Unmade: A Neo-Nihilist Vampire Tale by Vocabulariast The

Author:Vocabulariast, The [Vocabulariast, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Moviecynics.com
Published: 2012-07-25T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34: Getting Clean

He awoke again in his stultifying, lightless environment. He was splattered all around the waist with shit and piss. Vomit caked his face and chest. If he could have seen the blanket underneath him, he would have thought it had been used in some sort of scat film. He couldn’t stand his mess anymore. He reached up and shoved the cover of his coffin open on its hinges, sunlight be damned. To his surprise, it was the evening and the Old Soldier sat, smoking one of his beauties. He stood there, trying not to step on any off the filth that he had filled his coffin with.

The old man choked on his most recent puff of cigarette smoke, startled by the appearance of a man that looked like he had just come crawling out of a sewer.

“Where the hell were you!?”

The Old Soldier looked up at him in surprise and said, “What are you talking about? I’ve been here the whole time, sleepin’ and rollin’ smokes.”

He had no time for the old man’s antics and protests of ignorance. He ran into the bathroom, trying not to drip any filth onto the carpet. He jumped into the shower, scrubbing the waste out of every crevice, not waiting for the water to even heat up or to take off his clothes. Once he was in the teeth chattering chill of the shower, he stripped off his soiled clothing and dropped it to the floor of the shower next to the flower-shaped adhesive bath grips. He had to pick chunks of crusted vomit out of his chest hair. He had to scrub bits of filth from in between his ass cheeks. He yanked on the hairs that grew out of his ass, making sure that no shit clung to them. Even when all visible signs of waste were gone from his body, he still thought he could feel it clinging to his skin, in his hair, on his hands, in his nose. He scrubbed his hands until his skin began to wrinkle and prune, and then he scrubbed some more until all the dead skin was gone from his hands and all that was left was the fresh pink under-layer.

When the water stopped running hot and began to get lukewarm he stepped out of the shower, slipping on the carpetless linoleum. He toweled himself dry and walked into the main room of his apartment naked, not even caring about the Old Soldier’s questioning eyes. He found an old Social Distortion t-shirt and slid it onto his pink skin. He found one of his many old pairs of jeans and slid into it, enjoying its relative cleanliness on his skin.

A fine layer of sweat had accumulated on his upper lip from the heat of the shower. He licked the sweat from his upper lip before he spoke to the Old Soldier. “Where the hell were you? I needed you to close the window shade so I could go to the bathroom.”

The

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