Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community - View Single Post - Collaborative Novel Experiment: write a town

roachboy · 11-21-2008, 08:22 AM

Lobos
A.

Everything is all fucked up. End of story. Rewind the tape. Listen again.

Click. The faint sucking sound of rewind. Click.

Everything is all fucked up. They’re coming. I know it. B is dead. C and E are too. It’s a matter of time. I should run. Nowhere to go. I bought a gun yesterday. I have never used a gun before. A few hours ago, I blew a hole in the living room wall. I pretended they were here. What I said. The gun went off. There’s a hole in the wall. Where the bullet went. It doesn’t matter. Can’t go outside. Can’t stay here. I put some fabric over the hole. The wind makes it move. I should tack down the bottom. It makes me nervous. Everything makes me nervous. Stay fucked up. What happens when we run out? Can’t go outside. Nowhere to go. Nothing stays in place. Tell the story. It’ll calm me down. Record it: I can listen to the tape, make sure the words stay in place.

A B C D E where to start. When this started. We made a plan. It was B’s idea. He wasn’t B then. We put letters into a hat. Change ourselves into the people who could do this. One job and out. No problem. Be those people. I drew fourth. D drew first. It was an accident that I am A. They probably think A is the start. A just went along. So did D. It was B’s idea. They got him first. Maybe they know the order. Maybe they are moving down the line. A just went along. They should leave me alone. Maybe they know. Maybe they aren’t coming.

There was this guy in the city. He was big. A real asshole. A connection. We were looking to make money. With B, we had been building our business. Quarter pound, half pound: big money. Something for the head for free. Something to take the edge off. Endorse the Product. This shit is better than last time. Always better than before. Always. But we stomp on it in the kitchen in the same way every time: a little crank, a little baking soda. Life in a movie.

We were getting a little bigger every time. We’re getting too big for you, B. Hook us up with your man. My man’s an asshole. That’s why he did it. That was B.

This guy didn’t know the rest of us. But he knew B. We knew what that meant. Would have been a loose end. In the movies, it’s the loose ends that fuck you. But this, he wouldn’t see it coming. It would be easy. Candy from a baby. B said that movies are made by cops. That's why the jobs never worked. But we had seen the movies. So we were smarter than that. We had a plan. We just stick to the plan.

A B C D E, we drove to the city. Met the guy in front of a warehouse. He took the bag out of his truck. B shot him in the face. It was a mess. We left him on the street and took off. Candy from a baby. Better than the movies. We had a pound of cocaine. One deal. Get out after this. Retire. Go somewhere. Get it together. We’d all had enough. I shot a hole in the wall. I put some fabric over it. The wind makes the fabric move. I should tack it down. It makes me nervous.

When B shot that guy, I just stood there. I couldn’t move. I should have stayed in the car. I looked and looked at the mess that was his face.

Is this story right?
Rewind the tape.
Start again from here.

11-21-2008, 08:22 AM	#10 (permalink)
roachboy Super Moderator Location: essex ma	Lobos A. Everything is all fucked up. End of story. Rewind the tape. Listen again. Click. The faint sucking sound of rewind. Click. Everything is all fucked up. They’re coming. I know it. B is dead. C and E are too. It’s a matter of time. I should run. Nowhere to go. I bought a gun yesterday. I have never used a gun before. A few hours ago, I blew a hole in the living room wall. I pretended they were here. What I said. The gun went off. There’s a hole in the wall. Where the bullet went. It doesn’t matter. Can’t go outside. Can’t stay here. I put some fabric over the hole. The wind makes it move. I should tack down the bottom. It makes me nervous. Everything makes me nervous. Stay fucked up. What happens when we run out? Can’t go outside. Nowhere to go. Nothing stays in place. Tell the story. It’ll calm me down. Record it: I can listen to the tape, make sure the words stay in place. A B C D E where to start. When this started. We made a plan. It was B’s idea. He wasn’t B then. We put letters into a hat. Change ourselves into the people who could do this. One job and out. No problem. Be those people. I drew fourth. D drew first. It was an accident that I am A. They probably think A is the start. A just went along. So did D. It was B’s idea. They got him first. Maybe they know the order. Maybe they are moving down the line. A just went along. They should leave me alone. Maybe they know. Maybe they aren’t coming. There was this guy in the city. He was big. A real asshole. A connection. We were looking to make money. With B, we had been building our business. Quarter pound, half pound: big money. Something for the head for free. Something to take the edge off. Endorse the Product. This shit is better than last time. Always better than before. Always. But we stomp on it in the kitchen in the same way every time: a little crank, a little baking soda. Life in a movie. We were getting a little bigger every time. We’re getting too big for you, B. Hook us up with your man. My man’s an asshole. That’s why he did it. That was B. This guy didn’t know the rest of us. But he knew B. We knew what that meant. Would have been a loose end. In the movies, it’s the loose ends that fuck you. But this, he wouldn’t see it coming. It would be easy. Candy from a baby. B said that movies are made by cops. That's why the jobs never worked. But we had seen the movies. So we were smarter than that. We had a plan. We just stick to the plan. A B C D E, we drove to the city. Met the guy in front of a warehouse. He took the bag out of his truck. B shot him in the face. It was a mess. We left him on the street and took off. Candy from a baby. Better than the movies. We had a pound of cocaine. One deal. Get out after this. Retire. Go somewhere. Get it together. We’d all had enough. I shot a hole in the wall. I put some fabric over it. The wind makes the fabric move. I should tack it down. It makes me nervous. When B shot that guy, I just stood there. I couldn’t move. I should have stayed in the car. I looked and looked at the mess that was his face. Is this story right? Rewind the tape. Start again from here. __________________ a gramophone its corrugated trumpet silver handle spinning dog. such faithfulness it hear it make you sick. -kamau brathwaite Last edited by roachboy; 11-21-2008 at 08:57 AM..