Swan Song

I look down and see Billy, soundly sleeping with his head resting on my chest and his arm wrapped around my waist.

I gently stroke his hair. I do so slowly and carefully.

I watch as his head moves slowly, up and down, rocking to the rhythm of my beating heart.

I try not to breathe too deeply so that he doesn’t wake up. Peace, pure, simple, blissful peace is so rare nowadays that I don’t want to be the one to shatter it. I’ve done that to him more than enough times already.

YEAH. TAKE ALL THE BLAME. AS IF THE FUCKER HAD NOTHING AT ALL TO DO WITH IT.

He looks so helpless, vulnerable while resting in my arms, kind of like a child, and, it’s funny, but I feel it’s my responsibility to protect him from the monsters that lurk outside in the darkness.

YEAH, BUT WHO’LL PROTECT HIM FROM YOU?

I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.

DON’T MAKE PROMISES YOU CAN’T KEEP.

It’s been a long time Billy. What? Five years. It’s seems like it’s been much longer.

YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY? ABSENCE MAKES THE COCK GROW HARDER. YOU CAN VERIFY THE TRUTH OF THAT STATEMENT, CAN’T YOU BILLY?

He’ll have to wake up soon though.

SAYS WHO? YOU SAID IT YOURSELF. HE LOOKS SO HELPLESS…VULNERABLE. IT WON’T TAKE MUCH, YOU KNOW.

And what’ll happen when he finally wakes up?

YOU FUCKIN’ KNOW EXACTLY WHAT’LL HAPPEN.

He’ll get up, get dressed…

…MAKE SOME POINTLESS SMALL TALK AND WALK RIGHT OUT OF THE FUCKIN’ DOOR AND YOUR FUCKIN’ PATHETIC LIFE. YOU SEE, HE’S TOO GOOD FOR US NOW, TOO GOOD FOR THE ROAD, FOR TRAVELING IN THE BACK OF CRAMPED, CRUMMY, AND PISS-SCENTED VANS, FOR SLEEPING IN CHEAP HOTEL ROOMS WITH CHEAP WHORES. NOPE. BILLY’S RESPECTABLE NOW. NO MORE PUNK FOR BILLY. NOPE. JENIFUR WAITS. JENIFUR? WHAT KIND OF FUCKIN’ NAME IS THAT FOR A BAND?

He’ll come back. We have that concert to play tomorrow night. I mean, later on tonight. Jesus Christ, what fucking time is it anyway?

TIME FOR ANOTHER DRINK.

Where did I leave that bottle anyway? There must be some Jack left.

THAT’S RIGHT. EMPTY THE BOTTLE AND RAM THAT NECK RIGHT UP OL' BILLY’S ASS. I GUARANTEE YOU HE WON”T BE GOING ANYWHERE SOON AFTER THAT. OF COURSE, HE PROBABLY WON’T BE IN ANY CONDITION TO PLAY EITHER.

It’s our last concert. Maybe ever. Man, what a goddamn waste. The past four shows have been great. Just like the old days. Even better. The music is so good. It’s everything. Maybe he’ll reconsider. Maybe Hard Core Logo won’t die.

YEAH. RIGHT. DREAM ON. YOU’LL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN.

He’ll show up tonight. He’s a professional.

YEAH. RIGHT. IF HE DOES SHOW UP, HE’LL TRY TO STEAL THE SPOTLIGHT FROM YOU.

He deserves the glory. The guy has talent on loan from God.

TALENT! THE GUY’S A FUCKIN’ GUITARIST. ANY MONKEY CAN WALK INTO A MUSIC STORE, GRAB A GUITAR, AND PLAY STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN.

He does more than play that guitar. He makes it sing. No, not sing. He makes it scream. A loud, angry, violent howl. It’s fucking beautiful, man. So fucking beautiful.

GIVE ME A FUCKIN’ BREAK! BILLY FUCKIN’ TALLENT. WHAT A FUCKIN’ EGO! YOU WANT TALENT, MR. BOISY? I’LL SHOW YOU TALENT. I”LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DESTROY A LIFE. IT’S TRUE, ANYONE CAN DESTROY A LIFE, BUT THE BEAUTY IS IN THE DETAILS. THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS, THE MIND REELS. DO I CUT HIS THROAT WHILE HE SLEEPS? HOW ABOUT IF I SMOTHER HIM WITH THIS PILLOW AND MAKE HIM CHOKE ON HIS LAST

BREATH?

NO. TOO EASY. DO I BOOZE HIM UP?

No.

COKE HIM UP?

No.

FUCK HIM UP? BEEN THERE. DONE THAT. NO. FUCKIN’ HIS BODY WAS TOO EASY. WHAT IF WE FUCK WITH HIS MIND? HOW ABOUT THAT? HOW ABOUT IF WE MAKE BILLY BOY DESTROY HIMSELF?

No.

YEP. WE’LL DO IT SLOWLY…PAINFULLY. WE’LL MAKE HIM NEED US. WANT US. LOVE US UNTIL HE CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT US. WE'LL FEED THAT LOVE AND NURTURE IT AND LET IT GROW UNTIL IT ACHES HIM TO BE ALONE.

No.

YEP. BILLY, YOU’RE MY BITCH. YOU ARE MINE TO FUCK WITH AS I PLEASE. I’M GONNA TREAT YOU LIKE A CHEAP CAN OF BEER. I’M GONNA OPEN YER HEART AND DRAIN EVERY LAST DROP OF THAT SWEET STUFF WITHIN YOU, THEN CRUSH YOU AND THROW YOU AWAY.

Fuck off.

WHAT DID YOU SAY?

I said fuck off. I promised I wouldn’t hurt him.

WELL, PROMISES WERE MADE TO BE BROKEN.

Not this one. Not this time.

Just remember. It works both ways.

WHAT?

The power to destroy. It works both ways.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

You’ll find out soon enough.

YOU’RE BLUFFING.

I think you know better. I may not be able to tell Billy that I love him. Hell, I can’t even show him that I love him in ways that don’t involve booze, drugs, and my dick up his ass, but come later on tonight, after the concert, I’ll prove to him and to us, once and for all, that I love him…more than life itself. What do you say to that, Dick?

…

Cat got your tongue? Good, well then, fuck off and leave us alone.

It’s just you and me now, Billy. Just the way it always should have been, if it wasn’t for the rest of the world. Who am I kidding? If it wasn’t for ourselves. It just wasn’t in the cards. Love is great. Love is grand. Love is also destructive. Love is all that matters.

In the end, it’s love.

Who knows though, maybe after tomorrow night, we'll both be able to find the peace that has somehow always escaped us, except for those few brief moments when we got to hold on to each other.

THE END

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