mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli
mordicai
  • Mood: a really big smash-up.
  • Music: crown me king- etrigan, the batman of demons

physician hate thyself!

the ancient man walks through the building with his spurs jangling. i'm pretty sure he is a retired outlaw, somebody presumed dead but in fact still holding down the fort. it used to be, he stopped liking me, when a drunken olive & me tumbled into him. he mistook her fetish for old guys as her making a joke at his expense. but i guess that is all water under the bridge now. probably the bridge was over a gultch, or something else cowboy. so now we're back to small talk, me & him. we talk about the weather, how long it takes him to walk up the stairs now as he's old, if the bigger clip of semi-automatics justifies their tendency to jam. we both prefer revolvers, in the latter case. what good are more bullets if you can't shoot them when you need them? when we are done exchanging pleasentries, i start thinking about how long he's been dead for. i don't think he's a ghost, but i could be wrong. he definately isn't a vampire, though. i don't know, i guess i sort of assumed he is a mummy of some kind. you know his story. gallows hung & left strung up. the wind & sand drying his corpse up. cut down by a mountebank & displayed as king tut or saint peter or something of the kind. then bought by a funhouse proprietor & stood up as the lost body of john wilkes booth. eventually dipped in wax & forgotten, left as some antique, lending charm to the place. i wonder if, when he broke out, it was more like han solo freed from the carbonite. was there someone who loved him waiting there for him?
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