attempts at noir

smoke fills the bar like low hanging ocean fog. cigarettes in every hand. handsome men either the clark gable type or the james dean type smoking and smirking shit eating grins chasing tail and cunt, slapping asses tight and shaped like the moon wolves howl ta, everyone is dressed in black but a few of the dames have on tight red dresses, red lipstick, hour glass figure don't shatter baby sand drips down in it but times stops in here yeah baby time stops in here no matter who you are you aint got nothing outside/
bartender behind the counter, black bowtie, moonlight pale skin and soft grey eyes, wipes some of the glasses dry with a kerchief he pulls from his back pocket, talks like gravel and new yawk callous "yeah. ya hear bout ernie? the cheap bastard has a tab here longer than  that War and fucking Peace book" -"YA NEVER READ THAT BOOK RICHIE!" - "will ya shudup? it doint matter if i read the fucking book i know the damn thing is collosal! i'm saying the cheap bastard drank me outta house and home, owes me enough to wine and dine a super fucking model and have her tug my prick and put my nuts in her mouth and hum frank fucking sinatra tunes and the bastard has the balls to call me up collect at 4 in the fucking morning from rikers goddamn island, got stopped for taking a leak on someones front lawn and when the law patted the toothless wino fuck down they found a (voice slows down to softer gravel..like someone walking softly over broken glass) hypo and some of the morphine syrettes.. ya gotta slow down on peddalin that shit.. at least outta MY fucking bar!"- (the noise lowers to nothing more than a slight heartbeat. a loud voice from some unknown phantom overpowers it all. no one hears it. it is not there) : that's just a small snippet, a brushstroke on the painting of a bar you will never find in your town. they don't exist anymore. only in the dreams of the old men who sit handcuffed and at home in the bullpens, the top bunk in county jail, smoking top tobacco with an asshole fulla drugs and walking the yard up in attica, the old timers who remember the days when their was honor amongst criminals. how could you not learn to love someone you live in a cage with for years, spend 23 Christmases, turn the other way when the other one has to shit or jerk off, share your smokes, commisary, snacks, dreams, murderous revenge plots, fuck books, fuck dreams.. if the world is all in your mind, can't you bring yourself anywhere you wanna be? they would lay in their bunks and talk about when they were young and man, we would laugh so hard at the stories we'd tell we'd be hurtin in the bellies.. they were wrong. the motherfuckers were wrong. they locked us in cages but we grew. we found the light and we grew towards it. we were always free. we were always fucking free.
-everyone is drunk and laughing and stumbling and leaning on each other. everyone is dressed in black with white shirts underneath, white faces with black stubble, supple creamy milk legged girls hike up red skirts, black and red laced panties, a greaser with a motercycle jacket pulls hard on a cigarette, puts it out in her drink, takes it from her, chugs it, and kisses her hard like they were the only ones. adam and fucking eve.
-a man walks in. no one notices him but hes different from everyone else. his eyes hard color. they are green and his features are distinct, old fashioned. people don't look like him these days. only in old photos from the war. his hair is wet and he pulls out a pocketknife comb and slicks it back. he is wearing a pearl shark skinned suit. he walks straight to the jukebox. he looks through the records. two tall men in all black, black trenchcoats walk in behind him, smoking cigarettes, hard in the face, look like boxers, nose broken so many times a man looses count, eyes like ferocious animals but no one knows. they are wearing black sunglasses. it is nighttime. it is so dark no one knows where night ends and the shadows begin. the man in white pulls out change from his pocket. drops it in. The song he picks is The Witch- by The Sonics. he pulls a picture from his pocket and looks at it. he stares for what might be forever but it's closer to a few seconds. he puts it back away. he nods to the two men. they both pull out tommy guns and slaugther every living person in the bar. bottles shatter. glass flies and slices throughs wide open. blood spills so excessively its absurd. intestines and hearts and brain matter burst and walls chip apart. wood is ripped and thrown about. women are screaming, a deeper blood, a truly blackend crimson ocean stains there already red dresses. the men crawl on the floor and reach towards light or god or salvation but only receive an onslaught of bullets. "die you fucking fucks! die! die! DIE!!! DIE!!
-the man in white just keeps looking at the jukebox, smiling and smoking a cigarette. once the shooting and the moans and groans and farts of death cease, he speaks: "you know, people don't talk about the Sonics enough. their record, This is the Sonics? It's fucking brilliant. it's so fucking primal. fuck the mc5. fuck the stooges. the sonics started punk rock. i'll make it official. i'll say it for the goddamn fucking record books.."- (pulls colt 45 gun to own head) "see? i'll make it my last words. that way it will be infinite! i'll make it real! it's the least i can do them. they wrote The Witch and Stychnine! it would be a small sacrifice" (laughs. lights new cigarette.puts gun back) "we should probably get going. i know we paid the cops off already this month but they are gonna at least have to go through the motions and investigate this little massacre here.. c'mon boys. lets go shoot some heroin and get a lap dance"

-a black girl and a white boy ages 17 lay naked in each others arms in a motel room mostly in shadows but the fluorescent turquoise motel light creeps through the partially drawn shutters like a peeping tom.his head is in her lap. he's rubbing her breasts absentmindely and she's running her fingers through his hair. clothes are thrown about the floor. there's a bottle of whiskey on the dresses, a motel bible open to the book of revelations, and a Glock with loose scattered bullets on the nightstand, cigarette pack open with a few poking out. she picks one up and pulls it out with her teeth. he lights it. she takes a drag and blows it up.

him: the smoke looks like the ghost.
her: what's wrong
him: what do you mean? i'm fine.. i'm just tired
her: no.. i can tell. i can see by looking at you. your thinking about something. your mind is always going. like a big clock. i see the gears constantly grinding, grinding, grinding,
him: please.. just thinking about that.. it's giving me a headache.. i'm just.. i dunno. how long can we run?
her: until they find us baby.. until they fucking find us. and then we'll take them to fucking hell with us..
him: sometimes i don't want to run. i want to just stay somewhere. i want to stay somewhere with you. i want to hold you forever and not let go. i want to make a baby. i want a baby girl. i want to look in her eyes and see you. i love you so much i want to see two of you. and watch her grow into a beautiful woman and find someone who will make her happy and for her never to have to know the sadness that i knew.. that sadness before i found you..
her: that sadness, that sadness that you're so terrified of.. is why it felt so sweet when we found one another. why it felt so perfect..
him: you know.. you have to know.. that if someone ever hurt you.. ever thought of hurting you.. i wouldn't be able to stop myself.. i wouldn't be able to stop myself from tearing them apart, doing it so slowly, so FUCKING GODDAMN FUCKING SLOWLY.
her: baby.. baby.. stop.. stop.. please honey. please calm down (runs fingers through his hair. rubs his head and kisses his forehead) nothing is going to happen to me. we found each other. after all those lifetimes, maybe we've been looking since the beginning. maybe we're adam and fucking eve and we've been looking since the beginning of time. we finally found each other. that was the hard part. nothing could take us apart from each other. nothing. nothing.

camera slowly rises and spins. they caress and kiss and cry and shudder in the darkness and the blinking neon.

him: i will find you even in death. the hardest part was finding each other for the first time. your in my dreams now. why won't you be in eternal dream?