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The Beginning

It started like any other day, with a woman of questionable beauty lying beside me on a lumpy mattress in a run down motel in East Wendover Utah– right on the Nevada/Utah border- and ended with me face down in an alley in Reno Nevada, bullet buried in my ass. I rolled out of the creaky fold out bed and plodded into the kitchenette only wearing my sagging faded yellow cotton briefs to brew a pot of flavourless complimentary dive motel coffee.

The woman lying in the bed stirred, ” Billy whatchya doing up so early baby?” Her hair was a tangled mess of peroxide blond with black/gray roots and she was at an age where it no longer enhanced her beauty. It just merely affirmed the self delusion that she still believed she was the best looking woman in East Wendover at 45. She desperately clung to the scraps of her youth like my sagging ragged underwear clung to my sculpted buttocks.

“I cant sleep …,” Oh lord I had forgotten her name again, even though she had been staying with me since I met her at her job a week ago in the casino, on the Nevada side of town , “… uh Doll…,”

” You forgot my fuckin’ name again? Haven’t you William M Norton? You self involved Camaro driving jackass. Maybe if you looked me in the face when we were making love and not slapping my ass as you fucked me from behind, I might leave more of an impression than the sink hole in this flea ridden mattress!”

Billy and his Bitchin' Camaro

Billy and his Bitchin' Camaro

Damn it was time to get on the road again and she….(Wendy was that it ?) was getting clingy and bitchy. To her, living in a dive motel eating cold Chinese food while watching Wheel of Fortune with me was a domestic improvement in her (Jenny yeah Jenny…. maybe) life.

“As I was saying before you started bitching-even before your eyes adjusted to the light, ( wasn’t Jenny…Martha?) …babe… is that I can’t sleep with you… (no it has to begin with a “J” … Janice?) snoring like a drunk hippopotamus while periodically lashing out in your sleep at some personal demon named Arthur. I don’t know who Arthur is, but from your… ( Georgina???) sleep ranting I gather he touched you ( Geraldine????) inappropriately at some point in the distant past and most likely did not look you in the eyes while doing it.”

“Fuck You Billy. Fuck your stained mattress; Fuck your shitty motel and fuck your rusted piece of crap Camaro!” she ( Jasmine??) screamed as she reached to the night stand to grab a a cigarette, ” …and fuck your tasteless ultra-lite Canadian cigarettes.” She (Jane ..that is it Jane) coughed a phlegmy cough and lit up the cigarette.

I grabbed the scissors and tossed them at her, so should cut off the filter that took up half the cigarette and at least enjoy  the process of  killing herself first thing in the morning- in between nagging about my choice of sexual positions and critiquing my Bitchin’ Camaro.

“Here use these these to kill yourself more enjoyably and lets be done with the name calling . I want to enjoy the morning with you before I go. The last week together has been unreal mixture of a romance and dimestore novels. We will be together again in a week and continue to write our story babe. So for now, let’s have a coffee, a few smokes, get some breakfast and then head up to the bank to get the money, but first I want to make love to you one last time before I head out on the road.” I brushed the matted hair from her puffy eyes and kissed her deeply- taking in the sweet taste of morning breath and stale cigarettes mixed with just a hint of last nights whiskey.

” I can’t help my poor memory or the fact that I  have fallen for you my darling Jane.”

” My name is Wendy. Wendy Cook you smooth talking bastard…. Now look me in the face when you  fuck me this time!”

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On “Running From My Life

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