[14] Soft Elbows

[14]

Okay, relax. Okay, relax. Okay, relax. Okay, I can't relax. They have my fucking car! How the hell did they get my car? Did they have it when they pulled in the first time? I mean, they had the same car, I remember that, I mean, I never saw the license plates, but still, it is possible, right? Possible that the car was different and now they have my car for some reason? They have my car and the duffel bag? Sniffles' duffel bag. The Lander Valley Tigers swim team duffel bag. It's too much. Too much to take! Get me out of here! I need to know what is happening out there! Help me! Can't somebody help me! This is just too cruel. I mean, fuck. What the hell is evening happening. Okay, relax, something is missing. I missed something. Right? They said something that I missed. The very odd business couple. Robert and Gay. They must have said something that explains things. Right? But they didn't. They didn't say shit. They were just drunk when they came in last night. They had that very problematic sex, or whatever. I mean, maybe it was just normal sex for them. I can't get any information from their kinks, I don't think. I mean, whatever. Even if it did tell me something, I am not sure what it would tell me. That Robert is a sub and Gay is very aggressive in bed? What does that tell me? The sobbing in the bathroom? I mean, I guess, I mean, I don't know. I just don't know. Something happened and I don't know what it is! I mean, think back to when they first came into the parking lot. They got out of the car. Okay. Then Gay said something about Robert needing to remember his glasses. Then they went into the offices, I assume. I mean, they were there for quite some time. They came into the room. Robert took a shit. Gay unpacked. Then they left. Then they came back, like hours later. Had weird sex and then Robert sobbed. Gay watched tv. Then they slept. Then they met up with the Matron and Danny in the parking lot. But Gay was showering so I couldn't hear shit. Then the Matron gave them the duffel bag and now they are gone. What the fuck? I don't get it! I mean, okay, think back to when Sniffles came back. He came in. Left the door open. He was half-sweaty. He looked in the duffel bag and left. Then what? That guy Tony got called out. The Matron came around and farted an orgasm out. I mean, nothing. I got nothing. I mean, I did think that Sniffles went around the back and had some words with the Matron. I mean, that seems like it happened. Otherwise why would she have the Lander Valley Tigers duffel bag? I mean, that first night when I thought Danny was walking in front of the room, I mean, he seemed to be talking to someone, was that Tony? I mean, who the fuck is Tony? Does he even factor in? And what about Danny? Was he just faking it when the cop came around? Like he wasn't really actually drunk? I mean, he looked so different today, just now. Out in the parking lot. I mean, I would even say he was handsome even. Strong. Not drunk at all. But then what the fuck? Where am I in all of this? Did I really get taken out to the badlands to get murdered? And where is JuJu Beans? I don't know, man. I really don't. This shit is just fucked up. Can't someone get me out of here? I mean, I can feel something happening again. I mean, that tight hotel sheets feeling has been here ever since the business couple ditched. In my car nonetheless! I mean, it was my car! My plates! Natrona county plates. 24387. Those were my plates. My fucking plates! My car! They were driving my car!

Shit, the Matron is back. Hold on.

She is pushing her cart into the room. She is shutting the door. She is shutting the curtains. She is turning on the tv. Okay, she bent over and picked up the dirty towel that Gay threw on the floor. Okay, she is smelling it. Okay, now she is taking her clothes off. The bologna sandwich track suit. Now she is getting on top of the bed. She is on her knees. She is smelling the towel and the sheets. Her ass is in the air. She is playing with herself. Or whatever. Her face is buried in the towel. Oh. I mean, yikes. Okay, I just literally saw her butthole open up and a fart came out. She has collapsed on the bed. Her face is turned away from me. She is breathing heavily. Now her breaths are shorter. Shallower. Now she must be sleeping because she is snoring. Ugh. What is going on around here? Is everyone a pervert or what? I mean, whatever. I guess I now have to wait some more. Maybe Danny will come in and they will have some words or something? I mean, I don't know what to say. I guess the Matron has a thing for getting off in motel rooms and napping. I mean, I don't know what to say about her smelling the sheets and pillows and the towel. I am not sure which one of the business couple she is attracted to. I mean, I assume it is Gay, because that was her towel, but she didn't know that. The Matron, I mean. Or maybe she did? I don't know, I can't smell shit. Maybe Gay had a very strong odor that would make this make sense? I mean, whatever. I could give two shits about the sexual workings of the Matron. I just want to know why the business couple has my car and the Lander Valley Tigers duffel bag. I mean, what the fuck is going on here? Why can't I just get free? I mean, these sheets are oppressive. I can feel them strangling me. Holding me here. I just need to break free somehow. I mean, something has shifted. I mean, in all this dangling. I can feel something has shifted. But so what? It doesn't mean anything. I am still here. Still stuck dangling like a salty booger in this skanky motel room. With the Matron lying there naked. Snoring like a log. He ass pointed directly at me. Her cheeks flapping down towards the bed. Doesn't Danny want to come make love to his lover or whatever the hell they are? I mean, doesn't somebody that knows something want to come in and explain it to me? I mean, not me, but you know what I mean. Isn't there something they need to figure out. Like, I mean, maybe talk about the next part of the plan or whatever? I mean, assuming it is just money in the duffel bag. What now? That money needs to go to Greeley? Get traded for drugs or something? Maybe Robert and Gay were the ones that killed me? That is why they were drunk last night? Like they had to get drunk to kill me? Or they got drunk after they killed me? Maybe that is why Robert was sobbing? Not because he was tongue raped by Gay. Like he was thinking about other things. And that is just the way they had sex? I mean, Gay seemed to get off on the idea. I mean, maybe that idea was them murdering me in the badlands for money? I mean, they weren't dirty or whatever when they came back. Or, I mean, they didn't seem dirty. I didn't really check their shoes. I mean, the 2002 Chrysler Sebring normal colored. My car! I mean. It wasn't dusty. Not in any real sense. Not more dusty than normal. I mean, it does get dusty around here. What, with all the badlands and stuff. But so what? I don't fucking know. And now I just feel really uncomfortable. I mean, before I was just numb. Feeling nothing. Now I feel kind of slimy, I guess. Or something. I mean, that is not the word. I don't know how to describe how I feel. I mean, I just feel constricted. Like I am stuck in some tight ass hotel bed sheets. But like gross ones. I mean, I wish I could just get out and stretch. I mean, if anything, and I don't mean to be gross, but I feel like a boner in a tight pair of pants or something. I mean, not only that, but like, I mean, I feel like almost a teenagers boner. Like what I remember it felt like to have a boner as a teenager. I mean, I just want to let it out. Give it some air. Play with it a while. Scratch it. Yank it. Shoot something loose and forget about it. I mean, sorry, that seems gross, but whatever. I just watched the Matron's butthole fart out an orgasm, I mean, if you can hear about that, I mean, you can probably stomach me feeling like a teenage boner that needs to be dealt with. I mean, I just feel gross. Gross and constricted. I need some release. Like bad. I mean, what I mean is, it's not sexual though. It just is. Like, I mean, I feel very agitated I guess is all I am saying. I mean, I think I would prefer the numbness I felt before. This feeling is really not a good feeling. I want it to stop.

The Matron is waking up. She turned her head to me. She is looking up. She frowned for some reason. She is closing her eyes now. Smelling the towel again. Oh, she is getting aroused again. This time she is on her back. The towel is over her face. She is playing with a nipple. Her other hand is going to town. Oh, there it is. The fart. She is relaxing now. Getting out of bed. She is going around to her clothes. The bologna sandwich track suit. She is pulling the pants up. Putting the top on. I guess she wasn't wearing any underwear. Or bra or whatever. She is sliding into her slipper/shoes. I guess I never noticed that she wears slipper/shoes. I mean, I guess she just kind of slides around this place. I wonder if she ever leaves? I mean, it doesn't seem like she has to. All the action comes to her. But you would think she would wear some sort of better shoe, right? Whatever. She is putting the towel in a plastic bag. I guess for later? I mean, she must really have some feelings for Gay. I suppose. Or maybe she thinks it is Robert that used that towel? I mean, she just went into the bathroom. She is putting Robert's dirty towel in the hamper on the cart. I guess she can tell the difference. I mean, I guess the Matron has a thing for Gay. Maybe it is the perm? Or the baseball uniform/dress? Whatever. I mean, not whatever. That might be a good thing to keep in mind. I mean, I can think about that later. The Matron is making the bed. Turning the pillows over. I mean, yuck. I guess she really doesn't change the sheets here. I am keeping that in mind. I mean, if I get out of here I don't think I will ever come back, but still, it is good to have a very specific reason not to. Something that I will remember, even if I am stone cold drunk and just need a place to sleep. I mean, I think I would prefer sleeping in my car. I mean, my car! Those fuckers have my car!

I guess that is that. The Matron just turned off the tv. Opened the curtains. Thankfully. I mean, for me. She is opening the door. Pushing the cart out. She shut the door. Now she is long gone. Well, fuck. That told me nothing. I mean, aside from the Matron's proclivities. she likes middle aged business women with perms and baseball uniform sensibilities. So what? I mean, so what as far as I am concerned. I mean, I don't care one way or the other. But I will say, that changes things with respect to Danny. I mean, I think I already figured out that he was a liar, so maybe that changes nothing. I mean, maybe he is the Matron's brother? I mean, that would maybe explain their cahoots. But that doesn't explain the dog. Or does it! I mean, maybe the dog is the only lynch pin here? I mean, to go back to my theory that Sniffles is the owner of the dog in the first place and the Matron stole his dog for revenge reasons. I mean, if that is true then, I mean, that can't be true. The bag of money is just too much. I mean, shit. New clue! Gay was talking about the price of the room. What was she saying though? It was cheap. And smelled. And Robert was defending his company. That they would only pay for cheap rooms. Otherwise it would come out of his paycheck, right? But that wouldn't make sense if they were in cahoots with the Matron. So, I mean, that means that the business couple are middlemen. Like me! They have soft elbows like I do. Which, fuck, that confuses the attraction that the Matron has for Gay. Or not. I mean, it is just possible that the Matron is just a pervert. Which, I mean, judging by the way she dresses and the shoes she wears. I mean, how she just comes around and farts one out every day. I mean, okay, so the Matron is just a perv. But then what? The business couple are just here on business. But they showed up driving my car! Which means that they had a meet-up before they even came here. Which means that they talked to Sniffles sometime before coming here. And he was the one that told them to come here. But what does that matter? I mean, I guess that would mean that they met Sniffles somewhere. Took me out to the badlands. Killed me. Sniffles told them to come here. That they would get the money in the morning. So the business couple was just wasting time when they went out last night. They got drunk. Came back. And then the Matron gave them the money. But that means that they aren't middlemen. They are murderers for hire. I mean, I don't fucking know. There really is something missing here. Something that ties the dog into things. I mean, JuJu Beans. That poor dog. With Sniffles for an owner. I mean, maybe she ran away when I was getting killed and made it to the reservation or something and now has a better owner. An owner that isn't Sniffles. I mean, but that is what I was trying to say. If the whole thing was about how Sniffles owed money to the Matron for a motel room arrears, I mean, that would be like $100 dollars or something. You don't need a Lander Valley Tigers duffel bag to move that amount of money around. All you would need is a pocket. Or a wallet. I mean, even a closed hand would do it. I mean, the more I think about this the more confusing it gets. I think I will just shut it off for a while. Try and figure out why I feel so icky down below. I mean, I kind of feel like an ingrown hair of sorts. Just poking out a little bit. I mean, I wish someone would come and yank on my head or something. Pull me loose from my moorings. Squeeze me free. I mean, I feel both tight and loose at the same time. I mean, not to be gross again, but I feel like a constipation shit. I mean, I feel stuck but also surrounded by juices. I just want to get out, but there is no movement. I mean, that is more closer to what I feel like than the teenage boner thing I was saying earlier. I mean, I just feel like I want to get out. Out of whatever the hell I am inside of. And I really do feel gross about it. I mean, I can just feel whatever it is boiling up inside. But not inside. Do you know what I mean? I just feel gross. That is all I mean. Like really gross. Which, I won't lie, this scares me a little. I mean, in all possibility and all plausibility I got murdered at some point in the last couple days. And whatever I am now, I mean, whatever this dangling really is, it is not good for me. I mean, I am really starting to think the drugs are not going to wear off. I mean, if there ever were drugs in the first place. The roofie that Sniffles gave me. I mean, I think his roofie was just a bottle of gin and full pack of Doral 100s. I mean, I did the rest. I mean, he did his sneaky drink maneuver, but so what. I was the one that got so drunk that I woke up with a mouthful of shag carpet and a dog licking my naked heel. Not him. All he did was help me along. I mean, on purpose, but I was the idiot that thought it would be a grand idea to drink enough gin to choke a horse. I mean, right? Say what you want about Sniffles, and there is a lot to say, but I don't think he dropped any ketamine in my gin or whatever. I think he did something a little more au natural as the French would say. I mean, you can lead a drunk to gin, but you can't get him to drink it all and pass out on a skanky motel room floor in Lander fucking Wyoming without him wanting to. Am I right?

Whatever. I guess I should stop feeling sorry for myself. It turns out the anger that I thought that was going to save me was just a red herring. I mean, whatever is happening to me right now was going to happen anyway. I mean, I guess the idea now is that I got murdered, my body doesn't know it yet and here I dangle, broken hearted, came to watch and the Matron farted. Haha. You know what I mean? Gallows humor or something. I mean, what the hell do I know about death? I mean, nothing, that is what. I mean, sure, I think about it enough. I mean, not in any real sort of way, but like in the abstract or whatever. I mean, I just wonder what I did when the business couple killed me? Did I like beg for my life? Did I yell to JuJu Beans to run away? I mean, if I think about it I was probably really hungover when it happened. I mean, maybe I was thankful. Like, whatever, a lifetime of getting nowhere fast. Using my influence to get other people to do my work for me? I mean, I told you before and I am telling you now, those dumb-asses had everything they got coming to them. I didn't force nobody to do shit. I paid them well. I mean, I paid them less than they would have gotten if they just went to the main guy or whatever. I mean, what the hell do I know about things. I mean, in all honest truth, they wouldn't have even gotten the job if it wasn't for me. Which, I mean, that makes me a job creator, right? So, I mean, if this has anything to do with them, fuck them. Fuck whoever thinks that that is something that is because of me in the first place. I mean, they knew the risks. I knew the risks. I just got paid more than they did. Is that really a crime? So much of a crime that I need to be murdered by a weird business couple? I mean, who wears a perm this day and age? A suit and hat? I mean, I guess really that is what I find the most confounding about all of this, I mean, what the hell did I do to deserve this fate? Nothing, that is what. If anyone deserves to be murdered in the badlands it is Sniffles, or the Matron, or Danny, or the weird business couple. Or, I mean, Tony, that fucker from jail, not the Tony from the parking lot. I don't know what Tony that is. But the Tony from the jail. I mean, that fucker needs to be rotting in hell for eternity if you ask me. I mean, I don't want to even talk about it. The shit he said. The shit he did. Who kills a kid just to piss his mom off? l don't want to talk about it.

I mean, I guess I am dying. That is the only explanation. Fuck. I don't want to die. I am not done. I never made it California. I mean, me and JuJu Beans. On the open road. The window rolled down. So she can bite the air. Bite the smells. The wind blowing her ears. Me, eating an ice cream sandwich. Giving the booze up for good. I mean, that is really what did me in. The fucking booze. I mean, I guess. What really did me in was Sniffles, but he wouldn't have any sort of strangle hold on me if it wasn't for the booze. I mean, for crying in the night! I drove three hours to get here. Three hours from Casper to Lander just to drink gin in a skanky motel room with Sniffles. Can you imagine? What the hell lured me here? I mean, a pack of Doral 100s? I mean, I could have just smoked at home. In my apartment. Lying on bed. Lying on top of the butterfly pillows I bought in order to keep future girlfriends from breaking up with me. You know what I mean? But Sniffles and gin? Would you do that? Drive three hours to hang out with a loser in some skanky motel room in Lander fucking Wyoming? I mean, if I think about it at all I am making myself sick. Because it is just so stupid. I mean, to think of all the things in my life that I could have done. I mean, I know it is just money, but still, I have so much money in my apartment right now. I wouldn't have to do another, I wouldn't have to lift another, I mean, fuck. What the fuck have I done? And now Sniffles, that fucker, he is probably counting that money as we speak. Laughing his ass off. I mean, he probably is looking in my refrigerator, famished from counting all the money I have. Eating my leftover sandwich. Drinking my milk. Saying something stupid like, "Thanks Cioce, merry Christmas to you too." Or some such bullshit. I mean, I guess he isn't putting the money into a Lander Valley Tigers duffel bag. The business couple has that. But still, I think I have a duffel bag in my closet. Two, if I remember correctly. I mean, I didn't hide the money very well. I mean, why would I? Two days ago nobody was planning on murdering me. I mean, that isn't true. I mean, for all I know this ruse has been going on for weeks now. If not years. I mean, if I know Sniffles, it wasn't. I mean, he is too stupid for that amount of foresight. But still. Somebody put the idea in his head. I mean, I hate to say it, but it was probably me. And I probably said something quite some time ago that made him think this whole plan up. Which, fuck. I mean, it is one thing to get done dirty by some genius or something, but that genius to be Sniffles? That is a low blow. Fuck. How stupid am I? I mean, all he really needed to do was raise enough money to hire some goons to kill me. And then, at the right time, he just lures me to a skanky motel in Lander fucking Wyoming. I mean, the plan is just so fucking simple. I mean, what the hell? I mean, I guess I let my guard down. But so what? I mean, I wouldn't do Sniffles this way, I am a little surprised he has it in him. I mean, what is done is done, but still. I mean, really, there is nothing else to think about. I am my own worse enemy, I guess. Fucking, Sniffles.

I mean, what I don't understand is why it is taking so long? If I am dying, right? I mean, if my body is buried in some shallow grave in the badlands somewhere between Casper and Lander. I mean, the business couple has their money. The Matron and Danny have their money. Sniffles is probably at his mom's. Down in the basement. Two duffel bags filled with my money. Probably yelling at her to make him a sandwich or something. JuJu Beans cowering in the corner because Sniffles forgot to take her out to piss and then when she pissed on the carpet he beat her. I mean, poor JuJu Beans. I mean, what else is there for me? I mean, maybe death doesn't work that way? You can't just put all the ducks in a row and then voila, the great unknown. I mean, I don't understand why I am still here. I mean, I assume it is because for some reason god wanted me to actually understand what happened to myself, or whatever, right? I mean, I would hope that is the way things worked. Like you get everything explained to you before you die or something, right? But yet, I mean, I just get this weird greasy feeling of constraint? That doesn't seem right. And I guess god wanted me to see the Matron's butthole fart out an orgasm? That seems odd to me. I mean, maybe that is the true mystery here, like I was sent to this earth to figure out what made the Matron tick? I mean, that seems tortuous. I think. To me at least. I mean, I don't know any more about how she ticks than I did two days ago. I mean, I know she has a thing for women in perms. But why that is, I don't know. I mean, I assume it is a smell thing, but I can't smell shit. I can just look and listen. And now, I guess, feel greasy like a teenagers boner or an ingrown hair or a constipated turd. I mean, what that has to do with death, I don't know. I mean, I won't lie, I am more confused than ever. As to why I am dangling here like a salty booger in this skanky motel room in Lander fucking Wyoming. I mean, I guess if there was a god he would release me by now. Instead, I got nothing. I mean, I don't even know what to say. I guess I will just wait it out. But still, I won't lie, I am getting a little freaked out about. I mean, maybe I am wrong, but I don't have much time left in this world. I mean, if anything that I think is even remotely true. But still. It's not like I can do anything about it. I mean, right?