I like writing like Stephen King:

Toilet Talk 2

He had a vision of a white tiled floor with blood drops here and there,the smell of death and a goat from somewhere far off,and on both sides of the large mass of tiled floor,giant porcelain toilets,the kind only for gentlemen to piss in,on both sides in rows.

Only they were giant,maybe about fifteen to twenty feet tall and maybe two feet wide. And they breathed in and out,they laughed,they mocked,they got angry-wrathful even-or were at least capable of it,he sensed.

Dangling from each of these porcelain beasts he saw was a thick snakelike tongue,seeming to be made of rubber,pulsing on the floor like a loose wire and seeming to lick the blood off of the tiles while they breathed in and out-or,rather,to be dangling in unison to some kind of telepathic vibe sent from-

The goat.

He smelled the goat but in the darkness,the lights from the giant stall only shining on the porcelain beasts-could only see black up ahead. But he could smell it alright-the beast,the goat,whatever was getting these porcelain beasts so excited or alarmed. Maybe the goat was there master,maybe he was an intruder here and they were alarmed-or maybe the goat was expecting his arrival.

Then another light came on up ahead in the center of the isle as he was being pushed forward. His fix,he thought vaguely-he would need his fix soon,and would and had done everything in his power to get it. Killed people for it,robbed stores for it,betrayed his loved ones so he could bring his money to the man and get his fix-and the urge was coming back,wasn't it always? It came back until you were...

"Dead?," he thought,or spoke to himself. Was this a vision,or was it death? He suddenly thought to himself. Had he overdosed and died,or was he somewhere in between? Was this hell?

He saw the goat now-15 feet tall,white and fluffy,eyes a sparkling blue,a long neck bent almost like a giraffe,it's body fat with a kangaroo pouch on it,it's legs thick and strong with hooves,and a large splotch of blood in the center of it's chest above the pouch. It had strong arms built with muscle,white and furry like the rest of it's body,and in it's right hand it carried a large needle that looked very familiar to Raymond,very familiar indeed.

"I've got your fix,"the goat said to him from 20 feet down the hallway,the tongues from the toilets dangling all the more violently-it was as if the voice of the goat brought the speed of the tongues and the expanding and breathing in of the porcelain beasts to a more intense level-and maybe it did. Maybe,he thought,if he was able to kill the goat he would ultimately kill all these living porcelain beasts in unison.

The goat laughed at this-it's voice was an intelligent door salesmans voice,but it's laugh was like a lions. It read his mind and was mocking him,he knew,as the dream continued to move him forward towards the goat. When the goat laughed the porcelain beasts reacted. One of them to his left,he saw,breathed in,expanded like a bullfrog,and coughed out a bright red blood bubble that floated in the air in front of him,then popped,blood flying on the floor and toilets everywhere,there tongues quickly licking it up and making groaning noises at the same time.

Something fell from the bubble and onto the floor. In the dream Raymond halted in the hallway,most of his attention still on the needle the goat had in it's right hand as it looked him straight in the eye,snarling in laughter and mockery:come and get your fix,it's right in my hand,that look said.

Whatever had burst from the bubble was skinny and weak,and covered in blood. Writhing on the floor like a small helpless child,crying-not really speaking any kind of language,just groaning in protest,possibly at the thought of still being alive,and in pain.

Raymond ignored what was on the floor and looked at the needle in the goats hand.

"Yeah you have my fix-I'm gonna need it,so what's your price?,"Raymond was able to say to the goat,although in this state it was more like telepathy.

"You have to do something for me first,"the goat replied,to which the giant toilets seemed to ripple-yes,he saw in the corners of his eyes,though made of porcelain they seemed very flexible-and he also saw attached to each of them was a large black tube leading into the wall. The tubes seemed to be alive also,rippling like an inchworm or a snake with prey in it's body. He found himself shivering-it was almost as if he were in some kind of giant alien ship,and the goat was the captain,the giant bloodstained toilets the crew-and him,the abducted.

Or maybe just a small sect of hell,where the shit landed.

"What is it you want me to do?,"Raymond called out,and now he heard harsh laughter from the porcelain beasts as they and the tubes and tongues attached to them laughed-yes,laughed at him.

Raymond saw that the goat was looking on the floor at whatever crippled figure had dropped out of the blood bubble that had protruded out of one of the toilets. He hadn't paid much attention to it because a) his next fix was more important and b) such a small fragile figure couldn't pose much a threat to anyone,not even to him,he'd reckoned.

He met the goats gaze,where it fell,and realized that the small fragile bloodied body that had burst from the bloodbubble and had fallen to the floor had been himself-his last present condition when he'd tried and failed to get his fix-the cops had shot him down with 6 bullets during the poice chase-now he remembered....

Raymond woke up in pain,blood all over him,bullets in him-and not to mention the many small dots on him from all the times he shot up. His body was weak and powerless,like the Perfect Circle song he remembered hearing the morning before night had come and the cops had shot him down when he'd tried to run. Well how fucking successful he had been at trying to out run bullets-he should have just froze and put his hands up but no-full of piss-and vinegar 24 year old Raymond Riaco had to fuckin' run from the cops-he was invincible or so he'd thought. And the thought of being "in his prime" and "full of piss and vinegar" didn't fit the profile of a junkie like him,24 or not,when he'd began shooting up every day-and killing people to get the money for his addiction.

That shit had caught up with him mentally,physically,and in his dreams when his victims came to visit. In those dreams however his victims had no face,because he was always wearing there face and showing them what they looked like before they were murdered. They would cry to him,faceless,and he'd wake up screaming and sweating. Those screams had attracted his city neighbors,and with the neighbors,the cops. He figured he wasn't the brightest of killers;you could only fit so many bodies in your closet for so long before the smell,even with air fresheners,got a little out of hand and drew attention.

He hadn't given a shit though;and neither did his friend the dealer-just bring him the money and he'd give you the fix. Simple as that. He hadn't been the only one on the block hiding bodies,he figured.

Sooner or later it always caught up with you-and now lying on the floor with holes in him from bullets and needles-for the moment,as much pain as he was in,he was lucky and greatful to be alive. He was alive after all;he touched his flesh,the blood on his soaked shirt,felt his heart beating,breathed in and out,and found himself sighing with relief.

Raymond breathed in the air,hoping for the sweet smell of oak trees,and getting something else.

He was in a sewer-a giant sewer,judging by the smell of what was around him. Then he saw the white tiles and the bright lights in the darkness above him and remembered the dream he'd just had. The giant killer toilets,and at the end of the hallway,the giant goat with the red splotch of blood on it's chest where something once was but had gotten ripped off-detached from it as it found it's way to lower places...

This place was larger than his dream-the place was huge like a roller blade court where they did all those silly little stunts he'd seen on TV he used to be able to do before shooting up too much. Fuck,he thought,I wouldn't be here right now if I'd only-

His thoughts were cut off briefly by a sight that made him gasp in horror. The place was bigger,wider,but the porcelain beasts were still here. Wider,thicker,with rounder "mouths",and unlike the dream,were built on the floor,looking like small tubs and having giant handles above them. No tongues though,at least not that he saw just yet,but some of them did have black or shit-brown water in them and they still had those thick black snake-like tubes going from them into giant holes in the walls.

And as he watched he did see one of the giant snake-like tubes start to make a humming noise like a giant dryer as it writhed and danced like an angry snake. And then he saw the giant toilet built into the ground with a large mouth inhale and exhale,and produce a large black round bubble that floated in the air like a balloon. It dropped to his level about 15 feet in front of him,and Raymond dreaded it might pop and something ugly would come out of it and chase after him,trying to kill him-but he sighed with relief as it floated up into the darkness,near the lights shining down onto the porcelain beasts,then dissapeared out of sight,at least for the time being.

He found now he really did have to piss,and settled for the tiled floor instead of using one of these giant bastards that 10 of him could bathe in.Usually he couldn't piss with someone else in the same room with him,and even though this place did seem vacant he felt like the giants around him were alive,breathing,and watching him doing his business,and it was hard to piss at first. How dare he piss on the tiles when there was so much other options in a place such as this-how offended they must be! But then he heard the trickling of urine hitting the tiles and found himself smiling. As he did so he looked around and saw there were bloodstains and other stains on the tiles. He also saw grafitti on the tiles near the toilets;apparently some artists came to visit this place,for he even saw spray bottles scattered here and there,looking like lifesaver rolls next to the giants-the giant killer toilets. The thought made him laugh but honestly right now he also felt like shitting his pants,and wondered where the toilet paper was in case that very urge came.

He also wondered who used these stalls-or what. He remembered the dream where the goat held the needle he so desperately needed in it's hand and told him he had his fix,but something was needed first-some kind of task.

He also began to wonder how much of the dream was real and how much was just that-nothing but a dream. From somewhere far off came that noise again-the giant rubber pipe was writhing,and soon another black bubble would be given birth to by a breathing toilet bowl. He laughed,and the laugh echoed. From up ahead to his right he saw a toilet,this one a light blue in color spray painted in yellow with the words "Help I'm lost" written on it produce another bubble,this one a red and white marble one. It too bounced on the floor,then went in his direction. He gasped and held in his breath as the giant ball went up over his head,then up into the darkness that was either the sky or ,he imagined,a concrete ceiling of sorts.

Something else began scaring him more than these floating balls that contained God knew what inside of him. That something was that the pain from the bullets was beginnig to return full force and it was harder to walk;just moments ago it seemed like even though physically he looked a mess he could still walk,think and breath just fine,but now..

The pain was returning and his stomach began to growl.He was hungry,and worse,he was beginning to feel withdrawals;he would be needing a fix soon.

An hour or so passed and he explored the dungeon more,and saw that some of the porcelain beasts did have snakelike tongues protruding from the blackened water within there mouths. Within one of these tongues,he saw,was a needle-his fix. He went over to the giant toilet,this one cracked and orange in color with "I got my fix here" in red spraypaint.

He found he needed his fix,and now. He was ashamed and desperate. He looked at the toilet with eyes of helplessness and sadness.

"I've killed for this before-please,I need this,"he found himself saying to the cracked porcelain god with what he needed in it's snake-like tongue.

The toilet startled him when it's tongue rolled up quick into the thick black water,rippled,breathed in and out and laughed at him. The pipe attached to it rippled and it's flusher flushed. As it did so the thick black water spat out at him,and another bubble came floating out of it.This bubble,he saw,was jelly-like,a floating jelly fish of sorts.

And inside,he saw,was what he'd killed for,what he'd died for,what had brought him in this afterlife-this low,to begin with.

Raymond grabbed the bubble but the thing was so slippery it slipped right through his fingers,going up and up into the air.

"FUCK!!!!!," he screamed. "Fuck fuck FUCK!!!!"

The jelly bubble disappeared out of site,and Raymond turned towards the porcelain monster,scowl on his face now. He then stepped into the black water and kicked it and kicked it as hard as he could. Steam rose from it and he heard it groaning in protest. He kicked it some more and chunks of porcelain fell to the floor. He saw the tube writhing in protest and took it and squeazed it as hard as he could. He heard another cry of protest as he successfully ripped the giant tube from it,steam beginning to blow in his face now.

"Fuck you!,"he bellowed,running from the hot steam and the broken shitter. "Call the plumber,and suck my ass! That's what you get for being a tease,fuck nuts!"

He felt a satisfaction now at seeing the steam rising from the giant shitter and seeing it expand and inhale deeply in pain and protest. But suddenly he was weak all over again;the pain returned and he felt that withdrawal again. What was worse was that it was very hard to walk;the bullets began to feel like fire burning within him,and he eventually helplessly sat on the floor in between a blue and white marble porcelain giant and a pink one with a flower painted on it.

"Fuckin' bitch,"he whispered to the pink one for no real good reason other than he was frustrated. "At least I killed one of ya..."

He smelled something that had his stomach turning again:the goat. And it wasn't 20 feet away like it had been in his dream;it was very near him,in the darkness of the wide tiled hallway,approaching him. Like the gunnery seargent in Full Metal Jacket had warned,he had best unfuck himself now that the boss was around,but in his present condition he was fucked anyways.

His heart skipped a beat or two when he saw the goat approach him from out of the darkness. "You smell like shit," he heard himself say."You smell worse than every toilet on this planet combined-if you don't have something for me then get the flying fuck away from me..."

The goat snickered,and in it's hand Raymond saw was that needle-his fix,what he needed,and now.

"Where do you shoot up?,"the goat asked,snickering again. "I mean,by now in your present condition,you don't have many options,however..." it came closer to Raymond and now something bloody and bony came out of it's pouch. Some kind of snake like bony creature with long arms,a small head,a giant mouth like a sucker fish and alien like eyes. It turned towards the goats right arm and reached out and grabbed the needle from it's fluffy white hand with it's long and bloodied bony hand. It took the needle and regarded Raymond with it's fish-like snout and alien-like eyes,then slithered towards him,needle in hand.

Raymond could not have run if he'd wanted to. The fish lips sucked onto his right arm,and as horrified as he was it also felt good in a way. He forced himself to see what it was those horrid lips were doing,and by the time the process had been done,he saw just about all the needle marks on his arm were gone.

It then quickly stuck the needle into Raymonds right arm-he felt pain,then that numbness he was so addicted to,the numbness that was supposed to erase the pain of his wife leaving him for another man,but hadn't. At least,not in the long run.

But the long run didn't matter here and now,did it? What mattered was that after the slithery bony alien-fish like creature was done and threw the needle away into the pink toilet,and slithered back into the goats pouch-what mattered right then and there was that the blood on his shirt and the bullets inside of him couldn't stop him from getting up,without pain,and being invincible once again.

"It won't last,"the goat told him when he got to his feet. "It won't last,and if you want another fix later on you must do me a favor."

The thought of him returning to that helpless state where he sat there in pain,unable to move and the bullets inside him feeling like fire-that thought he did not like,not at all. He wanted to stay this way,this powerful,this invincible.

"What must I do then-tell me..,"he said,even now in his present condition ashamed of himself,taking orders from something that smelled worse than a sewer.

"There's someone here that poses a threat of sorts to me-I want that person dead."

The goat told him that the weapon he was to use and the picture and scent of the victim wasn't too hard to find,and nearby. Nonetheless,even with his fix still working it's wonders and him being able to walk without pain,feeling once again full of piss and vinegar,his heart still beat fast in anxiety and his stomach turned-he dreaded having to kill a stranger,but he had a feeling that this was bad,real bad.

Near one of the large toilets-this one bright and yellow- he saw something shiny , bright and shiny that he couldn't miss if he tried;a large butcher knife,new.

For him,he knew.

He took the knife,left hand trembling,and moved on slowly down the darkened isle. To his left,once again,he saw the birth-process of a floating bubble being born,first from the pipe,then spat out into the air-this one a blue and white marble floating ball spat out by an olive green porcelain god.

It floated near him,above him,and popped.

Bits of small candy and party hats and those annoying whistles kids would taunt him with on there bikes during the summer fell around him. There was a fresh smell of birthday cake and strawberries;someone had just come back from picking strawberries to find a surprise birthday party for them. He saw breifly a small child with a red dress and curly blong hair and hazel eyes-a small girl dancing with her Bible -it was Sunday and she had gotten out of Sunday catechism or whatever-and she was dancing merrily with all of her friends,opening presents and cake all over her. The pinnyatta was cracked,finally,and everyone was merrily grabbing there candy. Eating there cake. Opening up gifts...

And then later on something went wrong,horribly wrong. They were playing in the mini pool and somehow all the kids went back inside except for her and.

Raymond gasped at the sight,the small vision he saw. It was the mother and kids giving the girl mouth-to-mouth on the freah Spring green grass. He could even smell the pine trees and the cake,still around some of the kids faces. They were trying to revive her,bring her back to life...

Another gasp,then a scream,startled him out of his trance. He looked a couple toilets ahead of him and saw the same little girl,soak and wet now but even so the red dress unmistakable-come out of the black water of a large tan toilet and crawl blindly onto the concrete floor,screaming at the top of her lungs. Echoes,echoes and more echoes as the screams were heard by no one,or so it seemed.

"No fuckin' way!," Raymond bellowed out,looking around him at where the goat had gone. He saw nothing but black up and down the halls,minus the porcelain beasts that the lights shined upon,and the little girl not 10 feet in front of him.

Raymond quickly hurried up to the girl,who was still blinded,and held the butcher knife in the air. He told himself not to think and that this would be over with quick.

Then he threw the knife aside,noting how it landed in the large tan toilet the girl had come out of. He bent down and brought the girl up gently,holding her by the hand and telling her everything was okay.

"You'll be fine-your mothers waiting for you-you just had an accident,"he soothed,wiping her hair from her eyes and trying to smile but failing miserably.

The toilets around him began inhaling and exhaling violently. Steam began to rise from them as Raymond and his new friend looked each other in the eye,both trying and failing to make light of the situation.

There was now a new noise up ahead,sounding to them like some kind of choo-choo train at first. It was distant,but whatever it was Raymond was sure he didn't want to see it;it sounded larger than these porcelain beasts,which meant that there were other,larger thi-

"Time is running out! Hurry!" a voice bellowed in his head,hurting him so bad he put his hand to his ears and sat in the corner in between a golden shitter and a black one with ladybugs painted on it.

The little girl went over to him,concerned now. "What is wrong?,"she asked,and fresh pain shot up Raymonds legs;the bullets,oh fuck the bullets inside of him felt like fire all over again! Fresh blood started pouring out of his wounds once again,and that train like hissing noise was coming closer now.

He looked over and wasn't completely surprised to see the butcher knife had made it's way over to him within reach once again. He looked further and saw that yes,the tan one had rolled it over to him from across the room with it's tongue.

"Kill her now and the pain will go away,"the voice of the goat-the voice of an intelligent door-to-door salesman-spoke up inside of his head again. Blood began oozing out of his legs,and the girl,horrified as she was,still gripped his hand and told him not to be afraid,she was praying for him.

"Prayers don't work here kid-fuck,this is awful-run while you still can..." he tried to manage more but couldn't-blood started pouring out of his mouth now. And,he saw,the toilets began cracking and blood started pouring from them also.

"The fate of a threat lies in that girls hands if she lives,"the goat spoke up in his head-it was now desperate,dare Raymond say afraid,even.

The only strength Raymond felt was in his left hand now. It was a little easy-too easy,even-to grab ahold of the butcher knife and give the girl one last desperate look-please,I have to kill you for my fix,that look said-before the girls eyes rolled in back of her head and Raymond found all the desperate strength he could muster to swing the knife through the air...

He closed his eyes in dread of what he dared not see. The knife stabbing the girl in the heart,her dying in his arms,and then the goat coming over to him to give him what he had to have-that one more fix to make the pain go away.

He heard a heart beat faster and faster,and that steam rising in the air sounding like a train getting real close now.

But the knife swung in the air and landed on nothing.Raymond opened his eyes and the little girl was gone. He heard screams of protest from the goat and giant porcelain beasts alike. They spat out balls into the air that floated aimlessly-some he sa managed there way towards him as his left arm gave out and he dropped the butcher knife on the white tiled floor.

The porcelain beast blowing steam,he saw,had been making it's way towards him from down the long,long darkened sewer-like hallway. It floated in the air,small tenticles -or was it tongues? -flip-flopping there way violently in the air,some even licking up blood from the floor.

Inside the floating porcelain beast was a giant heart that beat with his own. Steam rose from the back of it where normally a black rubber pipe would have been. As it blew out it made that loud whistle noise like a train. It stopped floating in the air and seemed to regard him for a moment,the giant heart inside of it beating,bleeding with his own.

This is what death looks like when it comes to knock on your door,Raymond thought,looking at the giant heart that beat with his own in horror.

The floating balls from the other toilets around him that managed to float above him burst open. Fragments of his life dropped around him on the tiles;pictures of his mother,his ex wife,him before he got hooked on heroin and was "normal". A baseball,fragments of glass from the round mirror he smashed out of anger with a bat when he was a kid and had gotten into a fight with his mother. Like the girl,he'd gotten party hats and candy from his youthful birthdays,with smells and scents of people he loved like his mother,cats,even the dog he remembered crying over when he was 6 or so-fragments of his life all around him from the bursting,floating balls.

Raymond turned and briefly saw something that made him feel slightly better:a quick image of the girl,brought back to life successfully by her mother by the mini pool in her backyard. Everyone was happy and the kids were crying and dancing around her...

He then saw among the litter of debris from his past life were needles-tons and tons of probably every needle he ever shot up with.

"Happy Birthday asshole,"he said to the floating porcelain beast for no apparent reason-maybe it was just his last given right here to say something before he passed on and he couldn't,for the like of him,think of anything creative.

He saw the heart within the floating toilet stop,then burst,just like his own,blood covered self.

From within the sewer-like world of giant porcelain beasts,moans of relief were heard as the floating executioner floated back into the darkness,back to wherever it had come from for the night.

"Next!,"one of the beasts-a light blue cracked one with small ants crawling out of the cracks-said aloud.

More laughter from the other porcelain beasts,more ripplings,and more bubbles were soon produced.

Wow Holy Staind.....lisa tell me later..

www.stephen king.com my/space.

quote:

Originally posted by hillboy:
www.stephen king.com my/space.

Cool I hope you liked it-been writing since I was a kid. I didn't know Stephen King had his own myspace page-cool!