Ballad of Norma Jean

Ballad of Norma Jean

A Story by N. James Frazier
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This is my favorite piece. This is meant to be a real work in its attempt to examine problems with humanity. It is also a commentary on human nature, why we hate, why we love, why we do things at times out of desperation for both of the above. Fear and Pa

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            Sitting up on a windshield of a car a man sits up, and lights up a black cigarette with a black Zippo. He lies back down on the car, there is a man lying next to him. He inhales deeply and asks his neighbor, “What would Marilyn Monroe be doing if she were still alive today?” Blowing out a cloud of smoke the man next to him rests on his elbow, “huh?”

            “What would Marilyn Monroe be doing if she were still alive today?” I said

            “I don’t know.”

            “Clawing at the lid of her casket.”

          

                                    -Ballad for Norma Jean-

“Go with him” I remember she said. The love of my life. Her name was Jordon. I would give anything for this woman and do anything to protect her. Her brother on the other hand was my best friend. He was also everything that has ever held me back. I love him like a brother, but he was never really the best thing to be associated with. In the last 36 months, he was a f*****g rock star. He made Keith Richards look like a f*****g Puritan. Cocaine, Speed, Methamphetamines, Dexedrine, Adderall, and Ridelin. And because of his family’s important political agenda, their name could not be tarnished with the association of a rehabilitation center.

I remember going through every step of his withdrawal. The pain. It brought me to tears seeing one of the only people that I could call family just destroy himself in a boarded up room, forcing himself into a state of detoxification. He went as some might call, “cold turkey”. It was the most painful experience of my life. I myself had to actually handcuff him to a toilet in order to prevent him from leaving. But we made it through, every step, like brothers.

From his exorcized body came a demon, a new addiction. He turned to destroying his life with alcohol. Dominic began lashing out at his friends. His addiction to alcohol eventually took control of his life. It actually got to become a worse problem that the array of uppers that previously plagued him. His family, ashamed and fed up with his lifestyle, eventually disowned him. F**k them. I was his real family. I was the one (other than Jordon) who gave two s***s about what happened to him. His parents cared too much about there image at the country clubs, cocktail socials, and galas; a lot of bullshit, fake people hiding behind fake smiles. F*****g pricks. Dominic’s family fits in nicely at these events.

 His family, arrogant a******s that they are, are someway or another connected with really too much to mention. Basically they are associated with everything that they possibly can in the city. The perfect reason and excuse to abandon a family member.

Oh, his family loves me, you know, because I am such a “horrible influence” on him and all. I was the one who looked after him, when his family turned away a blind eye. But the reason that I am really certain that they despise me, is the love and respect that I have for their daughter. Now this is not some kind of forbidden love, Romeo and Juliet contemporary bullshit. F**k that. I loved her even before her parents forbade me from her. I loved her. Her angelic smile and those china blue eyes, how I loved them. I would give all my life for her love. I would surrender everything, just for one last kiss. But that’s all too fucked up now.

The start of all our trouble always comes back to the addictions of Dominic. Jordan had just asked me to go with Dominic to celebrate his conquer of his latest addiction, which I mentioned earlier, that had dealt with alcohol. And of all places to celebrate his rehabilitation, was at a bar. (Digression look at screen ala courtroom scene in Goodfellas) You see, Dominic is a man of honor and principle, despite the fact that he had addictions with all kinds of uppers, and like before his latest conquest alcohol, he still had morals. For f*****g Christ sakes it is amazing that the man can still get “it” up. He kept saying that that he was not going to touch a drop and that this backdrop, this pub, was the ultimate test. It was like Greek Mythology, like the guy who was shackled to the pool and every time he went to take a drink from the pool the wine receded. He wanted to prove to me that for the last time he had expelled every evil demon from his body. Jordon, being everything I possibly cared for, and Dominic, my best friend, her brother, I was forced to oblige. I was honestly weary of the entire situation. I believed that he had changed, but lets face it, having a recovering alcoholic celebrating his rehabilitation inside of a pub is like setting a pyromaniac loose in a gas station. But what was I to do? I have always been in the trenches with Dominic. I have seen the worst pain which human beings can do to themselves. I had faith in Dominic.

I got ready for that evening and kissed Jordon goodbye, turned and left. I walked over to pick Dominic up at his new place. Since he has been clean he has been able to keep a job. He works now as an assistant manager of a small grocery store. Not much, but hey I guess it is a start. From the trenches, anything is looking up.  I was proud of him, things were finally coming together for him. I was just glad to finally live together with Jordan.

Dominic lived only two blocks away, which was good, because we could still see each other everyday without actually living together. Like I said before we were like brothers; through thick and thin. I was praying that this would be the end of the nightmare period of his life. The greatest relief for me though, is that I was finally certain that there was going to be a tomorrow for Dominic. Which as strange as it might be to believe, coping with life is a heroic feat for him.

I would cry myself to sleep on certain days, conjuring up all of these ideas inside my head about what Dominic had been doing behind the locked doors of his room. I am just relieved. I felt like for the first time in what seemed too long, that I could finally breathe. I went to his door and walked on in. He looked good, healthy and clean. He got his stuff together and we left.

We went to a place called “Lou’s Tavern”, a local hangout. It had a couple of Billiard tables, and a few television sets playing a local baseball team. Just your average tavern. We went through the doors. I remember how heavy those doors were that night. It felt as if there was something blocking the entrance. As soon as I walked through that threshold I wanted to leave. “Just turn around and leave.” Is what I thought walking into that bar that night. I felt that way because of the guy that was at the bar that night. He was sitting at a stool, he was the owner of the tavern, he was Lou Rizzo. He and his two brothers put all their money together to buy this joint. And it was a slightly successful place, for a city with hundreds of locations to get pissed in.

This guy was a piece of work. He was one of those pricks that you let him get away with all his s**t partially because he was too f*****g retarded to realize the a*****e he truly was, the other reason he is allowed to do what he does, is truly due to the fact that he is a border line psychopath. Our eyes met like a combination on a tumbler.

“Lukas.” He said quietly and smugly pointed, making his brothers aware of my presence. He got up to greet me, he shook my hand. The f**k even went in for the hug. He had is arm wrapped around my shoulder, like we have known each other forever. For f**k sakes, I was surprised he didn’t drop to his knees and perform fellatio. The prick was talking loudly that night, almost yelling. He was drunk. “Lukas, Lukas my boy. HOW HAVE YOU BEEN.?!” There he goes talking like a retard again. Man I hated that man. Given the chance, I swear I would love to empty the chamber of a gun in his f*****g head. Him and his loud, retarded f*****g family.

He motions to the bartender to bring me and Dominic a drink. I politely rejected his kind offer. “What do you mean, ‘You don’t want a drink’. It’s on the house. Just drink it you f*****g mutt.” The whole f*****g clip.

And in my defense Dominic stepped in front of me and apologized. “Look, we mean no disrespect, we appreciate your hospitality, but the fact of the matter is that I am clean. Finally sober. It has been along journey and taken a long time, but I have finally stopped drinking.”

“Who, who, who is this?” (Looking around) He mumbled under his breath , while he and his brothers attempted to figure out who had the balls to tell his greasy Guinea a*s “No!”. His tallest brother, spoke. I could not believe it. As many times as I have been in that place, that mute m**********r never said a f*****g word.

“That’s the f*****g cocksucker that threw that chair against the wall and threw the ashtray at the guy that was singing Sinatra.” The poor mute f**k said.

“You know something? You got a lot of balls coming back here you f*****g chode Guinea want-to-be MOTHERFUCK. What are you doing hanging out with this f*****g mutt.” Rizzo said. By the way, the word “mutt”, if you already haven’t been able to tell, was Lou’s favorite expression. It was kind of cute in a creepy John Wayne Gayce clown mask wearing kinda way. The fact actually was, was that Lou knew damn well who Dominic was. Hell I hated to admit it, but it turned out, that for a stretch of time, Dominic happened to be Lou’s best costumer.

“Hey Lukas, you are a smart m**********r, right? Huh? HUH?!” he pulled out a blade and pointed it at Dominic. “So then Lukas, why are you hanging out with this drunk guinea f**k? You want me to put him down like the f*****g wop mutt he is?!” He said, he was screaming now. Can you see why I hate him? Dominic got closer to the blade.

“Hey you ignorant f**k, say whatever you want about me. (He gets even closer to Lou, Dominic grimaces from the bland smell of Gin and Tonic that was fuming from Lou’s pores.) I don’t f*****g care. I don’t. I really don’t. But call me a f*****g drunk again, and I’ll drown you in your own blood.”

It was at that point that Lou fire back at him. “If you stopped drinking, then why the f**k did you come to a bar, you ignorant wop mutt.” He pressured the blade to Dominic’s cheek. The f**k had a smile on his face and everything as a sign of intimidation. The first line of blood had been drawn. Lou removed the knife. Dominic took his hand and touched the blood that dripped down his cheek. Then like some sick f*****g vampire, he tasted it. He touched the wound again and then sprinkled blood in Lou’s face.

There was something about Dominic, he was a changed man. He was calm. It really amazed me, I was shocked. Most of the time in this situation I would be ripping him off some n****r or spic that looked at him wrong. Dominic turned to me and said, “F**k… Him (turning away from Lou in slow motion, then real time)” Rizzo heard this and turned Dominic around and through a martini glass full of gin in his face. The gin burned away at his wounds like holy water against the possessed. This is when Lou; you know Mr. Calm and Collective basically fucked both of us. Dominic turned back to me, and we started back to the door. I remember turning around to see if we were being followed, but instead to my dismay, Dominic stormed back up to the bar where Lou was standing. He went to the bar and had spun Lou around with a strong right hand and sent the f**k to the ground. Blood poured down the prick’s face. Dominic went nuts, flying the f**k off the handle, kicking and stomping away at Lou’s face and throat. His brothers went around to grab hold of Dominic. But he was ready for them. Dominic got a beer bottle from the bar and broke it to f*****g shatters. He drew what was left of the blade and pointed it at the other two brothers, who were obviously stopped dead in their tracks. The three men were in a standstill and anticipated their next move. The two Rizzo brothers were then seemingly enough too preoccupied with their brother. But Lou was a  f*****g tank when he was drunk. A f*****g tank.

By the time we were out the door, Lou was to one knee on his way back to his feet. The two of us ran like there was a f*****g army after us. As there might have well been. Even though his face had been busted open, he and his two brothers began to pursue. We cut through the park. I knew that no matter what happened to us, neither one of us was going to use that busted bottle, so we chucked it in the pond. It was always better than them using it on us later.

The Rizzo brothers encircled us. Lou and his older brother tackled me. Lou got on top of me and just beat away, while his b***h of a brother held my thrashing legs. I just remembered how hard that ground was that evening and having what seemed like the weight of the world driven on top of me. And like that Lou started to jump up and down, using the weight of the world to expel all the air from my body.

His older brother held me up and Lou held my arms. I remembered the south-paw f**k. Left, Left, Left, and another Left to my stomach. Left punches rained down upon me. I just remembered thinking Give me a f*****g Chance! One chance that’s all I needed and I would beat the f*****g holy hell out of these cocksuckers so bad that they would have wished that their mother would have had an abortion. It happened though, a point in the threshold of pain, where I could not feel anything. I hit the ground, what I saw was Dominic. He was on top of the youngest Rizzo brother, Just pounding away. Pounding his head into the earth, making his head, his face into clay, clay in which his creator could only reconstruct. The oldest brother saw this and attempted to tackle Dominic, but Dominic saw him coming. Dominic was the God of War. Mighty Ares speared the oldest brother, and then Dominic eventually came into procession of a brick. Dominic used that brick to smash away at the face of his enemies. He was the Lord of War; his enemies had to bow down to him. He had nothing to lose it seemed, and nothing to gain. Dominic had had everything taken from him through addiction. Everything he had left in his life was me and his sister. We were family.

Dominic was proof of God in any Atheist; he struck down the wicked. He finished with the oldest Rizzo, and collapsed from exhaustion. Lou, that rat b*****d of a f**k made an attempt to take advantage of this. I remembered mustering all of my strength and I was able to grasp his legs and pull him down. I took his collar and just pounded his head into the ground, over and over. He was dead. I had killed him.

F**k Him.

I crawled over to the body of my fallen comrade. My brother till the end. He was passed the point of exhaustion. Dead tired and asleep, I let him be. I called for help. Jordon came down to the park, I managed to help her get her brother into the car. We drove into the night.

We were so fucked.

It turned out that how fucked we were was not actually known into the next morning, when the news reported that there had not been just one person killed that evening in the park, but two. It said in the papers that Lou and his brother, Salvatore were found brutally beaten to death.

Thoughts spun around inside my head, like a carousel on acid. Everything was spinning. I had no idea what was right, or what was wrong. Last night we had crossed a line. It seems like an eternity ago since we crossed it, I think if we ever crossed it again, we would be unable to recognize it if we found it.

It was in fact self defense, but it was the fact that the slayings had been so cold blooded. I mean Salvatore had had his face smashed in with a goddamn brick, and Lou, ha, well lets just the back of Lou’s head became very familiar with the pavement. And god only knows the condition of the youngest brother Vincent. For f**k sakes he could be on his deathbed. I prayed that he was on his deathbed. I could not have him talking. I was willing to do anything, anything, to protect my family, even if I was forced to storm the gates of the f*****g hospital and take out anyone in my way to ensure the safety of the ones I loved. Jordon was already guilty of two counts aiding and abetting, and Dominic and I were both guilty of Manslaughter. We were fucked. I was never going to go back to prison, ever… (Digression)

It was the year before I began dating Jordon, I remember that day vividly…

I was dressed in black. I remember smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee by himself at a restaurant. And in walked a priest with his black assistant. This f*****g priest happened to preach about the diversity of the city and helping the vermin in its bowels. That is all bull s**t. That f**k used all that as a guise in order to rob the church blind.  I went over to him I made the priest aware of I was “REAL” and not just his nightmare. I pulled a cigarette from my case and “accidentally” revealed my gun holster. I asked the priest that day "if he believes in what he does.  Father Flannery replied, “yes, why, are you not a god fearing man?” the I got close to the priest, close enough to smell taste the smoke. There is a slight overwhelming fear overcoming the priest. I exhaled the smoke out of my nose, into the priest’s face so that I could answer his question. “Yeah, but it is the church thing that gets me,” and I began talking with my hands and I convinced him that the church is a crock of s**t. You see when I talk to strangers, I am seemingly the most confident m**********r ever. I kept talking to the priest about how the only ones who follow in the catholic faith are the dagos and the spics. "I mean come on padre,  the only other group that takes orders from the man in the pointy white cap happen to be the f*****g Mics, no offense father.” The priest just glared at me. I just kept talking, “now don’t get me started about the n*****s out on the streets, f**k, the idea of the n*****s and church, s**t now that’s a f*****g punch line without a joke. You dig padre??? S**t how can the f*****g moolies, be offing each other in numbers, and still finding god in their 10 x 13 cells, s**t if its not those n*****s it’s the ones who should be in jail. S**t driving their f*****g Cadillac’s, sipping on their f*****g Hennessey and goose. F**k em’, f**k em’ all, send “Lincoln’s mistakes” back on the f*****g boat they came over on.” the priest just looks shocked. The priest says, “is this really how you want to live your life son?” The black man next to him just looks f*****g furious. I remember looking at that nig while talking to the priest, and exhaling a wall of smoke in his face. “I really don’t know how I want to live, but I do know how I want to die.” The priest looks at me puzzled. “Did you just say that you know how you want to die???” I replied, “yeah, just like Bud Dwyer” And as soon as I came I went. I left the restaurant and left the bill with father Flannery. Yeah if you think I went to prison for that your wrong, in fact I wish. I was attacked by two black men that had followed me outside that restaurant that night. They happened to go for my gun, when I drew it and smashed one of their faces open, and at that happy opportune moment, off duty police officers happened to pull up. I am convinced God hates me. It was all to perfect. I was arrested for assault of a deadly weapon and possession of a handgun. The charges were eventually reduced because of self defense. But lets face it they were black, they weren’t going to have their way in court no matter what. I had 3 years, 224 days and 18 hours taken away from my life. I will never go back.

           

(Back from Digression)

                       

We were fucked. That’s it for me. No jury is ever going to believe a person has had 2 instances of self defensive in less than 5 years. What am I a walking f*****g target? God things were so fucked up, I was willing to march to Vincent’s hospital room with a .45 and paint the room red. I kept thinking that it would be him or us.

No, I could not think like this. This would be suicide. I had no ideas and no options. For the first time in my life I was sure of nothing. I could not see myself in the future, I could not see myself married, and I could not see myself with kids. All I could see were either bars or the walls of a coffin. I was f*****g petrified. F*****g petrified.

For some reason The Smiths song “Panic” went through my head, “Panic on the streets of London, Panic on the streets of Birmingham, could life ever be sane again.” We were afraid of every authority figure. Our hope was killed with every siren in the distance. Obviously we could not go to the hospitals, our injuries were too suspicious. And as a result Dominic’s sores began to get infected. They changed different colors; a fucked up rainbow of torment. This unfortunately left us with one solution, something I was extremely hesitant of doing. The only thing that we could give him for that immense pain was alcohol, the stronger the better. I could not do it. For f**k sakes he had not been sober for more than a month. I was with him through his detoxification and it was all too much. And even though he was going through so much pain, I really could not see myself giving him that bottle. Jordon had to. As he drank from that bottle, I saw an infant’s eyes emerge. Dependency had taken effect. He was human again. He was no longer suffering. To hell with suffering. To hell with life.

Every ounce of the poison that was dispersed unto his blood killed me. His alcoholism did all but destroy me from the inside out. I would rather shoot battery acid into my veins than see that man suffer any more than he already has, He became sarcastic, arrogant, and ignorant. I could not stand his abuse, for my home, to his sister, to me, or to himself. I thought about just turning him in, but he was family. I couldn’t. It still kills me to this day the decision I made. He was now a completely lifeless individual, ranting on about how he had nothing left in the world except “this bottle, and this glass”. Over and over he poured the enticing fluid into the glass. It was seemingly enough was just me and Jordon still alive. I remembered that nothing worthwhile ever came of our friendship again.

It was all Bullshit.

Till this day I remembered the day when our friendship died, that Dooly Wilson song, “As Time Goes By” was playing and we were watching Casablanca. Jordon and I began to dance with the music. The lyrics echoed through our hearts, we held closer than any lovers ever could. For us that was it though, No matter what the future brings, as time goes by. The passion, the beauty, the love, the hate, and the destruction. Dominic had robbed me of this moment like he had ruined my life, downing shot after shot. (Slowly pan out of frame showing the lovers dancing, then blocking out the lovers with the solid frame of the alcoholic beast.)

           One day his addiction took hold of something inside him. We were out of cash and booze.

We were broke. His life’s downward spiral was coming to the end of the line. He just could not coup with life or its reality. You know something, I guess what Samuel Johnson said was right, “He who makes a beast of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man.” He was a beast, a filthy f*****g beast. I was grasping the edge of my own sanity while dealing with his.

I remember waking up one morning and to notice that his bed was drenched in more bodily fluids than a two hour motel room. There were even blood stains on the walls of his room. I began to contemplate his suicidal tendencies. His life was a f*****g vortex, and he engulfed everything he cared about into his world of self destruction.

It would be near impossible for me too explain what my life and all this misery I have experienced because of Dominic. Hunter S. Thompson once said, “The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.” I have been to the edge of the trenches and past it into no man’s land. It seems like my entire life has been like this because of Dominic, running out to my limits only to be faced with machine guns. I really could not take it any more. I began locking myself in. Barricading my room. I repeatedly found myself banging my fists against the solid brick wall. And with time my paranoia and delusion took effect. I beginning pounding my head against the wall. Pounding my head, trying to forget. I wanted to forget why I was there. I wanted to forget why I had locked myself inside that room, most importantly I wanted to forget why I kept myself captive inside my own house. Oh how I longed to forget. I hoped that I could smash my head hard enough so that my brains would spill out upon the canvas that was that white wall.

Everything came to ahead one day, when pissed from his thirst of alcohol he shattered a chair on my wall. (looking at that had just occurred) What the F**k! That was my wall. My wall of MISERY. That was the wall I wanted to stain a most ruby red.  I took it all in though, I knew he was sick, but f**k so was I. I have been held back by his weakness my whole f*****g life. At this point I knew it would be f*****g pointless to try and save him. None of us could be saved. So much for our Happy f*****g family. So much destruction, I want to cry, but I can’t. Can’t force a drop. All I want to do is to just cut myself and end it all. I have f*****g snapped. It was amazing that it took so long: there was already too much pressure for a structure that wasn’t up to code in the first place. I couldn’t take all of this. Id rather drink gasoline then deal with this.

I guess what Samuel Johnson was true, look at that man that was nothing more than a beast, and animal.

“What the F**K is wrong with YOU!” I thundered out

“F**K OFF!” He snapped back, sending a strong right hand through a solid wall.

“Hey you watch your f*****g mouth, you pathetic excuse for a drunk.” I fired right back at him. We stared each other down. Got real close. The sight of my best friend like this was finally enough to make me cry. I remembered that at that moment time seemed to slow down as I could feel the tears bead up and drop. I lost all control, I just lost it.

Jordon got between us. “Hey why don’t you guys just relax.” (She attempts to plow her way in, but our eyes were locked on each other.

Dominic got tired of the nuisance that was his sister, and he brushed her aside like she was nothing. She hit the wall and fell to the ground. She fell into a horrible slumber. Dominic degrades his sister’s lifeless body even more. “Shut your filthy mouth you dirty c**t, none of this concerns you! He lashed out at me again, he made a swing, I ducked. That was too far. Too f*****g far. The fires of hell and its hatred burned deep in both of us. I forced him up against a wall, choking him with my forearm.

“That is enough, that right there, that is the woman I love. (pointing at her sleeping body) I swear, if you ever call her that again, I don’t care how long we have known each other, I will do everything in my power to keep you from walking ever again. That, (saying calmly) I say again, that is the woman I love, your sister, and I don’t care what kind of f*****g junkie you are or ever had been. Lay another hand on her, for as long as you live, and so help me god, I will force Bleach down your f*****g throat.” I meant every word. It was the fact that Jordan happened to be unconscious, I was ready to kill him right there and then.

He looked coldly towards me. “F**k (slight pause) you. F**k her. You would rather f**k my sister than love me as the brother you always swore too be. That mother f****r. I have always done everything in my power to help him, If I had a knife Id stab him dead where he stands. You are my brother no more. I don’t want you in my life anymore. Every second I am with you, you kill a little bit more of me.” Then he said the line that frightened me more than other line I have ever heard before. “What is the point of living, when you have nothing to live for.” And just like that he left my life.

(Story follows Dominic to his apartment) Dominic walked up the stairs, struggles to get to the door. He entered and turned on the light. He walked into his room, the apartment smelled stale from the lack of use. Till this day I wonder what Dominic was thinking before, BAM. He caught the butt of a shotgun to the face. Dominic hit the floor. The men in his apartment that were waiting for him, took his body and dragged him down the stairs. At this point, for Dominic, it sinks in. That feeling that this is all very real. This is not some horror movie. When that trunk of the car finally closes behind him, he realizes this is real.  He realizes that it is over, no screaming will help him in the middle of the night when no one is to be found on the streets. 

From what I heard they drove for what seemed to be hours. They pulled out a vacant driveway in the middle of the sticks. There the trunk was opened once more for Dominic. It is dark, very dark. The high-beams of another car pierce the darkness. There is a black figure that emerges from car, unable to see this man of black. The figure spoke. “That’s him.” He passes money to one of the men, the man replies to this gracious gesture. “Thank you again, Mr. Rizzo.” (one man in the driver’s seat, he is the one who is handed the money, the other two men with him are on opposite ends of the car’s trunk.) Rizzo demands that the men keep driving, he gets in his car and leaves. The two men place are holding a plastic bag. The destructive creation is clear. Dominic has been forced to wear the bag on his head. The two men close the trunk. There is a shot of the left taillight, and muffled screams are heard. But no one answers. Only the red light of the car is visible, then white. The car begins to back up… (Screen goes Black)

There was that balcony I remember seeing it. It was where I was first introduced to Dominic. I remember how high it was. The cars passing below. The terror was real. And there he was, Dominic. I was speechless. Then a hooded figure emerged and took his place. I approached it. The closer I got to it, the closer it got to the ledge. And then there was music it just got louder with every step closer to the ledge. Until the shrouded figure turned back into Dominic. He was dressed in a devilish black suit, darker than the Ace of Spades. He glared with a grin and fell backwards.

I keep waking up like this. I keep seeing him plummet. I did not even need to ask myself where Dominic was. I already new that he was dead. The dream spoke to me in ways I prayed not to understand. I prayed for my life to be plagued by ignorance. I knew that even with his bullheadedness he still would have the decency to call. He was gone. I remember coming into the living room to see Jordan crying, I already knew what was wrong. The annoyingly cute blonde on the news station was talking about a “grisly discovery”. It was Dominic. I remembered how much I was severely unhinged at that moment. I was on the verge of thinking about how beautiful my own self-destruction would actually be. I remembered how much I wanted to emulate the deaths of Kurt Cobain and Ernest Hemingway. Swallowing a shotgun shell would be bliss. That’s the spirit Lukas, leave them nothing left to recognize. Leave nothing more than a corpse without a face, and stained carpet. I could not bring myself to face Jordan. I could not consol her. I have lost my reasoning skills, am I not human anymore. Samuel Johnson was right. But it wasn’t Dominic. I am a beast, and I can not deal with the pain of humanity. My sanity was on the breaking point. There was nothing more I wanted to do then swallow a handful after handful of Valium. The s**t is a destructive mind’s Calgon. They should have a label on the bottle “Valium: take me away.” I hid in my room, hid from Jordan, hid from truth, f**k… I hid from life. I finally came to my senses and at that point I could not tell one emotion from the next. I searched for Jordon. I found her sleeping with a note…She was dead.

I remember the note had tears in it, I could not tell anymore if they were from her or from me. “You are the love of my life. And even though after the horror that night in the park, we still made the attempt to survive. We tried so hard Luke, so very hard and now there is nothing left. My heart is dead. And I cannot keep living. We tried so hard, but it was not enough to protect the three of us… You were going to be a father Lukas. I cannot have our child living in a world like this. There is just too much hate and abuse. Tears and blood now sign this letter Luke. Now that my brother is gone, I could not bear with the lose, the last semblance of a family to me. We had the odds against us our entire lives Lukas, its time to let go. I AM sorry that I was not as strong as you. But I have let go. I will see you in our next life.”

I could not believe it. It was over. The one thing in my life I cherished more than anything. Stolen from me. It was all a lie, a f*****g joke. I was not as strong as her, I was nothing more than a f*****g coward. Hiding from everything that came to me. I seemingly enough had just one purpose in this life of mine. And that was that I could still protect the woman I love from the harsh, cold world. I loved her. And I really did die with Jordon that day. This thought kept rolling through my mind, while I held the empty vile of Lunesta and red wine. I just sat there with the bottle in my hands, and holding my love’s hand. I waited. I waited for one last pulse, one last breath, one last moment alone with the woman I loved.

The Bible talks of turning the other cheek when struck. Well F**K THAT. I had everything I ever cared about taken away from me, I have NO MORE cheeks to turn. There is nothing in life that could possibly make life living anymore. Vincent Rizzo took the last piece of my life away from me when he killed Dominic. He also took my angel when he struck down Dom. That day I found the last piece of my sanity dead. Everything in my life finally seemed so clear. Everything I ever called family was gone, and now I knew what I need to do to clear my conscious, I needed to kill HIM. He took the most innocent person in the world, the woman I loved. He had no right. He had no right and no idea. He might not of known it, but from my angelic lover’s last breath, was the same as his. He was dead. There was going to be nothing left of him, I would not allow it. I loved her. I was going to find him, to the bitter end we live.

She will always be with me. She courses through my veins. In every breath I take and every cigarette I smoke, I am closer to her. She was my everything. I will always be with her.

I made the attempt to follow my enemy till the moment was right. That b*****d. Whenever one thinks that they have seen it all, they need to see the remorseless m**********r that stands no more than 20 feet in front of me. He has no sympathy for anyone, not even for the loss of his brothers. Even f*****g N*****s, cold a*s n*****s who were coked up like some kind of snuff porn star; the murderers of children, still knew where the proverbial line was, and when it had been crossed. Vincent had no idea where the f*****g line started and where it ended, in ways he was too much like me… so confused about that said line in the sand, I think we really passed it so long ago that neither one of us even remembers passing it.

He walks every day to clear his fucked up mind. God he has a dangerously warped perspective in life. I cannot wait until he is dead. It will be so very sweet. So cold, so silent. (Brandishing a knife while talking in a mirror) That’s the wonder of a knife, they never make noise. So primitive, so barbaric, cannot wait. This will be right up that sick f**k’s alley. He is going to enjoy this as much as I will. God has to be behind me. There is no way he can take such an angelic figure and leave in this horrible piece of s**t of a city, a demon; and to allow this horrible individual a chance to survive and prosper. God how I wanted this. God I wished he was a Jew in the Holocaust. THAT F**K. If he lives another moment in this world it will be a crime against f*****g humanity. A crime. At times I can even see myself as being chosen by God, his messenger. His Angel of Death, and my job is to purify this world from the worst of mankind. Oh G O D, where did you go? Where did you go? Why not the criminals in the dregs and prisons? Why not take the kiddy rapists and the pederasts in this f*****g world. Why take this angel, my angel.

I just wept. Just wept.

Even the bottle cannot keep the tears away.

I waited, just waited. I had it all planned out. I was going to stab him. I wanted it to go down as the most violent crime in history. I wanted there to be nothing left of him. I kept rehearsing it in my mind, it was going to be both brutal and silent. And time was of no use to me. I really did not care anymore. I was ready to live the rest of my miserable life on that f*****g path which was chosen for me when my love was taken so very far away from me. And now she is under me. Look at my life, and then look at me, Tell me that there is a f*****g God. Am I really alive right now? The losses that I have undertaken, do the disastrous flaws really illustrate the destructive tendencies of mankind? F**k all these questions, and their answers. I was too frightened to find out. I just plan on living up to what I am to do, kill Vincent Rizzo. After that, what you may ask? Maybe I will have the poetic ending, and swallow that shotgun shell I mentioned earlier on the anniversary of my love’s death. What I think is, I do not care anymore. My life really is just some pathetic star in the universe that is just waiting to burn itself out. No one will know that I am gone, I have come to terms with this. I am one stab away from complete Nirvana.

I approach Vincent from behind. He broke the bottle in his hand and spun to meet me the shattered remains to my throat. But I am too quick for him. My knife is already at his with the sickly grin of a madman. Like a man, he realizes he has been defeated, and drops the bottle. My time of suffering is almost over. I am one thrust away. He is here, what I have been yearning for, for what seems a lifetime, a breaths length away. I look into his eyes, and see myself. I am him.

Clearly I must be loosing my F*****G MIND. Then it hits me harder than anything I have ever felt. It is the most complete pain possible. All over my body there is a sever shock. I am him. He is me. Vincent and I are the same person. With all the horrible fucked up fantasies of killing him, I now realize, I am no better then him. He is no better than me. Both seeking some sense of closure. And the same end result. I kill him anyway, but he dies with the dignity of a man who has lost everything, a knife to the heart. The way I would have wanted to go.

I feel a small sense of closure now, but nothing more. I do not rejoice and I cannot go on living. I have done what I have needed to do. The chips fell along with the crown. The debts were now settled. I now stare at myself in the mirror, wondering what the f**k happened to me. Forcing myself to make an attempt to understand, understand why I seemingly enough bet everything, won, and yet still lost everything. Life is a cruel mistress I guess. I realize this now. Look at the Fool, that’s all I could think of. The empty lyrics of a f*****g song. And now the thought of Marilyn Monroe in her coffin, gives me a sick feeling and a matching grin. I feel that pain now, clawing away at her coffin, the weight of the world bearing down upon me.

And now what you may ask, now that Dominic and my love Jordon are out of the picture. I think of this all, the thoughts rush through my mind like a speeding train attempting to make its dead line. The mirror I think, this f*****g mirror. Look at me, look at the fool. I had everything and it was wrestled from my grasp. (Requiem in D minor plays in the background slowly getting louder.) I tell you what, there is only one thing certain in life, and that is Death. My hand placed against the mirror, hauntingly possessed eyes, wrapped in tears and full of rage. I look at the jester in front of me, looking at me, and mocking me. Look at the Fool. (pointing at this jester) To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell’s heart I stab at thee; For Hell’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee. God Deliver me into EVIL. (Lukas takes his the knife in his hand and stabs himself below the sternum.)

                    

     The End

 

© 2008 N. James Frazier


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Author's Note

N. James Frazier
Ignore grammar, and racial problems. Like I said, this is meant to deal with humanity, and the issues of love and hate that make us human. The opening line I took from the Chuck Palahniuk Novel Fight Club, and one of the last lines is from Herman Melville. Other than that I am looking for any possible feedback and please do comment on the predictability of the piece and the originality.

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Posted 8 Years Ago


Sitting up on a windshield of a car a man sits up, and lights up a black cigarette with a black Zippo.

Posted 11 Years Ago


You say to ignore the grammar, but quite honestly... I couldn't continue reading the story. Poor editing makes it very difficult for me to read, no matter how interesting the subject matter may be. It's not just the grammar--the punctuation threw me off horribly.

I got through the part where they accidentally killed the two brothers, and then you put (Digression) in there, and I'm sorry to say I gave up right there. I skimmed the rest, but couldn't really find a good place to drag myself back into the story. The overabundance of swearing in the narration was also annoying. Swearing, in narrative, should be used more sparingly than in dialogue. Otherwise it feels more like I'm listening to some idiot in a bar relate his drunken tale, rather than a real and good story spinning out from someone else's fingertips and into my brain.

You looked like you had a good concept. I just can't force myself through the rest of the story. I apologize, and thank you for taking interest in my contest.

Posted 11 Years Ago


I didn't feel like I had any reason to understand the closeness of Luke, Dominic and Jordan. You went so quickly into the details of Dom and somewhat of Jordan but I feel like I really need more of a background to believe why Luke would go through all he did with those characters. I love the opening even if it is borrowed.
I just want to know more emotional and character detail about Luke. He is the interesting character not the others. Sometimes we think we are describing other people we are describing ourselves but there is definitely more depth to him. And I am not sure how I was feeling the idea of Dominic tapping into his anger because the Rizzo brothers got on him about not drinking and than after killing he drank. I feel like the bar scene needs to be in greater detail. What really makes Dominic go over the edge and What really makes Luke stay with him?

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I felt this was an interesting combination of "Casino" and forty hits of LSD. As sick as it sounds, the violence was beautiful, and I could not help but find myself getting enraged right alongside Dominic. I don't know if you intentionally meant the scenes to seem jumbled and erratic, but it really added something to the entire piece as a whole. Overall, a very emotionally-charged piece that I throughly enjoyed reading.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Thoughts spun around inside my head, like a carousel on acid.

I believed that he had changed, but lets face it, having a recovering alcoholic celebrating his rehabilitation inside of a pub is like setting a pyromaniac loose in a gas station.

Well done sir, well done. This is the first story I have read since I have been in the cafe and I have to say this is one well written story to say the least. The story is quote heavy, with plenty of style to it that left a smile on my face from start to finish. I love the ending also...great line "I think of this all, the thoughts rush through my mind like a speeding train attempting to make its dead line."
You did a great job with the bar scence. I found it to be very descriptive, and te characters were really brought to life with your words. Man, a lot of people need to read this story!!!!!!!!!!!!
F*****g real good man, real good.


Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on February 5, 2008
Last Updated on February 10, 2008

Author

N. James Frazier
N. James Frazier

Chicago, IL



About
I am 20 and I write short stories and screen plays. While also attempting to direct them and turn these pieces into a film. I also right some poetry. I am also a manager/director/and advertise for a s.. more..

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