‘’My name is Iwan Atahere, reporting in person from outside the gates of Hell. I bring you today an exclusive interview with the man himself, Trent Greywater. He disappeared on October 20, 2013 after purchasing a lottery ticket from the local A&P. It was just an ordinary night, or so he thought. After his wife reported him missing twelve hours later, the police search began only to fail. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Here, with me today is the man himself.’’
‘’Hello Mr. Greywater.’’
I watched him sniff his underarm. The visual of crap clinging to his pit hair made my stomach turn inside out. Hot brown liquid covered his stumpy body; steam still coming off his shoulders. I could barely keep down my morning Brimstone coffee.
‘’Mr. Greywater.’’ I felt the acid creep up my throat, ‘’Mr. Greywater, could you tell us how you came to be here in Purgatory? I watched his mouth hung half open and his forehead crinkled. He reached down, lifted up the pink tutu he was wearing, and scratched his ass. Could he be more attractive?
‘’Well, I dunno. I just uh. I just uh. Where am I? Didju say pergatery?’’
‘’Per-get-ery.’’ He looked so serious. I could tell he busted a few brain cells trying to get the first syllable right.
‘’Sir.’’ I lost him. A fly showed up, landing on his nose and distracted him. I grit my teeth and took a deep breath. I had to find out why he was here and what is up with that damn pink skirt he kept flipping. ‘’How did you get here in Per-get-ery?’’ I didn’t want to confuse him.
‘’Well, lemme see. Last I ramember is I woke up and got ready for work, and uh, I went to work.’’
(Iwana! What did I tell you about using that name around here!)
I’m sorry Dark Lord. Really. This guy is a dumb a–. Never mind. It won’t happen again.
I could feel my own brain cells committing suicide.
‘’Greywater. Let’s have a seat. Tell me everything.’’
Trent pulled up a limestone chair with dainty wrists, dusted off the seat while inspecting the texture. The flames from across the Gates of Hell lit up one side of his face revealing the crows-feet and some kinky hair–masked to his face from the dried feces.
‘’Okay. I’ll tell ya. If I can ramember.’’ The poor guy looked so sincere.
‘’Trent. Where did you go that night?’’
‘’I had to go shit.’’
Oh dear G—
‘’Now Trent. Tell me more. Are you married? Do you have children?’’
‘’Yes’m. I’m married and I’s got three children. Wait. No. Four. Yeh, four. That’s right. Or is it five? Who is that kid that keeps coming to me for more food? Oh yeah, that’s Billy my oldest. Or is he the neighbor’s kid. Could be. Or is his name Bobb—‘’
‘’TRENT!’’ I threw my notebook and microphone onto the brimstone floor. ‘’Will you PLEASE just tell me what happened?’’
‘’Right. Okay. What do you wanna know?’’
Oh for fuck sakes.
‘’Trent. What were you doing the night of October 20th?’’
‘’JEEZ–,’’ deep breaths, deep breaths, ‘’2013.’’
‘’Right. What year are we in now?’’ He scratched his head like it was going to help fire up sparks in his brain to wake the comatose gerbil that quit its job in the wheel-mill shortly after Trent’s birth.
I quit! I quit! I quit! What a moron! I sat still in my chair while the inside of me was dying from the stupidity radiating from his mouth.
(Hang in there. This guy is giving me a headache. I’ve my minions standing by ready to torch his tutu.)
We may need to torch him now sir. I’ve not said a word in a few minutes, and he’s just staring to the side of my head! Can the world really be hosting this breed of dumbass?
I watched him a bit more as he sat there, drool coming out of the corner of his mouth. One eye pointing west, and the other pointing south. Despite the two hairs on his head and one tooth in the front keeping his lips from closing, I thought I had a chance of having a decent conversation. I am apparently, wrong. The Pope provided better entertainment than Mr. Poopy Tutu.
Ok. I’ll try again.
‘’Trent. Where did you go the night of your death?’’
Careful Iwana. Careful.
‘’Trent. Did you go to the gas station Wednesday October 20th 3013?’’
‘’Yes. I always go to the gas station on Wendnesdays.’’
‘’And what did you do at the gas station.’’ I had to light a ciggy. It was either that or slit my throat and since death has already been crossed off my bucket list, I had no other option.
‘’I bought me a lotteree ticket.’’
‘’After you bought that lottery ticket, you disappeared and was nowhere to be found. Can you tell us what happened? Where did you go?’’
I lost him again. He tapped his thigh with his crusty hand, ‘’Wat didja cum from, where didja goooo. Where didja cum from cotton-eye J—‘’
I threw a rock at his head. It didn’t faze him any. He just picked it up; said it looked like his wife’s biscuits and tried to eat it.
After two out of his four teeth fell into his lap, he told some more. ‘’So. I went to get me a lotteree ticket and some chocolate milk. Sharlene asked me to buy some Pampers and Carl asked me to get some massage oil and WD-40, oh and some mastin tape.’’
‘’That’s wut I said. Mastin tape.’’
When my eyes rolled back into my head, I saw the capillaries bursting and cells slitting their wrists. ‘’And then what?’’
‘’Well, then I went outside and met Carl.’’
‘’Who is Carl?’’
Oh holy goat’s tit. Is he serious?
‘’Does your wife know about this Carl guy?’’
‘’No, she doesn’t. She thinks we’s best friends is all.’’
‘’Okay so let’s get back to the story. So you went in and bought a ticket, WD-40, massage oil, Pampers and masking tape. Where did the pink tutu come from?’’ I dared to ask.
‘’Oh, it was a present from Carl. It was our night out and he wanted to get me sumpthin special.’’
‘’How—sweet. And then what happened? The police are still unable to recover your body. Did you and Carl run away together?’’
‘’No ma’am. I don’t think we did. All’s I remember is I walked out the door and saw him with a big smile and open arms. He wore the cutest flannel checkered shirt. He cut the sleeves off just so I can see his mascalin arms. He knows how I love arms. Do you love arms? I love arms. Oh, and his beard. He shaved it into a T shape just fer me. He’s so thoughtful. So anaways, I walked over to him and gave him the stuff and…’’
His pause was cause for alarm. Either he had remembered something or his brain liquified, ‘’Oh my god.’’
(That’s it. Let me finish him off.)
No! This is getting good.
‘’Poo—I mean Trent, continue.’’
I watched as this grown man threw himself onto the floor; his scream awoke the residents in limbo.
‘’Carl! No! Carl!’’ His flailing arms and spit flying onto my skirt startled me.
‘’Trent. What happened? Where is Carl?’’
‘’He’s…He’s… Oh my lawd.’’
Trent’s inability to focus drove me battier than his lack of social skills.
He gathered himself together after taking one deep breath. ‘’After leaving the store, I had to go use the bathroom and wanted to try on my present from Carl. I went back into the station’s bathroom and modeled the tutu in front of the mirror. You know, to make sure I didn’t look too fat in it or sumpthin. I tried using the bathroom but the seat was covered in sprinkle and so I went outside to use the Port-A-Potty. Carl wanted to come too and hold it for me so I said it was okay, just this once. So we and the bags crammed into the potty. We got to talken about the future and what if we won the lotteree someday and stuff. Well, one thing led to another and the oil slipped out of his hand, and Carl fell into the hole. The potty hole. He was covered in shit. I tried to help him out but he was stuck bad. I just didn’t know what to do. At the time, rocking the toilet seemed like a pretty good idear. Until…’’
‘’Until what, Trent?’’ the fear in his eyes confused my instincts to laugh my ass off or feel bad for the idiot.
‘’Well, I rocked it pretty good and it fell over. It was a sea of shit, ma’am. A sea of shit. Moses couldn’t get through this. No way, nuh uh.’’
‘’Focus you dumb f–. You were saying?’’
He started to cry and hyperventilate. I couldn’t understand half of what he said. ‘’I. He. We. Carl !!!!!’’ After several minutes of watching him wallow in his poopy tutu, he gathered himself together and continued. ‘’Carl died soon after we flipped. Between the WD-40 spilling out of his hand and the floaters, he drowned within seconds. I tried to get out to call for help but that’s when I slipped and fell and we tumbled and tumbled and tumbled. Finally we stopped but Carl pinned me down underneath all the crap. You know. My mama said life was full of shit. She not once mentioned death would be full of it too.’’ He covered his face again, weeping. Brown tears dripped through his fingers. ‘’Oh no! I’m dead aren’t I?’’
If I had face-palmed myself any harder I would have gone through my skull.
‘’Yes. So let me get this straight. You and your lover went into a port-a-potty, rumbled around with the WD-40, flipped it over and died with the winning lottery ticket?’’
‘’Yeh. You got it… Wait. Winning? SON OF A BITCH!’’