Tag Archives: Christmas Shopping

Refrigerated Dreams (Act 6)

Adam Longo was still and quiet atop his perch at the abandoned Grainer Falls shoe factory. He was looking down upon the people surrounding the body. Some were squatted and taking photos. Others were scribbling notes and shaking their heads. Others still were talking on cell phones and with each other — dark whispers of a tragedy unfolding like layers of Christmas wrapping paper.

One of the investigators suddenly looked up when a pigeon fluttered, and Adam Longo closed his eyes to hide. “Maybe he fell, and then the animals got to him,” the man said to his peers without looking at them, his eyes still fixed upon the rusted rafters. “You know how these stupid kids are always screwing around in here. Damn fools think they’re going to live forever and do crazy things… Like climbing around where they shouldn’t.”

A woman kneeling beside the body of Andy Bliss turned her head to look up at him. She wanted to call him an idiot, but she didn’t. “There’s no sign of fall trauma. Not at all,” she said. “You should rethink that theory… Detective.”

He shrugged off her comment for the moment. “I merely suggested a possibility, Ms. Lassiter. That’s what we like to call investigation where I come from.”

The woman laughed to herself. “I’ll be sure to never go there then.”

He quickly turned his attention from what was above him to the woman examining the dead boy. “Are you criticizing my work?”

She looked up at him confidently. “Yes.”

“Well stop,” the detective said. “We got a dead kid here. This isn’t the time to be stepping on people’s toes. Got it?”

“Whatever you say… Detective.”


Veronica Genesis clutched her schoolbooks as she walked down the sidewalk on a warm afternoon. She stopped in front of Rude Rudy’s run-down house and looked at it. His bike was toppled in the front yard, so she knew he was home. She steadied herself, walked up to the door, and knocked.

A few moments later, Rude Rudy appeared in the open doorway. He glared at her. “What the hell do you want?” His orange hair was a bushy mess. His shirt was stained with food or milk.

She was angry at herself for ever becoming involved with such a loser who didn’t realize he was a loser at all. They’re the worst kind of loser, she thought to herself. “I don’t want to go steady anymore,” Veronica bluntly told him.

He scoffed at her, but inside he was hurt. “Good,” he stammered. “I don’t want to go steady with you either. You’re not any fun at all. You’re just way to into yourself… Besides, there are tons of babes I could replace you with.” He slammed the door in her face.

She knocked again and he yanked the door open. “What!?” In some small way Rudy hoped she had reconsidered.

“I thought you might want to know that Adam Longo is alive… Sort of.”

“What do you mean sort of?” Rudy wondered.

“He showed up at school, but he was different. He was acting weird.”

Rudy laughed. “There’s nothing different about that. That kid is weird.”

“I’m serious,” Veronica stressed. “If I were you, I’d be concerned.”

Rudy shook his head at her. “He’s the one who should be concerned if he comes around here.” He poked his head out and looked up and down the street to steady his sudden creeping doubts. “Now get lost,” he said, and he slammed the door in her face again. Veronica flipped him off from the other side.


Adam Longo waited until they removed the body of Andy Bliss and secured the scene. When they were finally all gone, he leapt from the beam and floated down to the floor of the factory. It was dark. But somehow, he could see through it. He walked to and pushed on the heavy metal door that led to outside. The sudden rush of the fresher air felt good to him, even though he wasn’t sure if he was breathing air like he used to. He looked up at the sparkling stars and the 100-watt lightbulb moon that hung there like a bleached Chinese buffet plate. He turned back once to look at the brooding factory crawling upon the lightweight veil of darkness like untamed vines before he started walking toward the scattered glow of Grainer Falls.

When he emerged from the suburban brush, he knew just where to go, even though he wasn’t sure how he knew. So many things were different now and becoming more different every day and night. He roamed the streets like it was Halloween. He touched his cold face and thought it must be a mask.

He kept to the shadows, softly crawling through the dark spaces between the streetlamps and their fizzing pink light, like a raspberry in champagne. He caught a smell in the air and suddenly turned his head toward a white house with a high window that glowed golden yellow. He moved closer, undid the gate, and moved up the walk. At first, he stood on the porch at the front door. He could hear a man and woman talking inside. He lifted his fist, but just before he was about to strike the door with his white knuckles, he quickly withdrew it. He came off the porch, stepped back out into the yard, and looked up at the high window again. He saw a shadow move against a wall.

“Veronica,” he mumbled to himself in a strange voice that was not the voice he remembered having. He mumbled again. “Veronica.” He floated up and brought himself down on a lower pitch of shingled roof just below the window. He carefully peered in through the glass. She was standing in front of a full-length mirror and looking herself over. She placed her hands on her chest and shook her head in disappointment with her body. Veronica moved away from the mirror and sat down at a desk and opened a laptop computer. Her face was quickly bathed in the light of burning technological fuel. A moment later, her young heart jumped, and her head quickly snapped around when there came a light knocking on her bedroom window.

MORE TO FOLLOW

You can read the previous part of this story HERE.


Things to do in Denver when you’re hip and super fresh

And what I mean by that is…
The mercury red was dripping through the lights of the
downtown bars – it was blood running through
rainbows
and icy chalices clinking with the rhythm of this night
beat,
the smoke curled its fist and whirled on out into the
streets –
we were looking for things to do in Denver
and we were most definitely hip and super fresh.
The sky was dark, wet and gray
the rain was coming down in spittles,
and the cold beacons burst forth from the skyline
towers
and we breathed exponentially as we shook with cold
outside the place
where the band was playing hard and loud
and the women were drugged up tight,
they were all looking for a fight
erotic clashes in unfamiliar bedrooms
searching for the light switch
in some unfamiliar hall…
and we wandered, Soledad the sailor and I,
into the billiards parlor on the corner
where all Christmas shopping
was kicked to the curb
and mean looking men
were grasping sticks and swearing and swilling beer

So we caught two seats at the bar
and were lost in the noise
when something caught our attention
a brooding and bulbous man with wispy hair, atop a head shaped like a golden pear

He was clutching a magnet and a metal clam
reciting poetry all nonsense
something Spanish and insanely divine
about Albuquerque and nutty Nob Hill
and the love he held for well-groomed dolls
and it was a whacked-out scene
and we wondered, Soledad and I,
if we had shot ourselves up
with some mad horror show voodoo
and simply had forgotten…
but it was all real
as the man shed his black leather jacket
and made his way confidently
to the smoky stage, under scattered lights
and stood before a crowd who ignored him,
and so he tapped the mic with a hint of nervous fear
and began to speak…
“and what I mean by that is …”
and it went on and on from there,
like someone had plugged him in a bit too long,
his fiber optic cables all juiced up
and so the incessant talk came on like a flood
about the place he loved
and the games he dug
and the restless nights that drove him to kill…

So Soledad and I just sat there at the bar
sipping our Parrot Bay rums
watching the stitched up 5-minute idol
rant and rave
and his tsunami of words
followed us out the door and down the streets
and we rejuvenated our mission
to find things to do in Denver when you’re hip — and super fresh
Soledad wanted to climb a tower,
I wanted to find an all-night bakery
when from out of a crack in the buildings came a flash,
because we were hip,
we were super fresh
and we had become immaculate icons
of this new human race,
we could no longer afford to walk,
we had to run…

We had hoped to have some orange apples fall from
the sky
but all we met up with were detour signs
it went suddenly backward to Halloween
and we thought Denver was playing a trick on us
but we liked it anyway
so we tripped it to some mad cathedral
on this eerie hill in the middle of town
it was this great spire
of grass and rock and trees and torn down fences
and from this vagrant, fragrant vantage point
we could see a million trillion lights
all bubbling up from the floor of this town
and for a second we didn’t feel lonely
we felt hip and super fresh
as we found things to do in Denver
and then something somewhere
suddenly came with a burst of singing
and it was like some mad hipster
had broken free from his cell
and was bellowing forth
every ache he had ever felt…

So we stayed on that hill
not really talking,
but rather dreaming of what our lives would be like —
tomorrow
and we were afraid of the sorrow that might come
but then we realized we couldn’t worry about that
because somehow, some way,
life works itself out
and whether or not we would be strung up with
diamonds
or drown in the yellow dust
we were here right now in Denver
and damn we were hip and super fresh.