Squid Pulp Blues

SQUID PULP BLUES

a
novella collection

By Jordan
Krall

SQUID PULP BLUES

a
novella collection

By Jordan
Krall

Eraserhead
Press

205 NE Bryant

Portland
,
OR
97211

www.eraserheadpress.com

Copyright © 2008 by Jordan
Krall

Cover art copyright © 2008 by Jeff Powers

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

 
or
by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

BOOKS BY JORDAN KRALL

OUT NOW:

Piecemeal June

Fistful of Feet

Squid Pulp Blues

Blow Up the Outside World
(with Ash
Lomen
)

King Scratch

COMING SOON:

Beyond the Valley of the Apocalypse Donkeys

Tentacle Death Trip

Penetralia

Your
Cities, Your Tombs

Donkey
Djinn

CONTENTS:

The Haberdasher

The Longheads

The Apocalypse Donkey

Billy Roanoke
(
bonus short story only available in the Kindle version)

THE HABERDASHER

Chapter One

When she walked into Room 11 of the Solar Lodge Motel, the first thing Marie did was take the bible out of the dresser drawer.

She opened to a random verse in the Book of Revelation and rummaged through her purse. She finally found the small plastic baggie she had treasured throughout the whole car ride to the motel. Her eyes read the bible while her right index finger scooped up a substantial pile of cocaine and brought it to her left nostril.

An unfamiliar rush started from the skin in her face and cascaded down to her toes. She wiggled them and then kicked her shoes off. The stench of her foot odor made her nose crinkle; she picked up the shoes and threw them across the room. They landed in front of the bathroom door like two stinky rocks. Her finger dove back down into the bag and came up covered in shimmering snow that was immediately sucked up through Marie’s nose.
God, I love this shit.

Then she heard a noise coming from the bathroom.

It didn’t scare her at first. The sound itself seemed to belong, as if Marie was the intruder instead of the noise. It resembled the sound a housemate would make while they went through kitchen cabinets looking for food. Marie thought it was a lazy sound, a slow-moving din. Then it began to frighten her. This was
her
motel room. For someone to feel that comfortable in it made goose bumps pepper her skin like freckles.

Instead of rushing out the front door and running for help, Marie decided to confront the noise. She knew it was stupid, something you should never do in that sort of situation. The drugs made her brazen, made her ready to battle to the death with whatever raccoon or hobo had intruded on her room. She waited on the edge of the bed, heart thumping and arms trembling from fear and chemicals. From where she sat she could barely see the bathroom doorway let alone the actual bathroom. This made her both petrified and excited, though the latter had to do more with the shit running through her system.

A slender, tanned arm darted out from the bathroom doorway and clutched at the rug. The fingers were rough, dirt trapped in every wrinkle and crevice. It grabbed at the floor until it reached Marie’s shoes. It grabbed them by the laces and pulled them back into the bathroom.

Marie couldn’t see whom the arm belonged to. Her eyes widened as she tried to mentally digest the scene of a stranger stealing her shoes. A small sliver of courage pushed her up off of the bed and two steps closer to the bathroom.

Standing there waiting to either make a move or have a move made on her, Marie remembered playing hide-and-seek with her brothers. From what she could recall, they were always hiding from her and she’d be left to creep around the house, listening for a giggle or a creak of a floorboard. Now in the motel room, she wished it were one of her brothers in the bathroom playing a joke on her. Maybe they’d jump out and yell, “Happy Birthday!” despite having missed it the last three years.

Another noise from the bathroom sent a jolt into Marie’s brain. It was a sniffing sound.
Someone’s smelling
my shoes.
She was at once both disgusted and intrigued. Who would sneak into a motel room just to get a pair of shoes when she was sitting on the bed, a defenseless woman who would make a perfectly fine sex-crime victim? What was wrong with her? Wasn’t she good enough to be attacked, raped, or murdered? Were her shoes that much more desirable?

Story of my life
.

Marie crept toward the bathroom slowly but her drug-fueled mind felt as if she wasn’t moving at all. She wondered if perhaps she had snorted something other than coke. She felt
different
. Marie took a few more steps and noticed the rug underneath her feet felt filthy. Though it wasn’t a surprise considering where she was, it made her wonder just how filthy her feet would be after walking to the bathroom. Marie could imagine the wrinkles of her soles turning black, the balls of her feet darkening.

She reached the bathroom door and peeked in.

Chapter Two

Through the filthy windshield, Red Henry Hooper watched the two men bring their duffle bags into the motel room and close the door behind them. He waited sixty seconds and when the door didn’t open back up, Henry got out of the car.

The Solar Lodge Motel was located just off the
Garden State Parkway
outside of
Thompson
,
New Jersey
. Despite having grown up in the area, Red Henry had never actually taken notice of the place and was now struck by the feeling he had traveled back in time to the late 1960s, which was the last time the motel’s architecture was in style. It was a shit-hole yet it obviously had enough customers to stay afloat in the world of Holiday Inns. Henry suspected the management supplemented their income by allowing illicit business to be conducted in the rooms.

He stood next to his car, staring at the yellow and brown L-shaped motel and wondered how many crimes had been committed in those rooms, how many infidelities, how many drug deals, how many scumbag porn shoots. He started walking toward Room 12 where the two men had gone in just a few minutes ago.

He stood in front of the door and listened. The television was on. They were watching
The Golden Girls
.
I’ve seen that one. The one with the flashbacks and shit. Yeah, that’s a good one.
Henry looked around and saw a man looking at him from the other side of the parking lot.
Fuck’s his problem?
If the guy stared any longer, Henry decided he’d go over there and put a knife to his throat. He’d say, “You staring at something, pal?” and watch as the guy would most surely start pleading for his life, saying he had a family and that he wasn’t meaning to stare. That’d be funny as hell, Henry decided but wished it didn’t come to that because he didn’t feel like wasting his time. Besides, the last few years taught him to think about the consequences before he acted, something the he had usually never done before.

He tensed up when he saw the guy reach for something in his jacket. Henry relaxed when he saw him pull out a cigarette lighter and walk away. Red Henry turned back toward the room door.

Ready or not,
motherfuckers
.

Red Henry slammed his fist on the door. “Open up, assholes! It’s the police!”

He heard frantic whispering and then a laugh. The door opened. Dix Hayden stood there smiling in only his boxer shorts. “You dumb shit,” he said. “You think I’m
gonna
fall for that a third time?” Dix grabbed Henry in a hug.

Standing behind Dix was Grant
Minissi
holding a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other. “Hey, what’s up, man?” He slapped Henry on the back once and then went back to sit on the bed. Dix sat down next to him and Henry took a seat on the other bed.
 
He grabbed a can of beer from the nightstand.

Dix said, “So, what’s the story? You out for good or what?”

“Parole,” Henry said, opening the beer. He took a sip and made a face. “God, this shit’s terrible. This all you can afford?”

Dix smiled and shrugged.

Lazily, Grant said, “Money’s tight right now, know what I’m
sayin
?”

Red Henry said, “Yeah, well I guess I shouldn’t bitch about that. I’m in the same boat. My fucking P.O. is hounding me.
Gotta
hurry up and find a job. Like I want a job at a
motherfucking
fast food restaurant or something. Not
gonna
do construction either, break my back everyday so I can go home and be too tired to do anything. Fucking bullshit, guy thinks I’m
gonna
go back to living a straight life.”

“Who’s your P.O.?” Dix asked.

“Eddie Ford. Know him?”

“Heard of him,” Dix said. “I don’t think he’s a real fucking asshole, just your usual
hardass
, doesn’t want trouble, wants to show his supervisor he’s a tough guy. I think he’s buddies with that Detective what’s his name.
McMadigan
. Fucking guy’s crazy. But Ford, I don’t know. I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.”

“Still, it’s a pain in the ass.” Henry took another sip of his beer and made a face. Dix laughed.

“It grows on you, trust me. Hey, uh, how’s Susie? You two back together?”

Red Henry said, “Yeah, I called her this morning, talked about shit, not
gonna
get separated just yet. Good thing, too, since she’s been making good money lately which will help if I can get some before she spends it all.”

“Only thing better than a good piece of ass is a good piece of ass with money,” Dix said. “Oh, hey, I heard she lost a little weight, looking real good, bet you’re happy about that.”

Henry said, “Ah, you know I don’t give a shit about her weight.”

Grant took his eyes off of
The Golden Girls
and said, “I heard Susie was up to her ears in cock while you were gone.”

“Fuck you just say?” Red Henry said, squinting and leaning his head to one side.

“I said I heard Susie was up to her ears in cock while you were locked up.” Grant’s mouth opened in a toothy but silent laugh, his head shaking and showing Red Henry that he was quite amused with himself.

Dix said, “Jesus, Grant, what the fuck’s wrong with you?”

Grant smiled and turned his attention back to the television. “God, I love Blanche
Devereaux
. She’s pretty fucking hot for an old broad.”

Red Henry threw his beer at Grant, hitting him in the cheek and splattering beer all over the bed. Dix jumped up and stood between the two of them, hoping to squash any physical altercation. On one side of him Henry was now standing and staring at Grant who was looking down at his beer-soaked shirt with that same stupid grin on his face.

“What’d you do that for?” Grant said. “You know I was just fucking with you, right?”

Dix put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Man, the guy’s just fucked up right now, took some pills, don’t know what he’s saying.”

Henry said, “He should know enough not to talk shit when he knows I’ll fuck him up.”

“Easy, man, easy.
Let’s go outside,” Dix said, leading Henry towards the door.

The two of them walked out of the motel room and stood out in front of the room. Dix was relieved. He hated having to get in the middle of any conflict especially when it involves good friends of his. On top of that, he knew he was partly responsible for what had just happened.
I
shoulda
never hooked Grant up with those fucking pills.

Now Red Henry was in front of him smoking a cigarette and looking like he was about to go berserk.
I
gotta
calm him down. Take him to a strip joint or something.

Henry said, “Since when is Grant a fucking pill-popper?”

“It’s a recent thing. It’ll blow over,” Dix said.

“Hope so. If not, I’m
gonna
fuck him up, mark my words, friend or not.”

“There’s no need to get so angry, okay. We get together, we always talk shit like that. You know, ‘Hey, your wife was good last night’ and all that shit. Maybe he crossed the line, I don’t know but he’s high as a fucking kite so cut him a little slack.”

Henry said, “I don’t know, it’s just…” He started walking towards his car and Dix followed.
 
“I’m out on parole, I come here wanting to meet up with you two, bullshit, play cards, and maybe make some plans and I
gotta
deal with that dickhead? No way, I don’t have to take that fucking shit. You make sure you get him off the fucking pills or we don’t pull a job together.”

Red Henry knew he was probably being unreasonable. His wife Susie was a hooker and so he knew what Grant said was true. Even so, Henry still loved his wife, despite her profession and he didn’t feel like hearing that asshole talk about it.

Dix sighed and said, “
Wanna
go to Scooter’s?”

Red Henry sighed. Then he smiled as he always did when someone mentioned Scooter’s Go-Go-
Rama
.

Chapter Three

The go-go bar was one of many such places in the area where a man could go to get cheap beer while being able to eyeball Russian immigrant strippers and local college drop-outs. Henry and Dix walked into the place and were happy there were only three other customers inside.

The bar itself was a rectangle with a stage in the middle where the less-than-enthusiastic dancers would do their thing. The two of them sat down at the far end in front of the pool tables.

There was only one dancer on stage. She was a tall, lanky brunette with several generic tattoos. Henry hated that. If you’re going to get a tattoo, get something original. He saw that a lot nowadays. Young guys with faux tribal art as if they were ever even in a fucking tribe anyway. Girls with butterflies as if those creatures held any sort of deep meaning for them. The girl on stage had both: a barbed-wire-looking thing on her right arm and a real ugly butterfly above her ass crack.
  

Dix got the bartender’s attention and she hobbled over. He said, “Hey Peggy, how’s it going?”

“Eh, alright I guess. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Henry. Henry, this is Peggy.”

Peggy said, “
Hiya
.”

Henry wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to shake the woman’s hand so he just smiled and nodded. Despite her being a cripple, Henry thought she was pretty cute: five-ten and almost two-hundred pounds. Blond hair, huge tits, her shirt low enough to show off her ample cleavage. He figured she was in her late thirties.