SNUFF (h.s.)

Chapter 38

The Coyote & Jenny Blonde

The coyote shivered on the highway. Inclined, crumbled, breathing with a silly smile.

Camel vest. Leather boots sunk in the soil. He kicked his heels on the road to dust them. The air stuck on his forehead. He approached the coyote.

Somebody has to talk to these cats, right? Usually they turn out to be gorillas. I'm standing on my own two feet but I ain't flunk out still on the fire lesson, you know what I mean? They hear me 'cause I'm talking to them. I don't get excited with donnybrooks and trimmings. They pull me, they put me here, they throw me there, but what can you do? You want to be your own master, you have to keep in your alert mind that on the other side of the coin they got you for kicks and thwacks. The schmuck for the smacks somebody would say.

She scrubs her heels with a long rag, they resemble pulleys. She's left her handpan drum on the sidewalk. They've seen her sing and dance in indolent movement on charcoal. Her dance insinuated an absent escort yet the motions have remained the same and the space that used to be a body withstands. That was an illusion. For Jenny Blonde never had a partner to dance with.

She has bloodshot eyes like a road map. My eyes get more irritated than my feet, what can you do? With the lice and fleas we're dealing, here a generous bite and our eyes bleed at all seasons. They wear ties, medals, robes, nightsticks – they're changing their skin. It doesn't matter how they smell, what they appear like. What do you let go by? When I was a kid (she shows a small height) they'd give me a spoonful of cod liver oil and everything went its way. But – I won't do them the favor. I don't sell out my imagination for a ripped suit.

That coyote nobody moved further. Nora opened the trunk, took a folded cloth and along with Harry they wrapped the animal. She held it in her embrace, it was dying. The weak flailing kept for a while, it the coyote was enduring as she was ignorant of its healing. Where do we find a place to bury it? He was searching on the right field, she was looking on the left.

If I let them, they'll make me a ping-pong ball. We're all a spectacle to them. If they could keep us on a stage, in a cage like my friend King Kong, as a gong echoed once in a while they'll laugh so hard they'll get a hernia. Look at the wretches, look how fun! Here, brother. She gives Harry two blossoms. He puts the one on his vest, the other behind his ear. The stem leaves a damp smell on his fingertips.

You're a sharpie fox, I see. Where are you going, you kids? You're doing good leaving the window shops and street fairs behind, as long as you're heading for the fields and reeds. Caballeros, sure. You got food to grub? The treats I accept, they're human. When they throw me money, I throw them back with a boot. She laughs. My struggle won't go misplaced, I've been fed slaps and I know of cowardice and hesitance. Since I've learned to recognize them, I know now to avoid them. They want to socket us all until we cram. That's how they have us – she makes a knot before her chest – estranged from feeling – she hits her palm on her forehead – and this here? Tell me what am I to do with this. Make it unclean? No. Clear. Pristine. Pristine it stays. They'll leech off us until we become as white as a sail – no blood flowing in our guts but electrolyte. Ha, don't laugh brother. You see her serious? She points her finger. She knows what they hustle, she know the tariff. See me how I come – first, first. In another dream. I won't take place in the breadline.

The coyote smelled of manure. The fur was stiff, at some parts the clumps became rough points. Nora brought it to her face, her hair were hiding it. She was caressing its head. The blood had stained her palm. They couldn't find a respectable spot. Harry didn't want to get his hands on the rotten job. He stopped to open her door, he asked to leave it. She said she'd do it herself.