just fiction - part 1. The Dream

I think it was the dime-bag whore who did it... But it certainly could have been the rain water-logged dead man whose fetid stench woke me Saturday night. Never thought I would find a dead man in my bed, but I guess I am long past my homophobe years.

In my world, you can't too much be a homophobe. An addict is an addict, and if a queer has a hit that you need, you either buddy up to him or you light him up. Doesn't the fuck matter which, as long as you get your fix.

And man do I need one now...

It's 4 am... I was asleep, for a change, but I woke to a nightmare, or dream I suppose, since it seems like my whole fucking life is bloody nightmare right now, and no dream is nor can be any worse, so they must all be dreams at this point.

Any the fuck way, I was cotting in a shanty-house over on the east side, just a stone's throw from where the pushers blasted those 3 calvary last week, when this damned fool comes pushing himself into the room yelling at me to "give me the fuck his woman..."

Now I've had my share of women, most of whom I wouldn't exactly say I am proud to have tipped their cone, so to speak, but I had no bloody idea who the fuck this bloke was nor who his damned woman was. I roll over and before I get a word out of my crack parched mouth I have a fucking piece poking in my balls.

If you ever want to scare the piss out of someone push a Glock into his nads and pull the trigger... I never screamed so loud in my fucking life... You would have thought I'd just gotten my scrawny ass put in the hole with some lonely goons in San Quentin.

So I piss myself, the fucking pistol makes that tin click of an empty magazine, and before I know it the fucker's woman, or I assume it was his woman, is running in the room yelling at me to leave him the fuck alone... Leave him the fuck alone?

What the fuck is going on here?

She pulls out a piece, skips my balls and points the damned thing straight at my fucking chest and squeezes and I hear the loudest thing ever, like I imagine a cannon must sound when its fired in a bank vault or something... I hear the bang, then feel a burning deep in my chest... Fire...

I have just been mother fucking shot... I look down and there is blood, oh shit there is blood, there is blood every fucking where. Oh shit what have I done... I put my hand on my chest but the blood just pours out around my hand....

I grab at a pillow beside me, the cock and his cockette scamper off. I put the pillow over my chest and then roll over onto it... Maybe the pressure of my body on the wound will stop the.... Shit it's still fucking pouring out of me like a fucking geyser...

I raise up onto my hands and knees, feeling a pool below me on the sheets... I look down and they're abso-fucking-lutely soaked in sweat.

I feel my face, my arms, my legs.... I may as well have just gotten out of the shower... Shit I'm freezing covered in all this shit...

I remember my dream, and for a brief moment I'm thankful its just sweat I'm covered in. A very brief moment...

Fucking whore did this to me, damn her...