The Means For Salvation / Cheyenne Champagne

9 Aug

The smiles and clammy, weak handshakes are like band-aids covering up wet, salty wounds. And the faces, worked on by comfortable plastic surgeons, look like over-stretched sheets of thin rubber pulled over bones; elongated in peculiar places, like Venusians. There is bitterness and disappointment bubbling up from within their chests. It’s the unnatural sense of failure that’s bred by indolence. There is desire being slowly unfulfilled as the clock ticks on (always ticks on), and all they can ameliorate it with is brand name furniture and ordering in fancy restaurants.

She walks into the forest, home to her shack. Her man leads quietly, stepping over dried wood and moss. It’s time to warm their blood and stand up proudly to history; to their tribe. There was a time when they rode horses and made rain. They put a curse on Custard and then he turned to ashes. He turned to dust. And he had not yet begun to fight. “This ain’t no National Geographic stuff.” He laughs with her first, then breaks into a phlegmatic cough, gurgling disease out of the lungs. He spits out the green, coagulated matter. Their faces are tired and contorted, sculpted gracelessly by the alcohol. “We’ll drink anything we can get our hands on,” she says, “but Lysol is the best. It dries your tears up.” He laughs: “It oughta. It dries everything else.”

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5 Responses to “The Means For Salvation / Cheyenne Champagne”

  1. Tony 09/08/2007 at 12:43 PM #

    Intriguing. Are these snippets part of larger projects outside of this blog? You’ve raised my creativity index meter significantly ;)

  2. Lx 09/08/2007 at 12:48 PM #

    hi tony,
    actually no. they’re not.
    although i’m looking at compiling a lot of my stuff into a short story collection, which i want to publish independently.
    stay tuned for that.
    thanks for reading.

  3. Anonymous 09/08/2007 at 1:38 PM #

    Addiction. Fed in different ways, but still the same animal. I love thse quick sketches.

  4. scott 09/08/2007 at 2:16 PM #

    There used to be dozens of stands where you could buy custard, but, one by one, they all closed. All but one. Now it’s the only one. It doesn’t even sell special custard, just the general kind.

    Don’t drink Lysol. Trust me. Don’t do it. I knew a German guy who drank Lysol. Now he’s just an An guy.

    Hello, Lx.

  5. Lx 09/08/2007 at 2:45 PM #

    wow, you’re killin’ me here.
    channeling henny youngman, i see.
    hello newman!

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