Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 01/25/21

accusation

I rolled off her.
I looked down and saw the blood on me.
you alright? I asked her.
yeah. she said. why?
then she looked down at me too.
oh, yeah, she waved her hand,
she waved her unlit cigarette around.
I think I was pregnant.
you think? I said.
yeah. hmm, she lit the cigarette. doesn’t matter.
it doesn’t? I said.
umm, she shook her head, her cheeks full of smoke, then:
phooo, she blew out a blue cone.
can’t be, she said. well, not for long, anyway.
oh, I said.
the cone of smoke hit the ceiling
then spilled out upon it.
does that mean this is dead baby blood on my dick? I asked.
she didn’t say anything for a while.
the smoke had spilled out across the whole ceiling
and was now curling down the walls,
like it was adding
a new layer
to the room.
the room was smaller.
then: if you like, said her teeth.

the cat came in.
he sniffed the air
and then,
well, then
he walked back out.

the morning after the night she flirted with the landlord

he comes into the bedroom,
throws the quilt aside, winces her legs apart,
picks his little pink worm out
from under his beer gut,
jabs it in
and starts rutting on top of her,
making these phlegmy gulps
and giggling.

I just lie there.
frozen.

when I woke up
she was slapping me
and screaming YOU LET HIM RAPE ME!
HE RAPED ME
AND YOU JUST LAY THERE AND WATCHED!

I thought it was a dream, I said
fighting her off, scrambling against
the headboard. I thought it was one of
those dreams where you’re frozen and
you can’t do anything?

NO! she slashed at my face with her nails,
IT’S CALLED BEING YOU,
IT’S CALLED BEING A COWARD,
A DIRTY PERVY COWARD
WHO LET’S HIS BIRD GET RAPED!

I threw up.
she cried.

you look, she said. I can’t.
so I got down there
pulled the lips apart
and peered in …

nothing, I shrugged.
did he rubber up? she asked.
the hell would I know?
COS YOU SAW EVERYTHING, DIDN’T YOU?

then there was a rumble …
the lips quivered …
they unfurled …
and then some black goo
started spitting out
and I crawled backwards
as her entire body convulsed,
rattling the bed,
I crawled backwards but it was
too late,
I was hypnotised by that
gaping
wet
black
hole
as it yawned into a chasm
and a there was a banshee gargle
and a black tsunami came gushing out
and
splat –
a soggy eviction notice
slapped me in the face.

when I woke up
I turned
and he was rutting on top of her,
making these phlegmy gulps
and giggling.

GET OFF HER! I hit him
in his second to last chin.

woah, woah, he holds an arm up.
careful, tough guy! you wonna be out on yer arse?

yeah, she says.
she was looking at me.
she looked
kind of bored.
not like YOU can pay rent, is it?

or can you? he smiles,
looking me up and down.

I don’t know what to say.

suit yourself then, he concludes
and goes back
to his rutting.

so I just lie there and watch.
she still has
that look on her face.

to be fair
I’m kind of bored
too.

old habits

she took a swig
of ASDA’s own port
and her cheeks ballooned
as she swilled it around in her mouth
like she always did.

like it was mouthwash.
I think she thought
it would hit her quicker
if it was absorbed through the gums
or something. and as she did,
her eyes never left the tv,
the channel 3 gameshow
that was her second religion.
after ASDA’s own port, of course

I stood up:
that’s it, I said. I’m done.

umf? she said in her throat,
mouth still full,
her eyes never leaving the tv.

I said I’m done, I said.
I think we should …
go our separate ways.

finally
she looked at me.
up and down,
she looked at me

and finally
she swallowed the port
with a loud cartoon gulp.

and finally:
no, she shook her head
just the once
ever so slightly
like, a tad to the left:
no, I don’t think so, she said
and her eyes
were already falling back
towards to the channel 3 gameshow.

I sat back down.

she had another swig
of ASDA’s own port.

someone got a question wrong:
a hateful buzzer BUZZED
and the bloodthirsty studio audience
all went aww! in mock sympathy.
she spat her port out
laughing.

©2021 Paul Tanner All rights reserved.

Paul Tanner has been earning minimum wage and hounding “the littles” about it for 15 years. His latest collection, Shop Talk: Poems for Shop Workers was published by Penniless Press last year. His star sign is Libido. Hobbies include bombing, looting and colouring in.

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