DIE PRINZEN

Cast of Characters

The Shoe - A boy who acts as a Prince. He has a good Heart.

The Song - A boy who acts as a Prince. He has a sharp Mind.

Friends - A specific person with one name

The Young Hat - A smart girl with Too High Standards

The Rose - A young man with Much Wisdom

Dawn - A clumsy girl from Far Away

ZD - A charming man who Burns his Brain

The Madman - A fat man with no Social Skill

Sis B - A seductive girl who likes the Physical World

AQ - A selling man who can Find Anything

Mama Bear - A motherly woman who controls the Bear Den
Leaf - An ex-punk woman to whom The Song owes his blood

Sellers - Any of a number of people with a number of names

G.G. - A person with The Green

Snow King - A person who spends time with The White Queen

“It was :36. The world was new.”

The lights sparkled into stars through the dirty glass of the windshield. A soft fog filled the air outside the car with the same smoky look of hot box. Only a few other cars rolled down the road this late night, and left no traffic to bothers Song and Shoe as they cruised down. They passed a car with a devil in the driver seat smiling his horned grin. The slender drift of cigarette burn twisted into the air between long drags. A world of streaming green and yellow surrounded the pee-oh-ess fluidly sliding further and further back. A gas station with burning white fluorescent brights buzzed against the quiet dark. Ten dollars and not even a quarter tank of gas and down the road again.

The Young Hat Rose Shoe and Song sit on cut stone stairs grooves in a side of sandstone. Cold and rough and dry like tongue of dead cat. The burbling noise of water and exhale and boom. The weight of the world slides off into the gutter as the burning smell of grass wafts up into the atmosphere. Soft kaleidoscopes of yellow green blue red float across patches of unused vision. Eyes burn red mouth dry heart racing. Walking running across grass cement asphalt road yard park till the rush of movement fills Their legs arms chests. Breathing heavy cold and warm atop the world. Ashes ashes all fall down the sky spinning Orion the Hunter at the head of the pack tracking Bears to the north. 

Soft white clouds float casually across the sky. Warm brown and green earth heats the soles and backs and the sun beckons sleep.

Deep loud throbbing tones with frequencies felt in the arms and legs and hands and feet. Pulsing beats that pummel the senses. Hairs all standing on end vision blurring into fields of swirling flowers and spirals and streamers. The cool sting of menthol against the back of the nose across the shoulders in the eyes. Tens of thousands of dancers swirled across the rocks all in time with each other. 

Eventually, its slows, slower, slowly, down into waves, of fading, and returning. Remedies occur to calm the nerve in the never ending search for the cure. The seconds hours months of the lying life flow down the past. 

*Anode you must come a cliegs chora.* 

*wat?*

*yakno below the dog.*

*huh… gotcha omw*

Open close lock unlock open close start flow stop open close lock open. Clouds burst into night air warm and cold jetties. Strong scents of rose orange cinnamon fill the nostrils and bombard the brain. Walk past the bright front to the silent simulated stars. White glow from a laptop.

- Watap?

- Na much. Jus wanted company. How was your day?

- It was alright. I awoke with the first light and crossed the Great Mountains where I fought off hordes of vulgar trogs. Typical stuff ya know.

- I doubt anyone ever really knows what you are saying do they? Maybe you should lay of the chems.

- Naw, I’ve slowed down a bit recently anyway. I hear everyone say how bad they are.

- Ha, and we know that’s the truth.

- Yeah… gimme a pull of that.

Winterflower Plum Peach fill The Song’s mouth. He blows out the fruit in neat little rings.

- I still can’t do them right.

- It’s just practice. Way too much practice.

Concentrated meditation, may lead to the ability of controlling the organs. In training to stop minds. 

Sometimes there’s nothing to say. Sometimes there's too much to say.

Once again, They find Themselves in the familiar glow of another dirty haven of escape. The regulars are yelling laughing talking Under their Breath. They are doing the things They are taught to be scared of. Living the lives some dream of dreaming of having. Desire leads to Suffering. Soft door creakily opens.

- No, I need a picture and birthday.

- So this won’t work then?

- No.

And the room where The Shoe and The Song sat stayed empty. Guillermo chirped out of the speakers on the wall and the regulars in the other room chirped along with him.  

The night before The Shoe had another failed trial. If only tonight could rival but once again They’re there hiding and hunting speaking and listening. The knowing nods and assuming conversation seem a farce. Floating and fading, concentration becomes baffling. The cacophony of many tongues one atop another graying strangers conversations. 

- All of life is suffering.

- Best take what chems you can.

- Desire is the root of suffering.

- Take chems when they’re there, don’t try to hard to seek them out.

- To end suffering, end desire.

- If you like a chem too much stop doing it.

- And follow the eightfold path. Right Understanding

- Know what the chem does before you do it.

- Right Intention.

- Don’t do chems to get over personal issues.

- Right Speech.

- Not everyone does chems, be careful who you talk to.

- Right Action.

- Just cause you’re fucked up doesn’t mean everyone else is, and they certainly don‘t need to know about it.

- Right Work.

- Don’t do chems right before your shift… At least not too many…

- Right Effort.

- Responsibility does not disappear with the use of chems.

- Right Meditation.

- When tripping its okay to Trip The Fuck Out for a little bit, but keep in mind the above.

- Right Contemplation.

- Try to learn to know why You do chems.

*Hey song mind if this chick and I come by?*

*Yea sure jus come on by. I’m at my house*

*Cool be there in fifteen*

The ratty old Mercury pulled into the cul-de-sac with the grace of a barge and clunked as the alternator died in neutral.

- Fuckin thing…

The Song closed the door to his home and hopped into the back seat.

- Hey Shoe, and…

- Hey, this is Dawn. New in town yakno.

- Oh, yeah? Nice ta meetcha.

- Yeah, you too Song. I’ve heard loads about you.

- I hope nothing too bad…

- No way, all good. Shoe and I were wondering if you knew of a good G.G. at this hour.

- A G.G…

- Ganja God

- Oh, right. Uh, yeah, just head out onto this main road here. Take a right on it. From here… A left at this light. And then we roll down here a bit… and a right… and park here. Be are be.

The Song opened the creaky door to the car and quickly ran across the street. He knocked on the door of one of the cookie cutter houses then went inside without waiting for an answer.

- Hey!

- Hey, come on down.

He ran down the short staircase to the basement three at a time and pushed back a curtain into the small den revealing the smell of burn and echoing dub beats reverbing across the walls.

- Hey, can I get a half eight?

- Yeah, no problem. Wanna smoke?

- Sorry, in kinda a hurry today.

- Ah well...

The G.G. weighed out 1.7 grams of high THC chronic marijuana while Song pulled twenty-five bucks out of his wallet.

- Thanks man, catcha later.

- Yeah, see you around man.

The Song ran back out of the house and to the car and to the two waiting there.

- Kay, we’re all set.

- Do you know anywhere good to go?

- Not really, just drive around.

- Aight.

Dawn started the Mercury and rolled out of the neighborhood. The Song pulled a short glass chillum from his jacket pocket and loaded a bowl of the Purple Kush. With the flick of a Bic the acrid smoke of weed boxed the car. They drove the car across the abandoned midday roads floating around soft and hard curves. Left and right turns. Red and green lights. Up and down hills. Dirt and asphalt streets. Across train tracks and streams. They left the hard rigid lines of the city and into the rough cut mountain passes. And all the time they smoked or waited as the chillum was loaded to smoke. After a while the silence grew from stoned introspection to awkward and Dawn broke the silence.

- Hey Song, have you ever sped?

- Yeah, I love speeding, but I can’t anymore. My license is red, so if a cop gets me I’m fucked.

She laughed - No, I mean, have you done speed?

- Like amphetamine? Naw, never had a chance. The only stim I’ve done was a scrip. Just some off brand Ritalin.

- What’d you think?

- It was like drinking too much coffee. Kinda uncomfortable. I wanna try speed though. It sounds like the stim to do.

- Yeah, I love it.

- You know where to get any?

- Not here, back before I moved I could.

- Ah…

- If I hear of any I’ll let you know.

- Yeah. Hey let me get your number…

Much time is spent murdering minutes. Bodies aren’t the only thing cigarette smoke steals away.

It was winter and the snow covered the cold outside ground. The Song had spent long months away from home in the Tower. Its grey facade mirroring the souls of those in its halls.

- Hey, ZD, what do ya wanna do tonight?

- Fuck if I know man. This place is shit.

- Is the Snow King back? Or he still out for the day?

- I dunno man. I could give him a call.

- He’s just down the hall. We could go knock. How much you got?

ZD pulled a crumple of bills out of his pocket.

- Uh, twenty.

- And I got thirty, lets buy a gee.

- Sounds good, do we let The Madman know?

They stared at each other for a second and then broke into stoned giggles.

- Lets not… ever.

They walked down the hall and up the stairs two floors. Three quick raps against the door. The Snow King opened the door and let the two in.

- Hey, just a gram.

The two threw the fifty bucks onto the glass tabletop.

- You want to take it with you?

- Half of it yeah, we’ll do the other half here.

- Sounds good.

The Snow King weighed out a half gram of cool white powder and put it into a small plastic bag the size of a quarter. The other half he laid out onto a mirror and handed ZD and the Song each a blade. ZD cut his into four smaller lines and quickly bumped the first two one in each nostril repeat. The Song pulled the whole blob of white powder into a short fat line and insufflated the quarter gram in one quick motion into his left. The piercing smell of etherized cocaine hit his brain like a hammer and he coughed once, a small puff of powder blowing into the air from deep around the soft tissue of his lungs. Their pulses jumped and their vision tightened. They stood up and thanked the Snow King for his service, then stumbled back down the halls.

- Fuck man, cut me out another line.

Chop chop tap slide chop chop chop tap slide cut. The two eyeball equal piles of diesel smelling white. ZD sliced his into his first initial and The Song piled his nice and neat and square. 

- How long?

- Half hour?

- Ha yeah (right?)!

The click buzz of television power followed by warm preprogrammed console OS opening log in insert disk credits action! The flicker of the screen speeds faster in their minds than designed and ten twenty forty eighty minutes pass before dollars are rolled and nostrils cleared by pressed sinus and

Beach party decorates the darkened strobing room. Love chem flows through veins. Loud thumping bass drives legs and arms to movement and the electric feel of orgasm runs through every alit nerve from toe to finger. Packed sweaty bodies fill the raised black dance platform surging around and with each other. Sis B wanders from The Song and Shoe into the metal cage of writhing nubile slaves. She pulls herself inside and onto one with soft fingers and quick hands and soon her sharp tongue. Break during low bpms to drink water and inhale cancer and chat with strangers in the breathy cold locked square alley partition. The sober harsh of menthol fills lungs smooth and cool and with the same electricity.

- We can head out whenever you want.

- Eh, sooner rather than later.

- Sis, ready soon?

She had wandered off and was talking to some Strange Fat Man who had no business with a lass her age. The Song and Shoe watched on with their liaison, enclosing the childlike Sis B and Fatty McGee in a crescent behind brick. The Love was in them both, and the world could tell, if it hadn’t been with Them both they wouldn’t be here together. The Song pulled her off and let her drag his Smooth as they shook off their brief encounter with a creeper and retreated to the warm inside. Back into the loud beats for a little longer then to the cold street and waiting car. Running the rattling Accord down darkened streets with rare flares of halogen lamps. Burning green smell fills the closed windowed space intensifying the spectral feel of the dark. Climbing the stairs from the back door to avoid the front desk security up to the forth floor and into The Song’s warm and lived in room. Nic sick Shoe runs into the bathroom to purge and recover and Sis B stays by his side while Song runs down to say hi to ZB. Quick lines of white queen and sniffs and The Song returns. The Shoe sleeps in the living room livid on the couch and the other two retire to the only other room. And long after with licks and kisses pets and touches sighs and moans they sleep for few short hours before the sun returns.

The Madman ran. And he made it seem he would do things he would not do. He was shown as a liar when he reappeared unscathed. The People who worried cared less and less with each brash act. Soon the tension between The Madman and The Song boiled over. Authority came and moved The Song from The Towers with regret and glee. Freedom from some of the oblivion it contained and loss of those he had huddled with in it’s flickering lights and faulty elevators. And with his eviction The Song made it known to all those who would listen who was responsible for his removal. The Madman had won a battle and lost the war.

- Song, do you think it’s ever ok to be the bad guy?

- Yea.

- Father said the same thing “sometimes you have to be the bad guy” but I don’t buy it. You can be the good guy all the time. You should be.

- You can, but I wouldn’t want to.

- Why not? People like you better when you are, right? When would you be the bad guy?

- I dunno an example. Just that… well, sometimes you can only go so far opening the door for other people. Sometimes I think it’s better to just open the door and walk in yourself.

- No metaphors, gimme an example.

- The Madman, he is not worth being the good guy for. There are fucking emotionless people who will try to take advantage of you. Unless you put. Them. In. Their. Place. Fucking bastard wrecked my car, got me kicked out of my apartment, the list goes on. He is not, and will never be, worth the effort of niceness.

- I’m not saying you have to be nice, I mean, I suppose you don’t need to be the good guy all the time, but I do, I need to be the good guy, or at least not the bad guy. Neutrality at least, is always better than being the bad guy.

- Heh, well, while you are off gallivanting I’ll just do it my way, and we’ll see who ends up king in the end, eh?

- Sounds good my brother, we shall see.

The granite multiliths sat scattered as far as the eye could discern. It had been a morning of packing meeting and traveling to get to this place full of Kami. The Song and The Shoe had met with AQ and bought Rare Chems just for the occasion. After setting camp near The Cave a bottle of Seven was opened and downed by The Princes and their companions. When the sun fell and the sky was full dark the drunken Song broke the cap of Eve and split it into two tiny lines. With a quick inhale the burn of Eve sharper than a knife cut the princes noses. The Song wretched and purged on rocks and bushes and bees and then soon the world broke into patterns and flowing lights and twinkling stars. The Shoe began to wander and Song followed behind up the bluff and around rocks and across flats. Soon They stumbled upon A Rock upon Another pointing into the night to the swaying Orion. The Song climbed atop the Monument and could feel the flow of life under his feet and the breath of Kami in his lungs. 

- This is a sacred place, ya know, I can feel it.

- Sure man, its pretty neat.

More wandering and Ragnarok was found breaking the horizon. Back to The Cave where a fire burned and friends slept nearby. The task of fire keepers feel to The Princes as their mistress gave them comfort through the night. A full moon rose on the south entrance and as the fire burned on it slowly set on the north. Just before the Lunar Sphere slipped away below the rocks and trees our Princes woke their entourage so that they too may take their chems and watch the sun rise. Their Ivy was eaten and she started her work. They all sat atop The Cave that had become a home for them and watched the colors burn the sky into strips of light. The trees danced and the stars faded while the moon slipped away and the crest of sun burst forth.

- Blacking out is the worst of sins, I think. Nothing is worse than forgetting the best times you will ever have.

The Wit Wanted to pursue Mama Bear. But thinking of her Lil Sis she recalled their time due to the younger's nubile aesthetics. And so the Wit turned his attentions from his hearts desire. But alas he was deceived when he soon found out that Lil Sis had indeed no intention of allowing his pressures and turned him away again. And oh how the Wit felt deceived by the treachery of Mama Bear to turn him away from his first hearts desire in return for a cold pretty succubus. And when Mama Bear heard of his woe she felt naught a string in her heart for the Wit's loss.


The Song left the club with Vics in his pocket and a bag under the seat. Carefully following the limits using every signal and ashing out the window he slid down roads west and south. A left turn with a truck and a cop behind one turns off and thinking it the pig he tosses his butt out the window. Brilliant flashes of red and blue and one word races through his mind Fuck. He pulls off the main street under a halogen lamp and knows what is coming. He forgot his ident card though it matters not it's suspended anyway. Panicky he calls out a fake name though soon after he can remember his own.

- Out of the car, sir.

The song opens the door and walks to the sidewalk. He recites the alphabet walks in a straight line and holds up his leg to the count of twenty. Still the occifer isn't satisfied and has him blow his breath. Thankfully .004 well under the limit. Not that it matters his false name and suspended license already mean that he is going to county. The handcuffs clickity clicky click all too tight around his wrists digging lines in his flesh. The Song is put into the back seat and the cops and backup search the car finding an open handle of Seagrams and Il Serpente. The police are fortunately not too thourough as they miss the green under the seat and the scrips in his pocket for only six charges instead of eight. 

A short ride later and he is stripped of his rights and his clothes put into a brilliantly lit room for six hours while he awaits processing. He calls Leaf in the hopes of getting out sooner rather than later to no avail. The magistrate wants him held till Monday.

Thoughts of movie prison scenes soon fade as his compatriots aren't fighting but rather playing monopoly risk and sorry to kill time. The small TV plays constant sports. The one thing that strikes The Song as truly terrible is the food which makes airlines seem haute-cuisine.
Soon the nights roll past and The Song is released back into the world his court date set awaiting his fate.