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Greyhound Company Rules (Salt Lake City and Reno)


Copyright Š Andy Faair 2010 ISBN 978-1-907513-19-0 First published 2010 by Not Your Average Type www.notyouraveragetype.com info@notyouraveragetype.com


Greyhound Company Rules (Salt Lake City and Reno)


Crawling out of a swamp from the dog end of the bus Tie died eyes and a head full of hemp Brains gone West answered to the name of Jeff. Inbred? Hybred? battered bacon eyelids Caught and disfigured in a house fire as a kid Wiped out his siblings sent him slightly weird Passing through these back waters this story was told And that was the cue to open up the tequila. Kept it obscured from the hip priest bus driver Heading for Salt Lake with a new drinking partner Quit Yellowstone Park, a yarn told with fear His near death encounter with a grizzly bear Yapping and snapping and drinking precious hours He speed freaked Vietnam, showed my Falklands scars Cringed at all his surf shit, but his spirit was enough Noticed the discharge rolling down from his armpits.


Salt Lake stop over bang on the hour All the natives got down and kissed the floor. Too clean, too untrustworthy, hard time finding a bar Frowned upon at this hour, forgotten nowhere culture. Shopping mall pubs cold and soulless Twenty dollar surcharge, Utah state law Reduced to drinking in the door ways of the poor Blew another score, it numbered all the problems Festering and pestering polyesta Mormons Throw back to a forgotten safari suit time When I was alone, a time I'd never known This town that time would love to forget My road weary hobo stance permanently wrecked The "Not Welcome Here" sign stapled to my head That old rip and roar, Salt Lake enough said.


We're back on the bus with a view to hitting Reno Jeff replenished with a fifth of Jack Daniel's The Grey hound company had rules to be aware of Caught on the sauce, automatically turfed off Neither whoring, snoring, smoking or surfing Concealing my tequila in a Coca Cola carton We slobbered through the prohibition we'd never lived in Some short arsed monumentous louse got on the bus Tongues were flowing and loose, Jeff loudly cussed Veins in his neck at breaking point, taken in vein, taking offence He grassed us up to the driver, had to stash the hooch Received the yellow card, retreated to the rear of the coach Nose bagged tequila like water, descended into slumber Dreamt of the crucifixion, lynchings and bloody murder Jolted awake to face the God fearing motherfucker By his side, of low origin and wide, the hip priest bus driver Coming off his crooked cross and quoting all those scriptures Empty bottles smashed on the deck, Jeff was in a stupor Punches were thrown, driver produced a gun signaling our departure.


We got dumped in Wells, a little dirt town Behind us the great Salt Lake on the horizon The first motel and a place to doss down Jeff passed out like an eel, head up the wall Rubbed my neon bar eyes, went out for a stroll The brightest place by far, the Oboe Casino Bar Frosted glasses from the fridge, drinking with a mare Niggermint philly feeding my head Talked a load of horse shit to the famous Mister Ed.


God this Margirita's cold, this brew's damned cheap Laying evens I'd end up in a crumpled heap Girl behind the bar, take a piece of my heart trip me back, timeless, where did it start? American recordings on this jukebox filtered night Then Jeff stumbles in all tormented and tight Knocking over tables, he's lost it alright Mexicano’s in the corner up for a fight Gringo's fair, buy that beer Tension over, sit your arse down boy Mellow out that Kalifornia kick out Juke box selection, Wattstax without doubt Joined at the bar by corkscrew and petite. "You wanna work in the casino kitchen? The work is sheet but the tequila's kicking."


Apparently at weekends there's all these conventions Ramona's like a spending day, the age of this hard on Cue a neat tequila and another nail in my coffin Taste of raw and rubber at the bottom of my brew Word of wisdom aimed my way "This worm has definitely turned for yoU" Some one seems revitalized but I'm snail paced and hammered Floating back to the motel in a semi tequila'd haze Catch some activity brewing in the main drag night Mexicano’s kicking off under a single street fight A multitude of fists and feet baying for all that dead meat Both hands around a throat he gurgles, he's throttled Pay back time, clubbed to the ground with an empty tequila bottle.


Dog breath awoken at six in the morning Sound of wretching, sound of snorting Investigate a heaving head down the pan Don't think I've had the pleasure of this particular Mexican Jeff's under the table in his comatose squalor This creature tries to get her self under the covers If she shaved off her beard, she'd look a million dollars I switch on MTV, deny her my tequila.


Later on Jeff informs me he's got us employment Do a week of pot washing then head home to Freemont. Sweltering, melting kitchen. Boy do I feel like puking Pot washer, shit shuffler grime disease and hollar Jeff sticks his head under the water. Comes up looking like the Loch Ness Monster Interrupted by the sound of broken laughter Mexicano stuck up a perfectly good chicken Marinate? terminate? Blow out the stuffing chef Have I lost my way somewhere? Justify nothing Shit ends, Tequila land, motel channel surfing.


Need to get sober but not tonight mate Grabbed by the balls and the worm between my teeth Tequila arm bandits, visibly staggering Some doggy style for desert, some one's sss stammering It's time to blow this mall town, Jeff's nose caved in Left him to rot in some motel hell I dug his never say die but wanted to gamble Craps, blackjacks, the furious neon of Reno Supplemented my dollars with my wages in Pesos Rode out of town on the nine twenty two.


It was one straight highway through the desert The gold mines rose on either side of us Pit stop after pit stop, Battle Mountain and emigrant pass. Kandy got on at Gloconda, made her way to the back of the bus She was part Red Indian, green eyed and full of possibilities She hit on my tequila and spewed out her ugly story It centered on a theory of internal family conspiracy The brother had sold off the dead mother's house The money was meant to be divided but he cut loose He'd tried to poison another sister probably responsible for the mother's murder She rocked to and fro in a world of her own She wanted to drink with me, I didn't let her down Winnemucca, a casino one horse dirt town.


"Barkeep! A round of tequila's!" I rented a motel room She barked at the moon, sang those juke box songs A mexican tried to sell me his ring I noticed his finger was missing They cut it off in Reno after they mugged him That's where I 'd get lucky, that wasn't going to happen to me Drained the tequila, Kandy seemed happy Noticed the tattoo scorpion on her thigh It never happened, it was never meant to be She went up into the mountains to die Left me on the roadside howling with the coyotes Burnt out from El Toro, left to check the memory.


I boarded the bus next day, feeling like shite Slept for a few hours, coiled like a snake Two hours away from Reno, my mind has run amok Bus is full of Chicano East LA types Gang banging taboos, a coolness in the eye I took that early morning sip Couldn't give the tequila the slip Didn't want to change, don't want to stop In abundance, abuse, ad nauseam and art "l lost my mother in the middle of the desert" But then over a hill saw some lights Reno reared up and hit you in the face Got my wake up taste.


coming soon by Andy Faair

www.notyouraveragetype.com


Greyhound Company Rules  

Author: Andy Faair Paperback: 20 pages Publisher: Not Your Average Type (31 Aug 2010) ISBN-13: 978-1907513190

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