Colt '84

       Claude Vicent / Fantasy
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Colt ’84
Claude Vicent
short stories




This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


Copyright © Claude Vicent 2017
Published by Claude Vicent at Smashwords
Cover illustration by Claude Vicent. Copyright © 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Previously published © Claude Vicent 2014.
All the stories in Colt '84, apart from Cold Pie and Mayday were previously published in the short story collections 'A gentleman never lies' and 'Grass fever'.
© Claude Vicent 2013


claudevicent.com
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to the voices inside my head,
that keep telling me i can't.
to my heart and soul,
whose ambitions and hopes have no limits,

and of course to you,
there'd be no point otherwise...


c.v.


















Shit for brains
“And what is it you do?” one of the judges asked.
“Aren't you going to ask me what my name is first?” the contestant replied with a cheeky smile on his face.
“Of course, what's your name son?”
“Gary, the name's Gary.”
“Hi Gary, so what are you going to perform for us tonight?”
“Well it's all a bit of a surprise, I guess you'll all just have to wait and see.”
The crowd cheered and rose to their feet as of routine before they were ordered to shut the hell up and return their cheap bums to their seats.
The judges looked at each other a little perplexed at Gary's answer. He looked like so many others before him. Young, mid-thirties, pale and skinny, about six feet tall.
There was something about him though, perhaps his attitude. It struck a couple of the judges as rather different, even original.
One of the judges wondered whether this guy might be the one. The one they'd been looking for all along.
“Whenever you're ready Gary.”
“I was born ready,” was the young man's answer.
The music began to pick up volume in the background as the first notes to 'Requiem for a Dream' began to play. The judges tried to relax and slid back into their big leather chairs, reluctantly, a little unimpressed perhaps. It was early days and they still had over a hundred more nut jobs to view and review before the day was over. It was going to be one hell of a long day.
Gary jumped to attention the moment the music began to play and progressed into a loose type of tribal looking dance, moving senselessly around the stage like a drunk. Again the judges looked at each other and back over their shoulders to the crowd. People sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation. A thumbs up from the producer signalled it was still a go ahead.
After much milling around the stage he eventually found his spot and came to a halt.
Standing there, gazing into the distant spotlights, he pointed confidently to the crowd like a presidential campaign candidate waving to his supporters, pretending to have recognised some of them.
The crowd responded with cries and cheers, much to the judges' curiosity. Note after note the music grew to a crescendo, quicker and louder before a sudden silence shrouded the stage as the music came to an abrupt stop.
The lights went off and a lonesome spotlight moved carefully across the stage to where Gary stood quietly with his back to the audience. You could hear a pin drop.
A few fans cried out to their new found hero, “We love you Gary!”
He held his fist up to them, acknowledging them like a rock 'n' roll star.

As the seconds ticked on something in the back of everyone's brain started to wonder what Gary's act might actually consist of. Their questions and doubts were soon to be answered in style.
Gary began to unzip his trousers. He had practiced the act for weeks on end. In order for it to work well it would all have to fall into place instantly, like clockwork.
It sure did, all the hours of practice sessions paying off.
He dropped his trousers to the floor in one quick sweep, pulling his pants down to his ankles to join his socks. Before anyone in the room had the chance to make sense of what was going on Gary got down into a deep squat, his back still turned to the audience and judges. Still no one dared break the silence.
The crowd sat frozen in their seats. It was Gary who broke the awkward silence as he pushed with all his might. A couple of deep manly grunts were soon followed by a sustained sound of relief, as he did just that.

Years later people would recall the moment, telling all sorts of colourful tales.
The truth is time stood still that afternoon. For a few eternal moments, everyone in the St. James' music hall stood gobsmacked before the most outrageous act of public indecency. It went something like this.
The steam rose off the piece of fresh warm shit as it made contact with the cold stage floor. For a moment it looked like it might go on for ever but it eventually came to an end and dropped off, coiling up like a rattlesnake resting in the warm corn fields of Western Indiana.
There was another brief moment of silence before the crowd rose to its feet and burst out into a cry of admiration and applause. It was an explosion of enthusiasm. They clapped and cheered and howled and hollered. The roar went on uncontrollably for the best part of a few minutes.
The judges looked at each other and all around them with incredulous looks. Not one of the so-called professional talent scouts could make sense of what had just happened. They had never seen anything so disgusting and demeaning to human society before, and yet, the crowd couldn't seem to get enough of it.
Some even cried out for an encore. Gary had to be held back by security as he went to squat for a second time. The live TV coverage had to be cut.

“Well...” one of the judges found the courage to speak out.
“Gary, I wouldn't know what to say. I... mmm, well.., the crowd sure seemed to like it.”
The people went up into another fireball of ecstasy. The judge couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. For a moment he swore he was having some kind of outer body experience, watching the whole scene unfold from a distance, but he knew what he had to do.
Just keep that good old crowd happy.
The second judge from the left, a young professional dancer, kept her head low behind the panel desk, her face deep inside a bucket. She was still being sick. They had to skip her as they moved on to the next judge.
“Listen Gary, you're a great fellow, there's definitely something about you, the way you stir the people up, it's quite amazing, but I don't think this kind of act is suitable for a TV audience.”
The crowd went up in arms as the sounds of howling and deep, sustained booing filled the auditorium. How dare he.
“But they sure seemed to like you,” he quickly corrected himself winning a dubious applause from the stands. The judge smiled satisfied with his own performance. He still had the crowd on his side, and that was all that mattered.
The last judge was a young, up and coming rap star, new to the scene and still not very knowledgeable of the subtle skills involved in being a TV judge entertainer. The poor thing still believed there was something genuine left in the whole thing. He couldn't believe his eyes, ears, or nose.
“Gary,” he said pulling his cap to the side and sitting up confidently in his chair, “That was absolute shit, if you'll pardon the pun!”
The crowd loved the joke, alas not grasping the true meaning of the words. The young rapper sat there incredulous, watching two of his colleagues go along with the crowd, clapping and all smiles.
The female judge had to be removed from the hall. The smell of fresh dump was starting to make its way steadily around the auditorium. The air was becoming unbreathable.

“I'm sorry, I just didn't get it Gary. What were you trying to say, if anything?”
“Why, he's expressing himself freely,” said the first judge. The crowd loved him for the comment and they let him know it.
“You have to admit,” added the second judge, “it sure was out there. As far as originality goes, it was quite unique.”
The young rapper couldn't believe his ears. He turned round to the audience to see if they were all for real. They were. He looked over to one of the producers to the side of the stage. He was also in on it, the cameras were rolling again. Rock'n'roll.

“Gary,” cried one of the judges, “It's a big fat YES from me.”
The young rapper smacked his fists on the desk and got up to the leave. The crowd booed him off. Within seconds he re-thought it through and returned to his seat flicking his middle fingers to a few members of the crowd.
The second judge went along with the flow and it was two YESes for Gary.
The rapper ripped his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair trying to gather his thoughts. Had he really witnessed a grown man defecate
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