Crimson Secret

In through the back door, on the couch.
The scent of jasmine and lilies – perfect.
Ice in the scotch chinked a tune.
Approached her on the balcony, unchecked.
My hand on her shoulder, she smiled back – a sign.
Eyes wandered to the fabric – divine.
Met my gaze, whet my thoughts – ardor.
Our drinks can wait, would her spouse? – torpor.
Before the fire, on the rug.
Yearnings caught fire in our veins.
Her shiver, her breathe, her sweat – glistening.
Dancing to the Howlin’ Wolf – prefect rhythm.
Thrust, unite, firm grip,
Ecstasy, procurement, bodies drip.

The ice melted, the jasmine slept,
My smell lingers on her, crept up in her bed
Backdoor alarm, time to go
Society asleep, blind, rooster crowing,
Only she will know.

The Cramp Apocalypse

Lorka looks at her watch. Its battery died two years ago.

She finds a repair shop, but the repair guy is dead. So, she gets a screwdriver, loosens the screws and screws them back on. She doesn’t know what type of battery to use. Learned helplessness is killing her slowly.

4 years earlier…

“We have been informed that Arnold Cramp has been elected as the new president. His first decree is that anybody who looks Arab is to be shot on sight. Those who have Arab blood in them will be hunted down as well. All Muslims shall be bombed on sight.”

Lorka turned off the TV, grabbed her suit jacket and left for work. She lived at the Fraternal twin towers – that’s what they were called after Cramp rebuilt them.

There was no traffic, and she could see from the bus window that hundreds of cars were being towed away. Ambulances were parked in front of buildings, loading dead bodies.

Lorka was expecting to get shot…

She worked at one of Cramp’s major companies: The Main Cramp Company.

Cramp spent most of his time in the lobby, going up and down the glittery escalator, waving at his employees who waved back. This happened every five minutes or so, whenever he felt like taking a fun ride.

Lorka reached the company, got off the bus and heard a faint shot. She turned around to find an agent standing near the window of a dead driver.

She kept walking until she reached the main entrance where she had to pass a card over an electric key system. Her name appeared on the screen: Lorka Bekdach… Welcome back but don’t get too comfortable.

It was a regular day at work. At lunch break, she went to the cafeteria and had Scallops and Sushi. She ate for free, like always, because she was a valuable employee. Her job was to spit on her hand and readjust Cramp’s hair whenever it looked disheveled. She got paid $5000 a month to do that, and her spit and hand were both insured for $500,000.  When she sat at the table, the afternoon news was on the air:

“All Arabs and Arab look-alikes have been eliminated successfully. However, the bombing of Muslims on sight resulted in billions of non-Muslim casualties. We have also been informed that the decree was a worldwide one. China is now barely populated, so the government issued a new law: each family has to have at least 10 children. Meanwhile, the entire world declared war on Cramp. The Apocalypse has begun.”

Then, the news anchor was dramatically shot with a shotgun, her brains splattering on the screen. A message appeared after the screen went black: No thanks to you, MOBAWA.

Lorka finished her meal and headed to the ladies room. As she washed her hands, she started wondering why she hadn’t been shot yet. She went to her office and dialed the extension to Cramp’s office. Naturally, the secretary didn’t answer, since she was shot. So Cramp had to answer his secretary’s phone:

“Cramp’s office, how may I help you?”

“Mr. Cramp, I need to have a word with you about your decree.”

“Ah yes, come up. My hair is not looking good.”

Lorka entered his office and walked over to his desk. First, she spat on her hand and fixed his hair. Then, she sat on the chair that faced his desk.

“Mr. Cramp, how come I haven’t been shot yet?”

“I can’t shoot someone who puts so much spit into fixing my hair. You are a valuable life. Nobody wants your job.”

“Oh, ok.”

His head suddenly fell on the table, blood dripped into an expanding pool of blood. She spat one last time on her hand, and pushed the hair off his face and went back home.

Back to Now…

Lorka finds a dead, half-decomposed body near the entrance of her apartment. The dead man has a pistol in his right hand. She takes the pistol and shoots herself.