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Fiction - Short Stories - Alive and Well on The Road To Self-Destruction
Ronnie and Darla and The Holy Ghost
Howard N. Kaplan
Ronnie lies on the sidewalk and dreams of bugs. He is alone in a vast, open space and the bugs are coming. Ronnie hears them. The bugs are flying faster than he can run. He’s a small black man lost in this vast, open space. The bugs are getting louder. Ronnie shuts his eyes and screams because the bugs are all over him. He lifts his arm and sees gigantic wasps sticking their long insect-legs into him. Ronnie whips his arms and legs to get the bugs off. He screams, but they suffocate him. He reaches above his head to pull himself away from the bugs. His hands feel cool air above the swarm. The bugs crawl down his arms, away from the cool air caressing Ronnie’s trembling hands. The bugs crawl down Ronnie’s body and fly away into the vast space behind him. Ronnie looks into the light and sees a giant butterfly with a beautiful woman’s body. Her skin is dark and her wings are made of constantly changing liquid colors. She looks like an angel. Her skin reflects the light around them. She floats above Ronnie, then takes him by the hands and says sweetly, “What’s the matter, baby? Are you having a nightmare or something?”
Ronnie looks at Darla standing above him on the sidewalk, and he smiles. She looks like a wingless angel in a picture far away, painted against the Wednesday morning sky. Ronnie has no teeth and his eyes react slowly to the morning light. He can feel Darla’s hands on his face. He feels warm where she touches and this warmth spreads down his face. It lingers in his belly and drifts to his toes. Her voice seems to pull at his skin, “Come on, baby. You’ll be all right. Do you smoke?” she asks. “Would you like a pack of cigarettes?”
Ronnie reaches into the pocket of his jacket and takes out an empty pack of Camels. He shows it to Darla. “Camel cigarettes?” she asks. “You want some Camel cigarettes?”
She takes Ronnie by the hand and lifts him to his feet. They walk up First Avenue to Thirty-Fourth Street. The legs of Ronnie’s pants cover his bare feet as he drags himself behind Darla. She leads him into a deli on the corner. “Camel cigarettes--is that right, baby?” she asks him.
Ronnie reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a worn pack of matches. He opens the pack and takes out a dry cigarette butt.
“No, honey. Put that away,” Darla turns to the man behind the counter. She flutters her eyes from behind plastic heart-shaped sunglasses and says, “I’d like a pack of Newport Lights and a pack of Camels for my boyfriend.”
The man behind the cash register gives Darla a serious look as he puts the cigarettes on the counter. Darla reaches into her tank-top and unpins money from her bra. She gives Ronnie his Camels and leads him by the hand from the store.
“I’m going to take you back to my place so we can smoke our cigarettes and watch some TV,” she says as they walk across Manhattan and far uptown to her apartment.
Ronnie’s lungs hurt from walking up the stairs to Darla’s door. “Now I want you to make yourself right at home, baby-doll,” she says. “Don’t feel embarrassed to sit anywhere or to touch anything.” Darla opens the door. “We’re going to have ourselves a little party--just you and me.” Ronnie trips on the doormat and falls on his hands. He starts to see bugs crawling on the floor up his arms.
“What’s the matter, honey? Come on, get up. You’ll be okay,” Darla lifts Ronnie by the armpits and leads him to a long red sofa in the middle of the room. “Now you just sit here and relax while I get us some drinks.”
Ronnie can sense the bugs around him. He sees the furniture and knows that the bugs are about to burst out of the sofa and the television and through the window. “Here, baby--I can tell you’re dying for a drink,” Darla hands a glass of bourbon and ice to Ronnie. “Happiness is a warm gun,” she toasts. Ronnie notices that she smells like strawberries. He sees her face glowing far away against the wallpaper. “You want to watch some TV, honey?” she asks. “Hey, I bet you don’t know who I am.”
Ronnie sips his bourbon and shrugs his shoulders. The alcohol is warm flowing smoothly down his gullet.
“My name’s Darlene, but my friends call me Darla. I used to be a porno-star, but now I’m retired and just looking around for kicks. Have you ever seen ‘Big Black Knockers’?”
Ronnie stares blankly at Darla. “How’s about ‘Titilation II’ or ‘Diggin’ My Dildo’?” she asks. “I guess you never gone to peep shows. It don’t matter--I got them on tape. You want to watch some?”
Ronnie smiles as Darla moves to the television at the far end of the room. She puts “Big Black Knockers” on the VCR and sits close to Ronnie on the couch.
The bugs have gone away. Ronnie enjoys the warm feeling of Darla’s body against his. A younger version of Darla is giving blowjobs to two men on the television. “Time for refills,” Darla says as she walks into the kitchen. She returns and puts the glasses on the coffeetable. “Let’s smoke our cigarettes now,” she says as she opens her pack of Newport Lights.
By early evening Darla and Ronnie have each had four drinks and seven cigarettes. Now they are watching “Diggin’ My Dildo”. Darla has her hand on Ronnie’s knee and strokes his thigh slowly. She turns to him and whispers, her voice sticky with alcohol, “I bet you’d like a bit of crack’n’smack. How’s that sound to you, honey-babe?”
Ronnie hears Darla’s voice far across his mind. He smiles as she kisses him lightly on the lips. “I’ll be right back.” Darla walks off to her bedroom. She returns to the sofa with a small handbag. From the handbag she takes out a crack-pipe, an I.V. needle, some vials of crack and a bag of heroin. She prepares the heroin, heated and stirred in a spoon, and carefully fills the needle. Then she puts crack in the pipe and presents it to Ronnie. “Are you ready for the time of your life, my little man?” she asks.
Ronnie finishes his drink and takes the crack-pipe. He lights the bowl and inhales slowly, holding the hit for as long as his lungs can bear. Now the room is a million miles away. Darla takes the pipe from his hands and takes off his shirt. She ties a rubber tube around his arm. She rubs his arm, finds a vein and gives him half the needleful of smack. Now Ronnie feels himself being sucked down a stainless steel funnel. He isn’t aware of Darla taking off his clothes. She kisses the insides of his thighs. As she moves her body above him, Ronnie sees her face rising in front of a brilliant white light. “This is heaven, baby,” he hears Darla’s sweet voice echo all around him.
“Let’s have ourselves another hit, baby-man,” Darla says slowly. She packs a bowl and gives it to Ronnie. Ronnie smokes another hit and his heartbeat loses its rhythm. Then his heart stops beating. Ronnie feels himself rising out of his body. Darla is fucking him hard, making the sofa squeak against the floor. Her body burns as she sprouts beautiful butterfly wings. A cool wind pulls them up into the brilliant light above them. The Holy Ghost envelops them and takes Ronnie away to the Kingdom of Heaven.
hkaplan.com - Résumé - Fiction - Poetry - Painting/Collage - Photography - Sounds - Video
Warning: This site contains obscene material and is not meant for consumption by children, animals, or sensitive adults.