Eric Dimbleby - White Out

She asked, “How does it feel to get something nasty stuck inside of you?”

His only response was a gasp, as his head hung low, staring down at the crotch that had invaded her only a few hours earlier. His wheeze made way for a silence that felt golden, like the lull that came over her house when Paulie finally went down for his afternoon nap after a morning of tantrums.

She snapped out of her short-lived euphoria and searched his body. Annie found a revolver stuck inside of his grimy sweatpants, right near his butt crack. Annie wasn’t sure how to shoot the bloody thing, but she’d learn if she had to.

With a long string of moments that seemed like a writhing eternity, Annie stood from her prone position, shifting her weight around as she managed to regain a balance she lost back when Tony was still breathing and plotting, before they’d dragged his empty vessel off to his final resting place.

The front door that they had once pushed through seemed a mile away, but she made it there, one foot in front of the other, stopping along the way to grab a half-eaten plate of steak and potatoes from their slovenly dining table, shoving it into the pocket of Tony’s down jacket that he’d draped near the entrance. Putting the jacket on, she forced herself through the door.

The blindness of the snow overwhelmed her. It was even worse than when they had stopped a day earlier. She could barely lift her legs above the snowdrifts, to position herself for a better view. In all likelihood, she was trapped, even though she’d thwarted her guardian, The Midget Man.

Something caught her eye, just beyond the snowy bluffs that had built up around The Purple Cat. Two rubbery handles stuck out of the snow, like Groucho Marx’s eyebrows, unhindered by the insanity of the icy grip of the world.

It was a snowmobile.

Most likely The Midget Man’s snowmobile and it was the most beautiful, hopeful thing she’d ever seen. Suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so raped and broken. Suddenly, she knew she’d survive.

God… please protect me if you’re listening , thought Annie, as she summoned all of her strength, fighting back on the rifling pains and blood that circled around her lacerated womanhood.

As she trudged through the waist deep snow, she could only think of Paulie.

Paulie. Paulie. Mommy’s coming home.

Snow’s picking up. Ain’t it a bitch? I don’t mind the snow so much… I don’t gripe about the weather like most people do, but I’ve gotta admit that I’m freezing my balls off. They feel like they’re smaller than snow peas right about now.

Fuckin’ aye, it’s cold.

I came into town the same way I left the last one; five sheets to the wind and looking for something fun to poke at with my Matterhorn. If there’s some fun to be had, I’ll sniff it out. I don’t mind being crude about it either. The nastier, the better. Warm vodka and a sleepy hooker, that’ll get my love-motor runnin’ as much as any pretty cheerleader and a wine cooler. Perky tits, saggy tits. Tight puss, loose puss, it all feels the same when you’ve got a nice buzz going.

I need a break from movin’ and groovin’. Time to settle in and settle up , that’s what my dear old Daddy used to tell me when he came back from one of his nasty benders where we wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time. It’s been a pretty shitty week on the mean ol’ road, I’ve gotta say.

Time to settle in and settle up.

My shit luck started out when I hitched a ride from some hippy looking motherfucker with bad breath and a lazy eye. Wouldn’t you know it—smelled like he’d been suckin’ on garlic cloves all morning, and I told him so, with my meanest look. I asked him if he usually ate dick with his eyes open or closed. I’m not the type of fellow to pussy foot around people when they offend me. I’m sure I offend plenty of folks myself, so I don’t mind it, tit for tat and all that noise. Of course, if you do go too far and end up offending me, I’ll pull your testicles out through your nostrils.

I kid. I kid.

But not really. I left that garlic-chompin’ son of a cunt on the side of the road. I didn’t kill him, but I put the hurt on. My fists got a mind of their own when I get all worked up, and that odor of his did the trick. Don’t get me wrong, I could have killed him, and probably should have. But I didn’t. I haven’t had any cops on my ass for some time, and I’d like to keep it that way. When the chance presents itself, I’ll take care of that messy business the right way, but not with this dude.

So it started snowing pretty hard this morning, just when I crossed off of Route 201.

Found a dead deer out in the woods a bit earlier. Some asshole just left it behind. Believe that? I snipped off some of the meat with my pocketknife and stowed it in an old tee-shirt for later, but I’m not so great at making fires so I may not be able to cook it up proper. The truth is, I’m a pretty awful outdoorsman, ya’ know? Fucking boy scouts never looked so great to me, even if my Daddy was around long enough to sign me up. I never liked making baskets and go-carts and all that silly shit. I was more into spending my free time sneaking my Daddy’s porn mags and cutting out pictures of the biggest titties, gluing them on people’s faces in the tabloids. My mom would get pretty pissed off at me for that ( “Why the shit does Joan Rivers have boobs on her head, ya’ little shit?” ) but I told her that’s what those fancy rich guys and all them fake-ass movie stars deserved. They deserved to get titties pasted on their heads. What did they do to deserve anything else they got? Fuck if I know.

So here’s the deal : it’s cold as a dead man’s cock and I don’t have anywhere to go. A few hours back, I got the waitress (who had a big Jew nose) at the Starlight Diner to give me a day old biscuit and twenty minutes in a booth, just to warm my bones, but that was after a lot of begging. I don’t like begging ‘cause it makes me feel like a mooch, like a leech, like the kind of fella my Uncle Charlie was before they stuck him in the can for twenty five years. Uncle Charlie died in the clink, so fuck that noise. Moochin’ doesn’t get you anywhere. I’ll take what I earn. Sometimes you gotta earn the things you take before you get to takin’ them.

I’ve been here before. I know the game. Hell, I invented the game.

When I’m not sure where to go, I start following the train tracks. This town doesn’t have any train tracks, so that isn’t really an option. There’s something special about walking down the tracks, like something out of the old days, before men became walkin’, talkin’ pussies. Real men… they called ’em hobos. Yeah, that right there is the life for me. I don’t know much that amounts to much at all, but I know I was born a wanderin’ man, just like my pa. And a wanderin’ man can’t pretend to be anything else or he’ll look like a chump. Nothing I hate more than looking like a chump. Hear me knockin’?

No railroads, so the next best thing is to follow the cars. You see ten cars heading north and two cars heading south, and then you head north. Simple enough, right? That rule always served me proper. Wherever the cars go, so do the people. Wherever the people go… they got food, they got clothes, they got warm beds and pretty wives and cable television and the internets and air conditionin’ when it’s hot as sin. I like the finer things just the same as the rest… Don’t act like you don’t. Damned if I don’t deserve a little taste every now and then, too. I work my ass off, even though I got no paycheck to show for it.

Welcome to my peaceful little kingdom: standing on the side of this here snowy road, staring at a sign that says “Moose Crossing.” I wish I’d see a moose so I could check it off my bucket list. Never saw a moose, but I heard they’re as big as dinosaurs sometimes. If it let me get close enough, I’d jam one of my knives in its neck, let that shit spray all over the snow. Just so I can say I killed one and ate it. I’m big into always a’changin’ my bucket list. Never ate a Reuben sandwich. Never killed a kid, but that’s cause I got morals. Never had sex with a darkie , never voted for one neither. Never been to Disneyland. Never jumped out a plane. Never did a lot of things, but I reckon I’ve got a long way to go.