The Pea Coat Phantom

The Pea Coat Phantom

Scent of cigarettes and madness

Merchant of refuse. Opportunist of open restrooms. Boarder of elevator shafts.

Silent shadow stalker. Open air cat walker.

You have to catch him on camera, yet his presence then is hard to believe.

If you manage to catch him, he'll shoot you with defiance.

What are you doing in his world?

He has no time for reason, lets you know he'll leave on his own terms.

Argument keeps him warm in the snow.

The Pea Coat Phantom, he says he's getting better.

But you wonder how far here is from there.

Death's Dog

Saw the dog of Death again today. He's hardly what you'd think: pointy hears, clean coat and wagging tail.

That's how they get you.

I didn't see Death this time, he was around the corner. I could just see his pale hands reading from the book.

I shrugged like I always do and waited, finished my work.

A couple times I went back and waved at the dog and his dopey grin, I knew to never approach.

But again, they never came.

Maybe it was the haircut, maybe it was because I was feeling optimistic.

But I fooled them again.

Last Laugh

The Joke Man lay in the humming hospital room, dying and alone. 

“Alone and misunderstood,” he cursed to himself. “how quaint.”

Joke man had spent his entire life cursing and debasing the mundane, safe, unoriginal. He had created (sort of) a career for himself doing the completely original and unexpected.

Many (most) didn't appreciate what he did. But those that did, thought he was a genius. (especially himself) 

He tried to think of something completely new to say about the hum of the respiratory machine, the beep of the monitors, the body of his nurse, the quality of the food. 

Nothing came to mind. 

Soon the cliched cold crept through his typical ravaged body and the mundane dark came over his eyes. 

In front of himself he saw a smiling clown. A typical, easy scare, teenager jump scene clown.

Deep down he knew he had to laugh.

John Peters is So Cute

That Feels doll, full pale head but only partial body. No arms or legs, just a pink torso with four teats and white detachable suckling pigs. 

It was a steal, the associate told me, the last one they had in stock or would likely have. 

I took it and walked to the register, often checking the price on the tag which was constantly rising.

$69.95 did seem a little high. 

I set it aside and checked out the clearance box. I finally settled on the collection of a young girl's notebook diaries, with their neat scribblings and dream like drawings.

Paving Potter

Horace “Paving” Potter was the most feared and respected man in the whole town.

When people spoke to him they spoke respectfully. When they spoke of him they spoke quietly.

Horace wasn't rich, or a criminal, or even a politician. But he did know all of these.

You see, Paving Potter was just that, a paver for the city that had laid nearly all the streets in town.

And once you knew that, you knew where his power resided.

You see, he didn't know just what it took lay every city street. He knew who was buried beneath them.

Living Room Wildlife

The shoelace on the floor picked up its head and started writhing its way across the matted carpet. The Drunk sat on his couch and watched, sipping from the bottle.

He'd noticed it had moved from place to place, but just figured he'd done it with his feet, or in the lost moments.

He looked for the shoe amidst the clutter. It might be fun, to lace a writhing shoelace.

Would it bite?

But just as he found the shoe, the lace fell limp and lifeless.

Clutching the shoe and bottle, he intently waited for it to return to life.

Summer is Cancelled

He got an envelope with his sign up sheet and money returned to him. “Lack of interest in the summer league”

It explained. 

His heart dropped, and quickly felt foolish. The anxiety over deciding to join, the imaginary future conversations, even the jogging to get in shape; they all seemed very stupid.

He was glad he hadn't mention it to his family yet. Or maybe he had learned to expect something like this.

So to them, he'll have another lost summer, spent like very other one in the past.

But they won't know it wasn't from lack of trying.

Summer Romance

The train whistles echo through the concrete valley into my open window. I'm trying to air out the place, after winter months of funk building up you can feel it on your skin.

The last time I left the window open while I went to bed I woke up with a toothless, loose skinned girl on my couch.

She was nice for a few days, and knew how to pay her way, until I came home from work with my television missing and a turd floating in my fish tank.

Some say I'm crazy, but I really miss that girl.

Spring Cleaning

Growing up, spring was always welcome, but was a sign of dirty work to come.

Before the drifts could fully melt our father would come to us, tools in hand, and command us children put down our new things and follow him. 

With childlike zeal we would dig into the snow and pull out the naked bodies. In case anyone came by, we would store them under some brush until the ground was soft enough for digging. 

I never figured why father was so paranoid, if we had summer visitors we could just take care of them like the rest.

Lost Moment

Victor had enough. The parties, the loud talking, the trash thrown into his yard.

For 6 months he lay in bed, trying to sleep. Couldn't call the cops, they'd know it was him. Couldn't go himself, who knows what would happen.

Sometimes he'd get brave, and throw the trash back. When they weren't home.

He figured like all smart adults, they'd figure it out.

They didn't.

Enough was enough.

Finally, he worked up the righteousness. He walked up to their door, but saw the pink eviction notice.

Stolen of his brave moment, Victor walked back dejected.

Next time, he swore.