jordan

A Slaughter-Studio

Jackie was sure that no one from a gang would go to Manhole to look for him. Manhole was a gay bar on North Halsted Street; where the proudest men flocked. Im sure Jackie still hides out there today, but just like his edgy life on the streets, thats another place I feel unwelcome.
Jackie was a skinny guy. He was part Russian and part Chinese. He could tell someone they were going straight to hell but if he flashed those dimples right afterward, hed be forgiven. Hell theyd go just for him. I met Jackie for the first time at a record store in Boys Town. A boring day was building up to become a reckless night. The sky was thick with clouds as blue as a pale girls varicose veins. I was a penniless joke flipping through the dusty collection of Hs. I looked up and saw Jackie. He was looking down at me, Im not sure how long, and an inward smile sprouted across his slightly tanned face. He looked dirty to me but when he came to stand next to me, he was odorless. Sorry, but Ive been waiting to go through the Hs. He smiled wildly when he said, Hs, and it sounded like ages.
For what? I asked.
Hole, he responded. His fingernails had pretty much been gnawed away. His clothes were baggy, especially his camouflage pants which hung down around the hips. He was wearing a white pair of boxer shorts. His fingers flipped fast from Helmet to Hole.
Really? You like Hole? I asked, surprised.
Oh, what, he said, rather vulgar. He tugged on the neck of his shirt and his face grew tense. You look at me and assume Im all about some Tupac or some shit?
I slightly shrugged and looked back down at the CDs, but my eyes werent focusing on anything. I wasnt even blinking. Jackie made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh and walked over to the counter to make his purchase. I studied the back of him. He had three moles on the back of his neck and his head was buzzed, sporting a thin field of strawberry blond hair. His lose fitting pants gave off the illusion that he had no ass. I heard the sound of his velcro wallet. His tone was emotionless when he rejected the clerks offer of stickers. Just as Jackie headed to the door the sky broke out in rambunctious thunder and rain poured within seconds in violent, blinding sheets. Huge raindrops pelted the hoods of cars, exploding into showers of tiny little drops. People hurried, using the newspapers they intended on reading at home later as umbrellas, faces wrinkled into a scowl as they searched for shelter just like the roaches in my place once I flicked on the light. Jackie sighed and shook his head; put off by the downpour He pulled his cell phone out and paced around the store. Yeah, man, where are you? he spoke into his phone, keeping his eyes down on a CD section. Because its raining bullets, thats why, for a minute or so he was silent, then he laughed. Ha, ha, very fucking funny. He spoke rather abrasive, walking by me, cleverly brushing his hand against my ass in a way that I couldnt object to because he made it seem so accidental. He went back to the window and watched the rain. Thunder roared and I thought I heard someone scream from somewhere on the street. Had this been a small southern town, everyone would have taken shelter already, fearing it was a hurricane. Yo, is Chris there? Jackie asked the other person on the phone. He turned around so he was facing the store. Yo, you still there? Jackie sighed, held the phone down so it was right in front of his crotch and frantically started pushing buttons. A violent bolt of lightning struck down behind him, impressively slicing a car in half. It was a little pink Miata, and now it was twins of burning metal. Holyshit! Jackie exclaimed, turning around. Its like the end of the fucking world, he spoke with rather childish enthusiasm. His fingers were still on the buttons of his phone. He looked at me and smiled about what happened. It was as if Id never offended him.
The clerk calmly approached the window. As he left the counter, he drummed his knuckles against the edge. He seemed passionately intrigued by the fiery car, but not at all put out with worry. He drank from his bottled water. His face folded into wrinkles like a wad of paper as he stared at the growing flames. Damn, Jackie said. Yo, he said, looking at the clerk, dont you think you should call somebody? At first the clerk didnt respond at all, he never looked away from the struck car. He seemed lost in a trance. He only moved to bring his water bottle back to his dry lips. He finally shook his head.
Well, in that case, can I use your phone? Mine just died, man. Jackie scratched his leg and looked at him.
Mine, too, the clerk responded flatly. Then, darkly and pointlessly, he said, I hope there are more fires like this. A lot more.
I busied myself with stuffing some CDs down my pants. I could sell them some place else later and afford groceries. Jackie turned around just as my fingers were slipping out of my pants. Im not sure if he caught on to my theft. What about you can I use your phone?
What makes you think I have a cell phone? I embarked.
You look like the type.
So, you look like the type that would listen to Tupac, I snapped.
Oh, fuck you both, Jackie said. Fuck the world, fuck this store; fuck this CD. In a boyish tantrum, he let the bag fall from his hand to the floor.
Hey, you, I called for Jackies attention. He turned around, his face a complete pout, and I tossed him my little red Motorola.
Thanks, he sounded anything but grateful. He quickly dialed a number. The rain was starting to slack off. The same storm that had caused the fire was providing enough rain to calm it.
At that point I noticed how funny Jackies ears were. They were pointy and rather big considering the size of his head. Yo, its me, he said into my phone. Im at this store on Belmont. Theres a goddamn car on fire, he said with the same excitement he had when it first happened. Ill be there in about half an hour. Cool. He clicked off. It was a couple of minutes before he spun around and tossed the phone back to me. I wasnt prepared and it hit me right in the tit. Sorry, he said, rushing out of the store.
As I left the store, the clerk was still standing in front of the window in his zombie-like state. His head tilted slightly and his eyes were poignant, studying one particular flame that refused to go out.
On the train, I started to call up a friend of mine. I scrolled down my contact list and saw a name I didnt recognize Jackie. Jackie, I said it aloud in case it channeled something in my memory. It didnt. I bit my lip and decided to call it; it was the only way Id know who it belonged to.
Hello? a quick, saucy voice answered. I recognized it immediately as the boy in the record store, Hole Boy.
Very clever, I simply said.
He chuckled in a high, pre-pubescent manner. Oh, hey, whats up?
So, do you want to come over? I mean you must want something, to ad your number into my list.
Yeah. His tone changed to low and mellow; a diet from his usual enthusiasm. But its gotta be late.
Okay, I agreed, and gave him my address.

My place was normal in the dark. Once I flicked on the lights, the roaches were on high alert, marching in a panic for the closest crack. The kitchen was the worse where the bastards originated. I wondered why they chose my apartment to infest. I didnt have any food. Perhaps they would eventually eat through the wall, causing the construction to fall on me in my sleep, and Id wake up with pieces of my poor home in my eyes.
The entire studio could be seen from the door. My carpet was blood red. Stains of spilled soda dotted it in dark brown stains. It looked like carpet from a slaughterhouse. Next to my bed was a stack of books Naked Lunch, Night Stalker, and Paradise Lost to name a few. A pile of clothes some dirty, some new, along with towels of dye stains, was over in the corner next to the television. I was a slob. Maybe I simply welcome rodents. The floor of the bathroom was quickly rotting away. The tiles were flooded by a leak in a pipe. Id mentioned it to the landlord a few times. He would nod; his lazy eye would completely shut down. Be by someday, hed mutter. The bathtub was barely suitable for one anorexic. Above it was a shoebox-shaped window that gave off the impression that it was always cloudy outside. Its hammered glass was coated in murky filth.
The only thing to do in a place like this was fuck. I hadnt been punctured enough to bleed on paper yet, so my writing days were still to come. These were the days to pull back the colorless sheets and give them an art show.
Jackie didnt show until a little after midnight. He said hed be at my place at one. He must have been anxious. He was wearing a ski hat pulled down over his head to almost complete hide his eyes. He gave me a huge hug. My fingers drizzled against the back of his neck it was warm as if he had a fever. His fingers got lost in my curls. I like you, he breathed against the skin of my neck. I wasnt sure if he was drunk or not he seemed a little tipsy but his breath provided no sufficient evidence. He stepped back and took in my studio. He looked down at me and smiled. He pulled me against him in a strong embrace. The matter of his attention was quickly brought to mine.
Where are you from? I asked, stopping him from coming in for a kiss. I felt like we should have some kind of conversation before sex.
Uh, he lifted his fingers and scratched under his hat as if he couldnt recall his heritage. I kind of...Chita.
Oh. Id never heard of it. I just knew it was a city in Russia. Dont you want to know where Im from? I asked, again stopping him from kissing me.
Uh, sure. He seemed vaguely interested.
Georgia, I smiled.
Georgia? Really? His serious, red face broke out in a grin.
Yeah. I ran away when I was eighteen.
Whyd you come to Chicago? he asked. He didnt move away, though, he was going to kiss me. The intense determination was evident in his eyes.
To...get away from Georgia. I was nervous whenever I talked about home. My body shriveled up in fright. Jackie lifted my chin; this time I couldnt stop him from kissing me. His lips were so salty; he bit my lip when he pulled away. His arm stretched out and he pointed to the far left corner of my studio. Get on that bed, he ordered.
Enough of the overcast. Let the lightning bolt strike and split the pink Miata in half.
Jackies dick wasnt exactly satisfying in size, but he knew how to work it so it left an impression. I remained under him, letting him explore me like a blindfolded mans hand in the dark, looking for the light switch to bring the room to life. He flicked his fingers fast, too, just as he did to find the Hole CD. After sex, our bodies seemed no different from the shadows they spilled against the wall. The dark seemed to silence us as it freed the cockroaches to wonder. I was certain that one just scurried across my leg. Jackie was turned so his nose was pressed against my arm. It made me feel like his protector. His voice cracked like a tree limb separating itself from a tree thick in the forest: So, Im in this gang. I didnt know what to say. His breath against my arm was the only thing to move for the next few minutes. I felt another cockroach and thats when my mind entered the darkest stage of its wonderment If a roach fed on infected semen, could it die of Aids?
What gang? I finally asked.
Oh, I cant tell you that. But I...I want you to know that I like you a lot. If you dont see me again, its not because I dont like you. He fell silent for a second; then added, Its probably because they found me.
They who? I asked, not expecting to get an answer.
Cant say. I meant to say something when I was gripped by astounding hunger as if the devils hand rocketed into my gut and ripped out any past nourishment I still had left in my body. I even wondered if I had enough energy to make food. Did I have any food to make?
Are you hungry? I asked Jackie. I felt suddenly close to him after sex, after his enormous confession. I wanted to see him naked in the light naked in the light slurping up greasy noodles from my cracked China.

I apologized to the roaches after a cruel shower of unexpected light hit their army. They were multiplying rapidly and I needed to devise a plan to get the community under control. Damn, Jackie said of the insects. He didnt seem bothered directly, though. My old man went nuts because of those things. He fucking got up one night and just burned the goddamned house down.
Jackie pulled out a chair. His body seemed to deflate in a tired sulk when he sat down. His hands formed a lose ball of skin and bone that rested in his lap. He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. I wanted to keep him.
Thats why, you know, he started. Thats how I got started in this gang. My old man lost a few cards in his mental deck, he pointed to his left temple with a finger that had been in me about ten minutes ago. There were roaches in the silverware drawer, roaches in the tub, roaches in the fucking TV. So, he just got up one night and grabbed a gallon of gasoline, I guess. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldnt breathe. Black smoke blocked me from seeing my way out. I heard my mom crying for help. It was either I save my own life or I save hers.
I was about to ask him what he did, but the answer was obvious. Shit, he thought, I guess thats why I went with this gang. Maybe I hate myself for that night. I know its just an interesting form of suicide. But, hey, he said, grabbing a soggy arm from a basket of rotten fruit, What isnt?