Wes Lexner x 3

The boss man came to me. He closed the door behind him and laid a pistol on the table then he looked me square in the eye. “I have ass cancer,” he said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him. “Is it hopefully terminal?”

“It is,” he said. “I have six months. Maybe a year. I’ve dedicated my life to this company. You know, it’s funny. As children we have larger than life dreams; that growing up means making a difference by doing the things we love. What they don’t tell you is that once when mediocrity burrows in like a festering parasite, life becomes an endless stream of meaningless toil and futility. No matter how well you think you have it, there’s a deep void within you which whispers to you each night and tells you that you have wasted the best years of your life by becoming a cog in a soulless machine. You can spend the hours burying that voice but you know it speaks the truth. And you go on ignoring it until it metastasizes into an incurable disease. The good news for me is that I don’t have long. I will soon join the legions of the dead and forgotten. But as for you, I must pass my burden onto your shoulders.”

“What do you mean sir?”

“You are being promoted from serviceable to merely competent. The Company has deemed that you take the reins of this operation once when you’ve achieved the applicable credentials, namely a college degree. I suppose a congratulations is in order but I wouldn’t wish this job on my worst enemy.”

“But I already have a degree.”

“Your diploma in Italian porno studies at Brownhole University is not, to quote my superiors, ‘worth wiping your ass with’. I’m afraid you’ll have to get a proper one at a proper school.”

The boss man then holstered the pistol and gave me one last piece of advice. “It is life that gives meaning to death,” he said. “And if you want a meaningful death then you should resign from this job and follow your passions. If not, then classes in business management begin at Western Governor’s University on August 28th. Apply today and receive a 5% discount on fall tuition.”

Then he straightened out his shirt and opened the door. But before he departed this earth, he turned around and tapped on his pistol and winked. “You know what to do,” he said.

“Yes sir, I do.”

Western Governor’s University

Changing lives for the better

kingdom of god 6

And in the morning he stashed away his belongings under the floorboards and away from the prying eyes of the innkeeper and then he marched back down the steps and into the musty streets of Harar where overhead was heard the screaming of Nighthawk missiles as they thundered through the sky and headed northward. Minutes later Wade arrived at the old storefront which housed the local offices of Agency representative Javier Gomez where the inside remained a barren landmark of time in memoriam. The representative himself sans a robust staff scribbled on a notepad at his desk with his back turned against the window facing the northerly Urbana Mountains. Nighthawks continued roaring overhead and were barely muffled by the brick and insulation. Wade noticed Gomez’s hand shaking.

“You think it’s bad here,” he told the representative, “think about how bad it must be for the people of Nain.”

Ignoring his comment and not looking up, Gomez continued his pointless jotting. “What can I do you for Wade?”

“Milner wants to make a bid,” he said.

Gomez dropped the pen and clasped his hands on the desk. “On what?” the representative asked.

“On the lands northwest of the Siana. Just on the border of Milner’s.”

Gomez shook his head and resumed the jotting. “You’re a little late,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“It already has a bid and I doubt you could beat it.”

“By who?”

“You know who.”

“The Shepherd?”

Gomez nodded.

“Do you know where he is? Perhaps I could discuss the matter with him.”

The representative once again looked up. “That’s not a good idea. As of lately negotiating with him hasn’t been good for one’s health.”

“Are you referring to Tollum’s land?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I passed through it on my way up.”

“Then you know exactly what I mean.”

“But you’re the agency. Can’t you facilitate some sort of arrangement?”

“It doesn’t work that way and you know it.”

“Then maybe I should go up there and take care of that problem for you.”

Gomez’s face turned a bright red and he lifted a finger towards Wade. “You listen to me goddamnit! You keep your mouth shut! I won’t have talk of killin in my offices!”

“I said nothing about killin, Javier. You did.”

“I’m not a fool! I know what Milner pays you for and I don’t like it!”

“Have you been to Tollum’s lately? Women and children dead in the streets with their bones getting picked apart by old hermits. I suppose you’ll cede that land to the Shepherd as well? What good is an agency if it can’t stop this lawlessness?”

Javier piped down and lowered his head back to the notepad. “Alright then. If you want to negotiate with the Shepherd then that’s your business. And unless a lawful agreement can be reached, I don’t want to know about it. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 4

North to Nain was a day’s travel on water but the rivers to the east and west were polluted by thieves and robbers of the night which left Wade little choice but to travel overland. The roads were ruptured and shattered and the earth under the asphalt remained in upheaval from the shock of aerial bombardment and the land was festered with the corpses of timber and rusted steel. It was futile for thieves to rummage these parts. But miles ahead through the sun soaked fog, the wanderer saw a curious fellow scouring the naked fields. He momentarily corrected course to follow this itinerant hermit through the brush and through the sea of purpled phlox and arrived at the deserted town once owned by the Tollom Corporation. Wade lowered his rifle then marched forth and whether through disease or famine the dead lay untouched in their homes while the children were shot in the streets with the women mangled and skirts upturned. He stopped the old hermit as he rummaged through the corpses for any morsel of worth left in this decayed land.

“What happened here?” Wade asked the old man.

“What’s been happening,” the hermit said.

“What happened to Tollum?”

“I reckon he refused to sell.”

“Sell to whom?”

“The Shepherd.”

The old hermit moved from body to body and picked apart their swollen and bloodied remains and then burrowed into the abandoned homes and storefronts for anything not yet taken by thieves and the hermit would stash his findings into a brown leather satchel before resuming his ghoulish search. And Wade would watch the old man creep and slink around like a cat cautiously poking through a rubble of trash.

“Did you know these people?” he asked the hermit.

“No not really,” said the old man.

Then he found the body of a woman with breast exposed and belly cut open on the ground and he reached into her dress to retrieve a singular golden ring. He held the ring up and flashed his rotted teeth to signal his biggest find of the day then he dropped the ring into the satchel. Wade lowered his rifle and fired a round into the chest of the hermit and the bullet busted open his chest and the old man collapsed backward to the ground. He walked towards the hermit and when he saw that he was dead, Wade took the satchel and threw it around his shoulder.

It was two more days before he reached the edge of Nain.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 3

The man called Wade shuffled past the children at play and then past the men clanging and toiling through the village like winged insects circling a hive. And in the center of it all was the courthouse sitting as a potentate overseeing its fiefdom. He ascended the steps of the courthouse and to the top where Max Milner was awaiting him.

“That brokecock weasle twat threatened to buy me out!” the chiefdon informed Wade.

“The Shepherd sir?”

“Yes the goddamn Shepherd! And I told him this property wouldn’t be worth a penny shit if it wasn’t for me!”

“And what does the Agency say?”

“Goddamn the Agency!”

Milner picked up a half bent pipe and loaded it with tobacco. Then he lit a match and gnawed on the pipe. “I’m just having a bit of breakfast,” the chiefdon said to Wade. “Care for some eggs? Got a little cornbread too.”

“No thank you sir.”

“How about some coffee? Want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

Milner fumbled around the cupboard and stumbled upon an old tin cup and poured in black coffee. Wade sat on a chair in front of Milner’s desk and after the chiefdon sat the cup in front of him he let the cup steam.

“The news said they bombed the shit out of the lands north of the Nain,” said Milner. “And I mean they bombed the shit out of it. They’re forecasting more tonight.”

“Yes sir I know,” said Wade.

“How’s that?”

“We intercepted some refugees this morning. Two men and two women. We executed the men and took the women to the harem.”

Milner’s ears perked up. “Two women you say? What are their ages?”

“The girl is 15 years old and the woman still appears to be of childbearing age.”

“15 years old eh?” Milner asked as smoke billowed from his nose. “That’s good. We got boys in need of a wife. We gotta get this land settled. If the Shepherd is gonna rear end me then I gotta take him for every penny he’s got!”

“Yes sir.”

“Anyway,” says Milner as he waves smoke from his eyes, “I didn’t call you up here for idle chitchat. I want you to go to the Nain. Meet with Javier Gomez while you’re up there.”

“The Agency representative?”

“Yup. That’s him. Ask him if he’ll partition some land. It can’t be worth much anyway.”

“With all things being equal sir, with the bombing, I think it would be best if I stayed down here.”

“All things being equal, I’d rather be here than the Nain too,” Milner jested. “But we’re gonna need some breathing room. And soon..”

“But with refugees fleeing south, they’re bound to pass through here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Kahn can handle it.”

Wade nodded then stood up and straightened out his pants while Milner looked down at his papers. He stammered a bit before speaking. “Anything you want me to tell Javier?” he asked the chiefdon.

Milner reached down into his desk and pulled out an envelope with two baseball cards stuffed inside. “Yeah. Give him that, will ya?” Wade took it and placed the envelope in his jacket pocket.

“Is that all sir?” he asked Milner.

“That’s all.”

Wade bowed and started to leave but he opened the door the chiefdon spoke up. “Wait a minute!” he shouted.

Wade turned around.

“Are you gonna drink that coffee?”

kingdom of god 2

The two men marched the two women through the torched and upturned earth past charred trees and stones where echoes of the living had found their resting place. Though the dull and grey and blackened vestiges of bloodshed dotted the countryside, to the south remained a symbol of past and future. A village, or what seemed like one, aligned with stinging metal and men standing watch and looking towards the great abyss beyond. In the center of it all was a relic to law and order. Perhaps it was a courthouse before the days of the alleged war but to the women it was a tawdry reminder of a failed establishment.

The men pushed the women towards the harem where they were stripped and searched and issued new attire. When it was over, the man took the older woman aside.

“Where were you going?” he asked her.

“It’s…it’s difficult to explain,” she stammered.

“Will there be others coming through?”

“I don’t know.”

The man took out an old pack of cigarettes and offered the woman one. She refused. He placed one in his mouth and lit it. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Regina.”

“Regina. What did you do before this?”

“I’m a follower of Jonny.”

“Jonny? The magician?”

“He’s not a magician.”

“Well you know that he died in an attack many years ago.”

“He promised he’ll be back.”

“It’s hard to come back from being blown to smithereens.”

The man stamped out his cigarette and escorted the women to their quarters but before he left the woman Regina stopped him. “Why are you doing this to us?” she inquired.

“You are now property of the Milner Corporation,” he informed her. “The men executed. Were they your family?”

The woman nodded.

“According to law, we are permitted to liquidate men of fighting age,” he said. “You may not understand but as we told you, this is private land. When the war is over, everything that you saw will be fully developed into something greater than what it was before. There is a lot of money to be made. A future to restore.”

“But what will happen to us?”

“You needn’t worry,” the man said. “As women you will bear the future. You will be a part of something wonderful and in time you will understand.”

The women took their bedside. But before the man left, he stopped and turned around. “My name is Wade,” he said. “Welcome to the Promised Land.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia (Conclusion)

Jim reached for his six shooter but he wasn’t quick enough. The cabbie reached for the gun and pulled it from his hands. “Nice pistol you got there old man,” the cabbie said. “But you’re a little slow on the draw.”

Luckily I had the Ruger ready and fired a single shot into the cabbie’s thigh. He fell backwards onto the cab and held his hand over the wound. “That’s for taking the pistol,” I said to him while I was bleeding out on the ground. “Now you better scram before things get ugly.”

Without saying a word, the cabbie stumbled back into the driver’s seat and sped off and then Old Jim attempted to help me to my feet. “It’s fine,” I told him. But it wasn’t fine. The exit wound went through my kidney and blood was soaking up my shirt.

With his arm around me, we stumbled up into the hills before finding a secluded rock overlooking the Los Angeles skyline. I fell to my feet with my back to the rock to rest. I figured I wouldn’t be getting up. “Suppose we need to get you to the hospital,” offered Old Jim.

“Nah,” I said. “I’m ready to meet my prince.”

Jim gloomfully nodded. He planted his back against the rock and we admired the sight before us. I figured I’d have more to say in a moment like this but I didn’t. I didn’t know what time it was but it felt like the sun was racing towards the horizon.

“What do you reckon you’ll do now?” I asked Jim.

“I dunno,” he said.

“I think I have the keys to my apartment somewhere on me,” I said. But I was too weak to reach for them.

“It’s okay,” said Jim. “I never had a home anyway.”

“I guess I owe you an apology too.”

“Forget it,” he said. “I ain’t long for this world no how.”

Those were the last words we said.

It was just before sunup when I woke up alone still rested by the rock. My keys and the Ruger were gone and Jim was nowhere to be found. It felt like the blood was completely drained from my body. I looked around to see the boomer with the Mitsubishi from months earlier leaned up against his car on the side of the road and smoking a cigarette. When he was done with the smoke, he flicked it to the ground and stamped it out.

“What time is it?” I asked him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Come on son. We’ve been up in the hills long enough.”

THE END

Anaideia 53

It was just before sunup when a trucker in a Peterbilt pulled off and rolled down the window. He was shirtless and a Buc-ee’s hat was resting on his head. “You boys need a ride?” he shouted past the loud ass diesel engine.

“Are you headed to Los Angeles?” I asked him.

“I’m going as far as Santa Clarita,” he said.

Shit, I thought. Close enough. So Jim and I climbed into the cab and I closed the door then the 18-wheeler rolled back onto the interstate. We were maybe an hour out of Santa Clarita and I was deadass tired. I didn’t have much to say but the trucker belched and farted and rolled down the window to hock a loogie. “You boys from Los Angeles?” he asked us.

“Yup,” I said.

“Ya know, I used to have a Mexican wife in Los Angeles,” he told us. “And let me tell ya, she sucked a mean weiner too boys. Let me tell ya.”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t understand why they’re deporting them folks. If they should deport anyone, it should be them goddamn Koreans I tell ya….”

While he went on his diatribe, I fell asleep and 45 minutes later we were in Santa Clarita. Before splitting off towards Palmdale, the trucker pulled off the interstate to let us out. “If you boys ever want to hang out, you can reach me at my Kiwifarms account at…,” the trucker began to say but I immediately close the door behind me.

Jim and I walked for a few miles more before I threw out my thumb again. Minutes later a wino mom crashed her Buick into a guardrail and rolled down her window. “You boys need a ride?” she asked.

I nodded and climbed into the front seat. She weaved in and out of traffic and narrowly missed other motorists down the 405 before arriving at Sherman Oaks. I thanked her for the ride before she barreled off back into traffic and I reached for my wallet.

“We only got $7 bucks left,” I told Old Jim. “We’ll see how far a cab will get us.”

Once again I throw out my thumb. A cabbie stopped. He rolled down the window and glanced at us with his aviators on and I didn’t recognize him. “Can you get us to LA?” I ask him.

The cabbie said nothing for a few moments before lowering his shades. “Where do I recognize you from?” he asked me.

That’s when I knew I made a critical mistake. “I’ve never seen you before in my life,” I told him.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You’re the son of a bitch who stiffed me in Norco.”

“No sir. Wasn’t me.”

“Bullshit. You owe me $498 bucks.”

“Look, I’ll just hail another cab sir. Have a nice day.”

I kept walking down the road dragging Jim behind me and hoped that the cabbie would move along. But he persisted by getting out of the cab. The fella was big. He stopped in front of us and put his hand to my chest. “Give me my goddamn money,” he demanded.

“Look! I don’t know you!” I pleaded.

The cabbie reached for his ankle holster and pulled out a small caliber .40 then held it to my abdomen. “Now!” he said.

I raised my hands in the air and searched for the right words. “All I have is $7,” I said.

“Give it to me,” he ordered.

I lowered my right hand and pulled out the wallet. With my hands shaking, I handed him the seven bucks. He took the money and stuffed it into his jean pocket. “$491 bucks left,” he said. “A couple of vagrants walking the streets of Sherman Oaks. I don’t think folks around here would object to me blowing a hole in your belly.”

I swallowed hard. “Please don’t,” I said.

But he cocked the pistol and pulled the trigger.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 48

Randy didn’t know what to make of Susan. He sipped the scotch mere feet from her face with her eyes bowed to the floor. I turned my head to see a tear stream down her face. Though this was the moment she had been waiting for, nothing had prepared her for it. “I don’t think I know you,” Randy said.

Susan palmed her eyes and lifted her head to face him. When I looked at Randy, I could tell he was genuinely perplexed. “Where is my mother?” Susan managed to squeak out.

Randy squinted his eyes and took another sip. He lowered the glass and placed it in his left hand. “Darling,” he said, putting his right hand to her cheek, “I’m sorry but I don’t understand your question.”

“Where is MY mother,” she repeated.

“If you could tell me who you are, perhaps I could help,” he said, taken back by her sudden forcefulness.

“Susan.”

“Susan who?”

“Susan Brucetti.”

He took his hand off her face and had another sip. “Brucetti?” he asked and swallowed hard. “I believe a Lyonette Brucetti was under my employment many years ago. Is that your mother?”

Susan nodded and lowered her head again. Randy’s face began to blush and he nervously scratched his head. “I’m afraid that I haven’t seen Lyonette in some time,” he explained. “Last I heard, she was living in Chico with her husband. I apologize, but I haven’t been keeping close tabs on her.”

“You’re a liar,” Susan said.

“Pardon?”

“You’re a liar. You sold her into sex slavery.”

“W-why would I do that?”

“Because that’s the kind of man you are!”

“Susan, sweetheart, I think you have the wrong idea. You see, Lyonette and I were lovers for a very long time. I loved her. Why would I sell someone I love into slavery?”

“Then why would she abandon me?!”

Randy turned around and refused to face us. He sat his glass of scotch down and rubbed his brow. “I’m sorry Susan,” he said, “had I of known, I would have done something.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a child together. A girl.”

Susan looked at me with wide eyes. No words came. In real time I could see her heart sink to her feet and Dale shook his head. “Told you it was a mistake,” he uttered under his breath.

“Goddamnit Dale,” I said.

“What was a mistake?” asked Randy, still not facing us.

“Forget it,” I said.

“I’m gonna be sick,” said Susan.

Randy picked up the glass again and ignored the comment entirely. He turned around and leaned against the table. “Susan, my dear, I think you should leave,” he said. “I don’t want you to be a part of what’s about to happen.”

Susan quietly nodded and the driver took her by the arm and escorted her upstairs. She never looked back at me. She was defeated.

When she was gone and the shock wore off, I looked at Randy. “Two damaged children,” I said. “That’s your real legacy.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Yellowlights: the autobiography of Beau Montana

Matthew McConaughey’s autobiography is the most deranged thing I’ve ever read. But it inspired me to write my own.

Here are some highlights:

Yellowlights by Beau Montana

This isn’t an autobiography in its usual sense. I don’t remember much of anything. And I’m not talking about a few instances here and there. I mean NOTHING.

I grew up in a family that always told each other “you’re the biggest disappointment of my life.” And we meant it.

My mother held my head under the waters of the Ohio River and said “this is all part of God’s plan.” She was later arrested for possession of illegal methadone.

I’m not a victim.

When I was 27, my therapist shoved tennis balls up my ass and I shit green fuzz for weeks

I’m an eternal optimist.

When I was 43, my brother pulled down my pants at the bowling alley and everyone laughed at my little penis.

I’m not in denial.

Everyone gets to choose their own past. All it takes is a few weeks in the Mojave Desert surviving on wild mushrooms and peyote. It doesn’t hurt to be stupidly good looking either.

You need to get over your trauma.

If I whined and cried about having crippling alcoholism, diabetes, dyslexia, dementia, delirium tremens, and diphtheria, I would have never had the courage to apply to Harvard, Stanford, MIT, and the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater (then get rejected by all of them).

This book serves as my love letter…and suicide note…to life….

…AND to my love of black tar heroin.

Flashback: A Short Biography

So here it is, the post that started it all. It was originally published in early August of 2021.

As the new year approaches, I just want to reflect on how I’ve changed as a person and as a writer. Which really isn’t a whole lot when you think about it.

So onto 2023! Have a Happy New Years and thank you to everyone who has followed me on this journey.

I love you 😘

They say Rome wasn’t built in a day.

They say you can’t count your chickens before they hatch.

They say you can’t shit where you eat.

They say I should seek therapy because everyone’s worried about me.

They say I have a drinking problem and that I shouldn’t mix downers with downers.

They say I have crippling debt and that I am months away from homelessness

Hi I’m James. And maybe they’re right. What do I know? Well let me tell you a little about myself.

I was born outside of a Denny’s in Scottsbluff, Nebraska in either late 1979 or 1981 depending on who you believe. I attended Norhwestern on an athletic scholarship, but was suspended for PED usage, and, in the words of the university, “cockfighting”.

So I hit the road. I hit up every strip club and drug den from Baton Rouge to New Orleans. I learned a lot about myself on that trip. I learned that sometimes growing up means putting your pants on one leg at a time. Sometimes it’s about changing your pants. Sometimes your pants just aren’t long enough and you accidentally expose your wiener.

But the most important thing in life is this: show up to court on time and pay all of your fines.

So I actually know quite a lot. And if you stick around, you might learn something too.

So stay tuned my friends….