PIECEMEAL JUNE JORDAN KRALL Eraserhead Press Portland, OR ERASERHEAD PRESS 205 NE BRYANT PORTLAND, OR 97211 WWW.ERASERHEADPRESS.COM ISBN: 1-933929-63-4 Copyright 2008 by Jordan Krall Cover art copyright 2008 by Jeff Powers ravenofsorrows.deviantart.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law. Printed in the USA. As he was walking home from a rough night of drinking at Fishervilles most well-known watering hole, the Rams Head Bar, Scotty hummed a song that had been playing on the jukebox. Then, just as he was getting to the chorus, he got the distinct feeling that he was being followed. He was the only one on the street except for the occasional car or junkie. It was close to four in the morning and most of the inhabitants of the area were sleeping, drunk, or nodding off somewhere quietly. Scotty was at the point where his tiredness was catching up with his alcohol buzz; he was starting to mistake parking meters for cacti. As his paranoia grew, Scotty slowly grabbed hold to one of the meters, being careful not to get stabbed by the non-existent spines of the non-existent cacti. Fucking things should be outlawed. Fucking dangerous. His mind was full of liquid cotton. God, did someone slip me something? Once Scotty squinted and let his brain take in his surroundings, he realized that he was drunk as hell but still well aware that he was in deep shit. He didnt see the three crab-things until it was too late. Each was the size of a small child, crab-human hybrids with long, stringy blond hair that hung over their faces like dirty pantyhose. Scotty caught a whiff of them; they smelt like seafood diarrhea. The crab-things descended upon him with razor-sharp claws and teeth. Scotty drunkenly surrendered to violent death. He had always imagined himself fighting tooth and nail if ever his life was threatened. He knew now that it was easier said than done. He also knew that the death of his physical body wasnt the end of all things. Needless to say, as the light of his mind flickered out in this world, he was quite a bit disappointed. Mom, Dad, Susan, Ill never see them again and I didnt even get to see the Alamo or the Grand Canyon. Is this life on other planets? I want to see some extraterrestrials. Its not fair. Why? Why death? As the first creature, Macchu, used his claw to reach into his entrails, Scotty was opened up to another consciousness, another reality. He was soon aware of his body being casually dissected by a group of bearded, diseased women. Where the hell am I? What is this? No longer was he just being attacked by those creatures against an apartment building. Instead he was fully aware of simultaneously being dismembered on the back of a wagon in a grassy field. In the distance he could see a city, its walls glistening with a sickening pink hue. As each body limb, organ, and orifice was hacked away, Scotty retained all sensation in each inch of flesh. One of the bearded dissectors took his foot and bit a toe, and he yelped in pain through his mouth which was several feet away. Meanwhile, another woman was using his scrotum as a piece of chewing gum. Scotty again let out a mental and aural vibration of anguish. His nose was three feet to the left of where his scrotum was being chewed and through it he could smell the contaminated pus of the women. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting... What is this? Scotty would have been horrified to find out the truth about this, his new reality. These women and their myriad diseases were considered attractive. Even with their cunts dripping dark yellow goo and their faces peppered with open sores, they were considered beauty incarnate. Meanwhile, the crab things: Macchu, Bacchu, and Frank, were busy sticking their claws and mouths in the
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