When I tell people about this thing that happened to
me they think that Iím loco en la cabeza. Even my own homeboys
are treating me like Iím sick or something. Itís good knowing that
theyíll stick with me like that though, especially when Iím no good for
nothing right now. I canít do shit and nobody will believe nothing
that I say. I need somebody, just one person, to believe something,
just one thing , that I say. And, since this happened, a got a lot
Iím going to try this again. Things couldnít
have been better. I was riding high. We got this fight going
with the assholes and somehow I knew what they were up to and we got the
jump on them. The homeys got all excited and made me out like some
kind of hero or something. The chics were rubbing on me and shit.
I was the man! I think it was maybe a little TOO much for me and
I had to get away on my own for awhile. Also my back felt a little
sore and I thought it would do me some good to walk around a little.
So here I go walking down the road and then off into the arroyo feeling
as high as the big bright moon that seemed to be following me; not like
I had any drugs or shit. I hadnít got around to that.
I was just all high on myself.
I wandered through the drain pipe that had been
all tagged by both the assholes and the homeboys. Thereís always
been quite a war going in that pipe and it was cool seeing and remembering
who tagged what. Some of those broís arenít around any more.
So there I was squinting at those tags like nothing
could happen to me. Hey, a battle had been fought and won.
The assholes were away licking themselves. I was bending over with
my face almost right up against the concrete pipe and this big hand just
reached out of nowhere and grabbed me! It yanked me out of the pipe
like I was a little rat or something. I couldnít see nothing much
after that because I was tossed into a bag and everything got all dark.
I was so scared I almost blacked out. I can only remember that awful
shitty smell. It smelled like a big olí greasy fart in that sack.
When I could think again I found a little snag in the bag and worked it
into a little peephole.
When I looked out I couldnít believe I was still
in Santa Fe. I was in some sleazy part of town like I never saw even
in Albuquerque.It was like all built up and decaying with black sooty shit
all over everything. I could hear this music that sounded like some
kind of creaking hell. I got hauled through a door and went by these rooms where these big
women were doing weird sex things with animals and shit while these wierdos
watched and jerked off. I went through one room after another seeing
shit I donít even want to describe.
And then, BANG!, I hit the ground hard. I
heard a room full of deep gravelly voices and stale breath. I stayed
as quiet and still as I could in the bag and nobody paid no attention to
me. I hoped they thought I was dead. They were laughing and
like talking in another language so I couldnít tell what they said or even
if they knew I was in the room. After what seemed like a million
years one of them ripped apart my sack. I was too scared to move
especially after hearing all the noise they made when they saw me and ESPECIALLY
AFTER SEEING THEM!
They were BIG; tall as basketball players but as
buff as football players and U-GLY! (not ugly like the homeys are
always saying about the assholes, but really ugly). Like looking
at them made me want to spew, but I was too scared. It was like I
was just stuck and I didnít even move when one of them (probably the one
that carried me) came after me with a long curved knife.
And hereís where I lose everybody. . .he used that
fucking knife to cut my fucking head off! And it wasnít all eerie
and painless or nothing like in a dream. It hurt like hell!
Somehow I stay alive and thinking and my eyes watched as the blood came
gushing out of my twitching body. I knew that I must have been dead
but I could still see and feel everything. I could even taste the
blood coming up from my severed throat. But, killing me like that
wasnít enough for them. All of them got busy ripping me apart and
I felt every tear in my skin, every rip in my muscles and the breaking
of my bones. Actually, none of my bones ever got cracked..
The bones were pulled apart like they were even being careful with my bones
while they tore into my flesh with their hands and teeth. Itís not
like they were all that hungry. They to be going after the bones.
After they got my eyes I could only feel what was happening through my
bones. That was all I had left.
I felt those monsters chewing a licking every bit
of blood and sinew from me. I can still smell the stink of their
breath and spit coming up from deep inside myself while Iím telling you
this (like those guys never used dental floss or even brushed their teeth).
When even the last of my brains were gone they tossed me, skull and all,
into a big pot of boiling water. The pain I felt from the heat ached
more deeply than anything I had ever felt before. After I was all cooked and cleaned those guys each took a selection
of my bones and would talk to them, sing to them and even kiss them and
all. The sounds made me feel all itchy and goosey. Then they
each sort of got into a line and the leader (the guy who snagged me) took
the bones and stacked them up until I was a perfect skeleton. I think
he put them back together better than I was before because the back problems
I had been having donít bug me no more. Then they pulled these oozy
looking bags from some cabinets that were at floor level all around the
room.. Those bags were all full of body parts and shit. They
all helped putting me back together like they was working on a low-rider
After what seemed to be about a week, there I was
standing there all naked and still not moving. It wasnít like it
was because I was all scared or nothing. I just couldnít move; not
until the main man gave me a rough slap on the back of the neck.
They offered me something with an awful sweet smell to drink but I shook
my head ďno.Ē Then they gave me another whack and, the next thing
I know, I was waking up all cold and naked to my homeys in that big olí
drain pipe in the arroyo. They were clowning around with me like
I had been stoned and all. Even today, thatís all anybody thinks
happened; that I was just stoned out of my mind. Yeah? . . . Well,
but what about my back. And I see better now too; like I mean in
more ways than one.
Anyway, I slept for about two weeks and my body
ached. It was like having growing pains but like all over.
Even my hair hurt. I still feel some aching but now itís only deep
down in my bones. It hurts mostly when I feel like I really got something
to say. But then, I canít find no way to say it. My bones ache
like blueballs when you donít cum. And then I make these stories
just to get my point across and something makes it and I feel a little
better, but Iím always aching a little.
I know Iím not nothing special even back when my
homeys were making a lot of me. I donít think Iím the only person
this has ever happen to. Like when Iím hanging out at the mall and
looking at all the people I think I can spot the one who got ďover-hauledĒ
like me. Itís like they belong in another world. And thatís
just how I feel. Everything that seemed like such a big deal to me
before seems kind of pointless. I really canít stand it when the
homeys are all talking big about death and shit. I been there and
they donít know shit. Those others I see at the mall look back at
me like theyíre about to say something but canít. I can feel what
they mean in my bones. Iíll bet they donít even know what happened
to them. They took that sweet-smelling drink and it made them forget.
I didnít, but who cares, because nobody believes me anyway.