beavers1

Getting Rid of It
by Joshua Beavers

The sun came through the glossy window on that morning. All along the edges, where the window met the frame, was a thin layer of mildew. Spewed across the hardwood floor were the stained and spotted clothes of the small, balding man. His skin taught to the bone. The lack of clean water taking its toll his exuberance. And the bed cloth littered with holes covered his naked and tired body, it lay limp in his deep sleep. Beside him were strewn about the limbs of the skinny whore he had picked up just down the street, her syringe lay beside his amber bottle of sauce. Through the window was nothing but a brick wall, and past that brick wall lay the buildings on their foundations on the soil that lay beneath The Big City.

"Uh...." he moaned as he threw, with all his strength, his arm.
It flung itself across the bed and landed on the bare and naked breast of the young, and beautiful lady.
"AH!" she screamed out, disgusted by the touch of his wrinkled hand.
"Settle down baby, it's me," he said reassuringly.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Pepe, the john who brought you here last night, remember?"
"John? What are you talking about?"
"You're a whore, remember?" he said with the kind of spunk that only a sixty-year-old Cuban has, who is living in The Big City.
"I am? Am I any good?"
"According to this fish, you're pretty damn good" said Pepe as he grabbed at the amber bottle with his boney hand.
She climbed over Pepe and grabbed at her syringe beside the bottle. There was still a little left in it, and she didn't hesitate to get the speck of fluid into her arm.
"God damn I feel good!" he said.
"Was I really that good?"
"You betcha,"
"Wow, my mom would be proud,"
He crawled off his bed and fell to the floor. He inched his way across the sea of spoiled clothes towards the corner of his apartment which he had designated as his bathroom.
"You know, I remember one day back in school, my first grade teacher told me that Bach, Bach of all the blessed people, once used one of these blasted things" said Pepe as he tilted his head into the chamber pot and spewed forth the booze that was missing from his amber bottle beside his bed.
"God damn you're a horrible, and dirty man" she said without judging him.
"You think I'm dirty?" he said with hostility.
"Well look at this place, the light from the window is green, you'd think you were living on another planet,"
"You think I'm dirty?" he repeated.
"Well, you aren't clean. For God's sake you use a damned chamber pot"
"So then...you do think I'm dirty?"
"Yeah, I do think you're dirty" she said.
"I'm not dirty. I'm the cleanest damned person you'll ever meet. I'm so damned clean I'm above, not next to, godliness"
"Look at this place, it's fit for a whore"
"Not a dirty whore like you though" he said sarcastically.
"I'm cleaner than you"
"No! I am the cleanest. I am the purist. That's why my apartment is shit,"
"You're a crazy old drunk," she accused.
"Maybe I am," he said as he erected himself. His thin legs shook as they struggled to support his body.
"I have to leave"
"Okay, good-bye"
"No, I'll get caught my reputation,"
"You're a whore though, you haven't one"
"But I do, my mother"
"I suppose, I guess you could go out the back,"
"The back? Is it dirty?"
"Of course, you're a dirty whore, you go out the back" he said as he threw over the whore's fishnet's and fake fur coat.
"Okay," she said as she caught her clothes and slipped them on. She stood up and revealed her beautiful, pale body. Pepe had done a lot of bargaining for this one.
"Come on, I'll show you where the back is" said the old Cuban as he directed his finger towards the door. She followed his hand out the door. She walked down the hall, her peach shaped ass jerked side to side as only her’s could. The dim hall lights lit her perfectly.
"Where is the back door?" she asked turning around.
"It's down those stairs and to your left, you'll have to run out when you get to the bottom, my super spends his day in the lobby."
"Okay" she said jumping down the stairs, the sound of her stilettos on the stairs filled Pepe with the comfortable feeling he got when a whore would run out the back door. He followed, the image of that peach still fresh in his mind.
He walked to the end of the hallway and turned to his left and followed in the steps of the whore. The stairs were small, and most people would take two at a time, but not this man, his small stature would only allow for him to take one at a time, he felt silly taking such a long time to descend the stairs while the whore leapt down them.
At the bottom of the stairs he could see the unique silhouette of his superintendent. He was a ridiculous looking man, slightly taller than Pepe, but with a stomach that contested with the most pregnant of woman. His legs were thinner than they should have been, and his chin was forever faced towards the sky. His face seemed to Pepe to be like an empty plate. It was a sea of flesh, specked with his small features, and resting above his mouth, as if on a shelf, was a small, and sparse moustache.
“Good morning Pepe” he said in his down-to-earth way.
“Good morning, how’s it going?”
“Just fine, how was your night?”
“It was good, I got a lot of sleep. How’s the wife?”
“She’s doing just fine, any week now, she’s coming right along,”
“That’s great. It’s so good to see a young man like yourself starting a family” Pepe said scratching his crotch.
“Who was the lucky lady last night?”
“I don’t know her name, a shame really”
“You know Pepe, you shouldn’t be doing things like that. I
hardly think that the reverend would agree”
“The reverend is stupid”
“He is a man of the cloth Pepe, how can you say that?”
“Man of the cloth, I spit at the cloth. How can he talk about such a lie? The man is crooked” said Pepe with a strange glint in his eye.
“He can’t be crooked, he’s a shepard of the lord,”
“And He too is crooked, He lies. He put things in His book that weren’t true at all. I wouldn’t listen to that bastard” said Pepe with a smug gleam on his face.
"I don't know about that, He's done me well. He's raised me up from just a little boy, everything I have I have to thank Him for,"
"And everything I have I can thank Him for. Look at my life, whores, booze, my father, my shitty flat. I spit at Him and the cloth"
"Well Pepe, how much of that can you blame on yourself?"
"None, it was all Him, right from the beginning, my father. No woman would take me, look at me, I'm hideous. He gave me this", he said as he directed his hands down the length of his body, "what am I going to do with this?"
"Well, you could do more then what you do manage to do with it. Whores are hardly a good way to use that" he motioned towards Pepe.
"Ah hell, they keep me fit, and the booze thins my blood,"
"But you've read the surgeon general's warning,"
"I don't care. If that God of yours were any good at all, I'd be living the good life, don't you want the good life?" Pepe asked.
"I do have the good life"
Pepe burst into laughter and doubled over, "That's golden. You sir are golden" he said as he walked over the slush soaked rugs and out the doors, on to the grey sidewalk. It was the colour of misery.
The sky was a sort of a greyish blue, but Pepe could hardly tell because of the gloomy buildings that towered over him. The whole city enveloped him into it. He was hundreds of feet below the level of the roofs. It was as if he were at the bottom of the sea, in The Big City.
"Fuck this whore-town" he mumbled to himself. His toes were numb in the thick cold that had fallen to the street level. He had only a pair of cheap, plastic sandals to cover his feet. The whole town, the air of the Big City trapped him and held him in a state of tense anxiety.
Down the street from him was a man he solicited often, almost every Tuesday. He was the leather type, often clad in his SM gear, even in the cold of the Big City. He too was surrounded by the cold and damp air that seemed, to an elite few, synonymous with the dark buildings. Pepe arrived in the alley where he often stayed, the prostitute and some of his associates had made themselves a fortress out of old fridge boxes. Just as if they were children again, corrupt children who steal from their parents, and kick each other. And do worry, they do bite.
"Hello Scott" said Pepe again excited to see his old companion and weekly fix.
"Hey Spanky, how's it hanging?" he said with homosexual flare.
"Oh, it's not hanging" Pepe replied.
"Has it been a week already, I just can't believe it, ?" he said in disbelief. It seemed like they were porking each other only a few hours ago.
"I think it has. My life, I never know how long things are" said Pepe.
"I know how long things are, and I likes what I see"
"You disgust me," Pepe lied.
"As do you to me, but here we are on this street in this city, talking." he explained.
"So we are, so shall we?"
"Up front," he said as he pulled his wallet out of pants (the only safe place for it) to accept the money.
"Ah, of course. Your payment, we can't go any further without the money."
"What would this all be if I didn't pay you?"
"I suppose that this would then be a relationship,"
"So this twenty-dollar bill is what is stopping a relationship?"
"Yeah..." Pepe said drained of his life, reminded of the money that would forever flow through the buildings that made up the forest that was The Big City.
The two of them walked hand-in-hand down the grey walk to Pepe's hole of an apartment. The hands were not held in the common homosexual lovingness of that area of The Big City. Even in that part of town renown for its queers, these two seemed out of place in their loveless agreement. The steam rose out of the manhole covers, and the warmth stung their ravaged faces.
"I hate this city." said the prostitute.
"Why?"
"It is too cold, and where it is warm it is hot. There is no comfortable place in this entire city."
"And who can we thank for that?"
"I have no idea, city planners?"
"No, you stupid whore, we have no one but God himself to thank for this,"
"God, Pepe, you know that there is no God. At least not in this Big City of fags and killers"
"But there is, He's just a lazy bastard. God is a lazy uncaring bastard. Tell me, who gave Him authority?"'
"Nobody, because He doesn't exist, there is none," said the whore as if Pepe should know this.
"Don't you see whore? If there is no God then what are we having this conversation about? Are we having a conversation about something that doesn't exist?"
"Pepe, you are too smart to be living here. You belong in one of those giant buildings. You could be doing something very important for The Big City" said the prostitute annoyed.
"No, I am just good enough for this, this is where I belong, one day I will win the ultimate battle, I will rule." Pepe said with a defiance, a simple deicidal statement.
The two of them arrived a few minutes later at the dismal looking apartment building of Pepe. He made certain that day that he was a perfect gentleman, and thus held the door open for his weekly fix. The prostitute walked in and Pepe's superintendent sank down a few inches. He had known Pepe for several years, but he had never seen Pepe with one of his employees. The fat man shuffled his feet and scratched at his thin moustache uncomfortably.
"Pepe, who is your friend?" he said awkwardly, assuming that he was just a business associate, though he knew Pepe lived on disability.
"This is Scott, my friend from down the street, I don't believe you've met,"
"Neither do I. You know what I agree to in this building don't you?"
"Of course I do, we are simply going to fulfil an agreement in our contract, simple business" said Pepe to his friendly super.
"Your friend seems to be colourfully dressed for business"
"It's a liberal business" he told the super.
"Well, if it's in the contract, then..." he said reluctantly, not wanting to start a scuffle.
The two of them walked on, hand-in-hand. The buttocks of the gay prostitute swayed in the same way that the others did, only he had to make an attempt to do this. The fat torso of the super was now rested comfortably in a chair, his thin legs sticking out like those of a puppet. In the hard wooden chair he knew what would be going on, and he admitted to himself that he was scared of the queer.
Pepe, being the gentlemen that he was, opened the door for his employee, he was received with a warm smile. Pepe starred at the tight ass of the man of the evening, he could feel his pants tightening.
“I don’t know if I can go another whole week without soliciting your services again,” said Pepe.
“I’m sure you’ll manage, I don’t know if I can though”
“Oh, you are a naughty whore, aren’t you?” he said as he spanked the gay man.

The two of them shared a cigarette just like they did every week. This week they had chosen to have a Winston, last week it was a Marlboro.
“This is so god damn cliche” said the whore.
“I know, but there’s a reason why it’s cliche,”
“Yeah...” he said as he sucked back a few millimeters and handed it off to Pepe, “Do you think the Ministry would approve of this?”
“I doubt it, they’d cut me off so fast”
“Then maybe you could make a living like me. We could go into business together. We could start up a genuine escort service, one of a kind,”
“I doubt that, the other Ministry shuts those places down as fast as they pop up. Bastards” said Pepe as he kissed the cigarette and passed it back.
“Why are we so screwed?” he asked.
“Why not? What’s stopping us from being screwed?”
“Nothing, maybe God,” he said unsure.
“No. He’s forgotten us. I’m sure if He could even remember, He would only kill us fags,”
“Yeah,”, he smoked. “But what else is He doing besides dealing with us?”
“I’m sure He has better things to do. Like the people who work at the Ministry, they stick you in the back of their drawers, and pull you out when you don’t cash your check” reasoned Pepe.
“I didn’t cash my check once, took them a week to call. I remember I did it just to get them to call me, it was the only
way”
“Bastard” he mumbled to himself.
The gay prostitute climbed out of bed, Pepe fixed his eyes on the man’s ass, the cheeks sagged to cover the very tops of the backs of his legs. He grabbed the bottle that was beside his bed, and sucked back a mouthful. The liquor was now warm, but he didn’t care, it still had that round flavor that he enjoyed so much.
“You know, there are only two things that I enjoy, the feel of booze down my throats, and you down my throat,” said Pepe.
“You make me sick, but I like to be sick”
“So, one week from now?”
“I’ll be where I always am, you can find me in my hole,” said the whore, he slipped on some trousers and walked out the door. Pepe leapt from his bed and ran over to him, shoving himself into a pair of pants (he had learned of the cold once) on his way out.
“Wait!” he shouted, “You can’t go out the front. My super”
“But I walked in right past him,”
“Doesn’t matter,”
“Oh, sorry. Where do I go?” he asked.
“Down the hall and to the left, walk down the stairs and out
the door.”
“Thanks” he said as he walked out the door. Pepe stood outside his door, the hall was dimly lit with the red foot lights that were scattered down the hall. He admired the way that the homosexual attempted to sway his buttocks from side to side like the other one he solicited. He wasn’t overcome by the beauty of it, but more by the effort that he saw.
The prostitute walked down the stairs just like the woman, but there was no noise, and there was no comfort for Pepe, there rarely was. He followed the man’s path down the stairs and again entered the lobby. The super had gotten out of his chair, and was standing there looking stupid, not knowing that Pepe was there.
“Hey!” shouted Pepe. The superintendent twitched his head.
“Oh, hello Pepe, long time no see,” he said. Pepe walked over to the man.
“I just had to take care of some business, what have you been doing?”
“I’ve been looking over the contracts that I just signed, I’ve got some new tenants”
“Really, that’ll be good, eh?”
“Oh, yeah,”
“So tell me, are you going to get your kid baptized?” asked Pepe with hostility.
“I suppose I will, why do you ask?”
“Well, I got to thinking, and I might just get myself baptized,”
“Weren’t you baptized as a kid?”
“No, but I heard somewhere that if you don’t than they don’t let you in,”
“I thought you said that you weren’t very fond of Him?”
“Well, I’m not, that’s why I’m going to kill Him” said Pepe with a certainty that was unusual for people who lived in that part of the city.
“That’s good Pepe” said the super in laughter, “that’s an idea”
“You think I’m fucking around, that thing is dead, whatever the fuck It is, I’ll kill him,” said Pepe getting angry, “I’ll go to him, and I’ll blow his brains out” Pepe was now enraged, engrossed by the idea.
“How are you going to do that?” asked the super, still not taking him seriously.
“I’ll tell you how. With a gun, that’s how. Little fucker” he said as he walked out the doors again, and on to the sidewalk. They were still the color that they were before, that dismal grey that made one feel sick.
“I see You haven’t shown up yet, well you got 20 minutes and you’re mine, fuck.” said Pepe looking up to the grey, overcast sky.
He pushed his feet into the pavement propelling himself forward. His grey eyes glared forward, and the people who walked in front of him moved to the sides of the walk. He occasionally bumped his shoulder against oncoming citizens of The Big City, and they stood back to stare at him, but he didn't care. He knew where he was going, he was going to meet with his other friend from down the street. He too lived in a fridge box, the choice dwelling, between two adult bookstores, he enjoyed the fine magazines that were, for him, free.
Pepe finished walking his straight line and turned into the alley. The light was even dimmer than outside, on the street. The air was colder too, and the walls, Pepe could feel, were providing him with even less room than he was furnished with by the cold air. Under a flattened box he saw his friend, his hook-up.
"Hey! Hey man!" said Pepe. The man stirred in his bed, and crawled out. He had a tall toque on, and was unshaven. It had been a week since he had made it into the mission.
"What the fuck?"
"I need you to sell me one,"
"Sell you what? I sell many things, and for you, I can make you a deal," he said in his sly voice, still groggy from his awakening.
"I want a piece, hook me up" he said, trying in vain to speak the lingo he knew so little of.
"A piece? what kind of piece?"
"Something with some kick,"
"You want kick?"
"Yeah, yeah I want some kick" he said clenching and unclenching his fists. The muscles in his arm tightened and released.
"Why do you want a piece with kick? You have no enemies, you barely even have any friends,"
"Oh, I've got an enemy," he said.
"Yeah, who?"
"I doubt you'd know him, just a little guy from up north," said Pepe getting nervous.
"Well, I might have something for you. I could look in the back room for you," he said as he got up and walked past the garbage dumpsters towards the back half of an old Chevy. He picked up a crow bar and pried open the trunk. When it opened it made a sort of rusty clunking noise. Off of the sides of the trunk small clouds of rusty air puffed up, like a puffball that’s been stepped on.
“Well, I’ve got all that you could ever need,” he said with a smug tone, as if he knew what was going on. He had no idea, no one did.

Pepe walked over to the trunk and looked over the seller’s shoulder, admiring the workmanship that went into each one of the tools. For an instant he thought of the workers who had built them, and the hardships they must have suffered. Perhaps, he thought, the workers had been harassed by their neighbours for building such things, or not.
“Which is the one that has the kick?” Pepe asked.
“Well, that one over there has some kick” he said pointing to one near the back of the trunk.
“Yes, yes. Which one has all of the kick. I want to get this job done. The victim-to-be will probably take quite a bit” said Pepe scratching at his hairy chin.
“Well, if you’re looking for the real kick, then I would recommend this one”, he said as he reached his idle hand into the back of the trunk as pulled out a long barreled one, “this‘ll get your job done. It could move back a buffalo twenty years” he handed it to the small Cuban.
“What do you want for it?” he asked.
“What can you give me?”
“I’ve got some money in my pocket,”
“For this one I’ll need more than some money out of your pocket,” he asked insinuating.
“What more could you want? You get the money, you’re happy” Pepe assumed.
“I want to know where I can find that insatiable friend of yours, the one I saw you walking down the street,”
“The whore?”
“Yes, that’s the one. I want him...and I’ll take the money in your pocket”
“Down the street, and in the fridge box” he said handing over a handful of crumpled bills.
“Here you are sir,” he said, taking the money and ramming it into his pocket, not counting it. He leaned over to Pepe’s ear.
“You tell anyone and I’ll chop your cock off”
Pepe turned his back on the man, and walked out of the alley. His feet landed on the grey sidewalk again, away from the dirty, unswept alleyway. He shoved it into the side of his coat, and walked back avoiding people. He dodged back and forth, trying desperately not to bump into anyone. When he got in front of his building he looked up.
“I’m coming” he said in a dry monotone.
He swung open the glass door, and walked inside. The hot air vent that was above the door blasted him down with hot air. He looked across the lobby, to him it was like a picture. He saw in his mind the balance between the chairs, and the tables. His eye was drawn towards the superintendent, in his green suit coat. He looked like it was Saint Patty's day, or he belonged to some group. He was dancing around frantically now, is was almost comical, if anything could be in that part of town.
"What are you doing?" asked Pepe.
"Ahh...it's the wife.." he said still moving around like he had crabs.
"Is something the matter?"
"She's in labour, what do I do?" he asked, still moving his limbs comically.
"I don't know, alls I know is that you don't stick it in a garbage can. Cops don't like that,"
"Come on, what do Ido?"
"Go to the damn hospital. Take your rig and drive man!"
"Oh, okay," he said nervously. Pepe leaned back into the cradle of life and laughed silently to himself. The fat man hobbled out of the building, still moving around like he had crotch critters.
Pepe walked to the stairs, and slowly ascended them, his old and stiffened legs tensed up under the pressure. His knees cracked, as he pushed his way up the stairs.
As he walked down the hall he gently pulled it out of his coat. The black barrel shone dimly in the dim light. Compared to him, the shotgun was starkly different then him, and almost the same size. He turned to his door, and opened it. His apartment was still in it's condition. His stained clothes were scattered across the floor. He had no carpet, just hard wood. The clothes helped to make the place comfortable.
"Here we go, you ready?" he asked his ceiling.
He walked over to the window, glossy in its grease, and mold.
He looked at the brick wall, and beyond that the dreary Big City. No light shone into his home, and the grey clouds hung over the city, ready to spill their acidic rain, washing away the pent up melancholy. Pepe thought a prayer would be appropriate, these occasions usually required one, he bowed his head.
"Oh holy father bless not me in this weariness. I need not your power, but you do. Prepare yourself for a tempest, and tense for humility, you will see what has been forsaken" Pepe lifted his head, and sighed. He brought it up to shoulder level, and with all his strength he lifted the end of the barrel and leaned it gently on his head. His arm was shaking under the weight. With his boney finger he slowly pulled back the trigger, waiting anxiously for that moment when the pulling stopped, when it would click over. He reached that point, and for a long instant he heard the roar, then he was blinded.
In front of him he could see nothing but a blanket of white. He couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t see anything. He looked down and his body was gone, he tried to reach up and grab his face. He couldn’t. To his left he slowly began to be able to make out his hand, it was slightly chubby like it had been when he was healthy, before he was forgotten. He could feel the greatest of enlightenment tugging at him, but also felt the unrelenting urge to resist it. He could barely remember who he once was.
“What’s going on?” he tried to ask himself, but the words didn’t come out. All he was able to do was think, and even that was hard. He had no idea where he was, or what was going on. He saw the black shaft start to form in his hand, and like a piece of a puzzle, the last increment of his life came into his thoughts. He could remember himself walking down the hall. When he heard It, what he had been waiting for.
“Pepe, have you come for me?” He said. Pepe’s thoughts rushed back into his head. His entire conversations with his super were divinely given to him.
“What?” he tried o say, then his mouth came back to him, it was like he had turned on the microphone. “Who’s talking?”
“It is who you say your enemy is” said the voice, louder then anything Pepe heard, his hand shook in the vibrating space. All of Pepe rushed to him, and he was flooded with his thoughts and ideas again. Around him everything began to be filled in. Like a paint by number in time lapse, the colours, and shapes were filled in for him. He was in a prairie, like the one he grew up in. Around him he could see the panorama of thin, golden rods.
“You son of a bitch!” he yelled out as loud as he could. A murder of black crows leapt from the field, and flew east, like a cloud.
“Don’t speak to me like that. You are here because of me!” roared the thunder.
“No, I’m here because of me,” he argued looking down upon his youthful body.
"You are only one of millions, why would you be here because of yourself. Why?" He argued.
"I want you",he said, his voice softening, and the creases of his mouth narrowing, "I've wanted you for so long,"
"I know, that's why you're here, because you want me,"
"And I'll get you, I'll get you and your whole damn operation!" he said challenging his enemy. He moved his fists to his hips, and enjoyed the young muscle that was now on his sides.
"You can have me, if you want me," said the Voice.
"I'll get you," Pepe said as he lifted up the shotgun and took aim.
"What are you going to shoot?"
"I'm going to kill you," he said resting his finger on the trigger.
"How?"
"I'll shoot you, that's what I'll do," he said as he edged his finger back on the trigger.
"Try" said the voice as Pepe aimed the black barrel to the sky. He shot, and the small round pieces of metal spread out across the landscape, and were sucked into the abyss.
"You are shit"
"You can't kill what you don't know. You can't want me that bad, you don't even know where to shoot" He said, Pepe lifted his gun again and unleashed another wall of pain.
"You're not trying hard enough"
"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to make things the way they should be." he said determined to make things right.
"If you kill me everything will end. I am everything, I am what makes time go, and energy to exist." sounded the thunder.
"Nothing will be worse then what I got from you," Pepe said shooting, again, into an old oak tree in the prairie.
"You'd better watch what you do with that thing. I gave you life, and what did you do with it?"
"You screwed me from day one. I never had a chance in that God-forsaken world. You stuck me in that Big City, and let me rot."
"I gave you life, it was me who hit the flint, and made you alive. It was me who sparked that blue spark that made you start. It was me who pushed the boulder of time, and in doing such gave you a place to go when now is over. Bow down to me, I made you who you are!" He said as a wind blew through the oak tree, and the golden sticks from the ground individually blew sideways. A gentle wave passed through the field, and the wheat beat against the legs of Pepe. His youthful body slowly withered away, and in a human dust fell to the ground.
"Why are you doing this to me. I walk into one man's house, and he tears me down.”
"I give one man the One gift, life, and he wastes it away doing the impure, and then gives it away to nothingness. You are ungrateful" Pepe's enemy said, the end of the barrel of the gun floated around the side of Pepe's head.
"I know where you are," he tapped his head with the gun,
"You're right here"
"You're not going to kill me, I'm not just something you can put away and forget. I'm here, even if you don't want me to be."
"I can't forget you, but I can put you away" the now small and frail man put the dull black tube onto the side of his head, and rested his finger on the trigger.
"I have a plan for people who do that, I am all. I am above you, there is nothing you can do to change me" said the Voice.
"No you're not, I can kill you, anyone can." Pepe said.
A great force grabbed at him, and tore him to the ground. He reached up to push it off of him, but it wouldn't go. His arms moved freely everywhere, tensed for repulsion, met with nothing. It grabbed at his throat, and held him down. He felt not a pain, but an intense discomfort.
"You can't kill a dead man,"
"Can't I?" He asked.
Pepe reached over to the where the butt of the gun lay, and groped at nothingness with his hand.
"God save me" said Pepe in a voice that was between crying and dying, like a struggling child on a hot desert floor.
The wind blew again on the rods of golden bristle, and the body of Pepe was released. He stood up.
"You're a gonner now!" Pepe yelled, his voice echoing through the field, and shook the branches of the tree.

He pulled back the trigger and released upon his target a stopped volley of silent shock. Around him the scene dissolved. The images melted, and dripped down the canvas of reality, whatever that is.
After a period of nothing Pepe's eyes looked forward through a blurred score. He could hear only the murmur of a woman's groans. Through his foreign body he felt an incredible uncomfortability, and a grasping want for air. The cool, fresh blast of sterilized air hit his face, and the light filled his eyes, through which he could see two white, and slightly prickly, and fleshy walls. A big smiling face, of an unknown man starred at him, looking cautiously, and happily he murmured something. Across the room he could see a familiar face, a friend. From some other time, and some other place, a home, and a meeting place. The sight of the man, registered, and Pepe saw his superintendent, standing on his toothpick legs, and brown leather shoes. Another go, with some help from an enemy.