Goddam apartment. Can’t stand it.
Putrescence in the atmosphere. Emanating from the mold crusted vents and the endless cracks in his one bedroom death-trap. Stagnant, like the rotting sphincter of a weeks old rat corpse but worse.
He taped his guitar neck.
He may have cracked the guitar across the spine of a moron who interrupted his music set. Idiot. Damaged his instrument more than he damaged the disruptive moron.
Strings popped. Pegs missing. Freaking guitar neck was one hard strum away from swinging like a wooden guillotine.
Mental gaps flooding… Recalling the night.
He caught a glimpse of himself in his cracked mirror. His sickly- pale frame and sunken eyes.
Tape. He needed tape.
Not a single piece of tape below the sea of empty bottles and ripped pages.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Open up!’ Landlord roared through the keyhole.
Rent day? Crap. Losing whole days now.
“Hold on!” He abandoned his tape search to find booze.
Thoom! Thoom! Landlord pounded with something heavy.
He found a half empty marble flask. This’ll do.
He opened his door. “What?!”
A gelatinous, cane-carrying gimp with a kickable face, piss-colored eyes and teeth like rotting toenails was at his door.
“We want you out,” Landlord said. “Tonight.”
He smirked. “I’m all paid up, bitch.”
Landlord narrowed his eyes.
“Gold watch I handed you was collateral,” He said.
“What gold watch?”
He laughed. “Don’t play stupid.”
The watch worth more than your shitty existence.
“I’ll pawn the watch. Get you cash,” He said.
“Bullshit.” Landlord popped two cupcake sized pills. “Pay what you owe then hit the sidewalk, deadbeat.”
I shrugged. “And my watch?”
“Ain’t no watch, shithead,” Landlord jabbed him with his cane. “Get out or get your kneecaps split.”
He balled his fists. “A threat?”
“A vow. ” Landlord poked.
Each syllable of Landlord’s threats and lies echoed in his mind.
He smacked Landlord’s cane from his hand. Backhanded Landlord across the face.
Landlord staggered. Rubbed his jaw. Wiped tears. Rushed him swinging like a blind swordsman on steroids.
He snatched the cane out of the air.
Cane was heavy. Denser than it looked. Nearly broke his hand when he caught it.
“Wait!” Landlord pleaded.
He beat landlord bloody with the cane. Kicked him and his cane down the jagged stairwell.
Landlord screamed. “Has-been prick… You’re finished!”
He slammed the door.
Tried to be peaceful. Fuckin landlord wanted this.
He walked to the window. Stared longingly at Rose City’s skyline.
Fucking city… Just die already.
He took a swig from his marble flask.
Forget the watch… not worth it.
Boom! A blast through the door caused a hole as big as his torso. Dust cleared and two piss yellow eyes were peering through the hole. Landlord pumped his cane. Aimed.
A pump action cane… interesting.
He grabbed his guitar. Escaped through window and onto the fire escape. Flashed Landlord his middle finger.
Fire escape gave way. He and the rickety structure crashed four stories onto the sidewalk.
One response to “Rockstar’s Rent I”
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