Thursday, May 20, 2004
Behind the Clouds
"Behind the Clouds"
-by Peter Cooper
www.petercooper.biz
As he looked out at the blue green arches of the Verrazzano Bridge from his bedroom window, Steve Vittola knew that this Friday night was going to be different than every other Friday night of all the Friday nights of his life so far. Steve Vittola is a large young man of twenty-two, with broad shoulders, tree trunks for legs, steely blue eyes and jet jet black hair. Though he is twenty-two, his face shows the battle scars and experience of many fights, and a man who loves controlled substances and alcohol.
After eating a salisbury steak T.V. dinner, washing up, slashing on some aqua velva and taking his medication, he stepped out of his one bedroom apartment on 62nd St and 14th ave. This was not far from the W train, "which used to be the B train before the fucking cocksuckers blew up the World Trade Center" Steve thought to himself. He was meeting friends in the city tonight, and as he walked up the block to where his mint condition '77 Camaro was parked, Steve Vittola knew this night would be special. He was also well prepared for it.
As he came within sight of his car parked near the corner under a street light, the same feeling came over him as always when he looked at it. Complete relaxation and calm. That particular feeling intensified five times when he climbed behind the wheel and started it. The big 425 he had installed roared to life with ferocity. Steve looked at his watch ( Casio. He did not own a cell phone, because he thought anyone who did was a dependant fag) and it read 7:45 p.m. "If the traffic is usually the way it is, and it does not start to rain, I should be there at about 9:30 p.m." he thought to himself. This was when Steve was at his most calm and serene, without a care in the world. When he was alone with his own thoughts, behind the wheel of the car that he rebuilt from scrap.
He put some King Diamond in the new CD player he had installed, shifted into drive and set out onto 14th ave, headed towards 86th St. He was on his way to pick up Rob Piletto before heading into Manhattan. Rob was the kind of guy who did not talk much, but when he did you listened. He perceived things very acutely and acurately, and then gave his oppinion of the situation in one or two sentences. The statements had lots of profundity and reality.
Behind the Clouds
Rob had just completed his masters degree in psychology at Rutgers University in Jersey, and he was damn good at it. Recreational drug and alcohol use were not something that he and Steve had in common, but Rob knew not to judge his friends and Steve and Rob both knew and loved automobiles. They also had the same taste in women. Long, lean, loose and clean if you know what I mean. As they came onto the BQE from the belt parkway, Steve lit up a pre-rolled joint, and Rob rolled down the window so he would not be bothered by the smoke. This was a ritual they had shared a thousand times before. Traffic was relatively light, the moon was full, though one could only catch brief glimpses of it, as heavy clouds shrouded it in a passing veil of foreboding ominous doom.
Steve put the roach in the ashtray in the Camaro as traffic started to get heavy heading into the Brooklyn-Battery tunnel. After about a minute after entering the tunnel, Steve started to think about all the tons of water of the Hudson above their heads. "What would happen if we got trapped in here?" Steve said. Perhaps we would be squashed like water bugs, or in another scenario be trapped like rats until we starved to death, suffocate or maybe even drown slowly." We would be dead" Rob said plainly. "I wonder if the guy at the toll booth knew I had smoked. Did I look fucked up? Did I get weird?" "No", Rob replied rationally. "We had the windows down for miles so he could not smell it, and your eyes are not red." Steve was not one of those people who got blazing bloodshot eyes like Christopher Lee as Dracula, when he smoked pot or drank. He would get paranoid as hell though, and the the more intoxicated he became, the further and deeper his paranoia would get. Rob would always be able to keep him in check though, as he knew exactly what to say and what not to say to keep his friend from going off the deep end. However, being in the tunnel with the deafening hum of the vehicles resonating off the walls and ceiling did not help Steve uneasyness.
Just as Steve felt that he was being buried alive in a giant tomb, the Camaro roared out on the downtown Manhattan side. "Thank God" Steve said. "I thought we were going to be in there forever ." "Don't worry, it was not that long. You know how time perception slows down when you smoke dope" Rob said. They turned onto the Westside Highway headed towards the lower west side . It was now 9:20 p.m. "What time are we supposed to meet them?" Rob asked. "I told them around 9:30" Steve responded flatly. Steve and Rob were not glamorous people, and neither were their friends. They all just wore clothes that were comfortable, ate things that were easy to cook and assumed only about three positions when they fucked, with the absence of hours of foreplay. This is how they lived and they enjoyed it. Headed towards the west village and almost there, Steve finished up the roach that was in his ashtray to keep his buzz going. Driving around Macdougal and Bleeker streets Steve finally found a spot right by Washington Square Park, which was miraculous considering it was 10:00 p.m on a Friday night.
Steve put the roach in the ashtray in the Camaro as traffic started to get heavy heading into the Brooklyn-Battery tunnel. After about a minute after entering the tunnel, Steve started to think about all the tons of water of the Hudson above their heads. "What would happen if we got trapped in here?" Steve said. Perhaps we would be squashed like water bugs, or in another scenario be trapped like rats until we starved to death, suffocate or maybe even drown slowly." We would be dead" Rob said plainly. "I wonder if the guy at the toll booth knew I had smoked. Did I look fucked up? Did I get weird?" "No", Rob replied rationally. "We had the windows down for miles so he could not smell it, and your eyes are not red." Steve was not one of those people who got blazing bloodshot eyes like Christopher Lee as Dracula, when he smoked pot or drank. He would get paranoid as hell though, and the the more intoxicated he became, the further and deeper his paranoia would get. Rob would always be able to keep him in check though, as he knew exactly what to say and what not to say to keep his friend from going off the deep end. However, being in the tunnel with the deafening hum of the vehicles resonating off the walls and ceiling did not help Steve uneasyness.
Just as Steve felt that he was being buried alive in a giant tomb, the Camaro roared out on the downtown Manhattan side. "Thank God" Steve said. "I thought we were going to be in there forever ." "Don't worry, it was not that long. You know how time perception slows down when you smoke dope" Rob said. They turned onto the Westside Highway headed towards the lower west side . It was now 9:20 p.m. "What time are we supposed to meet them?" Rob asked. "I told them around 9:30" Steve responded flatly. Steve and Rob were not glamorous people, and neither were their friends. They all just wore clothes that were comfortable, ate things that were easy to cook and assumed only about three positions when they fucked, with the absence of hours of foreplay. This is how they lived and they enjoyed it. Headed towards the west village and almost there, Steve finished up the roach that was in his ashtray to keep his buzz going. Driving around Macdougal and Bleeker streets Steve finally found a spot right by Washington Square Park, which was miraculous considering it was 10:00 p.m on a Friday night.
Behind the Clouds
As Steve and Rob stepped out of the car, thunder claps were heard
overhead, and the moon could not be seen anymore, though Steve felt
it's imposing presence behind the clouds. Now they ducked into the
place they came here for. A tiny hole in the wall on West 4th called
The Cut Throat. The place literally had holes in the walls, smelled
of stale beer, and let's just say you didn't put your ass on the
toilet seats. It was a fun and familiar place though, and the beers
were two bucks each and shots were three.
Upon entering, Rob and Steve saw that Christine,Laurie,Carrie,Fred
and Jason were at the bar, and could tell from twenty feet away that
they had all gotton an early start on the evening. It was at this
point Steve knew the night was going to go according to plan. He
started thinking "everyone who planned to be here is here and now I
can proceed." Christine and Carrie shouted out almost
simultaneously, "hey Steve, over here!" Steve having a delayed
reaction, lumbered over and Rob followed. Fred and Jason exchanged
brief pleasantries with Steve, who went to speak with Carrie and
Christine. Rob conversed with Fred, Jason and Laurie.
The Cut Throat had lots of regulars there tonight and a few new
faces. It was loud, and the jukebox was playing "Don't Tread on Me".
"So where have you been?" Christine asked. "I haven't seen you in
like a month." "Yeah, me neither" added Carrie. "You have been
making yourself very scarce lately." Carrie and Christine were both
voluptuous young brunettes of twenty-one, who had both known Steve
in and out of the bedroom, and both were aware of their involvment
with him. They were also both very competitive about Steve.
"I'v been working all the time and rarely have any time to myself"
Steve said. "Any time I do have to myself is spent alone, just
relaxing."("more like brooding" Steve thought to himself) "Sorry I
haven't called." "You must have had sleepless nights dreaming about
me" Steve said, half jokingly and half serious. "Not really" Carrie
said. "I'v been pretty busy myself, doing this, doing that."(at
which point Steve noticed Carrie giving Christine a sly look, and
they both smirked and then laughed under their breath) Steve was not
laughing with them. He then ordered a boilermaker for himself and
did not ask if any of his friends wanted anything.
"So what does that mean?" Steve asked in a very composed
manner(hiding the urge of wanting to rip out their throats). "It
means that she has been having fun and taking care of things while
you have not been around" Christine said. Christine, although
twenty-one, had the feminist male bashing attitude of a forty-five
year divorce when drunk. Steve always thought she was bisexual. The
bartender suddenly appeared and set down Steve's shot of Jim Beam
with Budweiser chaser. Steve just as quickly threw it back in the
blink of an eye, and did not bother with the chaser just yet. He
was now starting to feel more powerful and intoxicated. Somehow
when Steve would hit a certain point of intoxication, his thoughts
would become psychotic, though his body would maintain it's balance
and composure. He was not at that point just yet.
Meanwhile, Rob,Fred,Laurie and Jason were speaking and thinking of
more random lighthearted subjects. Rob was saying how hard it was
going for his Ph.D. while Jason and Fred were debating as to
whether or not the Islanders would win a cup anytime soon. Laurie
was just listening, laughing and watching everyone in The Cut
Throat have a good time. Steve was now on his sixth boilermaker
when he was asked by Christine and Carrie if he would mind going
home with them. He responded by saying "hang on, I'll be right
back". Steve walked to the back door slyly and slipped out of
sight into the back alley. He took a piss.
He began walking back to his car when suddenly it began to rain
heavily. Without a second thought Steve quickly, yet methodically,
headed for his Camaro. As he reached it, that wave of calm and
well-being hit him again. He aproached the rear of the Camaro and
opened up the trunk to double check if all of the contents were
still there.(they were)He opened up the door and got in. He went
right into the glove compartment and pulled out a gram of coke,
already mixed and ready to go. He put his finger in the bag and
brought it back out with a small mound on the end of it. He put it
up his nose and snorted. A cold wave went up his nasal cavity and
down the back of his throat when it happened. That point of
intoxication where all of his thoughts and perceptions, although
not connected to reality, are very clear and precise in his mind
and not cloudy. He took another three snorts, put the bag away and
started up the 425. His ability to operate and maneuver the
vehicle was fine, since the four squad cars that he saw on the way
back to The Cut Throat did not stop him or even flash the
cherries.
As he pulled up to the front, he saw Jason and Rob standing
outside underneath the awning. The voices started at this point
saying "what the fuck are they doing out front?! I know. They are
waiting out front so they can question you about where you have
been and what you have been doing.
overhead, and the moon could not be seen anymore, though Steve felt
it's imposing presence behind the clouds. Now they ducked into the
place they came here for. A tiny hole in the wall on West 4th called
The Cut Throat. The place literally had holes in the walls, smelled
of stale beer, and let's just say you didn't put your ass on the
toilet seats. It was a fun and familiar place though, and the beers
were two bucks each and shots were three.
Upon entering, Rob and Steve saw that Christine,Laurie,Carrie,Fred
and Jason were at the bar, and could tell from twenty feet away that
they had all gotton an early start on the evening. It was at this
point Steve knew the night was going to go according to plan. He
started thinking "everyone who planned to be here is here and now I
can proceed." Christine and Carrie shouted out almost
simultaneously, "hey Steve, over here!" Steve having a delayed
reaction, lumbered over and Rob followed. Fred and Jason exchanged
brief pleasantries with Steve, who went to speak with Carrie and
Christine. Rob conversed with Fred, Jason and Laurie.
The Cut Throat had lots of regulars there tonight and a few new
faces. It was loud, and the jukebox was playing "Don't Tread on Me".
"So where have you been?" Christine asked. "I haven't seen you in
like a month." "Yeah, me neither" added Carrie. "You have been
making yourself very scarce lately." Carrie and Christine were both
voluptuous young brunettes of twenty-one, who had both known Steve
in and out of the bedroom, and both were aware of their involvment
with him. They were also both very competitive about Steve.
"I'v been working all the time and rarely have any time to myself"
Steve said. "Any time I do have to myself is spent alone, just
relaxing."("more like brooding" Steve thought to himself) "Sorry I
haven't called." "You must have had sleepless nights dreaming about
me" Steve said, half jokingly and half serious. "Not really" Carrie
said. "I'v been pretty busy myself, doing this, doing that."(at
which point Steve noticed Carrie giving Christine a sly look, and
they both smirked and then laughed under their breath) Steve was not
laughing with them. He then ordered a boilermaker for himself and
did not ask if any of his friends wanted anything.
"So what does that mean?" Steve asked in a very composed
manner(hiding the urge of wanting to rip out their throats). "It
means that she has been having fun and taking care of things while
you have not been around" Christine said. Christine, although
twenty-one, had the feminist male bashing attitude of a forty-five
year divorce when drunk. Steve always thought she was bisexual. The
bartender suddenly appeared and set down Steve's shot of Jim Beam
with Budweiser chaser. Steve just as quickly threw it back in the
blink of an eye, and did not bother with the chaser just yet. He
was now starting to feel more powerful and intoxicated. Somehow
when Steve would hit a certain point of intoxication, his thoughts
would become psychotic, though his body would maintain it's balance
and composure. He was not at that point just yet.
Meanwhile, Rob,Fred,Laurie and Jason were speaking and thinking of
more random lighthearted subjects. Rob was saying how hard it was
going for his Ph.D. while Jason and Fred were debating as to
whether or not the Islanders would win a cup anytime soon. Laurie
was just listening, laughing and watching everyone in The Cut
Throat have a good time. Steve was now on his sixth boilermaker
when he was asked by Christine and Carrie if he would mind going
home with them. He responded by saying "hang on, I'll be right
back". Steve walked to the back door slyly and slipped out of
sight into the back alley. He took a piss.
He began walking back to his car when suddenly it began to rain
heavily. Without a second thought Steve quickly, yet methodically,
headed for his Camaro. As he reached it, that wave of calm and
well-being hit him again. He aproached the rear of the Camaro and
opened up the trunk to double check if all of the contents were
still there.(they were)He opened up the door and got in. He went
right into the glove compartment and pulled out a gram of coke,
already mixed and ready to go. He put his finger in the bag and
brought it back out with a small mound on the end of it. He put it
up his nose and snorted. A cold wave went up his nasal cavity and
down the back of his throat when it happened. That point of
intoxication where all of his thoughts and perceptions, although
not connected to reality, are very clear and precise in his mind
and not cloudy. He took another three snorts, put the bag away and
started up the 425. His ability to operate and maneuver the
vehicle was fine, since the four squad cars that he saw on the way
back to The Cut Throat did not stop him or even flash the
cherries.
As he pulled up to the front, he saw Jason and Rob standing
outside underneath the awning. The voices started at this point
saying "what the fuck are they doing out front?! I know. They are
waiting out front so they can question you about where you have
been and what you have been doing.
Behind the Clouds
Steve had double parked the car, shut it off, took the keys with
him, stepped out and headed towards the bar. Although Steve was a
big man, Jason,who was six feet eight inches tall, and three-hundred
pounds, had a good six inches and fifty pounds on him. However, that
was of no consequence to Steve. As he approached them, Rob said
"what happened to you man? I saw you duck out the back. I thought
you were ditching me." "What the fuck! I was gone for fifteen
minutes and your up my ass! What are you spying on me for. Oh, no
wait. You're a fag aren't you!? A blazing cocksmoking fag. You and
this big stupid mule. I bet he's the pitcher and your the catcher!"
Steve ranted as he stood out in the rain.
Because of the loudness of the rain hitting the pavement, and the
front door to The Cut Throat being closed, no one heard this, exept
for a few passers by who thought nothing of it. Rob actually took
this with a grain of salt since he had seen Steve messed up before,
though not quite this bad(which was really saying something). "Just
go inside" Rob said patiently. He lightly pushed Jason aside so
Steve could go in. Steve gave both of them quick darting glances,
and the corners of his mouth curled up in a twisted maniacal grin.
He went inside in a flash.
Jason, who was not much of a contender tonight since he was
shitfaced, and unlike Steve was an invalid when heavily
intoxicated, said to Rob almost incomprehensibly, "what the hell is
up with him?". "He's got demons" Rob said plainly. As Steve entered
The Cut Throat, he noticed Christine and Carrie getting ready to
leave. "There they are! Don't let them get away" the thoughts
swirled in Steve's head. He slowly walked over to them as "Bark at
the Moon" was overheard on the jukebox. "Wait, don't leave without
me" he said. "I know I said I'd be right back, but as soon as you
asked me to go home with you I went to get my chariot, which now
awaits us out front." This was all said with a sweethearted
inflection that the girls suprisingly bought into.
This was the point that Steve's one-hundred and forty IQ(he had it
tested by one of the school psychologists after throwing a desk at
a nun in his senior year of high school) was used for evil and not
for good. The fact that moments earlier,he was very close to
ripping his best friends heart out of his chest, and now was fast
talking these two willing females into his car,gave Steve the
feeling of invincibility. The heavy amount of cocaine in his
bloodstream also had something to do with it. "The only thing left
for you to do is get these bitches into your car without anyone
else seeing it" the thoughts continued to swirl. "It is pouring
rain outside and strangers testimony will not hold up in court,
but your friends' sure will." Steve ordered up one last drink, his
usual, and even got Carrie and Christine a couple of beers.
While they were drinking up their last beers,Steve told Fred and
Laurie tp go and get Rob from outside. Steve knew that Jason was
not a problem because he was wasted. Upon asking Freddy however,
he noticed that he too was going to be praying to the porcelin
gods pretty soon. "One less body to worry about" Steve thought,
and he suddenly belted out a huge cackle that could be overheard
by any conversation occuring nearby. "Shit! Don't draw attention
to yourself you asshole" the thoughts swirled. "Ok Laurie, will
you go and get Rob for me?" "Sure, I'll be right back" Laurie
said. This was it! Rob grabbed both girls and slipped out the
backdoor.
The same backdoor that he slipped out of earlier to take a piss
among other things. Carrie and Christine were to drunk to
resist. He quickly moved down the end of the alley that would
lead them half a block away from the front of The Cut
Throat,where his car was still parked,and out of sight. They got
out to the street and headed hurriedly towards the Camaro. The
only obstacle left was if Laurie or Rob were standing out front.
Steve gave a furtive glance to The Cut Throat and to his relief
saw no one. He piled Christine and Carrie inside and got behind
the wheel.
After starting up the Camaro, he replayed the last two minutes
in his mind faster than any CD or DVD player ever could. He knew
that the few passers by on the streets were running with their
heads down or walking with umbrellas over their faces, and no
one,including the bartender, saw them leave. Steve quietly
shifted into drive and softly moved down West 4th street. He
turned the corner out of sight, with two drunk and willing
females, a gram of coke and an arsenal in his trunk.
to be continued........
Copyright 2004
Peter Cooper
www.petercooper.biz
him, stepped out and headed towards the bar. Although Steve was a
big man, Jason,who was six feet eight inches tall, and three-hundred
pounds, had a good six inches and fifty pounds on him. However, that
was of no consequence to Steve. As he approached them, Rob said
"what happened to you man? I saw you duck out the back. I thought
you were ditching me." "What the fuck! I was gone for fifteen
minutes and your up my ass! What are you spying on me for. Oh, no
wait. You're a fag aren't you!? A blazing cocksmoking fag. You and
this big stupid mule. I bet he's the pitcher and your the catcher!"
Steve ranted as he stood out in the rain.
Because of the loudness of the rain hitting the pavement, and the
front door to The Cut Throat being closed, no one heard this, exept
for a few passers by who thought nothing of it. Rob actually took
this with a grain of salt since he had seen Steve messed up before,
though not quite this bad(which was really saying something). "Just
go inside" Rob said patiently. He lightly pushed Jason aside so
Steve could go in. Steve gave both of them quick darting glances,
and the corners of his mouth curled up in a twisted maniacal grin.
He went inside in a flash.
Jason, who was not much of a contender tonight since he was
shitfaced, and unlike Steve was an invalid when heavily
intoxicated, said to Rob almost incomprehensibly, "what the hell is
up with him?". "He's got demons" Rob said plainly. As Steve entered
The Cut Throat, he noticed Christine and Carrie getting ready to
leave. "There they are! Don't let them get away" the thoughts
swirled in Steve's head. He slowly walked over to them as "Bark at
the Moon" was overheard on the jukebox. "Wait, don't leave without
me" he said. "I know I said I'd be right back, but as soon as you
asked me to go home with you I went to get my chariot, which now
awaits us out front." This was all said with a sweethearted
inflection that the girls suprisingly bought into.
This was the point that Steve's one-hundred and forty IQ(he had it
tested by one of the school psychologists after throwing a desk at
a nun in his senior year of high school) was used for evil and not
for good. The fact that moments earlier,he was very close to
ripping his best friends heart out of his chest, and now was fast
talking these two willing females into his car,gave Steve the
feeling of invincibility. The heavy amount of cocaine in his
bloodstream also had something to do with it. "The only thing left
for you to do is get these bitches into your car without anyone
else seeing it" the thoughts continued to swirl. "It is pouring
rain outside and strangers testimony will not hold up in court,
but your friends' sure will." Steve ordered up one last drink, his
usual, and even got Carrie and Christine a couple of beers.
While they were drinking up their last beers,Steve told Fred and
Laurie tp go and get Rob from outside. Steve knew that Jason was
not a problem because he was wasted. Upon asking Freddy however,
he noticed that he too was going to be praying to the porcelin
gods pretty soon. "One less body to worry about" Steve thought,
and he suddenly belted out a huge cackle that could be overheard
by any conversation occuring nearby. "Shit! Don't draw attention
to yourself you asshole" the thoughts swirled. "Ok Laurie, will
you go and get Rob for me?" "Sure, I'll be right back" Laurie
said. This was it! Rob grabbed both girls and slipped out the
backdoor.
The same backdoor that he slipped out of earlier to take a piss
among other things. Carrie and Christine were to drunk to
resist. He quickly moved down the end of the alley that would
lead them half a block away from the front of The Cut
Throat,where his car was still parked,and out of sight. They got
out to the street and headed hurriedly towards the Camaro. The
only obstacle left was if Laurie or Rob were standing out front.
Steve gave a furtive glance to The Cut Throat and to his relief
saw no one. He piled Christine and Carrie inside and got behind
the wheel.
After starting up the Camaro, he replayed the last two minutes
in his mind faster than any CD or DVD player ever could. He knew
that the few passers by on the streets were running with their
heads down or walking with umbrellas over their faces, and no
one,including the bartender, saw them leave. Steve quietly
shifted into drive and softly moved down West 4th street. He
turned the corner out of sight, with two drunk and willing
females, a gram of coke and an arsenal in his trunk.
to be continued........
Copyright 2004
Peter Cooper
www.petercooper.biz
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