SNUFF (h.s.)

Chapter 30

Salut Les Copains!

Nora had the taste of nectarines after a dive in the sea.

Sergio could taste her even after a thousand years when the world extincted once again. He smiled at her in his thoughts as he poured his Club Screwdriver in a crystal hand-drawn glass in front of her favorite small bar cabinet. He pulled the string to turn off the bar bulb, closed the thin glass door and realized in a wondrous expression of wisdom what had annihilated the dinosaurs; They hadn't tasted Nora.

That was it. That must be it. That is the last thing he could reflect leisured as la fille aux yeux d'or accompanied him when Marilou broke the French door across the pool with her shoe. Sergio had parted with his dressings but he had to take it easy with Harry's cuts or they'd bleed in each grimace.

He jumped like Jiminy Cricket and gawked at her holding his drink like statues do. He stood watching her loping at him. She smacked his smug making the glass shatter on his terrazzo.

"You whacked' em", she groaned searching for the cuffs in her pants, "It ain't just the flower girl. You burked' em. Nobody leaves you"

"Remember, Marilou...", he laughed as his face bled and the Crucifix appeared before her, "You're married"

Marilou slapped him with the back of her hand three times as if she was turning the pages of a very important book. She pulled the belt of his brocade lounging robe. His squeezed torso bloated like a tied bag with a goldfish as the blood dripped on his naked chest and the tender fabric.

"I like my street cred", he pulled his hair back, his expression was vague, "Don't you read the jokes they have in crosswords? All work and no play makes Marilou a dull cop", she grabbed his collar unraveling it, she threw him on the turntable and the yeyé femmes of Paris were suddenly on the floor in his arms. The needle scratched the vinyl so that it cracked and broke under Sergio's wrinkled back.

"You came to take a run on me?", he spat a red spit wad on the carpet since her mug was a couple feet further.

"Until I dig' em up, you stay locked up"

He struggled to get up like an upside beetle but Marilou kicked his neck making him believe he swallowed his Adam's apple. If he'd breathed a chimney's dust, he wouldn't be coughing like he did now. Marilou sat on the couch taking her gun out of her tight holster. She wasted some of her time waiting for him to calm down. His eyes were irritated and tearing, the veins on his neck were like telephone wires on the wall and along his flushed mug his head looked like a hard shaft.

Blood and saliva smeared the broken record. The tears were round as they fell on his knuckles.

"You'll go west before you go to jail"

"That's alright...", he laid on the carpet as his head made the thud a jar of jam does when it opens fresh. He sounded like he prayed. The time she let him have wouldn't make the match to repent for all the shit he'd done.

Marilou stood watching him. She put away the gun to cuff him. Once she kneeled, Sergio grabbed her calf to bite it. He pulled the pant leg up to become more effective. She shouted. His teeth were vicious like a coyote's. He bit until he tasted blood as she was biffing his head to pull away. She punched his neck pushing him on the bar cabinet. She was bleeding now.

He grasped her leg. Her back stuck like a sticker on the floor. She sensed the pain across her spine all the way deep in her head. She grunted grinding her teeth almost wedging them in her gums.

Sergio's nape was sweaty. He felt his stomach carrying all seven rocks the wolf passed for small lambs. How many fierce fists do you have to take in order to ruminate your dinner? With this question, he vomited his cocktails. A watery liquid dripped to the edge of his robe. A yellow-green thick line of spit was hanging from his mouth. The smell of sweat, blood and barf caused him a bitter sour retching and a pale green mug.