Elf Hang
by Swan
There was going to be an elf hanging.
I was like, I’ll go see an elf hang.
I went with a buddy. I was like, Fuck elves. He was like, I’m done with elves. And I was like, You better be.
When they put the sack over his head and dropped him and he jerked on the end of his thread, I was like, Whoa. My buddy was like, Damn. We both were like, Fuck.
Afterward we went out. We smeared ourselves with glitter. I ate most of a buck rabbit, for bravery. Music throbbed, and lights. This girl came in the club looking like a house on fire and I said to myself: Blastoff.
I watched her, over my drink. This shadow of an elf kept unraveling in the twilit back of my mind, springing and kicking on the end of his thread.
My buddy was like, I’m out of here. I gave him mine and he said, No, I’m out of here. Oh, I said. I thought you said out of beer.
He left. I hated him.
“What’s your name?” I said to this skinny little two-story house on fire.
She leaned and said in my ear: “I don’t remember.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“What’s your name?”
“Panther.”
We left. Above us, aglint like a young shard of mirror, was a fast and wicked star. Loose bills kept flying out of my pockets, tens and twenties and further multiples. I hailed passersby, bid them to gather round. "I want each of you to have the merriest...in terms of holiday cheer...this blessed season...tidings of joy..."
Bristling I caught her by the elbow and cornered her against a building. She gasped. She looked starved. I took her to my ex-girlfriend Beth’s place, got the ex involved.
What happened to you? Beth sobbed. My ride grunted. Her nipples peaked. When I came I covered her with red plastic buttons.
Am I sorry? Hell no! I picture my conscience, at its best, as a clump of slimy eggs, like tortoise eggs laid in the sand. I minded them for a while, even referred to them for a slight sense of purpose, but now they’ve hatched and the tiny turtles have toddled off into the waves and all I have are their wet vanishing tracks and wrecked little shells.