UNDERGROUND VOICES MAGAZINE/TERRY EVERTON


	UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY

TERRY EVERTON

crapped out on the delayed postage front

barney came walking
out of the kitchen
holding a small
plastic sandwich bag.

“i’m gonna teach that
fuckin’ post office
a thing or two about
losin’ people’s
unemployment checks”
he said.

he pulled
his pants down

placed the open end
of the sandwich bag
against his bunghole

squatted a bit
and grunted

and a few seconds later
the sandwich bag
was occupied by
a large turd.

barney held the
sandwich bag up to
the light coming through
his torn curtain

examined the contents

and told me
“hot damn
that’s a meaty one!”

he told me that
he’d be right back

and i got up and
watched him out
the window
as he walked

to the mailbox
that sat in front of
our apartment complex

opened the
sandwich bag

emptied its contents
into the mailbox

gave the mailbox
the finger

and walked back in.

when he returned
i had a cold beer
waiting for him.

he took a hit off of it
before raising his fist
in the air
proudly announcing
“I AIN’T TAKIN’
NO SHIT
BUT I’M SURE
GIVIN’ SOME IN
RETURN THAT’S
FER SURE!”

the man who
lived below
pounded on his ceiling
and shouted up at us
“KEEP IT DOWN
YOU MORONS
OR I’M CALLIN’
TH’ LANDLORD
THIS TIME”

to which
barney and i
responded by
going to the
liquor store
to buy a bottle
of vodka

so we could later
raise a toast to
nonconformity
in general

and the
regularly scheduled
five o’clock
mail pick up.

mannequin dreams rotting there
in mugsweat and suds

it was
saturday afternoon

we’d been
sitting there
for two hours
filling in the time
between
dead-end conversation
with beerswallows

when suddenly
stan said
“uh oh
here goes
another one.”

he reached
into his mouth

gave a little tug

pulled out a tooth

and sat it
on the bar
in the puddle of water
his beerglass
had made.

the tooth resembled
a turd in color

but it
contrasted nicely
with the wood
of the bar
and the
piss yellow color
of the remaining
beer in his glass.

“damn”
he muttered.

“that’s the
second one this week.”

mary had been
sitting by herself
the entire time
nursing gin and tonics
and hadn’t said a word
up to that point

but when she saw
stan’s tooth
lying there
she slapped a fiver
on the bar
and said
“hey buddy
i’ll give ya
five big ones
fer that.”

stan looked at me
and i looked at stan
and stan looked at mary
and said
“sweetheart
yer either th’ tooth fairy
or god almighty
or sumpthin’ else.”

he gave her
the tooth
which she slipped
in her pocket

took the fiver

and bought us both
another round.

we all sat there
for fifteen minutes
or so
without saying anything
when suddenly
stan looked over at mary
and asked
“so tell me...
what the fuck
are ya gonna do
wit’ dat tooth of
mine anyways?”

mary replied
without looking up
“i’m buildin’
myself a man
one piece at a time
bastard.”

stan looked at me
and i looked at stan

and neither of us
looked over at
mary again
for the rest of
that afternoon.

lifting a toast to sausage lint
and monty’s phlegm

monty pulled a
couple of
sausage links
out of his
pantspocket

sat them on the
coffeetable
and said
“shit
all we need now
is a couple of
fried eggs.”

he reached into
his shirtpocket

brought out
several english
muffin halves

and placed them
on the table
next to the sausage.

“that stupid bastard
from across the street
was in again today.
the old fucker bitched
about how i cook my
scrambled eggs again
an’ sent ‘em back.”

he brushed some lint
off of one of
the sausages

stuck the entire thing
in his mouth
and continued.

“so ya know what i did?
i scrambled him up
some new eggs awright
only this time
i hocked a big green
ball of spit
right in the middle of ‘em
and cooked it all together!”

he took a bite of
an english muffin

and washed it down
with a hit of whiskey.

“an’ you know what?
that old sunabitch said
them was the best eggs
he ever had!
can you believe that shit?”

he flicked another
bit of lint
off of a sausage

popped the cooked pig
in his mouth

and when he raised
the whiskey bottle
and shouted
“HERE’S TA BEIN’
GAINFULLY EMPLOYED”

a chunk of the
partially-chewed sausage
fell out

and landed by the
lint on the floor.

Terry Everton's writings and cartoons have appeared
throughout the alternative press for the past
20 years. He is currently the creator of the comic
strip christian angst and in charge of wreaking
havoc in general.