As per usual, Eric was awake at 2:32 in the morning. He was what you would refer to as an ‘insomniac’ and had now been up for three days- an Eric Mathews record.
He looked groggily down at the sleeping pills in his hand and loathed to take them, as all they did was make him confused. He swallowed them with warm milk anyway, took a shot of whiskey and headed out the door.
He drove slowly and steadily down the Rio Grande, so as to not draw attention, and then parked near the Street House Homeless shelter. Soon enough a haggard women crept up to his car and asked him if he was a cop. He said ‘no’ and then she got in.
“So what’ll it be, big boy? B.J. or the whole nine yards? That’d be twenty or a hundred bucks.” she said.
Eric handed her ten twenty dollar bills. She looked at them wide-eyed.
“Well, well, well, mister big spender, for that kind of cash you can do just about anything you want.
They pulled into a Motel 8 and rented a room. When they got inside, she began taking off her clothes. He told her that that wasn’t what he wanted.
“So what‘do’ya want honey?”
He told her to sit on the bed. She did. He laid next to her.
“Now hold me close and call me Young Tony Danza.” he said in all sincerity.
“Call you what-?” she began confused, but then held her tongue; after all, two hundred bucks was two hundred bucks.
She held the man close and rubbed his head, all the while calling him Young Tony Danza.
After a few moments, Eric Mathews was asleep and snoring loudly. For reasons unknown to him, this was the only way he could fall asleep. Or perhaps he did know, on a very subconscious level, that he would only dream about.
Harley looked at her watch, it was almost four in the morning. She slipped quietly away and left the room. She’d seen stranger things, not many, but stranger none the less.
“Wait!” he called after her.
“I have to go now.” she said.
Just then a girl young woman with four bells in her hair entered the room,
pulled out a handgun, and blew the man’s brains out.
“Lets’s go Harley, you harlot!” the girl said.