is the Hero
"a shock novel, at last" - Redland Rose
"theme and variation on a scream" - X Y Zebra
"more vibes than a live show" - Vibe Tribe
| the book
One No door.
Fuck out of luck again. The landlord stands around measuring his dick.
His tape's not small enough. He thinks
he's saving money, screwing up the hinges himself, but the frame's
still sitting in the hallway. For six weeks now, his tools
rust, collect black dust. Bitch? Bitch not. The bastard swears he'll
delay an extra day every time I complain. But it's six weeks and I
still don't have a fucking door! Why can't I insist on my privacy?
The resident freaks in the warehouse get even weirder gaping at me,
through the gap in the hall wall. I should not be here. I could be
traveling, checking in on my sisters. But the rent's right. And two
long winks got me into a lease, without a credit check. But the place
is still a construction site, inside and out. And I'm nowhere, without
a door. I'm public property. Luckily I keep my instrument hidden in my
mouth. I'm a screamer in a girl band, the lead screamer. You can hear
me through six doors and six walls, through rugs hung on the vertical,
over drums, a bass, and an over-amped guitar. The landlord wears
dreadlocks. Or I'd stand his hair on end too. He's a Vietnam marine.
And a musician, he says. But the vibes he gives off amputate. Really, a
marching band drums under his smirk and shuffle. Yeah, after midnight
twice a week, I hear reggae wailing from the rental office. It echoes
over the dogshit in the hallway. Still, the man's no help. His raspy
daytime barks don't carry far. His sullen Peruvian serf doesn't lift
shit. Or doors. His book-keeper is half-deaf also. I need a strategy,
© 1999, 2018 Violet Headmess
The Sequel: Third Naked Virgin is now available.
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