Friday, February 19, 2010

Joker And The Thief.

A dark night and a curious man who let out a curious sigh on a curious breeze, as the crackle of gravel under his feet gave way into the country air. The curious man went by many names but for the sake of convenience tonight we`ll call him the joker. Thin and tall the joker walked with a short gait contemplating his situation and his opportunities. he caught a shimmer of light in his up turned eyes that pulled his attention away from the stars. As he glanced to the right a small cottage, once pitch black against the ebony forest blurred into view. As a gleam of light flashed across his half cocked smile he swung his attention towards the homestead and started towards it. *Knock knock knock* the heavy brass door knocker belied the simplicity of the house a lions face stared back at him with each knock, the depth and detail in the small brass figure gave it a piercing gaze , and each time it struck the door the air reverberated through you as if too touch your soul and feel your intentions. A woman answered the door, wrinkles scribed across her face told stories of long years and hard won bittersweet victories, but her eyes pouring into him told of younger years and passionate lovers. ``yes? What can I do for you sir? It’s awfully late in the evening for strangers too come calling” “well milady I do know this and I do apologize for disturbing such a peaceful night but you see I’ve been walking for such a long time through this quiet night air” “so you’re looking for a place to rest your head are you?”. Though the woman’s words rung of concern there was no doubting the wavering scepticism in her voice, “yes indeed miss...?” “Adele, Adele Carroll” “miss Adele I would be truly in your debt and will impose nothing more than a pile of hay on the floor” “well you’ll get a spare bed, through the room this way”. The joker followed the woman through a narrow hallway and up a narrow flight of stairs, ducking in several places for low hanging ceilings he made his way to a room with a small bed. “It’s not very big but it serves in a pinch” Adele regarded the bed with an odd sense of apology; “it’s more than I need thank you” Adele nodded as she left the room and the door clicked shut. A thud broke the midnight air as the heavy brass lion crashed against the door. As Adele burst into the small room; where the joker still slept unaware of the commotion, a cool breeze swept the tears from the rivulets forming below her eyelashes. “What troubles you at this hour miss Adele?”; the jokers words sang relief too Adele’s ears, “someone has broken into the house downstairs I feared you may have run off on some incentive” “it was not i miss but I shall proceed to investigate the disturbance” The joker pulled on his gloves and ushered Adele too sit on the bed whilst he assumed his gentlemanly duty. The joker’s wary steps drew little solace as the wooden floors creaked with exclamations of all the things they’d seen. As he crept through the house it was very apparent whoever had come, had gone just as unwittingly. Adele’s curious defiance pulled her downstairs and as she looked through the house on the flicker of candle light her eyes drifted to a particular empty spot above a fireplace, a spot the once held a prized gold pocket watch, a spot that now held dust. Adele’s whimper drew the joker too the fireplace and his attention to the empty spot. “I take it something’s been stolen then?” “My husband’s pocket watch, my last memento of him”. Though his curiosity peaked the joker decided not to press for information, it was his way not to get involved in the people he depended on. He grasped Adele’s arm “ I shall give chase miss Adele, for the kindness you have shown me I will return the trinket”. As the door swung shut and he broke into stride the brass lions roar was the last Adele ever heard of the joker, perhaps she met him somewhere else, in some other place, under some other name but these questions never plagued her. The watch she loved so dearly swung in the lions mouth a gold metronome keeping time to the events of the night.


Her stench hung in the air like a stale 20 ferrying dust into your nose. The course wires protruding from her scalp hadn’t seen any liquid but sweat since just about as long as her grime covered face. Fingernails painted black with decay look the same as press-ons in the heat of the moment. Desperation flows like any red carpet dress and she looked more beautiful drenched in it than any starlet i have ever seen. She was stunning, and I couldn’t resist her. In the same way that cavemen clubbed females on the head i would do anything to have her and yet never admit the way I felt or what I did too anyone, especially myself. Fortunately for me her bed was rock bottom and there she lay, helpless, pathetic.
Ever wonder why you have dark thoughts? What’s that? You don’t? Don’t lie to me, your just as bad as the rest of them deluding yourself through sheer curtains made of painted on smiles and broken teeth. I don’t really give a damn if you wanna know I’m gonna tell you anyway. You have dark thoughts because you want to, you crave them you crave what you can’t have cause the populous says you can’t. On the surface you’re quiet and content with your life but underneath you wanna do everything you pretend makes you sick. And that’s why I’m doing this, doing her. Every time you almost die you taste life for a brief second and in that second you wished you fucked her, you wish you’d killed him and you wish you hadn’t hidden behind the mask of humanity. So what are you gonna do after this moments over? Shy away? Put your damn falsetto grin back on? Or are you gonna take her and do everything she wants you too, no i don’t think you will, your pathetic.