It is now his 3rd year on the job and he has well adjusted to the position of Head Maintenance Technician at the hotel. The pay is lousy. The hours are long..but Keith has found that there are many perks to the job as well..The residents of the Inn sometimes leave their stash, or rubber sex toys lying about..in which case he quaintly slips them beneath his blue dingy coveralls..
Once a woman from El Paso left a small red suitcase in the corner of the walking closet in Room #12. When Keith opened it, he found 3 8-Balls of Cocaine and a series of obscure German pornography (depicting beastiality scenes with German Shepherds and young impressionable teenage girls, bound..gagged..bitten. One in particular caught his attention for its depiction of a fallen Persephone, portrayed by a young anonymous hazel haired starlet. In the scene, she is raped by a brooding Hades, leather bound..and a masculine shouldered Dog with spike collar who is aroused only at the sound of a bell hanging from the tower of Hades throne room..just before dawn. Cleverly enough, Keith observed..was the director's choice to name the masked actor playing Hades as Pavlov Dong.)
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K E I T H
BIG LETTERS...big position..big stories about the short-term residents at the Hot Camel Inn..Why, just 4 years ago he was just another misfit redneck from Murfreesboro TN...run wild, on Benzo dreams across the High Plains...smoked Meth from a light bulb and had the bright idea to take off West..to live near the Hollywood sign and live one of those Bob Seger Nights.."with the diamonds and thrills..and those big city lights..and those HIGH rolling hills.."
"Yeah those High Rollers come in, fresh from Vegas with their willy nilly ways and them HIGH skirt, quarter-chasing bitches from the bus stops..from the HIGHways..from the desert towns. Yea, here they come fresh from Doomed cities and states of being. Every last God-forsaken one of ye'!"..
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Tonight, Keith has stayed late again.. He opens the door for Room #3...A/C is full blast.and there on the bed, decomposing..is Lyla..24, blond, blood hair..clumped..knotted, a twisted scene for sure..with those big dead eyes..those faded pupils..that gnarled mouth, gray skin..crumpled hand, smeared lipstick, bruised cheeks, battered Rouge..like a rescued corpse from the swamps of Moulin..from the great great jowls of the night and the 'gatar..her dress tit high..her tits exposed, bluish cold...still, and the A/C running smooth as silk..smooth as her bloody hair..smooth as her thighs..smooth as her lips against his fingertips..and when he bends to kiss her cheeks, the swelling seems to heal..He's a savior, Resurectus Phelia..a vessel of living breath for the damned who trodded the desert..
"Looking for more sin..and so it shall come to pass. Behold, the light of the day fades fast..fades fast! Across these hills are a lost man's dreams...and the nightmare's just begun..So sit and I'll tell you a story! about the Devil and his son..."
*singing
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Every once in a while, he comes to check for "pest infestations".. without management or the residents being the wiser..He slips inside quietly while they sleep.."just to check on the shape of the room"..while the HIGH rollers sleep heavy..while the Desert Tramps, the Lot Lizards..The Dolls lay in waiting..still breathing..Two weeks ago, he found Lyla and a resident under the name Barry Hanowitz asleep..with the A/C full blast..He could see his breath..Barry’s breath.. faint..but Lyla was a steady force of mist..as if some collection of dead souls rest in that place deep at the back of her pretty little throat..
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Room #3 is so much more than pre-paid, compact living quarters..Tonight, Room #3 is the louse, the white breathless insect that occupies Keith's thoughts..lying atop the covers..lying above the spilled babies of yesterday..weeks before..small infested still births..The louse and the semen fuse, turn to flaky chips of crustacean..infantile husks glisten against Lyla's skin in the moonlight..the black light..making her appear to have been sprinkled with the sand from the beaches of Nod..These specks are scattered across her half-naked body..in the cold folds of her arms..the beads of her eyelashes..crushed ever softly against the press of her lips and he tastes mass genocide deep in her mouth..while his tongue searches for the cove of the fallen souls inside her..
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He pulls a pair of clamps..roach-clips..from his big red tool-box..full of hammers, screw-drivers, wrenches, Vaseline, 'rub that snatch down..greased and tight!' .before the real work begins..Her eyes stare only at the stained white drapes..Hole-ridden..barely hanging on to the pane..of the glass that keeps the outside air from whisking a last whisper to the clouds..Keith applies the clamps to her blue nipples..There is a lack of tension in the pull..as he tugs futility at the sagging remains of a two-week corpse..She is a rough terrain now..a rotten pear, riddled with decay..The A/C is running full blast to keep the smell bearable..He pulls at the clips..and the dead never moan loud enough..
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He pulls at her hair, while he slips the black and banana yellow panties from her sleek thighs..Barry watches on in the corner with that fixed 2 week stare..his mouth is open..his eyes are closed.."Even now, you can't watch? Fucking pussy!" Keith snickers..and removes the panties from Lyla's ankles. She looks to the curtains..Barry is dead..Barry is watching..Barry sees Keith from behind the glassy stare..from the outside looking in..from the inside looking out..
"K E i T H"
whispers in the room of necra-night..secrets in the Inn..and the door to Room # 3 is closed on Barry..is closing-in on Keith..and Lyla..looks to the curtains..
Keith snarls and throws a Bible at Barry.."Suck an egg you dead fucker! I'm trying to get my fuck on here! Shut the hell up!"
Barry's head slumps over upon impact of the Lord's word..Revelations upside the head. And so it was that the words rung out from Barry's dead lips, quotes from the End Book itself:
"and the Living one; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive for evermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades"
to which Keith replied in quick fashion:
"Fear not the things which thou art about to suffer: behold, the devil is about to cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation ten days. Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life."
And while the Outside Lord watched from Barry's fixed eyes..Keith buries his face in Lyla's dead womb and wrought the seeds of death..searches for those who are being tried beyond the decaying 'uteran world..only to find louse flakes and the stench of dried semen in abundance..Lyla's head slumps from her gaze..curtains, whispers to the window have fallen to the floor..and neither her vapid eyes nor Keith's writhing neck wrapped in dead woman thighs make notice of a strange visitor to Room #3..
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He crawls from a 1.6 mm space behind the nightstand..which has been jostled from position by the incessant knocking around of the bed during the lover's fray. The silent invader has six legs, antennae, prodders..feelers..hairs..has crawled through fecal matter and urine, fed from scraps in the corners lived in many televisions with thousands of brothers and sisters..Now, he has strayed from his crowded home beneath refrigerators and within bathroom sinks..He has found his way from the bungalows of Haiti to Hollywood..made his way within the folds of crates holding imported fish..Now he has found his way into Room #3..and Lyla's eyes cannot move away from him as he scurries around the edge of the nightstand.
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The cockroach has stopped to observe the events of the 2nd week..within Room #3, Lyla's blank facade almost looks to smile at the creature..as Keith reaches at the other side of the bed for the Vaseline jar. "Gonna grease 'er good to-night. That pussy's 'bout dried up."
Keith dips three fingers into the jar and pulls out a glob of the sex paste..and holds the jelly to his nose for a quick check. " I can't remember if this stuff ever goes bad." Keith looks at Lyla.." Do you? Ha ha ha."
Keith applies the Vaseline to his member, and rubs the con[cock]tion slowly around the base.....applies adamant pressure to the tip as he strokes and leers at Lyla. "You like that don't you bitch?"
The cockroach has moved to the edge of the overlapping quilt on the bed as Keith searches for the insertion point..Lyla doesn't wince as he slides in..her head bounces up and down and almost clean from her shoulders as Keith's pace quickens and slows..his thrusts expand and disperse..the children the louse..the cockroach..They all watch on.
"And now for the goldmine!" Keith says, as he flips Lyla to her side and positions himself behind her. He sticks his greasy 3 fingers back into the jar resting on her pillow, and swipes them along her anal cavity.."Better safe than sorry."
He licks her ear as he inserts the same 3 fingers deeper, removing them to find no remains of a meal or soul inside. "I know there's something in there you quiet bitch!" he screams, and punches her in the back of the head before ramming his member inside her dead orifice. The children of the mattress have finally wept..The louse has leapt for the last time tonight..but the cockroach, watches from the foot of the bed now..The cockroach stares into Lyla's void mouth.
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Keith has seen the doctors about problems with his urinary tract in the past. He attributes an acidic feeling in his urethra to the inhalation of boric acid while laying traps around the office and rooms of the hotel. The doctors have suggested that the prolonged exposure to boron may have caused adverse effects to his kidneys and possibly his reproductive organs including, but not limited to the urethra and sperm count..
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Keith has fallen asleep inside Lyla's rectal wall. The cockroach is at the entrance of the dead girl's mouth. He pauses while Keith breathes heavy into the night air..each rise and fall of his chest reverberates along Lyla's hips to the mattress..from the bed to nightstand..from the inside to the outside..past the glass..into the land of Nod and never again.
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The cockroach scurries into Lyla's open mouth. Upon entering, the prodders begin searching the decayed tissue at the roof and scuttles quietly down the top of her throat and into the alimentary tract. It cuts through the esophagi, with a rapid pace..and goes mad at the sudden visions induced by the floating blood at the bottom of the appendix. Blood pool images of screams and Barry lying motionless on the floor.
For a series of moments, the six-legged intruder is stricken with a human's view of bludgeoning fists, tight grips, hard smacks..a great white grin..the letters: K E I T H, on a woven patch.. All at once, there it is..how brutal men can be..seen through the eyes of an insect..seen from the blood and bruises of a quiet woman..seen from the inside looking out..
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It fights its way through the gambit of 2 week dead memories and finds the exit from the last still sphincter inside the small intestine. It stops and doesn't dare to look back.. Keith lies asleep..Lyla lies dead..The cockroach stands inside..It springs with a vengeful speed from the exit..and runs into the rectum where Keith's urethra lies limp and sated.
The cockroach almost grins at the sleeping worm with his one closed eye..before charging forward and into Keith's urethra.
Keith leaps up and out from Lyla..HIGH-pitched screams resound through the walls as he scratches furiously at his "pee-hole"
"What the fuck?! What the fuck?!"
The cockroach burrows deeper inside the 26mm space..an in to his means..and the blood begins to seep from Keith's urethra..as he screams..SCREAMS!..SCreams..Screams..screams..moan
s..scratches..kicks..goes slowly quiet..while the roach tears and travels deeper into man..
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2 weeks later..Keith, Lyla, Barry..have not left the room. The A/C is on full blast. The smell is down..
The cockroach has finally died..from prolonged exposure to boric acid..inside Keith's urethra..
Frankie Metro claims to have never had a cockroach climb up into his penis.
