OCTOBER 13, 1980
BLOOD MOON
Dawn sings karaoke to the Johnny Mercer song, Moon River, first softly, then boldly. She receives lecherous looks from the eerie crowd of human vipers. The man playing the piano, turns to look at her and she sees that half of his face is horribly disfigured. Yet, he smiles gleefully as he plays the instrumental background to her sing-song, which gradually becomes more and more ominous and macabre. Everyone in the bar glares at Dawn as if she had been reduced to a piece of meat, as she notices several of the patrons, both male and female, hold up the peace sign while they flick their forked tongues in between their two fingers. Dawn wakes up and realizes it had been another bad dream.
Dawn slips into a hysterical crying spell, spontaneously falling apart over misplaced earrings. These were earrings that Cheri had once given her that she had accidentally lost since.
“Why are you crying over this?” Cheri asked, confused. “I’m not mad. They’re just earrings.”
“You’re not making me feel any better,” Dawn said. Dawn was quickly losing her taste for life, as it was progressively losing its flavor. Her new trait of hypersensitivity was merely indicative of her fragmentation.
Since Wolf had selflessly lifted and absorbed Joy’s curse, sacrificing himself for his faithful companion, Dawn had returned to being her old self…well, not really. Cheri was determined to bring Dawn out of her rut, and replace the joy that Joy had stolen. She took Dawn shopping for some funky new threads to try and cheer her up, and Dawn let her…begrudgingly. As they browsed through the outfits in the overpriced store, Rick Springfield’s good time tune, Where's All the Love, from his Wait For Night album, came on over the intercom.
Cheri spots a woman wearing a long fur coat that looks to be made from Alaskan polar bear. Dawn looks at Cheri, as if asking her to do something. Cheri and Dawn nearly ambush the woman in an alley, until they learn that she owns a ritzy antique shop that sells vintage clothing. Dawn later has her pick at taking whatever she wishes, in exchange for the woman’s life. It’s here that Cheri finds a Western, fringe vest, which she feels looks more dainty and appropriate for Dawn. She also gets Dawn a Cowboy-type belt and a pair of suede, Western chaps to accompany the upgraded look.
Before permanently departing the wicked land of the United States, Cheri and Dawn decided to treat themselves to one last girls’ night on the town. They found a dive bar that was practically within walking distance from the San Francisco International Airport. Cheri thought that maybe a few drinks might help drown Dawn’s turmoil a bit, of which she definitely had her lion’s share. Dawn had been looking at Cheri in a way that left her to ponder if Dawn was silently asking for help, or plotting to snap Cheri’s neck like a twig. Either way, nothing was going to change Cheri’s doting adoration for Dawn, not even her distant attitude or eagerness to push her away.
As the two semi-estranged lovers sat side by side on the stools, the wily bartender hit on both of them. They didn’t embrace his proposition, but they had grown tired of constantly fighting off suitors, so they did accept some psychedelic mushrooms from him. As they tripped on these, even Dawn began to relax while they watched the devious bartender pretend to not drool over them. He, like every other man, fantasized about slipping them his ‘beefy’ tube steak, not realizing that he didn’t stand a chance in Hell at getting with either of them. This fact, however, did not dissuade the overly confident dum-dum from trying to achieve his underhanded and unsavory goal.
Just as Cheri noticed that the gloom on Dawn's face wasn’t fading, a young woman got up on the makeshift stage, which was more of a cardboard platform, and began doing a performance-art piece. Cheri sipped on her Bloody Mary, trying to get her younger, stoned lover to share it with her. She knew that Dawn preferred moonshine, but it was illegal and therefore not sold in legitimate establishments, and Dawn was once again without a proper baby bottle. Granted, this second flask had been cursed and therefore not as missed, but Dawn liked what she liked, and was stubborn when it came to anything unfamiliar. The amateur entertainer had introduced herself to the patrons as, Karen, which made Dawn think about the Karen she had gotten to know, who believed to know everything about the Bible, and whom Julie had once called, Care-Wren, to illustrate how Karen…not unlike most Christians…wasn’t nearly as caring as she appeared to be.
Since Dawn was in her own little world, and didn’t seem to know that Cheri was even with her, the pink-haired Cambion decided to step outside for some fresh air. Cheri wanted to say her goodbyes to her Van anyway, which she would soon be abandoning, to take Dawn to Europe. She notices that the car beside them has three toddlers inside, all only a year or two apart, strapped in car seats with the windows rolled up. The owner had left the keys turned, keeping the radio on. Judas Priest’s, Breaking the Law, is blaring through the speakers and the windows, at a volume that is ridiculously threatening to the children’s ear drums. Stepping around to the front of the car, she looks intently at the center of the hood, and uses her mind to disconnect and dismantle the engine. She then goes back into the bar to see if she can sniff out the despicable mother who abandoned her kids outside.
Dawn is still in blank mode, numb and oblivious to where she is or who she’s with. Cheri uses her keen intuition and her supernatural hearing to pinpoint the guilty party. She overhears part of a conversation between two women that signal to her that she has found the unfit mother. She quickly interjects herself into the garish discussion. The two women are heavily intoxicated, so they don’t mind any. Cheri, on the other hand, minds when they both mispronounce her name.
“It’s pronounced, Cherry,” she corrected the two boozed-up bimbos, noticing that Dawn was still sitting alone several feet away and staring quietly into space.
“So, have you had any luck tonight, Cheri?” one of the women asked her, once again mispronouncing her name with a ‘Sh’ sound.
“No, have you?” Cheri asked back, playing along and picking her battles.
“This fucking place has gotten boring for us. We’ve blown every regular here, at least twice. She has, anyway,” the woman admitted boastfully and shamelessly, referring to her whorish friend, whom Cheri noticed was wearing a wedding ring.
Cheri excuses herself and waits outside, after sharing some small talk with the two slutty women. The two harlots eventually leave the bar, drunk of their asses, and the one friend leaves the pregnant one to drive herself home. The lousy excuse for a mother doesn’t even notice that her car is dead. As she opens the door, Cheri sneaks up behind her and whacks her over the head, knocking the woman to the ground. Cheri stands over her, holding up the rock as if intending to stone her again.
“Please,” the woman begs. “I’m pregnant!”
Cheri looks in the windows at the children, who are frightened but not vocal about it. “Trust me, bitch. I’m doing your baby a favor. At least the kid inside of you will go to Heaven this way, not having you as a mother.”
With that, Cheri brings the rock down, striking her right between the eyes, killing her and her unborn child. After Cheri stones the heartless adulterer, she is attacked by a group of men.
“Hey dyke,” one of the cocky assholes said, chuckling. “Come here, dyke. Come here. Come on. Come to Papa,” he said, patronizing her and treating her like a dog.
His buddies just laughed and cheered him on, psyched to see some hot action. They were so caught up in their ignorant hatred, that they didn't even notice that Cheri had just murdered someone. They had noticed her eyeballing the two women in the pub, and assumed that she was lusting after them. These were upstanding men who were active in the local Christian community, who were immense bigots against anyone who was different. The desensitized kids in the car continued to remain silent, as they calmly watched what was going on outside.
"Ooohhh boy,” Cheri said, “have you guys picked the wrong woman at the wrong time."
Dawn had been observing the changes between the setting of the 70s and the rising of the 80s,
and didn’t like what she was seeing. People were putting down the bongs and joints, smoking arsenic and cyanide instead. Marijuana had completely been forgotten and outdated, replaced by lines of cocaine, which made people violent and paranoid instead of enlightened and free. Men had begun wearing Hawaiian shirts, who weren’t at all ethnic. Gay no longer meant happy, but queer. Afros had been replaced with hair that looked like it had been struck by lightning.
She had seen a man who looked like a cross between a peacock and a rooster, with his multi-colored, 3ft mohawk. The women wore skimpy bikinis in public, who were too often those who had no business wearing such revealing clothing. Men had exchanged their disco shirts for Members Only jackets. New trends had taken over, where teenagers were stretching their ears and gauging their lobes to the extreme where they looked alien and inhuman.
Pinball machines and Polaroid memories had replaced the pleasures of nature and the experiences of life. She saw houses and bars decorated with Christmas tree lights around the windows and doors, when it was nowhere near tis the season. Dawn spotted parents walking their kids on leashes, which both disturbed her and reminded her of how much she misses her dead son. Dance clubs began to disappear, as Americans traded the word boogie for aerobicize. Americans were more upset over the gas shortages than they were about the Three Mile Island meltdown that they had already forgotten entirely.
Children still ate Pop Rocks and read comic books. The Cold War was still raging. There was still the occasional streaker, and families still ate fondue. However, Dawn could see that more Americans were becoming materialistic and consumer-motivated, while less were continuing to be laid back, open minded, and experimental. Those that remained free spirits were quickly persecuted, punished, and prosecuted by the system. More men began using curlers than women, and the fragrance of the almighty dollar became more important than how people’s hair smelled.
The radical and countercultural Movements dissipated as if they had never existed, replaced with self-absorption and shallow obsessions. Corporate America was on the rise more than ever before, and the land of the free and home of the brave was on a fast track to greed and apathy. The hippie had withered away, and the yuppie was born. The country was changing, and Dawn…in her intuitive wisdom…did not like what she was seeing, insightful and enlightened enough to know that it would only get worse from here. The pep of her era had been replaced with cynicism and callousness.
Dawn had grown weary of taking advantage of people just to barely survive. She had exhausted her devious tactics and deeds of retribution. She was tired, burnt out, and just wanted it all to be over. She had dedicated such time and energy toward laying the groundwork for vengeance, that she could no longer stand to see her own reflection in the mirror anymore. Her hatred for mankind had involuntarily empowered the Labynkyr Devil and turned her into what she despised the most. She had become a monster, who was now no different and no better than Nurse Carl.
Dawn would catch herself in a trance, playing with green Clackers just to pass the time and kill the tedious, mundane days that had plagued and haunted her. She adored Cheri, but the only excitement she had left to look forward to was when they would make love. So, although their relationship was not based on sex, the lovemaking had become the only moments when Dawn would smile. Having said that, Dawn wasn’t nearly as happy as she led Cheri to believe, which was why the sex between them had become nonexistent.
Dawn meditated and reflected on her life for the first time since Reuben was taken from her arms. She realized that sex didn’t thrill her anymore, as if the fire had been extinguished. She loved being with Cheri and enjoyed doing what she could to please her, but deep down, sex had just lost its magic. It just didn’t get her wet and bothered anymore. The only thing that aroused her that way now, was blood. She preferred to trick herself into believing that most of the people she had killed were bad seeds, detestable and nefarious characters, but she had reached the point where she just didn’t care either way. God was no respecter of persons and neither was she, at least not anymore. Her insatiable lust for bloodshed was no longer discriminate. Dawn realized that she had become the monster that she despised in others, and it terrified her. She was helplessly moonstruck over murder, regardless of the rhyme or reason.
People from both genders gave Dawn lecherous stares as she and Cheri moved through the San Francisco airport. Cheri had put Dawn’s hair up in a French twist, trying to get her psyched for the anticipated escapade. Dawn, however, was sadly unreceptive to Cheri’s efforts.
“So, do you think we’ll get laid when we get off the plane?” Cheri asked, subtly hinting to Dawn that she hoped for them to get frisky in the most romantic city on the planet.
“I think you’re thinking of Hawaii,” Dawn said, not getting Cheri’s intended meaning.
Seeing Dawn’s lingering lack of enthusiasm, it broke her heart to figure that her Cherokee lover had died. Dawn still had breath in her lungs, but no life in her spirit. It was like walking with a zombie, as they made their way to their assigned Gate. As they quietly sat next to each other, waiting to board their plane, Cheri tried to maintain the facade of strength, as Dawn held her droopy face in her hands. People around them noticed Dawn’s melancholy, wondering how someone so pretty, who was flying to somewhere so enchanting, could be so down and depressed. Little did they know that Dawn had become a stranger to Cheri more than they could ever be. One man boldly approached the two ladies, observing the tension between them, and held out his hand to Cheri.
“Would you like a little something to make life seem a little sweeter?” he asked, as he presented a handful of mixed pills to the raspberry queen.
Cheri just glanced up at him, giving him the evil eye, using her body language to make it clear that it was in his best interest to walk away.
“Menage a twat,” he said softly but angrily under his breath, as he turned and walked clear across to the other side of the transit lounge, even though he had previously been sitting only feet away from the pair of smashing beauties.
About an hour later, Dawn is still sitting next to Cheri in the terminal, waiting for their delayed flight. Dawn is wearing a scarf over her face, covering everything but her eyes. Her hair had also been cut short, at her request, and this time…it didn’t grow back right away. She was ashamed of where she had been and what she had done, desperately feeling the urgent need to hide and conceal herself from others. Everything Dawn had done had been for survival or resulted from the reprehensible maltreatment she received from others. She was a product of her environment and an outcast of society, and yet she couldn’t see how sublime she was. Cheri sat cross-legged, reading a copy of Teen Beat, while Dawn noticed some college jocks staring and snickering in her direction.
“Hey, Alex…Check out the chica over there,” one of them said, proving his ignorance by insolently mistaking Dawn’s olive complexion for a Mexican.
“Yeah…the muchacha doesn’t appear to have any proper respect for the fucking animal kingdom,” the equally and brazenly bigoted, Alex, said back.
Dawn was wearing a suede jacket that had a fancy fur collar. It was something Cheri had acquired for her, thinking that it would make her feel like Wolf was still with her. Dawn’s naysayers were the definition of hypocrisy, as her accuser’s girlfriend was sitting there on his lap, holding an authentic alligator purse that bore an actual head of a baby alligator on the front flap.
Dawn remained calm and meek. There was a time when she would have risked the consequences from ripping these frat boys to shreds. But, that time had passed, along with her days of gyrating against Cheri’s pink parts. She had regained her strength, but not so much her will. She just didn’t care enough to bother anymore, as life had robbed her of something precious that she could never retrieve.
Besides, she knew who she was, especially when it came to her love for animals. It didn’t matter what anyone else said or thought. Alex Pacheco founded the PETA organization earlier that year, in March. PETA became a
remunerative organization that is known for it’s fondness for animals and contempt for humans. In this way, they became the antithesis of the Christian church, who make it a point to praise humans and piss on animals. In a perfect world, we would have a third option that fell somewhere in the middle.
OCTOBER 27, 1980
BLUE MOON
PARIS AIRPORT
Before leaving California, they drove past the Black House, on California St, where Zeena LaVey and her celebrity father held the Church of Satan. They then drove over five hours, from San Francisco to Chatsworth (just outside Los Angeles), to visit Santa Susana Pass Road. They parked Cheri’s van on Iverson Road and hiked to the 500-acre location of the Spahn Movie Ranch (where Charles Manson and his Family had communally lived). A wildfire had destroyed all the film sets and residential structures, in September of 1970, so there wasn’t much left to see. In spite of this, both Cheri and Dawn could still feel the haunting energy that was left behind and still lingered at the infamous property.
The stagnant lovers then departed for the land of love, from LAX. The long flight seemed like it would last for decades, but after nearly twelve hours, they reached their final destination. The Charles De Gaulle Airport was crowded and disorganized, in complete chaos. Before they were allowed to do anything, they had to be analyzed by customs. As they stood in what appeared to be an eternal line, the man in front of them turned to address them. Like Cheri, he was a white American, but was there with his wife and three stepkids who were all mixed race.
Moon River Page 14
