Sunday, September 11, 2011

Story: Revulsion and Terror in Dallas, TX (Part 2)

    •    Two Men by the Pearly gates of the Abyss stand in my way, unable to grasp the Green moss that clung to walls.
    •    I could feel the Cannabis taking its toll. The Burning of the Rubber on my car many feet above the steps crawling my way like a colony of New York Roaches.
    •    Think of the Roaches. Think of them and not the trouble only a few feet away.
    •    "Yeah, HI THERE, My name, uh… Rauz Dutch. Invite! Me! Here! In this establishment. Here… for the coverage. My agenda, … the presentation to the people, later here, today. And I must meet with the one in charge. They may have told you, but if not, than good day to you. But today, I must speak with the principle.
    •    I look into the mustachio's glasses, intoxicated with my words that they did not answer. Not his eyes, only his glasses wanted to answer me.
    •    "If that is the case, than show me you’re ID."
    •    Mother of God help meet now.
    •    I handed him my wallet, for no fear of my money being taken for inspection of a later hour, for I kept no money between the leather.
    •    "Rauz Dutch, Age 34, Louisville, Kentucky."
    •    I could see the defeat in his lips, curling at the teeth.
    •    He gestured to pass him my valuables for a search.
    •    Jokes on him. I keep no valuables on me for fear of theft on any of the three degrees.
    •    None to pretty from what I’ve been told
    •    He waved his hand, wanting me a few steps forward.
    •    I see a box, with both an entrance and exit, wedged between two-half's of a table.
    •    Okay. Be quiet. Be calm. Ignore the earlier delicacy and all of the bad virtues inside. Let it work through your system. Nice and slowly now. Yeah. Pretend it's not happening. It isn’t happening dammit!
    •     A loud ding went off, me collapsing to the ground under the left bench as if a powerful spell has come over me.
    •    "Oh God what's that?"
    •    "That's just the metal detector Sir? Come and get up."
    •    He grabbed me by the axillary artery, careless of such a risk, and wandered his hands all along my attire.
    •    I felt like collapsing for the second time there again.
    •    He found nothing. Only spare change and a receipt to car I recently purchased just south of Memphis. He let me go without a word.
    •    "Sir, Lady, Child, Whatever. Where's the head's room?"
    •    "What?"
    •    "The Head. His room. Where is it?"
    •    He stood with a stare on his face.
    •    Or was it my face?
    •    Where am I? Where the Hell am I?!
    •    "Hmmm… just up the stairs, in the other building, the large room to your right. Yah can't miss it."
    •    "Thank you sir."
    •    I felt raped. The Pig had done me on all fronts, while I enjoyed much less than you could ever say I would have.
    •    An atmosphere that shook with ferocity loomed over me like a cloud fresh from a ganja cigar.
    •    I walked as straight as one can under the scoliotic effects of an etheric episode, praying to god that those men were as gone as I would have hoped.
    •    That could be, if I did not feel the break in my back by there cruel stares

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