Fayetteville 8

English: Olive Tree from Greece, Sithonia Бълг...

English: Olive Tree from Greece, Sithonia Български: Маслиново дърво от Ситония, Гърция (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I climb in the back seat of the constable’s car, still tripping, and the constable/minotaur drives off.  A heavy screen mesh separates me from the front seat.  As though the car is used for hauling mad dogs and Englishmen.

I want to talk to you, the minotaur moos.  He stops the car and comes around and opens the door for me and opens the passenger seat and moos, Get in here.

I sit in the passenger seat beside the minotaur.  He stinks of the slaughterhouse and of the carrion he has feasted on with his kind while someone plays a flute under an olive tree on a sunny hillside.  He wipes a big clot of guts off his mouth.  He moos, Let me tell you something.

Yes, I say.

I have to remind myself i’m tripping on weed and not losing my mind.

He reaches down and taps my knee with his front hoof.  Then he moos at me, You, my friend, are a 24-carat bastard.   That’s your problem.  Not a lot of people are sympathetic.  Now I’m going to do you a favor.  You have any money?

The minotaur flicks its tail in front of me and it’s all I can do not to stare.


That’s what I thought, he moos.  Now I’m going to do you a favor.  I’m buying you a bus ticket and driving your stinkin ass back to the bus station and wait until you are on the bus.   Do you want to know why?

No, I say, bored.  It’s hard to understand a minotaur enunciating words and I wonder how it does that without a hyoid bone.

I hear you’re a smart boy, it moos.

I don’t care.

Because the father of the daughter whose life you ruined happens to be a man I like and respect, it moos.  And I’d like to see him have some peace of mind.

I am struggling not to laugh.  It’s hard to take a lawman seriously when all he can do is moo.  Now he groans and struggles to chew his insistent cud.

He’ll be happier in his mind if you’re just gone.  He might even forget there’s a lowlife like you although I doubt it, he smacks.

The minotaur snuffles and saws his head sideways and almost gores me with a horn as he chews cud that rushes into his mouth fresh from a four chambered stomach.  His eyes close as he struggles to swallow.  He lets go a bellowing moo and falls silent until we reach the bus station.  Then he rummages in a wallet as a gigantic moth flies a crippled flight away and the beast moos in aggravation and digs harder with its hoof and jams money in my face.  He moos, I want you to go as far in any direction as you want.  Don’t come back here.  Moooo!



One thought on “Fayetteville 8

  1. I’m thinking I may have to go back to see if there’s a beginning to this story or if this is just a bizarre little snippet you felt like writing. It reminded me of the dragon behind the desk in Fear and Loathing and also made me wonder where this dude gets his weed.

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