"You don't remember me do you?" said Tabood, his eyes rolling in his sockets like dry ball-bearings.
"Can't say that I do," said John.
"I suppose one don't care to remember the frailable. You know you need them, and you use them, use their life, take it like a man takes a breath, and you choose to not know, not remember."
"What is he talking about?" asked Von.
"I have no idea."
"Shut up. We're on gun law now. And I got the gun. You, old man. You know what this slag is?"
Von didn't answer.
"Ask anyone what a Kulmykian is. You'll get one answer--heartless, gutless filth. They think the universe is their bitch, a bitch grown tired and weary from rape and pillage. Even these common whores here will tell you." Tabood motioned. Two metallic heads, one ruby-red, the other primrose-dawn, legged over. "Ask them."
Still no response from Von.
Muzzle to nose, cold blue metal shoved under Von's ruddy equine nose. "I said frailing ask them."
John nodded.
Von spoke. Tabood crossed his arms. Lights neon reflected off his living armor. His eyes narrowing in satisfaction. The ruby-red whore lifted her squamata, and voided her bladder. Von appeared unimpressed. Tossing her shiny metallic locks back, she stood, turning her bare back to Von, and where neither words nor bladder could convey, the scars of a horrific quirting spoke in gouache welts purple and red as if worms aboded under her skin. Von scratched his head. It didn't itch.
"You've made your point," said John. "What do you want?"
"If I were a creature of karma, I'd turn you in to your own kind. I understand they would feed on your flesh like weak acid. If I were Kulmykian, I'd frail you in your arse right here, right now for the downtrodden to relish. But I'm not Kylmykian nor do I believe in karma."
"Spit it out. What do you want then?"
"Coin."
7 comments:
Nasty piece of work isn't he!
Yes, I would say he is. :-D
Taboodja shows that you truly are a consummate writer. As able as you have shown yourself to present beauty, joy, love, sadness, lust and so many others, as able you are at showing us something less than appealing in the traditional sense. Though there have been times when situations have arisen that could have been handled in this style, it has not been as raw. As potent as many other chapters, it touches upon an entirely different range within than most. Chalk in this respect to your many cheeses, :-D, and as such there has seldom been a greater presentation of the vastness and depth of your gift for story-telling and picture-painting by way of distinction and correlation within that distinction. In short, whatever you write about you do it with great skill.
Brilliant man! This comment does not do this chapter justice at all. May be back.
Sweetest, I held back. This chapter was much, much more graphic and nasty in my mind. :-D
"I suppose one don't care to remember the frailable. You know you need them, and you use them, use their life, take it like a man takes a breath, and you choose to not know, not remember."
That sounds like air! Like we use it & still do not remember the ozone depletion :D. It is Frailbable Yes, & we Do choose to ignore it...
I like the image of eyes in the socket like dry ball bearings.I can imagine the sound they must make while they roll. Like some old unused ceiling fan when put on after a long time, or the sound of an old Bicycle chain !
'We are on Gun Law now. And I have the Gun" CLASSIC! sounds like Musharraf from Pakistan! :D
Does he describe himself when he describes a Kulmykain?
Light Neons reflecting off his armor...Sounds like one of my nightmares!
Gouache welts! I could paint those...although I am not so fond of Gouaches They are too bright for me...hurtful to the eyes almost! India's Manjeet Bawa is a world famous Gouache painter...
So he is not a klumykaian...
Creatures of Karma feeding on their own flesh! Powerful imagery that!
Mona, I almost used impasto instead of gouache, but I liked the sense of opaque and the play off the last four letters "ache" to describe the welts on her back. Such is the way of choice in words. :-D
To be used as air, taken for granted without a thought, to be used and cast away without thought of the using. Not just air that falls under the hobnail of the powerful and thoughtless.
Mona, thank you again for your wonderfully engaged comments. You make blogger worth the effort. :-)
I understood why you used the word as soon as I saw it! Only did not mention that since I thought you might think I read too much in whatever for my own good :D The last four letter struck me at once, as soon as i read that!
Your choice of words is excellent! Single word can convey volumes...
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