HIV Bouquet

Gerard buys a lovely bouquet of flowers for his wife at the corner just after having paid a fifteen year old boy for the privilege of blowing him, some fifty bucks it cost him. He buys the wretched rotting red roses, and we jump out of that neighborhood like a flash. It’s overrated anyway, revitalization my ass.

And we head towards Gerard’s place to get trashed, today is tequila day. We’re going to get blasted, but he gets a flat tire and we have to stop by the side of the road where there isn’t anyone for miles, one of those back-country, middle-of-fucking-nowhere roads, and we’re pretty worried, and this guy with a rubber boogey man mask comes out with a fake retractable-blade knife, and he stabs Gerard in the arm. It takes me a moment to figure out that the red liquid is actually Gerard’s blood, not some fancy toy knife trick, and the boogey man is actually a deranged psychopath.

While he still has the knife in Gerard’s arm, Gerard screaming a deep penetrating scream that shakes my kidneys, I stomp the wackjob fucker in the chest, the knife slipping from his hand still stuck in Gerard. The breath knocked out of him, he starts to crawl back into the forest where he came from. I rip the knife out of Gerard, he screams like an infant that’s just been stepped on, and I plant that frightful red blade in the upper back, towards the right shoulder blade, of that monster. “THERE! Now you have AIDS, you goddamned little shit! My friend, there, he’s HIV positive, and now his blood is in you, so live with that you ridiculous piece of shit.” Gerard doesn’t really have AIDS, I just said that to freak the nut out, and it worked. He starts crying, bawling real little-girl-like, and it’s the absolute funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

Gerard walks up on us and he’s got a white strip of his shirt that he’s ripped off, using it as a bandage, and that thing is just soaked with his red bodily fluids. “Step aside, man, I’ll make sure this fuck gets what he deserves.” And I see now that Gerard is licking his lips like a glutton at Thanksgiving dinner, and he just stares wide-eyed and glamorous, and unbuckles his belt as the little sissy wannabe killer just cries and moans. Gerard walks up to the sissy, who’s still trying to crawl away from us very slowly, bit by bit, and he grabs the bastard by the knife in his back, holding him dead still. He twists the knife a little bit, Gerard can be a real sadistic fuck sometimes, then pulls it out; he takes the blade and slices the poor little prick’s pants open real quick, separating the cheeks and preparing for his first shot at a justified male rape. I turn away, I’ve never been good with these kinds of situations, which I end up in much more often than I should when I hang out with Gerard. I change the tire on the car, and wait with the sickly, distant screams wafting in the air. Gerard gets back to the car and we head back to my place to get drunk; he couldn’t explain being stabbed to his wife, not for the third time this year. She’d leave him for sure.