Dyker Park

Dyker Park
by Peter Cooper copyright 2004
http://www.petercooper.biz/
Many thoughts were racing through Cane Mulligan's mind as he stepped on the rubber and faced and faced the last batter of the game. (Will I see what I saw for the past month? Will I hear what I heard for the past month. I wish I could keep this game going forever, so I won't have to face what I witnessed for the past month another night. Please God help me!) The game was going to be a blowout and shutout with the score being eleven to nothing in favor of Cane's team the Vipors. Scalia High's baseball team. Dusk was fast approaching and the evening was well on it's way to being the first chill of the coming winter. The fields of Dyker Park have no lights, and Cane knows that if he does not wrap this one up, the game will be called on account of darkness, and that his teamates will string him up by the balls if he lets their eleven runs and whole season go to waste. This was the championship game after all.
Cane faced the inevitable and struck out the final batter as a chorus of cheers resounded from the stands and everyone rushed the mound to celebrate. As he weaved quietly through the crowd of people who were having fun, he looked in vain for his father and sister. Like many other important times in his life, they were not here to cheer him on. Cane Mulligan entered the golf course to go home as nobody noticed him vanish.
The golf course of Dyker Park was used as a shortcut by most kids in the neighborhood to head home or wherever they were headed. He first discovered the golfcourse when he and his best friend Jake Marino were riding their bikes back in grammar school, and found a busted out portion of the fencing surrounding it and decided to chart out new territory. Jake and Cane basically had their whole neighborhood of Bayhurst,Brooklyn known like the back of their hand. Coincidentally, they had both become familiar with the fronts of their hands as well, dreaming of the girls in class or the ones in the stack of videos and magazines Jake's older brother kept in his room.
While Cane walked home on this chilly October 30th night, he remembered those days and how carefree and burdenless life was. Now, just like his life, Dyker Park seemed much darker, sinister and foreboding than ever before. The golfcourse of Dyker Park was a public one and was not significantly different from millions of others. It had bunkers, ponds, hills and old men and women in ridiculous looking outfits and driving little carts. That was during the day. At night anyone could be waiting behind the next tree or bush waiting to pounce. The sun was now setting and the shadows were getting very long.
Cane had walked halfway through the park and at this point nothing could be heard in the five square mile area exept for crickets sounding their approval at the arrival of twilight, and the loons responding in the eerie call of the nocturnal. "The children of the night. What music they make!" He looked over at one particular slope that he recalled sledding on most every winter of his childhood. It was this thought that kept him from turning his Fruit of the Looms into a fudge factory, because he was scared. Very scared.
Cane could not help supress the images and sounds burned into his memory from this past month, which happened to be October. The images of the fires, the howling of dogs, squealing of pigs, erotic moans of women, chanting, high pitched agony of cats. He remembered trying to get a look, but only saw fire in the distance and those sounds. Those horrible sounds! He thought to himself (There is no train service from the park to my house. If I take the bus it will be an hour and a half, if I'm lucky and if I walk all the way around, it will be close to three hours. Brooklyn is a big place. At least this way is only an hour.) He also continued thinking (God damn that coach Werner! Not letting us bring cell phones to the game! And actually doing inspections!)
Cane's heart was racing and he started to sweat again, but not from pitching an entire game. It was from good old fashioned panic and terror as he suddenly felt a heavy hand on the back of his neck. He turned his body around faster than Reagan McNeil's head, and was beholding the tall man in a red cloak and hood staring back at him. He could not make out the features, as the figure was surrounded by darkness. Cane did not want to find out. He ran full speed toward the other end of the park hoping to God that he would make it out alive. Another ten minutes later, he did. He stopped when he got out to the open streets to catch his breath and look behind him for the first time. Nothing. He ran the next mille home without looking back. The figure back in the park, stood, looking dreamily at his hands. In one of them was a lock of Cane's long curly hair.
The next day at school, everyone was congratulating him on a job well done in the game. Suddenly almost all of the females in school were throwing themselves at him, and this caught him off guard since he was never the ladies man.(Pimpled scarred skin, skinny, lanky and socially akward) He took particular interest in one of them however. Janet Tully was a very attractive senior with blonde hair, round breasts and a nice tight rump.
"I heard you were amazing at the game last night Cane." she said to him as he was opening his locker.
"Yeah I guess so." Cane replied, shrugging his shoulders and looking absently at the floor. "Listen" she continued. "I want to take you out tonight. Just you and me. No friends. I'll pick you up at eight o'clock. Don't say no because I know you don't work tonight and how can you resist this?" At which point she slyly lifted up her short skirt to expose her finely trimmed airline strip over her rosy pink beaver, and then quickly cupped his schlong over his pants. "Ok" was all Cane could muster at the moment. After regaining his composure for a moment he added,
"I live at 8872" when he was cut off by Janet.
"I know where you live."
"How?"
"I just do. Plus I'm a big fan of yours." Just like that she was gone down the crowded hallway after ducking into the girl's bathroom. (Jeez, that was creepy in way way) Cane thought to himslef.(But what the hell, she seems like an easy lay.)
Later on in the day, during his last period history class, Cane suddenly felt an intense throbbing in his loins, and he quickly acheived a hard on and ejaculated in his pants. All in about one minute. He looked down and noticed the huge wet spot showing through his light brown jeans. Cindy Spitz, who sat next to him, caught this entire episode and gave him an extremely seductive look as she tongued the top of her eraser. He felt dizzy and quickly packed up his books and walked out of class.
After rushing to the gym, while holding his backpack in front of his crotch, and changing into his dirty sweats, Cane hopped on the bus and went home. Larry, Cane's father, was sitting in his lounge chair watching a documentary on David Berkowitz when he asked his son,
"Home early today son huh?"
"Yes dad. Mr. Coleman let us out early."
"Are you sure nothing out of the ordinary happened today?"
"No. I mean yes. Yes I'm sure nothing out of the ordinary happened today."
"Why are you wearing your gym clothes."
"Oh, some kid spilled fruit punch on me during lunch, so I had to change. By the way dad, I am going out tonight."
"Have a date?"
"Yes."
"Alright, I'll see you later. I'm going out tonight also."
Larry went out on certain nights and kept a weird schedual, but Cane never questioned where he went to. He knew his father could have a raging temper. Cane went up to his room, then jumped in the shower. While showering, he realized what a truly bizarre and horrific two days it had been. A bizarre month as well. Strange feelings and occurances have been happening to him all month. Cane thought (My God, why was everyone, especially the girls, being so nice to me, and one of them even showing me her snatch and groping my dick in the hallway and asking me out. Then the hard on and the cumming. My head has also been feeling pleasantly dizzy all week. I don't even want to remember last night either. And why was dad so inquisitive? It was almost as if he knew exactly what was going on. He never seemed that interested. On the way back to his bedroom, his sister Chloe had her door ajar then suddenly peered out at Cane, then slammed the door shut when he saw her.
"What the fuck is going on?" he muttered to himself.
He took a nap. When he woke up a seven his father and sister were both gone. He got dressed and wandered around in the dark empty house by himself. The doorbell rang at precisely eight o'clock. Cane opened the door and saw Janet in a delightfully tight sweater, accentuating her round supple breasts, and very tight hip hugging jeans, accentuating an ass that could be rocked and hammered till she begged him to stop.(at least that's what Cane thought) She led him to her car down the dimly lit street and they both stepped into the 2000 Chevy Tahoe. Women who drove trucks turned Cane on for some reason. He was also aware that a feeling swept through his body, that he would go along with anything. Cane Mulligan felt utterly powerless.
"Are you feeling good tonight?" Janet asked.
"I feel like I'v never felt before and I can't quite describe it. The feeling is getting stronger and stronger too."
"Does it feel like your body is just one big giant orgasam?"
"Yeah, that pretty much describes it, but why do I feel like this?"
"I am going to show you soon enough if you want."
"I want! I want!"
Sometime between this point and the arrival of their destination, Cane completely forgot all about the past month. Forgot all about the strange noises in the park, the screams, the moans. Forgot all exept the image of the figure in the hood amidst the darkness. He was completely in the moment.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked. "I want to know now."
"We aren't going someplace that you have not already been before is all I can tell you right now. I don't mean to keep you in suspense, but I am not permitted."
"What do you mean not permitted? His protestations were only verbal in nature. Internally, he was curious to say the least about what the coming evening was to hold for him. Nothing was holding him back now.
"You will find out everything soon enough. Don't worry everything will be fine." Janet assured him.
They continued driving in silence for about another twenty minutes when Cane realized they were headed for Dyker Park. Ripples of fear flowed through every fiber of his being with the understanding that Cane Mulligan's life was about to change for the rest of his life for better or worse, and the absolute worst thing about all of this was that by some supernatural force, he was powerless to stop or resist anything. The Tahoe pulled up along the baseball diamonds side of the park and Cane and Janet stepped out.
As they approached the entrance to the gates they were approached by a stranger who came out of the shadows; or what at first appeared to be a stranger in plain clothes. He walked up to them and said nothing, then raised his left and and signaled for Janet to proceed with Cane. They all entered the park together and it was at this point that Cane realized who the stranger was. It was Mr. Simmons, Scalia High's principal. In addition Cane's conscience completely dissipated. He was not even verbalizing his being uncomfortable. Earlier, he at least knew something was not quite right. Now he knew he was under a spell and did not care. He loved it. He wanted to cum.
As they crossed the basesball diamonds, Mr. Simmons began telling him,
"We are glad you've come Cane. We've been waiting for this night a long time. Since the day you were born as a matter of fact. We in the tribe have decided that this would be the night. Or should I say the stars decided it long ago. Your ceremony awaits Cane. You are ready to join the family."
Mr. Simmons, Janet and Cane stepped through a hole in the fence that led to the golf course. Just as they did so, Janet and Mr. Simmons stopped and donned their cloaks and hoods. Janet in a black one and Mr. Simmons in red. Cane could see better now than the previous night because a blazing bonfire was burning bright in a clearing about a hundred yards away. The cloaks were made of a heavy fabric of some kind, and the hoods kept their faces hidden, but were not pointy like the KU Klux Klan's.
It did not suprise Cane that they were Satan worshipers. He knew that outside of rituals and services, they looked and behaved like everyone else, and could be anyone. Teachers, babysitters, mothers, fathers, politicians. Anyone. They walked down a well developed path and came out through the clearing. Cane paused in his tracks and looked at the image his eyes were gazing upon.
A group of about twenty-five people(the identity of which could not be determined at this point because of the uniforms) were standing around the bonfire in silence. When they noticed the arrival of visitors, the whole lot turned in sync and faced them. A chant in latin was started by what Cane could now determine was the high priestess, as the high priest came over and ushered him over to the fire.
As the chant subsided, the high priest continued on in English saying,
"On the eve of our hallows, we are all pleased to welcome our son Cane into the life of darkness and beauty! We have nourished, guided and protected him since he was brought into being, and is now ready to enter with full awareness of who he is and what his purpose shall be! Now we shall reveal ourselves to our son Cane so that he may know what needs to be done!"
All of the members of the tribe took of their hoods and showed their faces to him. Cane had a feeling of shock and contented understanding. There before him stood some of his teachers from grammar school, Jake Marino, Coach Werner, his sister Mary, and his father, who was the high priest. The high priestess he did not recognize, but was soon to learn something.
"This is your mother Cane." Larry told him.
His sister Mary came out of the brush holding a baby which belonged to her. Tonight was not a night of sacrificing animals. It was a night of human sacrifice. Child sacrifice. Mary handed the baby to Cane, while the tribe circled around the fire once again. Chanting(in German now) continued as Cane threw the infant in the fire. It made a high pitched squealing sound then fell silent. A wild orgy of writhing ecstacy concluded the ceremony on the hallows eve in Dyker Park.

Behind the Clouds II

                
                                                    Behind the Clouds II

                                                                                               by- Peter Cooper
                                                                                           www.petercooper.biz


                    Once Rob realized that Steve, Carrie and Christine  were no longer in the Cut Throat, he rushed outside to see if Steve's car was there. It was gone. Rob knew Steve better than anyone else. Better than Steve's deceased parents, better than any of his girlfriends, better than any of his teachers, coworkers, aquaintances, and better than Steve himself. Most importantly, Rob knew Steve psychologically, and Rob knew that his friend was having a psychological break.  Steve was prone to violence and tonight Rob noticed that his friend, was much more detached and distant than he had ever seen him.  He went back inside and told Freddy and Jason (facedown at the bar) that he was leaving. Rob quickly went over to Laurie and said
 "I need your help". 
 It made sense since she was the only one sober.
"Ask anyone you can if they had seen Steve, Carrie and Christine right before they left and if      they mentioned where they were going. I'm going to make some phone calls." Rob said.
"Alright, I'll see what I can find out." Laurie said.
                    Rob went back outside and halfway down the block to a payphone in order to avoid all the commotion in and around the Cut Throat, hugging the sides of the buildings to avoid the rain as he did so. He arrived at the payphone, which was exposed to the rain and without a care picked up the reciever. He quickly dialed in his calling card code and number, while having to listen to the voice recording telling him how he could save more money on his car insurance by switching to Geico, which seemed like forever and a day. Finally the recording indicated to him that it was the appropriate time to dial.(fucking recordings)
                    Rob dialed in his teacher's number quicker than Mae West at a male strip joint. A voice mail came through saying
"You have reached the emergency contact of Dr. Damien Horn. State your emergency and I will return your call most urgently."
 Dr. Horn is the head of psychology department at Rutgers University, and Rob is his best, brightest and closest student. He informed Rob that if he ever needed anything to give him a call.          
                "Dr. Horn, I have to talk to you about a friend of mine, who I have reason to believe, is going to commit a brutal, cold-hearted and ruthless crime if we don't get to him quick. He is having a psycotic break and appears to be on stimulants, and also drank a great deal tonight. He's also got two females with him and I believe they are in danger. Please call me back on my cell."
 Just as soon as Rob headed back towards the Cut Throat, his phone rang.
"Dr. Horn?!"
 "Yes. What seems to be the problem kid? Are you in trouble?" Dr. Damien asked in his
quintessential flat but inflected speech pattern. 
 "Dr. Horn, I have a real bad hunch about something tonight. Remember when you taught us that instinct and perception is just as important, if not more so than rationality and theory?"      "Yes."     
"Well... I have developed that instinct and perception very sharply wouldn't  you say?"      "Yes."    
"Ok. Tonight I know something very messy is going to happen, and it involves my best friend and two girls." 
"How can I help?"   
"I need you to pull some strings and make some calls and get on this."   
"Robert. In order for me to help you out, I need you to tell me what we are dealing with." Dr. Horn said a bit more forcefully now. His tone darkening.
"I need you to tell me precisely what the case is, so that I can make an accurate asessment of the situation at hand and report it to the necessary individuals in a swift, accurate and timely manner."  
"I know Doc. Alright here it is."  We have a twenty-two year old male, wearing black jeans and a black shirt, medium length jet black hair, blue eyes and driving a black 1977 Camaro. It should be easy to spot. He is six feet;two inches tall and weighs two hundred and twenty pounds. He is prone to violence and it appears that he is on a stimulant of some kind. Probably cocaine or amphetamines. I have been with him this evening and he has also smoked pot and drank heavy."           
           "Not to nit-pick Robert, but does this man have a name?" 
"Yes sir. Sorry sir. Steve Vittola is the name."   
"Any relatives?"      
"No sir. Not that I am aware of. He has no siblings and his parents are deceased.  To the best of my knowledge, each of his parents were only children and his  grandparents are deceased. The girls he has with him are both voluptuous and  are both long haired brunettes.  One is wearing black laced-up boots to the knee and a red one piece pull-over dress. Her name is Christine.  I do not know the last names of the girls, but I can find out in a minute. A friend of the girls is       here with me and she can give you full detailed information about them."     
"Put her on the phone." 
"Let me call you back in a few minutes. She is in the bar we were at, asking questions and I am down the block outside, in order for me to hear you."
"Ok, but listen to me Robert. Call me directly on the emergency line again. All incoming calls on that line are patched through to The Department of Mental Health, which is why it is always screened before I call back. Everything you told me is being monitered and I'm glad it is. The information you gave is already being looked into."    
"Thanks Doc. I'll call you back in a few." 
"Good. In the meantime we will get a track on this friend of yours." 
                The phone clicked and Rob Piletto acknowledged that Dr. Damien Horn was indeed a    good friend to know. Water was flowing freely in the gutters and people were crammed  in all of the cafe's, pubs and clubs on West fourth. Whoever wasn't, was headed quickly for the subway or their cars. The streets were clearing one way or another. As Rob was  walking briskly back to the Cut Throat, he had a sudden feeling that he had betrayed  his friend.
(After all, Steve and I have known each other since we played little league together. We have been through many ups and downs to say the least, and his eratic, impulsive behavior has only manifested itself recently) Rob thought to himself in the rain which was now a downpour.                        
              Rob remembered the look on Steve's face at his parent's wake back in '99. Both had been brutally stabbed in their sleep by an unknown assailant. Steve witnessed the whole thing while under his bed across the hall of their home. He had his loaded .357 under lock and key under the bed, but by the time he was awakened by the sound of his mother's loud gurgling (blood was filling her lungs and her throat had been cut) and his father's muffled screams (a rag was stuffed in his mouth while being sliced from  the anus up to the breast bone) it was to late. He could not get the box unlocked in time. The killer left quickly out of the bedroom window.      Rob remembered the pale, blank stare that Steve exhibited and that he did not shed a tear. It seemed as if he were in another dimension. He also remembered saying to Steve
"Just give it time. You will never get over this loss, but with lots of time you will get back to living your life as your parent's would want you to. To which Steve replied coldly
"Wait and see."     
                  As Rob approached the Cut Throat, Laurie came out front looking for him.
"I was wondering what happened to you." Laurie exclaimed.   
"I just got off the phone with a good friend of mine. I gave him the run down of what's going on, but he needs to speak with you so you can give him all you know about Carrie and Christine. Background, favorite color, everything. By the way, did you find out anything from someone inside?" 
"Not much. A few people confirmed that they saw him leave with Christine and Carrie though. They didn't have any information on where they were going" Laurie said.  
"Alright, that's good enough. At least we have witnesses eyeballing them leave together. I am going to get Dr. Horn on the horn and he's going to ask you questions.  Trust him and trust me ok?"    
"Ok."    
             Rob dialed and spoke with him for some time, giving the doctor all of the information she could regarding her friends. Hair color, skin color eye color, favorite color. Everything. After hanging up she turned to Rob and asked
"What do we do now?    
"I'm going to look for him. I have the best idea of the places that he may go. That is, if by some miracle you have a car, and if so, that you drove it here, and if that is the case you will let me borrow it."
"Yes, yes and yes" Laurie said."I was DD tonight so here are the keys. I'll walk  you to it."             As they walked up to, and around Washington Square Park, Robert got goosebumps, as the car he was going to drive happened to be parked in the spot next to where  Steve's car was parked. He looked at the empty space for a moment(which seemed like hours to him) and was truly creeped out. It was symbolic to him. 
           "I gave Dr. Horn my cell. He told me to stay at the Cut Throat in case of anything."       Laurie said.       
"Good. I hope everything turns out alright." Rob said.    
"Good luck Rob."      
 "Thanks. I'm afraid I'm going to need it."
 Rob started up the Jeep Wrangler and headed off into the dark, desolate, rainy New York twilight looking for Steve. 
                      After driving for ten minutes Christine and Carrie started to feel drugged.       "Steve, I don't feel so good." Christine said.
"Me neither." added Carrie."Can you just take us home and call it a night?" Carrie continued slowly and pleadingly.  
"The reason you don't feel good is because I put some narcotics in your drinks and if you were smart enough you would have seen it. Too bad your nothing but a pair of stupid cunts. Now shut the fuck up and take what I feed you bitch." Steve said, softly cackling as he did so.   
It was at this point that Chrisitne and Carrie knew they were in grave danger. They had seen the madness in the eyes, and to make matters worse, they were starting  to drift into another place now. Steve was almost at the lower east side when he turned the radio on to hear the news, and also turned on his newly installed police scanner. Nothing.
                       He turned onto east second street which was deserted at the moment. (The rain washes away the stank that the skanks put forth in this putrid city) Steve thought to himself, when suddenly that thought was interupted by the nose of a .22 to the back of his head.             The adrenaline in Carrie's bloodstream was now fighting off some of the effects of the drug that Steve slipped in her drink. Barely. She still had the presence of  mind to know that she was in a world of hurt right now but was in the back seat where Steve could not get a good look at her.
                      As quickly as she pulled the .22 out of her purse, she just as quickly cocked the hammer and said "Make a fucking move and I'll repaint this piece of shit with your twisted brains." Christine's conscience was also being brought back to the surface as this was occuring. She went into her purse and pulled out a can of mace.
"If you move I'll burn the eyes out of your dead skull before she gets a chance to repaint this piece of shit with your brains." she said. 
                        As intoxicated as the girls were, Steve was much worse. This was not the first       time he had a gun to the back of his head, but it was the first while this messed up. It was why he stopped the car. He absolutely could not maneuver the vehicle. The narcotics were hitting the girls quick and hard now, and they knew that if something was not done soon, they may cease to exist come sunrise. Neither one of them was in any condition(nor was it safe for them) to get out and seek help. They were in a shady part of the city, and monsters lurk in the shadows waiting for prey such as themselves.  
                       Christine sprayed Steve in the face with the can of mace. It felt as if his skin was peeling off of his skull, and in blind desperation reached out and grabbed Christine by the throat. She sprayed him again and he vomited, but still had a vice-like grip on her windpipe. One good hard squeeze and it would be curtains for her. Carrie was in a stupor as all of this seemed like a movie playing in her head,  momentarily realizing that this was reality.
                         Christine sprayed yet again and Steve's  grip loosened slightly, but the other hand came in a powerful sweeping flash and cracked Christine on the bridge of her nose.
"Cunt! Fucking cunt!" Steve bellowed, and repeated the blows to Christine's face, when the pain ripped through his shoulder, and his ears suddenly went deaf after Carrie shot him. He slumped over to the floorboards when another shot ripped into his leg. His torso was in the floorboards on top of Christine's legs, with his legs splayed over the driver's seat. Blood was seeping out of Steve's shirt and jeans.
                        He was mumbling incoherently. Blood was pouring from Chritine's nose, where       he had caused the bone to protrude from the skin. Carrie passed out from a haze of alcohol, narcotics and shock. Twenty minutes later Carrie came to from the sounds of the police scanner saying,
" We've got'em. East second and first." 
Moments later the doors to the Camaro were jerked open by a pair of New York's finest.
                                        

 
                                                                            Epilogue


             They immediately called for an ambulance. Steve was taken into custody at the ER(the gunshot wounds were not fatal) and given twenty-five years in Attica for attemted murder, drug and weapons charges and assault. Carrie and Chrisitne gave their testimonies and eventually went on with their lives. Rob severed his relationship with Steve and eventually got his Phd in psychology. Jason became a bouncer at the Cut Throat and Freddy still lives with his parents.

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.

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.

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