From alt.pub.dragons-inn Fri Feb 25 09:06:52 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7063 Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!csulb.edu!library.ucla.edu!agate!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!sdd.hp.com!news.cs.indiana.edu!news.Arizona.EDU!helium!corleyj From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] Low Town blues Date: 25 Feb 1994 03:50:46 GMT Organization: University of Arizona UNIX Users Group Lines: 74 Message-ID: <2kjsim$d5h@auggie.CCIT.Arizona.EDU> NNTP-Posting-Host: helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu I was drunk out of my brain in the Red Spear when I first heard the name Wagner Liegrange. Some City clerk was pouring cheap beer that looked and smelled like piss down his gullet, and shouting when he wasn't. "Wagner Liegrange. Wagner fucking Liegrange. Lie. Lee. Lay. Liegrange. Whatever the hell it is. That's all I fucking hear." "Shut the fuck up." a sullen-faced lush sitting next to him said. "All goddam day long. Wagner Liegrange says the City should be responsible. Liegrange says all the bureaucrats are gonna hang. Wagner Liegrange has a two-foot dick." "Godsdamn," the bartender said, "Nobody gives a fuck, mister. Now quiet down before I have Darrick throw you out on your fat, pimply ass." Clerk went back to talking into his glass, weird echoes clanking around in there, strange tinny words about fire and money and the boss. Clerk got noisy when he was drunk. I never got noisy. I wasn't there to talk, because I didn't have a single thing to say. I was there to get drunk. I was drinking to forget, I guess, but I knew that it wasn't going to work. I remember everything. The days, the nights, the way she looked, and the way she was. The way she was most of all. And the cheap wine the bartender sent over in fist-sized mugs didn't help. It wasn't as bitter as the taste in my mouth. It couldn't upset the iron ball in my stomach. After about an hour, I wandered into the alley next door and threw up. I knew that they were probably throwing the last shovel- ful of dirt onto her grave right about then. When I looked up, my cheeks streaked with tears and vomit still dribbling off my chin, I saw Clerk get his throat cut. A swift, neat slice, straight into the vocal chords first, to choke off everything but a quiet gurgle, then deep and fast, off to one side, a red blossom of blood flowering downward onto his shirt. Clerk went down to his knees. A boot smashed in his nost, and, clawing at his neck, he sprawled face down in the mud. His legs pistoned, but he couldn't move his arms from underneath him. Eventually, Clerk lay still, his blood spattered across the ground, mixing darkly with the mud. I looked blearily over at the killer. He was about six feet tall, and he was wiping his hand off with a torn piece of cloth. He had a wicked-looking knife in his hand, but it didn't look professional. It looked like a cooking knife. He sliced the coin purse off Clerk's belt. He shoved Clerk's body into some broken crates with his foot and turned towards me. Smiling sadly, he said "You're fucked up." I wiped off my face with my sleeve and knew he was right. In books, heroes can be scared sober, but that's a lie and we both knew it. I was drunk, and even with the knife in my shoulder sheath, I was going to die. "Come on, man." he said. "A man's gotta have a place to live. A roof over his head." I nodded. "Yeah." I pulled the bag from my belt. "Storm get you?" He laughed. "Shit. The fuckin' temple got me. Built it all up nice and pretty where I can't make the fuckin' rent." I tossed him the bag. He hefted it. "It ain't much." he said. "You wanna search me, that's fine." I said. I didn't want to fight him. He shook his head. "But it ain't much. "Things are tough all over." He shook his head again. "Get out of here." I got out of there. -- ***************************************************************************** "For a list of all the ways technology has failed to improve the quality of life, please press three." --------Alice Kahn Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is a fugitive from Reality.