Broken from war

  (part of a chapter)

  "Squirrels aint nothing but high class fucking rats, you know" Luther says matterofactly. The other bums are nodding their heads in unison, concerned only with the half gallon of wine in Luthers hand. "High class fucking rats!!!, and thats why their so fun to kill"!! Clea and George both mumble in agreement as Luther continues to rant. Otis is rolling back and forth in front of the oilcan stopping his rusty green wheelchair only long enough to spit towards the fire."Whats the best way to kill a squirrel Luther"? asks George, his sunken jaundiced eyes averted towards the ground. George is blatantly encouraging more psycho-babble from the delusional monster feeding him wine. "The best way or the most fun way"?Luther asks, seriously concerned. "The most fun Luther, definitely the most fun way". "Well, I like to put on a tough leather glove first of all" he says as he picks at a sore on his arm."Those fuckers kin bite"! "I'll throw bread to em till I can trick the sonsabitches inta eating out of my hand". Thats when I grab em  Next I grab hold of their tail and swing em against the side of a building, or some fuckers car, not too hard, just enough to scramble em. Thats the most fun cause then they start chattering and jumping up in the air like one of those jumping-jack firecrackers, spinning and chasing themselves in circles. Sometimes they jump six, seven feet straight up! Right after I scramble em I run back about twenty feet and throw rocks at em as hard as I can. The trick is to hit em before they quit jumping and spinning. A couple a rocks usually kills the fuckers, but I gotta throw about thirty before I hit the bastards. Kinda makes my arm sore. The three derelicts are just staring at him now, trying through the booze to comprehend his sick and hateful story. Otis starts dry swallowing and nervously rubbing his crossed arms.Otis is pretty much covered in tattoos that look like they were scribbled on by a pissed off kindergartner. Every time he is nervous or starting withdrawal symptoms you can bet he'll be rubbing his tattoos. Clea is smiling with her one stubborn tooth, but you can tell by all the fidgeting she is uncomfortable. George thinks this is just the funniest shit he's ever heard in his life. He's he-hawing with snot and wine spraying out of his mouth and nose. This just eggs Luther on. "Once I know I kilt them I like to stomp on them with my boot-heel, Luther says giving an enthusiastic stomp demonstration. Their heads sound like little walnuts"! Thats enough for old Otis. He wastes about a pint of Luther's wine down the front of his shirt. George and Luther are now howling their asses off. Clea is just shaking her head and taking advantage of the chaos by guzzling the rest of Luthers wine. Next she pushes the empty bottle underneath Otis's wheelchair making him the scapegoat in case Luther gets angry about the sudden shortage of wine.