Slayer of the Rot
01-24-07, 10:53 PM
I just finished the last few pages of Chuck Palahniuk's book, "Haunted". Some people will know him as a writer who packs his stories with fantastically described, gory, and otherwise down right chilling descriptions into his stories, and some will know him as the writer of "Fight Club". Yes, the book on which the movie featuring Brad Pitt and Edward Norton was based.
"Haunted" is a collection of short stories concerning some important, often eyebrow raising event in one of the character's past, such as Saint Gutless' accidental disembowlment during one of life's more embarassing situation, the high class footjobs from the hands of Mother Nature, or the truth behind Miss Sneezy's constant allergy. Between these short stories however, were poems entailing peices of the character's view on the world, or thoughts on what they'd done. I don't have anything so terrible to offer up, so I'm not going to write a short story, but try my hand at the poem Mr. Palahniuk constructed.
_____
"I have very strange tastes," the Caesar of Coins says, "Change, paper, recognition."
All of America tells you to watch what you eat.
The Caesar of Coins onstage, hands hidden deep in pockets littered with wrappers,
face bent,
the dark of his forgotten beard hiding his mouth.
Shoulders slumped, so the black of his sweatshirt hides his body.
Dirty black shoes, leather crinkled and worn, the shine of a coin pokes out of a hole in the toe.
He pulls his hood up, withdrawing more from the world, slipping a stick of gum in his mouth
before shoving the little tin wrapper into his cluttered pocket.
Onstage, instead of a spotlight, a movie fragment,
footage from a public education video about the US Mint spilling
glimmering pennies, dimes, nickels, and quarters
over what is not recessed in shadow.
The brilliant shine is brightest over his stomach
Where the film warps
The coins bending inwards to fall forever into a whirlpool gut.
"People, they always want a clown," The Caesar of Coins
says, "No matter what they say."
He holds a ten cent peice over his head, and drops it into his mouth
swallows
and grins, grins, grins as they all point and laugh.
Laughter they say, is the best medicine, he tells the nurse
who isn't laughing.
"They melt in your stomach," she says, poking him in the belly,
"Until the lining in it is so heavy it'll rip open your flesh and spill out your guts."
After that, the Caesar of Coins doesn't carry loose change anymore.
The coins shine in the whites of his eyes as he looks up, lips pursed
as the pennies shimmer like fire over his body.
Stray crumbs cling in his whiskers, holding on regardless of his cursing
Sweeping the back of his hand across his mouth.
"Despite all that," the Caesar of Coins says, "They expected more."
Eating hot dogs in one bite, saying vulgar, silly lies
Puking on command, tripping himself, rolling onto the hoods of moving cars.
Him, the sacrifice for the expense of a laugh.
From the blaring silver and burning brass, the colors change to a stark, sterile
hospital room white, a black rubber tentacle feeding down his hungry maw.
The feeling of it all being sucked out of you until the container rattles violently
the feeling that you're being completely emptied.
Eyes glazed
Drawing shallow, scattered breaths
The white so clean it drilled his teeth like bit hard candy.
The Caesar of Coins says,
"I shouldn't have eaten the quarter."
_____
Basic structure (Movie fragment, concept of stage, placing of dialogue and detail) should be attributed to Chuck Palahniuk. Other content is all originally mine, and do note -- I am not in anyway depressed, before you swill suckers start asking. Comment the writing, not my personal mood.
"Haunted" is a collection of short stories concerning some important, often eyebrow raising event in one of the character's past, such as Saint Gutless' accidental disembowlment during one of life's more embarassing situation, the high class footjobs from the hands of Mother Nature, or the truth behind Miss Sneezy's constant allergy. Between these short stories however, were poems entailing peices of the character's view on the world, or thoughts on what they'd done. I don't have anything so terrible to offer up, so I'm not going to write a short story, but try my hand at the poem Mr. Palahniuk constructed.
_____
"I have very strange tastes," the Caesar of Coins says, "Change, paper, recognition."
All of America tells you to watch what you eat.
The Caesar of Coins onstage, hands hidden deep in pockets littered with wrappers,
face bent,
the dark of his forgotten beard hiding his mouth.
Shoulders slumped, so the black of his sweatshirt hides his body.
Dirty black shoes, leather crinkled and worn, the shine of a coin pokes out of a hole in the toe.
He pulls his hood up, withdrawing more from the world, slipping a stick of gum in his mouth
before shoving the little tin wrapper into his cluttered pocket.
Onstage, instead of a spotlight, a movie fragment,
footage from a public education video about the US Mint spilling
glimmering pennies, dimes, nickels, and quarters
over what is not recessed in shadow.
The brilliant shine is brightest over his stomach
Where the film warps
The coins bending inwards to fall forever into a whirlpool gut.
"People, they always want a clown," The Caesar of Coins
says, "No matter what they say."
He holds a ten cent peice over his head, and drops it into his mouth
swallows
and grins, grins, grins as they all point and laugh.
Laughter they say, is the best medicine, he tells the nurse
who isn't laughing.
"They melt in your stomach," she says, poking him in the belly,
"Until the lining in it is so heavy it'll rip open your flesh and spill out your guts."
After that, the Caesar of Coins doesn't carry loose change anymore.
The coins shine in the whites of his eyes as he looks up, lips pursed
as the pennies shimmer like fire over his body.
Stray crumbs cling in his whiskers, holding on regardless of his cursing
Sweeping the back of his hand across his mouth.
"Despite all that," the Caesar of Coins says, "They expected more."
Eating hot dogs in one bite, saying vulgar, silly lies
Puking on command, tripping himself, rolling onto the hoods of moving cars.
Him, the sacrifice for the expense of a laugh.
From the blaring silver and burning brass, the colors change to a stark, sterile
hospital room white, a black rubber tentacle feeding down his hungry maw.
The feeling of it all being sucked out of you until the container rattles violently
the feeling that you're being completely emptied.
Eyes glazed
Drawing shallow, scattered breaths
The white so clean it drilled his teeth like bit hard candy.
The Caesar of Coins says,
"I shouldn't have eaten the quarter."
_____
Basic structure (Movie fragment, concept of stage, placing of dialogue and detail) should be attributed to Chuck Palahniuk. Other content is all originally mine, and do note -- I am not in anyway depressed, before you swill suckers start asking. Comment the writing, not my personal mood.