[9] Soft Elbows

[9]

Well, that was something. I wonder what it was? I mean, I know what it seemed like. Impossible to recreate, apparently. I mean, emotions were involved. I don't even know. Anger, I guess. But so what? I mean, I have been dangling here for quite a while now trying to get worked up again. Nothing doing. I guess. I mean, I was a little distracted. A car pulled into the motel parking lot. Someone got out and yelled, "Yo, Tony! Let's roll!" I guess Tony came around, because there was the sound of two doors slamming and the car driving away. A little while later I saw the shadow of the Matron pushing the cart by. I mean, I assume it was the Matron. It kind of seemed like her. The shadow. I mean, if I think about it, there was no real indication before that it was her pushing the cart by before. You know what I mean. Lucky guess, I suppose. I mean, who else would it be? Danny, maybe. You can never really tell sometimes, I mean, there are quite a few assumptions in this world if you think about it. I mean, the most simple being the most plausible or whatever. I mean, who else could it have been before if not the Matron and she did come into the room to nap and fart one out. I mean, the proof was in the pudding as they say. But just now, the shadow, I can only assume it was the Matron. Maybe Danny. Maybe there is a third person hanging around doing services or something. I mean, I doubt it. This skank-hole doesn't seem like the kind of place that has help. I mean, not paid help, I mean. Maybe there is a kid or something. The Matron has a kid or something, that comes around sometimes or something. But that seems dumb. She doesn't really seem like a mom-type. But so what? It is not like there is some sort of test to be a parent or something. I mean, she might just be a crappy mom or something. Or maybe she is a great mom and she keeps her kid out of the business mostly or something. I mean, I don't know why I am thinking this, it really is very unlikely that it wasn't the Matron that pushed the cleaning cart by the window. I mean, I guess there was just something about the shadow that made me have these thoughts or something. I mean, I got nothing to glean from anything. Not in any real sense. I mean, I just got my eyes and ears to have a look around with. I mean, all I am saying is that the shadow seemed weird. I couldn't tell you why. Just a hunch. But still. I mean, this is what I have been trying to figure out. I mean, I guess I kind of forgot all about trying to feel something again. But now that there is no way to solve the mystery of the unknown shadow, I mean, I guess I just have to wait around again until whoever it was that pushed the cart by the window pushes the cart back by. I mean, and then I can maybe get a better shadow or something. I mean, in all real possibility it was the Matron. I mean, there was just a sense that it could be someone else. I mean, and Tony. Who was Tony? And who picked him up? And why? I mean, it seems like he is gone for good. Or she? Tony is neutral name. But the way the guy called out the name and how he did it. That makes me think Tony is a dude. I suppose. I mean, "Yo Tony! Let's roll!" That is something a dude would say to another dude.

Either way, there is nothing to do about anything. It must be late morning now. Judging by the light outside. Whatever that means. I mean, I just wish Sniffles would come back. Do something to help me out somehow. Like spray a spray or something that dissolves this contraption I am dangling in. I mean, I mean that like a metaphor or whatever. But for a second. When I was upset or whatever, when I felt something briefly, it did feel like my body was stuck inside something. Something that I was pushing against. I mean, it did feel a little like I was trapped under some covers or something. Like a tightly made bed at a hotel. I mean, I wouldn't say motel, because in my experience the motel beds I have stayed in. I mean, you just kind of plug your nose and hope or the best. I mean, hopefully quite drunk so you don't really think about it. Or if you do, you think it is kind of funny. I mean, these marks look like bed bugs, HAHAHA, I hope they don't keep me up all night. Then you wake up scratching like the Dickens and you're hungover and the joke isn't funny anymore. Or worse yet, fleas. Crabs. Scabies. Anything that stays with you. I mean, the bed bugs will stay with you, but they are slow to move. It takes some time to get them truly rooted in. But fleas and crabs and scabies. Those fuckers move fast. And not only that, but you have go to the pharmacy or whatever, a doctor to deal with that shit. With bed bugs you just got to wash your clothes or whatever. There is no oil or lotion or whatever that you need to get rid of them. I mean, poison, but they are more like cockroaches than they are like scabies. I mean, they don't crawl under the skin and eat you from the inside like scabies. They don't glom onto your pubic hair and just stay there, biting the day and night away. I mean, head lice is another thing, but luckily washing a pillow case is easy. I mean, my theory is that motels just wash the pillow cases. They wash the sheets sometimes. Maybe if someone shits the bed or has a menstrual issue. I mean, they definitely don't wash the bedspreads. You can tell just by how greasy they always are. I mean, I guess when I felt what I felt, it seemed more like a hotel bed than a motel bed. I mean, in hotel beds they usually change the sheets. I mean, I think they almost always change the sheets. And when they put them back on, they pull them so tight that you could break your foot if you got into bed wrong, you know what I mean? And the more expensive the hotel room, the tighter the sheets. I think that must be on purpose. Like they want you to know that they changed the sheets. I mean, that seems logical, considering. I mean, if you are paying good money to stay in a hotel room, you would want them to change the sheets, right? I mean, that is what the feeling was. When I had all those emotions. It felt like I was suddenly in a hotel bed. Like I wanted to kick my legs and feet around to get some room. But I couldn't. I mean, the feeling was very fleeting, but that is how I would describe it. Like being in a tight hotel room bed.

Either way, I haven't been able to recreate those emotions. I did try. I tried and tried. But then I got distracted because of the peculiar shadow. I mean, I still don't think it was that odd. I just have too much time on my hands. And for whatever reason the shadow gave me feelings. I mean, impressions. I mean, the shadow just seemed odd is all. But maybe that is it? Maybe the Matron was just depressed or something? Like she was more hunched over than before. Or something. I mean, she doesn't strike me as a happy person. In fact, she strikes me as the opposite. She seems very miserable. But, I mean, she does seem quite resigned to whatever it is she is doing with her life. I mean, I don't know anything about her aside from the fact that she runs a skanky motel in Lander. Supposedly. I mean, I don't really know that, but I do know that the cops come around sometimes and they seem to know her. Or at least one cop does. I mean, maybe they have a special relationship? The cop and the Matron. I mean, I don't know. I mean, I seem to be the only one around here that is out of the loop about what goes on around here. And for good reason. I mean, I don't even know. I came here one night. Then I woke up looking at myself lying on the floor with a dog licking my naked heel. And then my body got up. Went to my car. A 2002 Chrysler Sebring normal colored. Took the dog with me. And drove off into the early morning sun. I mean, I don't think it was that early, but you know what I mean. I took off. That is what I mean. I mean, I must have been hungover because of all the gin I drank the night before. And all the Doral 100s I smoked the night before. And if I am right in my thinking, I drank most of that bottle because Sniffles did a sneaky drink maneuver on me. Drugged me. Slathered bacon grease on my naked heel. Left the door open like an animal. And left. I mean, my point is, I have just been a victim to all sorts of intrigue for no fucking reason. I mean, why am I the one that is out of the loop here? I mean, if anything I shouldn't even be here. I should have told Sniffles to go fuck himself. I mean, I drive three hours from fucking Casper to buy him a bottle of gin and a pack of Doral 100s and all he does is fake me out, get me drunk and then drug me. And now I am some salty booger dangling from a skanky motel room wondering about an odd shadow that may or may not mean that someone else is maybe cleaning the room that Tony was in? I mean, who the hell is Tony? And where the fuck in Sniffles? And me? My body or whatever. I mean, it all seems very unfair. I mean, even Danny gets to be in on the thing. Danny! That drunken boob. With his undying love for the Matron. I mean, that is conjecture, but the way he acted. The way that he didn't really care about the dog. JuJu Beans. I mean, just calling her the dog. The Matron too. I mean, and then the cop is even in on the cahoots. I mean, whatever. I mean, it this all just bad karma from having the softest elbows in town? Like, I mean, finally I have to actually do the stupid work I have been getting other dumb-asses to do? Like all those years of just collecting instead of working? I mean, like all the hours between Greeley and Casper. The boring drive. The meeting up with the sketchy dudes to get the things that I am supposed to be getting that instead I just hire a dumb-ass to get? I mean, that would be funny. If this was just pay-back for all the boring travel and illegal shit that I didn't want to be part of, yet I still made good money doing? I mean, I know of a few dumb-asses that went to jail on my behalf. But so what? They knew what they were getting into. And it wasn't my fault that they didn't take the necessary precautions to avoid getting pulled over. I mean, it's not hard to not get pulled over. You just concentrate on the road. Obey traffic lights and speed limits. Have recent tags and insurance or whatever. I mean, the cops don't pull you over for nothing. I mean, that isn't exactly true, but when they do pull you over, you just stay calm. Give them your shit and they write you a ticket and then you drive off. Make sure and pay the ticket. And, I mean, you will be fine, right? I mean, I wasn't the dumb-ass with a warrant out for my arrest, or the dumb-ass that decided to go 50 mph in a school zone or the dumb-ass that tried to outrun the cops. I mean, I paid them all good money for what they did. I mean, it is not my fault at all that shit went down the way it did, right? But if I am being punished for that, I mean, that would be pretty funny. I mean, I don't lack a sense of humor. I think. I mean, if there is a god and if that god is pissed at me so he makes me dangle around some skanky motel room in Lander because a bunch of dumb-asses had to take the four hour drive. I mean, that isn't that much driving. I mean, if I am being punished for that, I mean, I would imagine I have about another day or two and then I should be free. I mean, I won't lie, it is a long boring ride. But still, even if you add a few hours just for boring shit, I mean, I still think I only have a couple days of penance or whatever. I mean, if anything is fair in this world. Which, it probably isn't, but if it was, I mean, I shouldn't have much more time here, dangling.

I mean, but still. There is no indication that something like that is happening. I mean, it is just a funny idea. A funny theory. I mean, if I think about it, the only real possibility is that I was drugged and somehow I just have to wait for the drug to wear off. I mean, somehow. Like there is a thing that I need to figure out. I mean, that is not what I mean. I mean, I just have to wait. That is what I mean. And somehow not go insane with waiting. I mean, I have no choice. Whatever it is. There is no somehow about it. I am just going to dangle here until I am no longer dangling here. Watching the Matron farting one out every day. Watching a bit of television. Then, I don't know, trying to solve the mystery of the odd shadow. I mean, hold on. She is pushing the cart back by. Oh, okay. It is her. I can tell by the way she is walking. Well, shit. That mystery is solved. I mean, she sure didn't take long in Tony's room. That's too bad for the next poor fellow that comes around. I mean, maybe she just went in there to fart one out or something. Take a little nap. Maybe Tony has the room for a few days? I mean, anything is possible. Maybe all she had to do was make the bed and grab a couple dirty towels? That is possible, right? What do I know? I don't think I have ever spent this much time thinking about motel actions. Ever. I mean, I know I haven't. I mean, until yesterday I don't think I have spent one second thinking about what happens at motel rooms when I wasn't in one. I mean, and even when I was in one, it was only to do drugs or drink or sleep or all three things. I mean, there was that time with Debby the stripper from Denver but still, even then, we were just doing drugs, drinking, sleeping and every now and again trying to have sex. I mean, I don't remember much sex happening. I know we tried a few times. I remember her losing use of her nostrils which then led to me blowing coke up her asshole, which, I mean, I won't lie, still gives me a little thrill. I mean, at the moment it is just cerebral, but still, I remember it like yesterday. Licking her butthole so it got lubed up or whatever, then scooping up a bunch of coke into the dollar bill tube, then sliding it inside. Then PUFF! I mean, it was all very dirty. I mean, I couldn't get it up at that point. I remember that. And then we slept for about six hours. I mean, when we woke up her nose was working again, so it only happened that once, but still. It was very wild. But then, like I said, it ended badly and who knows if she ever made it back to Denver. I mean, I am quite certain she spent that $300 bucks on more blow. I mean, maybe she and the cab driver holed up in some other motel room on the way back. I mean, if I think about it, it is probably for the best that I was a flaccid fish for most of those days. I mean, no offense to Debby, but she had a few problems. I wish her the best.

Where was I at? I feel like I was making some progress about something before I got sidetracked by the Fort Collins adventure. I mean, oh! Motels. I mean, even when we were hanging out in the motel all those days, me and Debby, I never thought about motels. I mean, aside from making sure we had one of those door danglers that said to leave us alone. I mean, I know what happens in motels. I guess. About room service and whatever. But I don't think I have every really given the whole process much thought. I mean, I know I haven't. I mean, who would? Aside from like somebody that works there, or owns one, right? I mean, I'm not some sort of motel pervert. I don't think. I mean, the only time I end up in one is when I am doing some sort of travelling. And even then it is just for a few hours. To sleep or meet up with someone or both. I mean, plus the drinking and the drugs or whatever. I mean, it is never for more than a day. At most. And never have I ever just hung out in a motel room wondering what the inner lives of the people that own them or work at them are. I mean, you know what I mean? I mean, I guess my point is, I don't know what my point is. I mean, my only interest now is just because of how things worked out for me. How the Matron and Danny and Sniffles and JuJu Beans and the cop and my own body have to do with anything that is actually happening. Right now. Right here. I mean, I think I said it before, you don't wake up with a mouthful of shag carpet and a dog licking your naked heel without knowing how you got there. I mean, I guess I did, and I don't. I don't know. I mean, I blacked out so bad that I became a dangler on a wall. I mean, I assume I am on a wall. I can't see myself. But I assume. I assume I am in a corner. I feel like I am in a corner. I mean, what this really has to do with anything, I don't know, but now that I am here, I mean, things that never would have occurred to me are suddenly ripe with intrigue. I mean, I don't know. I don't have shit to do but watch and wait. Can you blame me for making up some sort of narrative about it all? I mean, the brain is a useless hunk of wires, but if you leave it alone dangling from some skanky motel room in Lander fucking Wyoming, I mean, you are going to get some awful truths about what the human brain is capable of. I mean, I guess. I mean, what the hell do I know? I haven't spent this much time doing nothing ever. And this is coming from somebody that has spent much of his adult life avoiding doing anything at all. I mean, I have the softest elbows in town for a reason.