paht seven

celery- ce'st la vie
slew- shit my man, i think you stabbed me...

upcheck and the two men poured out of the bar and into the street legs and arms flailing everywhere. celery sat there silently the hood on her faded green jacket pulled down over her eyes sucking on a wet cigarette with the filter torn off.
-celery was downtown, for whatever reason, and people watching... everyone was a walking obituary to her back then. your life summed up in a three sentence blurb. son of so and so... father to him and her like that's all you managed to do in your time here on earth, procreate. and a man with a seeing eye dog, a blind man, was coming up to the intersection, and this dog with his sad eyes slumped over in this crazy harness takes this man through the crosswalk against the red light and the bright orange hand. this fucking dog doesn't miss a beat. he's ready. given up on life. defeated. everyone on the street is standing there stunned. to say anything would invite panic and ultimately death... and the whole time cars are barely missing the man and his sad- eyed yellow dog. they both died... not then, but later... cancer, but many years later and apart.
the three men on the corner struggle in the rain oblivious to the world around them.
upcheck screams- go ahead... blacken my soul out with violence and loss.
the third man fishes in his pants pocket for something: a knife with a black pearl handle.
slew seeing all of this sprints across the street at full speed as the third man wrestles his knife open with a free hand.

me: have you even read my blog???
mendy: i read the first one or two. it didn't make a whole lot of sense to me, soooo...
me: you haven't even looked at it, have you?
mendy: it's not even about you, really...
(thank you mendy, for everything, even if you'll never read it. my thanks... not the blog)

slew trips, tripped... three's company style, and falls on the knife with the black pearl handle, the grace of god, and the calloused hand that held the thing...
celery limps over to the crime scene with the yellow tape only to be taken down after it is all over. upcheck stands by himself on the corner, his pock marked face twisted into a frown.
"i've seen all of this in my dreams"
"i know, i think we all did..."
"this is the end of the beginning..."
"or the other way around"

the magnificient seven samurai

from many, one...
michigan was running, running running.
a small lactic knife slid underneath his ribs.
the fear of god.
narrator: seven young men went out that night and six returned... so it goes.
michigan jumped a low chain link fence, monkey vaulting, into the adjacent backyard and doubled back.
narrator: seven young men went out and six returned: three samurai and three ronin... the seventh died.
michigan wheeled around and threw a wild side kick into the chest of his once friend.
narrator: the game was created- from many, one- the battles were fought after midnight. midnight was when the monsters came out. alliances were formed and broken... to the victor the spoils, and all would be forgiven in the end... until the night six returned.
the two shadows were on top of michigan raining blows on his back and shoulders as he wrung himself free of his black hoody. this fight is over.
narrator: the competition, the game, became a sick and twisted thing after that night.
three ronin against three samurai... and this is where this story ends its beginning.
michigan scrambled and managed to strike the one young man between the legs with a closed hand and fled down the alley southbound with tears in his eyes.