Freeline

She took my daughter from me this weekend.

I am a juggernaut of Fiction; know me or don't- this is my conceit. I have more stories in me than white blood cells. 

Or healthy liver bits, at the least. Regardless- she took her. For three days.

And so I'm real-life, no need for story. Let me show you who I've been.

Anyone else been on a proper bender? Let me amend: BENDER. Ben loves the cartoon. I sure as shit don't love the diarrhea.

     So I hopped a train at around 9:00 pm on Sunday. I didn't intend to. I made some 300 dollars at the bar this Saturday, and drank a bill or so of it starting Sunday morning. Call me old-fashioned. 

So the snow had started, and I ran off from Orest by the Paladium because that train was moving faster than me. And I'd be fucked if I was going to let it win. 

Please- as an aside- don't believe my bluster. I'm embarrassed to be such an asshole. Its just not in me to ingest it. And no-one but my friends have subscribed thus far, so who but they will judge me? As fine a form as you, my contemporaries have seen me in, I was Force Factor Five on Sunday.

I may have killed the German Shephard that bit me on Capitol Hill. I didn't stay to see.

Anywhich- the train.

I caught the cocky bastard, waving all the while to flabbergasted Orest, who was yelling something about St. George. I ran the tops of the cars as we picked up speed, and found a shell full of steel cable bundles, and thought about how sweet California was gonna be.

Cue blizzard.

I wedged under the cables for a while, and then turned my hoodie backwards and breathed Jack Daniels into my nose for a while, then I ran from car to car and howled and shadowboxed, and cried some. The train stopped somewhere out past the flats, and I saw lights that were sure to be Wendover. 

Fuck California. Wendover has fresh whiskey and strippers.

The guards saw me disembark, I suppose. Or someone cellphoned to say that a 6'5" asshole in just a sweatshirt was jumping cars at 80 mph through the desert. They bowled me over and brought out a pair of cuffs before I'd gotten off the gravel.

Now I'm a violinist. I have fragile hands.

I fought these two shitkickers like they were set to sodomize me. Good God give me the sweet hard rush of adrenaline, that sure joy of getting my face knocked about and standing against them, of feeling like- at nearly thirty- I was drunk and dumb enough to be swell against those Straightedgers in Cincinnati at fourteen, too stupid to lie down as they dulled their boots on my bones.

I am ashamed at my animal stupidity.

And I am twenty feet tall today. Ever need your ass kicked?

I can claim that felicity more often than most- no, no, don't protest- you've all met me. 

But when I'm pissing into a bag at eighty years old, I'll have whipped two Railjacks and run off into the Nevada desert in a no-contest blizzard, and discovered a shivering hour later that I'm 20 miles west of Tooele, in fact, and my ribs are cracked on my left side.

There are no strippers in assfuck Tooele.

Again- I tell my tale less now in triumph than in pain- Have you ever tried to book a room with soaked cash in an LDS desert town? The blood thawed on my face and made me say interesting things to the sweet-tittied young girls who clutched their phones against my dog-wet stink. 

I am proud of one thing other than my sheer capacity to survive. Having been turned down- creditcardless- at the third motel in town, I hiccuped and vomited all over the floor as the blonde fawn before me squealed in disbelief. I was already carrying a twelvepack of Budweiser around at this point, and using British words to express my disbelief that cash was not good enough to get a place to sleep.

Dear Lord preserve me, I suppose I looked as if I'd tried to fuck a moose on the moors.

So... don't ask why my nose is jacked up. Or why I'll roil and curl if I laugh. My left arm don't lift too far. Just remember me when your chips cash in, acolytes and heroes. An asshole born, but too large to lose.

I'll be fisted if I'll let some dimestore guard arrest me- never live it down.

But I'll regret that dog till Ragnarok.