Shadrach and the Furnace

Evaline so full of original sin—and unoriginal sin—everyone called her Eve. She lingered under the rain soaked awnings of pubs and bars, attaching herself to anyone who would take her. Her cunning drove her to the laps of men who had drugs and booze and board; she said I love you after one hour’s acquaintance. Constantly peripatetic, she would wander to oases of drugs and money then leave when it dried up, like a beast stalking from waterhole to waterhole. She rutted like a macaque with the tenacity of tapeworm.

One evening, in the kaleidoscopic backdrop of a reeling ferris wheel, she met an angry Jew and his friend. They went to his house. During the course of the night she flitted from one to the other like an obnoxious mosquito, spreading her innocent lies like so much dysentery. Shadrach, the Jew, made her for the bloodsucker she was and tried to swat her away. The friend, Sylvester, warmed by unaccustomed female attentions, grew jealous at her deluded flirtations towards Shadrach. Eve gleefuly exacerbated this by continuing to pour her affections onto the Jew.

The question of her legality brought up by Shadrach was blurred with a pastiche of lies on Eve’s part. Sylvester, adjusting his crotch, was smitten, his thought being damn the torpedos and full speed ahead! Shadrach, the ever noble crusader of particular and specific moralities, especially those occurring beneath his roof, championed prudence: “For all you know she could be a grade school student. Look at her! She’s four feet! You wanna explain why you like diddling little kids at every job interview?” He was determined to play babysitter, but as the late hour turned into the wee hours, he gave in to sleep. The inevitable happened and in the morning Sylvester stormed out of the house with Eve.

Eve messaged Shadrach the next day.

SexyEvey: I miss you. I love you. You big man. Beer and weedy.
ShagTheShad: That’s quite a hello. Yes, thank you very much, I’m doing well.
SexyEvey: I come see you. Me so horny. I dress sexy.
ShagTheShad: What about Sylvester? Don’t you try to play him against me.
SexyEvey: Sylvester mad. Won’t beer and weed me. I want, but he mad.
ShagTheShad: Well that’s what you get, being so slutty.
SexyEvey: I am sexy not slut!
ShagTheShad: Don’t bother coming over.

Shadrach and Sylvester sat in Shadrach’s living room. A cigarette smoldered in the ashtray. The mood was grave, even somber.

“I’m sorry. She’s really over eighteen, y’know. She found her license and showed it to me. So I’m off the hook.”

“That’s a relief. I’m disappointed with you… but I’m not mad,” said Shadrach, passing the joint. “You weren’t respecting me in my home. She tried to play us against each other to inflate some misguided sense of self worth!”

“I’m sorry. I just wasn’t thinking, brother.” Sylvester rubbed the circles under his eyes. “I’ve been having a time with the bitch. She won’t let me alone now.”

“Bros before hos, man.” Shadrach looked at him, accepting the roach. “Look, my friend, if I see her again I’ll give her a talking to, straighten her out something good.”

The next afternoon Eve showed up at his house without due notice. Her ride shot out of the driveway as if he was late for a gas station robbery. Shadrach, still in his pajamas, plaid boxers with extra access in the front, tried to flag down the car as the neighbor’s kids giggled and pointed. Shadrach with shoulders so slumped like he was beat to hell with the worries of the world on his bent back walked back to the lawn where Eve stood, beaming up at him. “Damn…of all the times to have the car in the shop.”

Sylvester picked up the phone. “Hello?” It was Shadrach, who said, “Look, the bitch won’t stop with her lies. I’m going to teach her a fucking lesson. Come on over around ten tonight, but don’t come in. It’ll be locked. Just listen at the door.” He hung up and Sylvester took a cigarette out and put it in his mouth.

He crept towards Shadrach’s door, feeling like a burglar and pressed his ear to the keyhole. He could hear furniture moving. He stayed for around thirty minutes before walking slowly back home.

“When I’m done with this and that you can put this in your mouth and tell me how it tastes.”
“Mmph, mmffmph.”
“God, I miss Southpark. I gotta get cable.”

“You want a shower?”
“Your water not work.”
“I know…how about a mud bath?”
“Where mud?”
“I know…”

“Pretend you’re Santa Claus.”
“Ho ho ho.”
“Heh, heh, heh!”
“What so funny?”
“…um, nothing.”

“Who that goatse?”
“I’d like to enlighten you.”
“I wanna drinky wine, but it empty.”
“It’s not for drinking.”

“What, wow! Cute hamster!”
“Richard Gere’s was cute as hell too.”
….
“Oh Lord, put me through the fire once more, and I just might burn.”
“I one girl with cup. How many licky?”

Later, Shadrach was heard to say: “I intended to degrade the bitch, but she’s like a cuntroach, and keeps coming back for more.”

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2 responses to “Shadrach and the Furnace

  1. hmmm. I have to say it again, hmmmm. Great story, hilarious characters. But I have to say this ‘Eve’ character gives me pause. She seems to be a caricature of a common psychosis that some women display. However, the author seems to display no pity for her. Perhaps I’m being overly-sensitive, but I get tired of men complaining about women in their poems. I know this is not the same as the usual type I’ve heard, but I just woke up and need to finish my coffee…

  2. Hmm, I get what you’re saying.

    I hope it’s obvious that I’m not complaining but trying to entertain. (I’m of the thought if you have to go to extremes complain about that person or a general demographic, the the real issue is within yourself…)

    Eve is actually based on a friend’s account of a girl he met one weekend, and despite committing extreme artistic license with this piece, I’m sorry to say the description of the girl is close to accurate.

    Naturally such ladies give fellow Venusians a bad name, but then the people badmouthing should realize that although stereotypes are true quite often, there is such a thing as individual differences…

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