Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Part 2: A boy who killed some people

2015:

There were crepe myrtles alongside the house near the a/c condenser and they were nothing like the crepe myrtles out by the street. The leaves were longer, the flowers pinker, and the branches had grown up and out until they rivaled the height of the building.

Out front, on that plot of land some call a berm or a devil’s strip but for which I possessed no term, there were bushes of oval leaves and red flowers and the branches had only grown taller than me once, during the summer my grandfather died.

Mad Slaughter sucked at a cigarette that pointed straight out from her lips and every time she inhaled, she sucked in her cheeks like someone drinking an ice cream float through a straw. The pack on her back was threadbare camo she’d bought from the army surplus. That’s where the cool kids got their things.

She said, “I knew a boy who killed some people. I watched her watching the crepe myrtle – the big one by the house – and she knew I watched her but Mad was not the sort of girl to mind.

“He lived in the apartment next door to us.” She turned to meet my eyes. To gauge the impact of her story.

“He was doing the woman who lived upstairs.”

This story sounded familiar.

It was my story, too, or a mirror image of my own, at any rate, and as she went on, I searched for myself in it but I was not there.

Mad would have been eight, probably, when it happened and (presumably) living with parents of good enough sense to shield their young daughter from the gory details but somehow she knew it all.

I said, “You knew Stonie, too, huh?” and immediately regretted it. She broke eye contact. I had robbed her of her story.

The pink flowers each had five petals and they weighed down the branches and the landlord never cut them back in winter like he did with the ones out front.

She said, “This is oleander,” which explained why this crepe myrtle looked nothing like the crepe myrtles out front. The flower looked fine in her hair.

She said, “The thing about oleander is it’s poisonous. If a dog is unfortunate enough to eat the leaves, the dog will die. It happens sometimes.”

I watched her walking back to the house.

Poisonous leaves.

That explained the crickets. 



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Part 1 is HERE.

References from “Fascist Dyke Motors”:
- Mad Slaughter is the real name of a real person who first appeared in a 2014 Katy post called Adorable.”

- “That explained the crickets” refers to the death of some pets in a 2015 Katy post called A Murder Mystery.”

27 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Thanks, Rupert.

      I am almost at the point where I can write true stories as myself. I wasn't sure!

      Delete
  2. Replies
    1. 2 for 2 so far with only a couple days in between postings!

      I'm on a roll. Maybe.

      Delete
  3. Intriguing story, I am enjoying it.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! This story is fairly easily verifiable, so I've never told it when writing as one of the old alter egos. We'll see whether I can do it justice.

      Delete
  4. Holy shit, with the references too. Is it possible you're just too deep into this augmented world-building to ever let it go? I'd almost read through all your past blogs, see how far the rabbit hole really goes.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Haha. My old blogs included a lot of true stories despite the fictional narrators.

      Some of them, like the one where Adri kidnapped a radio DJ who referred to Peter Gabriel as Brit-Pop and made her listen to "Lamb Lies Down on Broadway" in its entirety, though... that one was complete fiction.

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  5. My mother once found a dead body left on the ground near the Rio Grande. She told her friends about it, but they didn't believe her. It wasn't until her mother told her same friends about it that they realized it wasn't a joke.

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    Replies
    1. That would be awful. Makes for an amazing story, but not something I'd wish on anyone. I've heard that it is something that occasionally happens down that way, though...

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    2. Yeah, it's been happening a long time now. Even before Pancho Villa.

      Delete
  6. Mad must be short for Maddie, which could be short for Madelaine. Addressing her by her unabbreviated name would help her quit smoking.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think it's short for "Madison," although everyone else calls her Evie. I call her "Mad" because I love the term "Mad Slaughter," which as it turns out, went well with the theme of this blog.

      Smoking! There's something I've seen gorillas do. There are a couple at well-known zoos who have had quite the habit, as I understand it.

      Delete
  7. Sorry for late arrival craze.As i told u already this is a marvellous tale and i love those reference parts too.Most of the crime stories will be very dark and sometimes boring,stuppid but this story of yours is sweet and pleasant to read.you have found a perfect balance ha ha last but not least i m ur boyfriend ok.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Arun. I think I like what I did here. I was unsure after I wrote it, but I like the less spastic style I used here. We'll see if I can keep moving forward with this story...

      Delete
  8. The references scare me when I think of all the stuff swimming around in your brain. I overfilled mine which caused some kind of implosion which left me with only two functioning brain cells. Sometimes one takes a day off.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Timothy Leary once said that senility was better than the greatest drug he'd ever found.

      Just sitting in a rocking chair staring at clouds and flowers for a few years because it's all I can manage might not be all bad.

      Delete
  9. A very Katyish piece here. It is in fact indistinguishable from what Katy would write.

    Will there be blood?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh no, I'm regressing!

      I was reading Hemingway the day before, and I think this one reflects that more than other recent pieces. I know you liked Nasreen better.

      I like Nasreen's writing, but her way of second-guessing every statement she says makes covering much ground in a story tough.

      Delete
  10. Yep, I'm intrigued. I'm sucked in. I'm fascinated that there were hints of reality in past Katy stories, and like Bill said, this was very Katyish (I preferred her style of writing over Nas, mind you, though Nas did have a fun whimsy about her).

    Now then, please don't pull a Katy and just leave us hanging here, yeah?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks. It turns out to be way tougher to write nonfiction stories than it is fiction. With fiction, I control how many elements and tangents exist.

      With nonfiction, there's no limit to to what I can decide is somehow relevant.

      I'm going to get through, though.

      Delete
  11. This installment was exceptionally well written. Nice job.

    Arlee Bird
    Tossing It Out

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. It's written more seriously than my usual stuff, but it was worth a try!

      Delete
  12. I love the title, and the phrase within the tale. And I completely adore your approach to trees and flowers... and murder. :-D

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm taking this as a big compliment, since titles within tales, and trees, flowers, and murder are all things you excel in.

      In your writing, I mean. I wasn't accusing you of a crime.

      Delete
  13. Replies
    1. Thanks, Stacy.

      Mostly, I'm happy that I'm managing to continue the story. Prior to "The Jewels of Naz," I had a bad track record on completing stories I began.

      Delete