towards Hark, lifeless, but within the darkness of its beaded eyes is the all-encompassing and advancing tenebrous rays of unshine. Jethro runs up to the rattlesnake head kicking the snake head into the fire. He holds up his notebook and say’s “I’m not ashamed of it—or embarrassed by it.” He tucks his notebook under his overalls and tosses Sgt. Venerate into the fire one half at a time. As each half is tossed to the flames it transforms into a snake and hisses as it is disintegrated. “Venerate was made for the fire, he died just as he should have and will disappear into the darkness” Says Jet. It is the moment called the twilight when the crepuscule is on the march. The old man still stands still with the snakes now winding around each other. Hark says, “What’s yr name old man?” The old man says nothing, just continues to meditate. The man with the curly beard and long black hair hasn’t said much this whole time, who is writing like Jet with a pencil in a small pad looks up and speaks. “Surely you know about the Dark Energy Star and the dying sun? All light is owned by it. He who is death owns life and he who is the darkness is the wielder of the mighty sword of light. Emptiness owns the Universe. When you know the scroll of Emptiness as your true nature you will clearly see this.” The naked man then went on in poetic verse for a while. Hark seemed to slip in and out of ecstasy of the mind and joy of the spirit. He is having visions of snakelike vertigo in the horizon. Single stars seem to flicker at him while meteors flash through the sea of dancing kaleidoscopic serpentine patterns. Hark thinks, “A star within a star, a dream about a dream and a story about a story.”

Then Hark is awakened by Jet. “Get up man, the fire has burned out. We need to get more whisky up at the house.” Hark gets up in a drunken daze and Jethro drives his truck off for him while he watches from the passenger’s seat the last of the smoke is seeping from the ashes then he turns to the sunrise up ahead where the sun blinds them both and they run into a fence post, Hark’s truck slides on the mud and caused the ground to give way, sending the truck 20ft down in and avalanche of mud. Jet’s body is instantly crushed and Hark’s legs are both broken. Hark pulls himself up with an old limb and tries to crawl up the ravine. He gets to the top of the truck where he can regain a little strength and crawl all the way out when he sees a mass of awakened rattlesnakes from their den, they all begin to strike. Then the crushed gas tank on the truck catches fire and the there is an enormous explosion that no one ever knows about. Hark and Jet die in a mud pile full of rattlesnakes and the whole thing burns for hours. There is so much trash and rumble out there at the country dumpsite that no one ever notices what was left of their bones and Hark’s truck just mixed in with the rest of the junk out there. They get washed around the creek, mostly getting buried under piles of old building materials and appliances. It doesn’t matter that Hark and Jet never got the tractor and covered the fire with dirt. No one ever notices anything different about the place, it was like it never happened. There is nothing out there of any interest to any one just and old dump site and a row of fence posts. Maybe someday someone might find Sgt. Venerate’s name badge that’s now buried 3 inches in the dirt and look into to it, but the chances I would say are fairly slim. That is not to say that stranger things haven’t happened. Hark wasn’t the only person to disappear from Rising Sun, it is now an abandoned town, just like Eagle Springs and joins the dark matter in the ever diming universe towards never ending emptiness, loneness and the blackness of what is nothing from which everything emerges. To create, one must start with nothing and in the art of destruction must have a steady supply of bullshit to operate smoothly. The end.