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Order this writing in the collection book Life on the Edge this huge volume is available for only $2395 |
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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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Explode
Damion Hamilton
Tony was really mad now. It was one of those things that really shouldn’t have bothered him, but for some reason had piqued his nerves now. Someone had called him horseface. It was childish thing to say, and he remembered people saying things like that to each other all the time, especially when he was younger, but this really bothered him this time, and he felt as if he were about to explode from rage. Why did people say such things to each other, he thought. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if it were a kid who had uttered this inanity, but it was an adult. And it wasn’t addressed to him personally, he just heard it in passing, and saw those people laughing at him. They didn’t think he heard, but he did. Now he stood in the mirror studying his reflection. Perhaps he did have a horse’s face. But what was wrong with looking like a horse. Tony liked horses.
He went over certain things in his life, and they began to make sense. Perhaps people only judged people, for the most part by their appearance. And this would explain why, he felt like an outsider for most of his life. He looked in the mirror, and said this face had done it. He felt that throughout his life people were laughing at him, now he knew why. He felt rage; he felt the blood racing through his body, the heart pounding like an orchestra in his ears. The solitude of his room made him hate himself. So he had to leave his room, he wanted to hate somebody else.
He began driving up and down the streets with anger imbibing his thoughts. The streets were sparse though. He drove more reckless than normal, tailgating cars, and cutting drivers off. He wanted some conflict, and to prove himself in a conflict. He was waiting at a red light, and car pulled up behind him, with this guy’s music blaring loudly, Tony sneered at the guy, but he paid him no attention. Tony looked in the mirror and studied, noticing a real horse face. He studied the mirror for some time, and didn’t notice that the light had changed from red to green. The guy, behind him blew, and Tony was startled and angered from being awaked from his reverie. He flipped the guy off, and guy proceeded to swear badly at him, and honked his horn vigorously. Tony signaled for him to pull over at the next light, but the guy kept on driving. One couldn’t avoid something that would anger them, everyday it seemed. His heart was pumping adrenaline and hatred through his body strongly now. He had to calm down, so he stopped off at a liquor store to get some beer. He stopped at a local parking lot and proceeded to drink the beer until it soothed his nerves. He wanted to go somewhere. But where? He got a train somewhere he knew there would be a lot of people around, a local entertainment district. He walked around with a vague notion, that he wanted to start some trouble with someone. He didn’t know with whom though. He sat on a bench and watched people walk up and down the street. He felt as if he could take most of the guys though. As he walked he gave the air of violence, so people avoided him as he passed. A feeling of violence compounded with a longing for sex, as he stared as the female bodies walking down the street, while he snarled at the men. He saw a few people give strange glances and he saw smile on their faces. Were they laughing at his horse’s face? He wanted to ask them were they laughing at him. But he figured he wouldn’t get an honest answer. Thus he went along vaguely angered; not knowing were to channel his rage.
He sat outside of a coffeeshop, and brooded, watched people moving along the boulevard. It felt good to sit down and brood for a moment, and watch people do things. Where were they going? What plans did they have? He could lose himself in a crowd, and in a large crowd, of so many different types of people he didn’t feel so out of place. He watched people, even though he pretended not to watch, especially when someone made eye contact with him. He hated being stared at himself, so he knew how others might feel if he stared at them for too long. A giant walked past, a man who stood about seven feet tall, Tony wondered how would it feel to be that big. When one was that large, one couldn’t just blend in with the crowd. He remembered one time in particular when he was little drunk, he walked up to guy who was about his size and asked him tall he was, and the man seemed rather annoyed with him, and ashamed, even though Tony was filled with gleeful awe. He vowed he wouldn’t do that again, even though he wanted to. When one sits down and watches a parade of bodies’ walk by, one can lose themselves to that parade of bodies. The self and all one’s problems seem to go away. One is apart of the crowd, but one is at the distance.
Most of time in coffeehouses people seem to be in pairs, or groups; but Tony watched a rather large woman sit down at a table adjacent to him. He looked at her directly and quickly glanced away, he kept dreaming and watched the crowds of people walk by. As he watched people, it felt as if he was being watched. He looked in the woman’s direction and saw that she was staring at him. Was she staring at his horse’s face? He began to grow angered. He couldn’t just sit down somewhere, without someone staring at him.
He looked at her directly and asked, “what are you looking at.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for staring, I just was wondering why are sitting alone?”
This mollified Tony. “Oh, I just come here to people watch, that’s all— it’s relaxing.”
“Yeah, I know, but it seems a little lonely to me. When everybody is together on such a fine day. It’s hard to be alone, with so many have somebody.”
“Yeah, I know.
“Would you like some company.”
Yeah, I don’t mind.”
She got up and proceeded to sit at his table. She was shabbily dressed, and quite large, but had a kind and pretty face.
“There’s a lot of people around, aren’t there,” she said. “But I’m sure that most of the guys here are probably gay.”
Tony was thinking the same thing. “But not quite gay, they call them metrosexuals. They seem to gravitate towards places like this though. They do have a certain look though—clean cut, well shaven and stylishly dressed.”
“Well, I think they are all gay. None of them want a date. Don’t any of them like women?”
“A lot of them, probably have plenty of girlfriends though.”
“Well would you happen to be interested in a date?”
“What kind of date?”
“Well, you know what kind of date,” she said while blushing. “A big strong guy like you. I know you are not a fag.”
“Oh, that kind of date.”
“Yeah, I recently fell on some hard times. And I needed some money to buy things. And my parents kicked me out of their house. So I was wondering if we went on date, if you could help me out?”
“Yeah, I would love to help you out, but what is your name?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s Lisa. And yours.”
“Tony.”
“Well why don’t we leave here, and go someplace better. I got a spot.”
“Yeah, I’ll just finish this first.”
Tony quickly drained about a third of a cup of coffee he had, and got up and threw it in the trash. Lisa smiled at him, and he returned a wry one. And they were off.
It was obvious that girl was a prostitute, and this annoyed Tony’s great self-pride. He wondered what people were thinking as he walked with her. She took him to an apartment complex, making affectionate gestures towards him: grabbing his hand, and stroking his arm. She complimented his appearance, and this was able to curb some of the anxiety he had, in regards to his appearance. The apartment complex, was in an area just on the edge of the entertainment district, it was in a dingy low rent area, he saw a couple of hard, sluggish individuals hanging around. She nodded to them, and they made their way through the corridors of the building.
He had an innate feeling that he should not go with her, but he felt impaled all the same, she grabbed him by the hand as they navigated through the dark corridors of the building. There was a sense of danger, for him, because he did not know her. And had heard stories all the time of prostitutes leading guys somewhere to get beaten or robbed. She sensed his nervousness, tried to mollify him, by rubbing his arms and talking sweetly.
“Come on baby, relax,” she said. She opened up a doorway which led to fire escape. No one was around; the building seemed barely populated, as he followed her hesitantly.
“I really shouldn’t do this,” he said rather weakly.
She looked at him, and smiled, while she felt the crouch of his pants.
When she started caressing his pants, Tony knew that he was not leaving. It felt too good. He was being caressed by stranger, and there was something dangerous and exciting about it. Prostitution was illegal. He felt so lonely most of the time, but her hands were right there; near him. He closed his eyes and moaned as she stroked him more vigorously. He forgot all about his sorrows, and how he looked and how he felt. Here was another human being smiling at him: touching, caressing him, and looking into his eyes. This felt good. Even though she was a prostitute. He felt as if a police officer would come onto the patio at any second. He had to hurry it up. He ejaculated and felt pretty good. He resigned himself, into that state of bliss for a couple of minutes. They caressed, and when looked up, she was laughing at him, and looking in his face. Tony asked her, what was she laughing at; but she said nothing. Tony presumed that she was laughing at his face. He felt red-hot rage building up inside of him. There was the feeling of injustice—as if being tricked by her kindness. He grabbed her, and began choking her, and when she got down on her knees, he began to punch her. And when she began lying on the ground, he began to kick her. “Shut up bitch,” was all he said, while pleading for him to stop.
