{"id":619,"date":"2013-03-08T14:09:23","date_gmt":"2013-03-08T22:09:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/?p=619"},"modified":"2013-03-08T14:09:23","modified_gmt":"2013-03-08T22:09:23","slug":"dont-go-jason-waterfalls","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/2013\/03\/08\/dont-go-jason-waterfalls\/","title":{"rendered":"Don\u2019t Go, Jason Waterfalls"},"content":{"rendered":"

fiction by Jason Edwards<\/em><\/p>\n

Sober, skinny Jason Waterfalls trots across the tarmac, rucksack wrapped around his back like the shiny shell on a ladybug. The bag is full of treasure, mirror and razor-blade treasure, all of it paid for, all of it precious. The mighty tarmac is windless on a blazing hot day, but a tiny breeze finds Jason\u2019s jacket back under the rucksack and billows it playfully. If it were longer, and made of something sturdier, and this was an old Western Town and he was a gunslinger, it would have looked gorgeous. Instead, it\u2019s unremarkable. Jason sinsg, softly to himself, \u201cNever gonna give you up,\u201d and runs up a set of mobile stairs as if he\u2019s done it a thousand times before, which would be true if he\u2019d done it 999 times before.<\/p>\n

Inside is cooler than outside, and cooler too: leather and chrome and a flight attendant on the right side of plump. Asian, maybe. Or Mexican. Jason sits down, is handed champagne, and the door closes, and the plane starts moving. Just like that. Just like a domino falls when a domino next to it falls towards the domino it will then fall into.<\/p>\n

The door to the cockpit is closed, the stewardess is behind him and strapped in, so Jason points forward and says to nobody \u201cfollow that cab\u201d and laughs and takes a sip of champagne and spills some on himself. Goddamnit. What kind of piece of crap airline are they running here. The lady bug on the seat across the aisle next to him rolls off, hits the floor, and slides towards the back of the plane, out of his sight. Who cares. Not Jason Waterfalls.<\/p>\n

\u201cBoy,\u201d the man had said. \u201cWe need some new goods. You\u2019re going to go fetch \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYessir,\u201d Jason replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cLike a good boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYessir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike a good dog.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYessir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoggy like to fetch?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYessir.\u201d Jason didn\u2019t need this shit. Except he did. He\u2019d been a courier, a go-between, a messenger, a delivery boy for a while. He\u2019d been promoted from packages wrapped in cellophane to packages wrapped in cellophane that could be unwrapped, skimmed, and rewrapped. Which he\u2019d done. Ray-Bans Vans and tans. Not a lot, but more than he could afford on a courier\u2019s wages. At least it was worth it. At least he looked good. For fuck\u2019s sake.<\/p>\n

\u201cCity airport, tomorrow, before noon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just told you. Buenos Aires. You speak Spanish?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither do they.\u201d He\u2019d handed Jason a slip of paper with an address on it. \u201cDon\u2019t fuck no whores.\u201d<\/p>\n

And that was that. Jason Waterfalls could have gotten a baseball bat upside his head, some piano wire around his neck, a few bullets through his heart, a knife in his gut, his own Jason Testicles fed to him. But he\u2019s one of those sons of bitches that charms people. It was an iffy business, and it paid the big guys to give the lucky guys a little free rein, see what opportunities they knocked up.<\/p>\n

So he\u2019d gone to the airport at ten AM and wandered around and like a lucky bastard found the desk where they organize the private jets and was lucky enough to get the one gal who thought Ray-Bans were sexy and was still new enough on the job to not think it was weird that a solo passenger on a private jet didn\u2019t know where to go and didn\u2019t ask for a passport and was lucky enough to ignore her terrible directions and find the plane anyway and climb on board and was handed champagne that didn\u2019t spill god damn it and took a nap and ate some rare steak and more champagne and a cup of coffee and decent shit in the airplane bathroom bigger than his apartment in Miami and after eight hours landed just like that. Piece of cake.<\/p>\n

Cab, address. Some old dude, wrinkles like ravines, terrible job at shaving, yellow eyes with bursts of red. Backpack. Called it a rucksack. He looked Jason over for a long time. \u201cAbatido\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Jason just shrugged. \u201cArigato,\u201d he said back.<\/p>\n

The old man laughed. You expected, when an old man laughed, a mouth with just a few rotten teeth left. But not this guy. Huge perfectly white teeth. Scary goddamn teeth. Handed Jason the backpack. \u201cDon\u2019t fuck no whores,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Jason went out and fucked some whores.<\/p>\n

Sometime in the night, lost his Ray-Bans. Sometime in the night, lost his Vans. But he never lost that backpack. That shiny red backpack. Never opened it, either. Was tempted. Could use some blow, after that night, those whores. \u201cComo se disse blowjob?\u201d he said. \u201cI don\u2019t speak Spanish, asshole,\u201d the whore said, but in a good natured way, and then she blew him. He paid with stolen cash, but that was all right. He\u2019d stolen it before he\u2019d gotten this assignment, and since they hadn\u2019t killed him, but given him the assignment, that was like permission. Thankfully, she took US dollars. It occurred to him he should check her, see if she was really a dude. He\u2019d heard that sort of thing happened in Argentina. He decided to rely on his luck. The next whore, anyway, had a vagina.<\/p>\n

She was actually kind of sweet, a young thing, whimpered a few times as he went at it, a longer session thanks to the earlier blowjob, asked him his name, smiled at him, fell asleep next to him, woke up when he was putting on somebody else\u2019s shoes in the little house she lived in. \u201cDon\u2019t go, Jason Waterfalls,\u201d she said, and if he wasn\u2019t carrying eight pounds of cocaine for a Lupe Blanco and wasn\u2019t starting to feel like he needed a few penicillin shots and didn\u2019t think the water here was going to kill him and didn\u2019t think, all things considered, Buenos Aires was a filthy town which he was rapidly becoming extremely sick of, he might have considered it. But if she wasn\u2019t eighteen she was sixteen and in the morning light he could see she had one of those Latina-girl mustaches so he got up and left.<\/p>\n

Cab, airport, tarmac, stairs, champagne, fuck.<\/p>\n

The plane levels out and the stewardess walks up, with the backpack, setting it on the seat next to him across the aisle. She sees his empty glass, the wet stain on his shirt, makes a face, trots away. Jason squirms in his seat. The wet on his shirt, the heat in his crotch, an itch in his shoes\u2014he wants a shower, and bad. This is a private jet, right?<\/p>\n

The stewardess returns with a towel, crouches next to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there a shower on this plane?\u201d<\/p>\n

She shakes her head, saying nothing. She dabs at his chest with the cloth. It does absolutely nothing. \u201cNevermind,\u201d he says, pushing her hand to the side. She growls, slaps him, and goes back to daubing, her face once again calm, betraying nothing.<\/p>\n

It had happened so fast he was stunned. It was so out of place, had it happened? He\u2019s about to say \u201cwhat the fuck?\u201d when she stands up and walks away again. This is not the same stewardess as on the plane on the flight down. That one had been blonde. Not a milf, but, like, older-sister age. This one, Asian one, can\u2019t tell her age. Jason turns in his seat. She\u2019s back in the galley. She\u2019s rattling something around. The clink and clank of what is probably bottles and can sounds like heavier, shinier metal.<\/p>\n

He hasn\u2019t had much sleep, has been to some pretty greasy parts of town, has eaten and drunk and smoked and snorted some things, so, clearly, he\u2019d imagined the slap. Some bygone memory from when he was a kid and his mom had done something like that, out of frustration.<\/p>\n

He settles back into his seat. She\u2019s bring him lunch, he\u2019ll eat that, take a nap, take a shit, watch a movie, get off the plane, go home for a shower, deliver the rucksack. Just another day in the life of Jason Waterfalls.<\/p>\n

The stewardess comes by with a tray, but doesn\u2019t set it in front of him, going instead to the cockpit. Door opens, door closes. She\u2019s in there for a while. The fasten seat-belt light comes on. They hit some turbulence, and the backpack falls onto the floor again. Jason leaves it there. She can pick it up again.<\/p>\n

At last, the cockpit door opens. Is the stewardess adjusting her skirt? Is she touching her lips, making sure her lipstick isn\u2019t smeared? The little slut, he thinks. But in an admiring way.<\/p>\n

She walks down the aisle, stops at the back pack. \u201cDid you open this?\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

What the fuck business is it of yours? Jason doesn\u2019t say. \u201cNo,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

She glares at him, picked up the sack, puts it on the seat, shoves it all the way to the window. Walks away again.<\/p>\n

Jason rubs his eyes, runs his fingers through his hair, allows himself a mighty yawn. Fuck it. Sleep first, then eat. He closes his eyes.<\/p>\n

He openes his eyes. He feels like hes glued to his seat, shoved down into it like a blanket stuffed into a tiny closet. He pries himself up, stretches. Looks back towards the galley\u2014the stewardess is there, strapped into a jump seat, lolled, her legs spread apart just a bit, a little unlady like. He takes a few steps towards her, trying to make out\u2014is there something staining her stockings? He wants to smile, takes another step, almost trips on the backpack. It\u2019s on the floor again.<\/p>\n

He picks it up, looks at it. Shiny and red. He\u2019d known his luck could only go so far, and that he was pushing it if he wasn\u2019t careful. Not opening the backpack, it was sort of a gesture. Because after all, nobody told him not to open. Not Blanco, not the old man. The only one who brought it up was the snoring stewardess. And you know what, Jason Waterfalls, she had, indeed, slapped you. So what are you going to do, fuck whores, or take orders from them? He decides to open the rucksack.<\/p>\n

And so he does He kneels down, right there in the aisle, and unzips it. There\u2019s a hiss of gas escaping, a truly awful smell. Like what vomit would smell like if it was rotten meat taking a shit. Jason tries not to gag. The stewardess comes instantly awake. She unbuckles and runs towards him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell is it?\u201d Jason says, knowing she wouldn\u2019t know, but knowing somehow she would know. He wants to look inside, but he wants to be away from the smell. He stands up.<\/p>\n

\u201cPituitary glands. But you broke the seal, and now they\u2019re ruined.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not cocaine? I thought I was picking up cocaine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you dumb asshole.\u201d<\/p>\n

Something funny about her voice. Did Jason think she was Asian? Her mouth seems to have a lot of teeth in them. Her eyes seem to have a lot of yellow, with red bursts in them. He takes a step back. \u201cWhat the fuck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019ve got one, I guess I can get another.\u201d She hosld up a hand. Is she holding a knife? No, her fingernails are knives, big long yellow crusty knives. He takes another step back, and then another.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you going to go, asshole? You\u2019re on a plane.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jason turns, jumps at the cockpit door, opens it, slips inside, shuts it, looks for a lock.<\/p>\n

The smell of copper, hot copper, Blood everywhere. Every surface, every angle. Pooled on the floor. Jason falls over. Something on the seat, torn clothes and clumps of something meaty and bloody. And heat, the cockpit is tiny, drenched in blood and hot like a sauna. Jason\u2019s head starts swimming.<\/p>\n

A wrenching sound, the cockpit door ripped away. The stewardess, skirt torn, blouse torn, stockings torn, not stained, but torn. Covered in hair and muscle. Her nose is getting longer. Her eyes are getting yellower. Jason is trying to scream but he can\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, asshole,\u201d she says. \u201cDid you fuck any whores?\u201d She leaps. The pain is outside of him. Who was going to land the plane, he thinks, as she stands over him, ripping his body to pieces, scratching huge chunks out of his forehead.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

fiction by Jason Edwards Sober, skinny Jason Waterfalls trots across the tarmac, rucksack wrapped around his back like the shiny shell on a ladybug. The bag is full of treasure, mirror and razor-blade treasure, all of it paid for, all of it precious. The mighty tarmac is windless on a blazing hot day, but a … <\/p>\n

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