Kick-stamping

by Nathan Bluecloud ©

Kick-stamping my way across the rickety boards.

In the shadows.

Trigger finger twitching.

One eye half-cocked, alert for any sudden movement in the shimmering heat of Main Street.

˜

I’m a seething mass of dust and anger!

“Grr, rah, raah..gotta’ kill someone real quick!”

I got two Colt 45’s – twelve shots to offload – cross-tucked inside my three-quarter length black jacket with my well-worn 501’s, Cuban heeled boots and silver spurs with sharpened spinning wheels.

“Grr, rah, raah..gotta’ kill someone real quick!”

˜

Any saloon’s a good saloon.

I kick the first door in my path ajar and order ”a Bourbon – neat”.

“Hmm!”

“Make that another, with a beer chaser”, I grind out of my missing lower front teeth.

˜

That card game in the corner’s got six takers – maybe I can scoop the loot too? Two shots in, there’d be no more surprises? I might get in two more to make four, which leaves two gringos left, to get me, before I get to that front door!

Hmm – don’t like the odds. Gotta get a victim closer to that front door?

How about I go those two to the left, then the two to the right – then two more bulls-eyes for that mutton chopped bar-keep!

“Gimme another Bourbon – neat. Grr, rah, hmm!”

˜

There must be another option?

I cast my eyes above. There’s a stairwell leading to the rooms of love.

On the landing in between, a mass of petticoats. Some of the faces are fresh, others are just plain mean.

˜

“What; who is that?”

Raven black hair to the waist, desert sky eyes and brilliantly white teeth – she must be half-Comanche, half-Mexican?

And part Brazilian.. and I think I know which part!

Either way, she laughs loudly and impudently at my gaze, mouthing something, silently – sending me a thought bubble down through the smoke haze.

˜

POP!

˜

“My grandfather gave me some peyote. Come with me, we can…….all night long!”

“If you want to get any closer to this crack, you’ll take the map.”

˜

I take the parchment map and follow the trail, down dry-goat gulch, avoiding the Apache quail.

Scree slopes don’t bother me, I rest under a leave-less tree.

I follow the ridge, to a crumbling rock bridge.. then an impenetrable canyon wall?

What’s the call?

I study the map, it say’s “Wait patiently, take a nap – there’s not a lot to get until you see the sun set.”

˜

As the sun sets; as if inevitable, the impenetrable canyon wall opens into a golden pathway.

I enter her crack. Then a cave. Not feeling brave?

My spines an electric wire, I spy Comanche’s dancing madly around a fire.

So hot! ..a melting pot of moccasins, ecstatic screams and hallucinogenic dreams!

Distinguished in his grey plats..her grandfather is sucking on a big fat pipe, partly obscured in the humid light.

I know it’s not right..….but I take the pipe.

He sends a thought bubble my way.

˜

POP!

˜

“On your 1st toke you will be as strong as an ox for my granddaughter.

On your 2nd, start to understand the mysteries of the universe.

On your 3rd, transcendence.”

˜

Being a superficial white bloke, I take just one toke.

˜

Cough! Cough!

˜

The smoke clears.

I’m back in the bar.

I look upstairs to the “rooms of love”.

She’s still there!

˜

She’s laughing with me,

not at me.

I un-cock my gun and cock-up my cock.

I sprint upstairs…and fall flat on my face.

SPLAT! SPLAT!

…and awake to my reality….I’m in suburbia….and it’s just another awkward…early morning piss!