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Leon Smoke takes a Dirt Nap.
This was something I only ever got a few pages in on. Of course a few of those turned up missing, but I thought I'd see what people thought of the opening. Just a short bit right now. Thanks for reading, any feedback welcome!
Well, for a while I been holdin the fort down while it just held me back. Woke up one morning that was as kindly as steel wool, decided I needed to go forth. Saddled up my black El Camino and took to wandering beneath a Black Velvet sky where the stars shimmered like wet ice cubes.
Two days I wandered the lonely long stretch with dust chokin my throat and stingin my eyes before I rolled into town. Thats when I ran into trouble. I was sittin at a red light waitin for a green one when they walked by lookin lovely as centerfolds.
I told them my name was Leon Smoke and the told me theirs were Blue Eyes Cryin in the Rain and Angel Flying to Close to the Ground. They said I could call them Angel and Blue. They said that their mama saw Willie Nelson as some kind of religious figure, like a mesiah or a prophet, even if he was a cowboy and she was an indian. They said she kept his music on all of the time and named them after the first song she heard after their births. I said they should be glad they weren't named Highwayman and Mama don't let your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys. They didn't laugh, I would find out later why. Or I would remember.
Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain smelled like the fruit assortment of Tums I sometimes keep in my glovebox and had green eyes the color of the money I stole to wind up in the hole, or deceit. I asked the pair what they wanted to do.
Angel Flying too Close to the Ground said she was the good one.
Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain said she wanted onion rings and a shake so thick that it would suck her through the straw. She said besides, to Angel Flyin's prior statement, that that's what the bad one would say.
I didn't know that there was a bad one and all this talk was makin me hungry for something greasy and covered in grilled onions.
I said if they were thirsty there was an unfininshed bottle of Ta-Kill-Ya under the passenger seat.
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground reached between those Boa Constrictors of hers, I imagined them wrapped around me, and grabbed the bottle out.
I had held down the fort for slightly longer than a year.
Sometimes mistakes get made.
Then I heard a familiar noise. Trains at 2 a.m. can be like the worm in a bottle of Ta-Kill-Ya. You don't always see it comin but that don't stop the damn thing from comin.
We jumped the tracks, I heard a clink of bottle on teeth, made the jump with only 6 inches to spare either way.
We landed and I started cryin and not because I just had a near life experience.
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I know that evening's empire has returned into sand, vanished from my hand, left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
Critique is always welcome. I will try to return the favor.
Last edited by Due on Maple Street : 09-25-2008 at 12:07 PM.
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