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http://bmkold.ipfox.com/index.html
22 January 1999
The door slams closed. The room is empty, devoid of life. Strike that, devoid of life, save one. Or rather, don't save him. Sam doesn't want to be saved: not now, not ever. Don't strike that: don't save him. Strike him -- strike him dead and do him that favour. Never mind, as you shall see, there will be no need for that.
How can she leave Sam like that? For four years, she has been the light in his darkness, the warmth in his cold, the answer to his fear and uncertainty. He doesn't know what to do without her: can't imagine sleeping again without her by his side, can't imagine waking to anything other than the kiss of her lips, can't imagine coming home from another day at his shit customer service job and not seeing her beauty to know all the shit doesn't matter, because she is worth it, and worse if need be. Sam would be a coal miner in Tartarus, would work a relief shift pushing the stone of Sisyphus -- anything, anything at all, to earn the money he needs to treat Lisa as a goddess.
But now Lisa is gone and she isn't coming back. He now sits on the floor, phlegmatic, not knowing what to do. His eyes are dry as his tear ducts have long been empty. His voice is hoarse. All he is able to do is turn his head to the wall and imagine the hitherto unimaginable life ahead of him without her. And as he imagines, he bangs his head gently upon the wall asking "Why?" "Why?" "Why?" He doesn't want to bang his head gently. He wants to smash his head straight through the wall destroying his cranium, but he hasn't the strength of either mind or body right now.
Sam slides down to the floor and lies there for what seems like years. He doesn't know how long he has been there, but it can't be much more than an hour yet - probably not fifteen minutes. Is this how the rest of his life would be? An eternity of pain? He can't bear to think this.
Why did Lisa leave him? He can't understand it. They seemed so perfect together. Her arousing pheromones. The sweet but salty taste of lips, her sweat, her juices. Her long, red, twisted locks flowing freely, cascading down her back, falling in his face. Her deep green, penetrating eyes communicating so much joy and energy. Her melodic voice would dance across the air. The games they played together: chess, othello, checkers, cards, tic-tac-toe, thumb wrestling -- always thumb wresting.. The movies they saw together: comedy, horror, sci-fi; he'd even enjoy romance with her at his side. So much time they spent together, doing everything. Then suddenly she was gone, disconnected. It was only mental and emotional at first. But they couldn't seem to reconnect. She just couldn't care enough and he just didn't know how to make her.
That is why he gave her the ultimatum: "Get into or get out of my life!" Of course, he knew what would happen.
Sam can't lie there anymore... he feels the urge to do something. He gets off the floor. Like a zombie he starts to walk.
Section A: At the Train Station
On a good day, Sam can walk to the train station in ten minutes. When pressed for time, he has even run the distance in five. Today, it takes him a month . . . . well, nothing less than an hour, anyway. He arrives and looks around through lachrymose eyes. Lisa is not there. There is nobody there - nobody of consequence, anyway. Like a zombie he walks from one end of the station to the other. Back again. Twice. He stops.
Sam stands vacantly, staring into space. About two feet ahead of him is a yellow line and a sign telling him that he should stand clear of the edge and behind the yellow line. There is a look of emptiness in his eyes. There is the blow of a train whistle. He does not move, just stands there vacant and starry eyed. He hears the train's engine coming closer now . . . closer and yet closer still. He decides it is close enough now. Calmly he walks forward. He walks past the yellow line, past the edge, jumping into the path of the oncoming train. The whistle blows, brakes screech, but Sam does not move until tons of steel make it impossible for him to do otherwise, by which time, of course, it is too late. His head rolls to the right while an arm rolls to the left. His blood flows to paint a number of iron wheels red. It is over now.
- At least, it is over for Sam. A woman starts screaming in terror. There are dolorous tirades of disbelief among the crowd. There are shouts of "Get an ambulance!" "Call a doctor!" "Call the police!" A late comer asks "What has happened?" A shocked train conductor climbs down from his cab to investigate...
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Does the conductor inspect the carnage? Go to Section A1 |
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Does the conductor take the rest of the day off? Go to Section A2 |
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Does the conductor get back into his train? Go to Section A3 |
Sam wanders slowly into the kitchen. As he comes to the refrigerator, he absently opens its door. He stares in, seeing nothing. Old leftovers. Some utterly crushed rye bread -- a bag of crumbs. An unlabeled container filled with something scary. Empty egg cartons and old plastic wrap. He grabs an old bottle. Looking at the sell-by date, he drops it to the ground. Another. And another. One lands on his toe. He doesn't care. He just keeps emptying the refrigerator onto his kitchen floor. Nothing left in the fridge but stains on the walls and shelving. He yanks the shelving from the fridge and now that too is on the floor. He makes his way to the first pantry and repeats this procedure. The second... he finds nothing he wants to eat and his kitchen floor is buried in the discards from his fruitless search.
Sam turns the water on and goes to get a glass from the cupboard. He sees nothing but medicine bottles: brown plastic full of green and white pills, white bottle of pink capsules; clear glass of red syrup. Old chipped cups, Garfield, Snoopy, "Sam Loves Lisa". Now they are all on the floor. Broken porcelain and pills surround him. The sink is overflowing now. Sam doesn't heed. He sits on the mess on the floor in disgust. He opens another cupboard next to him and a pan falls out, bouncing off his head. Sam laughs. And now all the pots and pans are on the ground. Sam is swimming through an ocean of debris as he empties the silverware drawers, the spice rack, the freezer. Everything. All onto the floor. As he passes the stove he turns all the jets on full. He smashes a pan through the door of the microwave and sets the timer for twelve hours, high power. He presses start and sparks fill the air. Sam doesn't care. He shoves some napkins into the toaster and presses the on switch. Dumps a tub of leftover mystery meat into the blender and starts it without closing it.
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Does Sam take a knife to his wrist? Go to Section B1 |
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Does Sam sit down in his mire laughing? Go to Section B2 |
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Does Sam leave the kitchen? Go to Section B3 |
Sam meanders listlessly. The first time he saw her . . . A random left turn here . . . there she was across the firecode-violated room. A random right turn there. She seemed so unapproachable. Honk! So beautiful. Honk! Three guys . . . A car nearly hits Sam . . . bulging muscles . . . as he mindlessly crosses . . . bulging wallets . . . the busy avenue . . . brushed off like cat hair. The driver was not so lucky . . . Now she is alone . . . about missing the telephone pole . . . walking walks Sam . . . which falls down . . . towards Sam? . . . across the road . . . He can't believe it . . . landing on a second car . . . Sam looks behind him . . . Several . . . Nobody . . . other cars . . . She smiles at Sam . . . begin to pile up . . . Now she is sitting beside him . . . Sam hasn't noticed: Now Lisa is gone.
A random left turn here. The first day they made love . . . A random right turn there . . . they could not keep their hands off each other . . . Left foot in ankle deep puddle. The soft, succulent feel of her lips pressed against his . . . . Foot is soaked to the bone. Tongues engaged in eager explorations. Sam keeps walking. Accidently biting her lip . . . A random left turn here . . . the taste of her blood. A random right turn there. The movie . . . He is lost now. can't remember it -- they even missed the previews. Never been to this neighborhood before. A shocked manager threatening to have them arrested for indecent exposure. Rundown houses. Running out the fire door. Drunks wandering down the center of the street . . . laughing hysterically. . .wine bottles in hand. Back to his place. Burnt out and broken street lamps. A long weekend in bed . . . A few rats digging in an overturned garbage bin . . . not alone . . . A young man attempting to hide under a stoop . . . not sleeping . . . as he puts a glass pipe to his lips. Santana on the radio . . . Hispanic music . . . her fingers on his back . . . and the stench of rotten meat . . . Sam's inside her now . . . blast forth . . . such magick! . . . from the shambles on his left . . . He wants to stay here forever . . . Was that a gunshot in the distance!? He feels her body erupt . . . Or maybe a car backfired? He explodes. No matter. Nirvana. Sam keeps walking: He will never feel her again.
A random left turn here. The day he met her parents . . . A random right turn there. The barbeque. Passes a hot dog vendor . . . helping her dad get the coals going . . . passes a coke dealer . . . her little brother with the shaken cola bottle . . .passes a scantily clad whore who insists on trying to cheer Sam up . . ..
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Does Sam stop to talk with the whore? Go to Section C1 |
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Does Sam ignore her and continue with his meandering? Go to Section C2 |
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Does Sam violently
attack the whore? Go to Section C3 |
Note: Any readers interested in contributing to this story should send their submissions to the address below.
briankessler@nowhereatall.net