SNUFF (h.s.)

Chapter 12

Serenata

That wretch motherfucker felt as if he had buried Scrooge.

A sip of Vat 69 would be a good idea. Definitely, it would be a good idea too if he didn't stink of dried blood and vomit. He leaned on a tombstone and lit a cigarillo. He struck a match on the gritty rock but didn't catch the name. Goddamnit, the dead outnumber the living.

The devil was calling for him tonight. He was abandoned in a ghost town. This wasn't a graveyard. This is where the unfortunate souls gathered to and dreamt of a way to never regret the life they never managed to live. Harry wouldn't let any cocksucker bastard take him for a ride, he wouldn't be buried here.

He'd managed to tuck away two dead pricks in an already occupied grave and rig the rightful owner on top as she once was. He'd dug deep enough to think that he'll end up in a tunnel leading to the ocean and from there a whirlpool was awaiting to suck him to the center of the earth. It was almost dawn, the job was done.

He thought the cigarillo would be bitter and rank. He savored it. He hadn't tasted such mellow drags. In every suave puff Sandro's face and the filth he had as a brother were melting faster than butter on a fresh French toast. He imagined of his fat head as cockroaches and worms were devouring it until all is left is his skull pierced from the harsh roots.

He could sense the call of the devil. He could listen to him playing the concerto of terror and he'd dance to the gruesome melody. You bet he'd dance. His hands would miss the swelling and the blisters from the rough shovel wood. He'd better had buried that shovel beside the old fucks so that Sergio wouldn't look for an excuse to send him back dealing with the dead.

He was no necromancer and he never had that pomposity. He could handle himself with everything that was coming his way once he'd get married with his gal. Lately he'd brush his teeth and he'd spit blood along with the toothpaste. Anyway, the teeth he could call his own. He stared at the small dentures in the glass and felt like a melancholic vampire who has grown tired becoming the demise of his innocent victims.

Nora was worried when she saw the blood but he didn't give a shit. He had to understand that he was no old chap awaiting death and looking for an early chance to cut out on the double. 'Why do your gums bleed again?', he remembered her standing next to the mirror and myriads of girls were staring at his red mouth. Every girl in love with him, devoted. 'Why do you fuck a toothless prick?', Nora laughed, 'Your dick's still alright'.

Motherfucker! If Sergio had taken care of his dick as well, they wouldn't be making this conversation.

Sergio was capable of swallowing the world like a pill. Yet, Nora could wear it around her neck, make it jingle and dance in her rockabilly tune. She wouldn't wipe out the universe but let it rest next to her heart for she was selfish enough to go without it.

'Yes, my love', she reassured him, 'I'm not satisfied with what I have. I ain't ungrateful, I'm ambitious'. She had taken his gun and was cleaning it for his sake. He was resting his head on the headboard and was enjoying her young tough youth. She was a gal who would gift you with her shells if she left this place along with a kiss on the corner of your lips.

Harry placed tiny cotton pieces between her toes to paint her nails. There was always a voice in his head consulting him like a wise Shaman – he couldn't tell if it was a Shaman or the Devil pulling his leg as he was staring at the fresh grave. The voice reminded him of that one thing he should never forget; Whenever you looked at her, she already knew what she wanted. So, what are you waiting for? Get it up 'cause she's got to have it! His dick made her grin. She had a wide smile like a child with her new Christmas toy.