Car Wash Simulcast

Cold windy afternoon in Vegas where no one wants to stand outside for any period of time than necessary. Distant isolated figures stand motionless under the dark blue canopy of a nearby car wash where business is slow this afternoon, not even the steady line of automobile drivers getting their oil changed and a free car wash begin to make more than the occassional whirlwind of mechincal noise as large sythentic brushes, industrial size foam generators, and hi speed forced air turbines give off a volume of sound sometimes heard in the busier moments outside an airport terminal gate. Not much happening for the workers who hold themselves in their arms squeezing themselves in any effort to retain and create as much heat as possible, does not appear to be helping them as no one talks but just walks in small circles waiting for any signs of customers who continue to pass them on the adjacent avenue.

There is a drunk woman, always happens to be someone drunk in Vegas no matter what time of day. The lady is kicking an empty soda cup in the direction of a few pigeons attempting to assert her dominate authority against the lesser species of the bird, without much success, the animals only fly away for a moment then return to continue snacking on tossed away processed snack crumbs, dried up food wrappers, and an assortment of used cigarette butts. This does not stop the delirious beast from running blindly into one of the other customers sending the person off a set of concrete steps and onto a sidewalk. Steel wool hair, rubber lip mouth, vomiting a waterfall of jibberish, posing as communication, what is the creature trying to convey, no idea, beyond even the most stereotypical thoughts that might come to your mind, her appearance contains much more visual cartoonish like style. From the undersized shirt with overwhelming gut laying on top of the region where her stomach might have at one time been less than the mass of harden fat sagging day by day into something like a fat bottom lip from a loser in a 12 round fight, drooping, dangling, gravity holding court, urine, dirt stained pants with spots of dried blood, and shoes that can no long contain the masses stone blocks that have mutated into a foot one might see on the statues of Mayan ancients, the footwear resembling sandals where moisture starved, diabeties cracked skin heels detail the first steps of lossed blood circulation, death black dead stumps will not stop her from taking her act to the next nearby neighborhood grocery market.

The fallen woman is taking her time from recovering from the shove off the steps, a few of the car wash attendants are gathering up a purse, the spilled contents, and a some words of forgiveness to keep the victim from filing charges against the nutbag or a threatening a quick call to the local money happy attorney for a lingering lawsuit floating above their heads at the moment. The crazy pigeon chaser wanders off to another corner of the detail center blabbing in an unknown form of debauchery dialouge, hi speed garble like a cassette tape chewed up in a car stereo, a final scream before heading off the cliff into the depths of permanent insanity. This must be her goal, only here at the car wash today for a brief visit on the looney circuit, plenty of locations for a farewell tour in Las Vegas, tons of headliner spots where the citizen of this city can watch the antics of the clinically destroyed, if lucky a few might get to participate in the fun like the woman who got blindsided eariler, ask that woman now how she feels about funding for the mentally disturbed; the response would probably be along the lines of feeding the lot into self sanitizing wood chippers, take them right off the books, what a great tax relief boon, take the meat grounds and feed them to the homeless, a double win. The delusional jester doubled back at the wounded woman who stood up to beat on the leatherfaced clown with a large designer bag, vicious strike after strike, cries of an assualted prey, gasps, retaliation, clawing, twisting, maligned, vortex of violence. The workers let the ladies gas out before moving in to break them apart, by this time my interest in the battle to the death had lost its appeal, plenty of other things in this town to pre-occupy my time, attention span is such a difficult mindset maintain in an era of unchecked lunacy in the feed troughs of the metropolis.