Anthology Two Presents

Jack Crowley
"Naked and Alive"
By David J. Mollett

So there i was, you fat fuck sitting in your truck and blurting coffee breath all over your so-called friends. Want to know what i meant by that last phone call? Well, here it is. listen up, dickhead.

'So, V, you made your decision?'

'Yeah, i made my decision, you sick fuck, and my decision is fuck you.'

'Are you sure? i mean, you don't know who you're dealin' with, and also-'

'i don't give a rat's arse who i'm dealin' with. you're full of shit and you wanna know why?' She didn't wait for an answer, the fatal bitch, 'Because i know there ain't no photos of my shit for brains father in existence like the ones you show, so i'm not fallin' for any of your cheap arse P.I. shit, you got that. i call your bluff, you bastard. how do you reply to that, then?'

'How about dinner? i got a table already booked for 7 at Reste's, and i got something to show you.'

'Are you tryin' to make me laugh, arsehole, or what?'

'Well, you are already wearing a slightly faded and old fashioned red satin dress right now, you have 3 inch heels ready to be put on, and your hair is not yet done. on your slightly pretentious make-up table you have an equally pretentious Chanel number 7 ready to be put on. don't you realise, baby, that real men prefer the natural scent above all others? Ain't you read Nietszche?'

'Nietzsche who?'

Pause.

'Okay, i'll be there.'

So the mystery woman don't bother with the accessories, don't bother with the make-up or the perfume - after all, when you're invisible i guess perfume wouldn't be a good idea eh? well, she heads off to Reste's without being seen and scouts out the place for this annoying sonofabitch private dick but -

'Can i help you, madam?'

It's the maitre d. how can he see me, she thinks. And without waiting for a response he shows her to her table. 'your host will be here in a quarter of an hour, milady. he sends his apologies, but he was caught up. he requests you have an aperitif. if i could recommend-'

'Yeah, whatever.' Says the invisible woman.

But everyone looks at her. Everyone can see her. And she looks crap. Not like a society lady at all. She wonders what the fuck is going on.

'A vodka rocks, milady' Says the waiter. 'Complements of the gentleman at the bar.' She looks up, can't see no gentle man at the bar. Starts getting seriously fucked up. When suddenly there's a tap on her shoulder. She looks behind her. There ain't nobody there.

'i know you like vodka.' Comes a familiar voice. 'So do i.'

She sees the chair opposite her move a little, and the sound of someone sitting down, drawing it inwards. 'i recommend the squid.' He says. 'Although i think, personally, i'll be having the veal. i had squid here yesterday.'

'Wha-?'

'You see, baby, i get whores like you every fucking day. As far as i'm concerned you're just goddamn calamari squirming around in beds or waving your gorgeous thighs about dancing in lovely spirals. sure, i can have you whenever i want, and you'll just think it's some ENTITY fucking you. You get such stories all the time in The X-Files. You're so scared that you don't
want to remember his face, well. you know my voice, don't you, V?'

'Yeah, i know you. No fucking way i'm having squid. i'll have you.'

But secretly she is becoming afraid, because everyone is looking at her talking to nobody and everybody everybody everybody can see her.

But no one sees me. No one knows and no one sees me because they're all drinking themselves senseless and they will not know because only in such an ordinary world of normal people will superheroes thrive. If humans were themselves and they took self-responsibility and tolerated and loved and knew their own souls then what place superman? Superman becomes normal. for humans will always be better.

And she, she, she talks to thin air for half an hour, and drinks vodka but there is no answer, no answer to any of her stupid questions because he has gone, he went straight away, after saying what he had to say, and so she is left on her own, on her own, on her own.

You are alone, baby, alone. You ain't no ghost. why should anyone be afraid o' you, baby? Why should anyone be afraid o' you? eh?

The lights start going out in the city. If you look from afar, from that volcano you can see them. all is black now. And nothing is safe...

In the summer, in the city...