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inane annals
The Pornographers, pt.2
by Mark Suder Massey | 26 Oct 2007, 12:01

While Samantha and I were busy behind the bar, Cap and Luis turned to watch the man with the pony-tail as he played darts. I glanced at him a few times. From my angle I couldn't tell where the darts were striking the dart board, but I noticed that three out of four throws were hitting darts already on the board, impaling them and knocking them off. Every minute or two the man with the pony-tail coughed, sometimes stooping over.

After a few minutes the man with the pony-tail sat back at the bar. He sipped his drink, looking at the liquor bottles.

Cap leaned over and spoke to the man with the pony-tail. "I don't believe we're acquainted."

The man with the pony-tail looked at Cap, then stuck his hand out. "Purcell."

Cap shook Purcell's hand. "My name's Cap. I feel compelled to say that you are an extraordinary dart thrower."

Purcell shrugged, his hands around his rocks glass. "I just practice a lot."

"I think not," Cap said, sipping his drink. "You have the easy skill that indicates a kind of physical genius."

Purcell nodded. "Thanks. Care to play?"

"Thank you, but no." Cap licked his teeth. "I get my kicks in other ways."

Coughing, Purcell nodded.

Cap raised his eyebrows. "Have you, perhaps, tried to throw knives at any point?"

"No," Purcell said, sipping his drink.

"I've tried for years but I'm no good at it," Cap said. "Which is greatly disappointing because I can say I'm truly a knife man. I find guns to be too sloppy, too impersonal. But a knife, now that is intimate. Primal, even."

Purcell sipped his drink. "Guns are all right."

"Purcell," Cap said. "Pardon me for saying this, but you don't look like a Purcell. Are you, perhaps, Korean?"

"I'm half Japanese," Purcell said. "On my father's side."

"Then where does the name Purcell come from?" Cap said.

Purcell smiled with his lips closed. "My father wanted to name me after a classical composer. My mother wouldn't let him choose Bach or Handel, so he settled for Purcell."

"Last call!" Samantha called out, switching on all the lights.

When no one made a gesture for more drinks Samantha got the keys from the back room, then returned and locked up the bar's front and side door. After she'd finished, she tossed the keys in the back room.

"Samantha," Cap said, smiling at her. "Didn't I have the pleasure of seeing you here last night as well?"

"Oh," she said. "You were here last night?"

"Certainly," Cap said. "I remember you distinctly. Although I must confess I was a tad underdressed. Incognito, you might say."

She laughed in a stage voice. "Well, the clothes make the man!"

Purcell started coughing, hands tightening on the bar.

"My dear friend," Cap said to Purcell. "You sound unwell."

Purcell was shaking his head. "I'm fine," he said, his voice dry.

"I'm concerned about your well-being," Cap said. "Please, go home and get some rest and allow me to take care of your tab."

Purcell looked at Cap, then at Luis.

"Shit, I'd do it," Luis said. "Three, four rounds of free drinks?"

Purcell held his stare. "I think I'll stay."

Cap sucked in his cheeks. "So be it. But may I ask what is the nature of your illness? You sound strikingly similar to my dear grandmother when TB was taking her."

"It's not TB," Purcell said.

Cap nodded slightly. "But it is in the same category."

Purcell shrugged.

Luis shook his head. "Shit, are we all gonna have to see a doctor now?"

"It's not contagious," Purcell said to Luis.

"Is it progressive?" Cap said.

Purcell didn't say anything. Everyone was looking at Purcell, then away.

"Pardon me if I butcher this quote," Cap said, his voice theatric. "In the midst of life we are in death."

"My thoughts exactly," Purcell said.

"Are you..." Samantha said to Purcell, her eyes wide. "Are you dying?"

Purcell didn't say anything.

"Oh my God," Samantha said, covering her mouth. "That's terrible."

"I admire this man," Cap said. "He puts on a game face, he wears a nice outfit, and he goes out among the living. When I'm in decline I only hope I have the courage to do the same. It's a beautiful thing."

Purcell shrugged. "I've had years to think about it."

"She's a beautiful thing," Luis said, looking at Samantha.

"Oh!" Samantha cooed at Luis. "He's so sweet. I have a boyfriend, though."

Cap narrowed his eyes. "Luis gets confused on occasion. I'm not certain we'd classify you as beautiful, per se."

"Gee." Samantha scrunched up her lips. "That makes me feel better."

"What you are," Cap said, grinning at her. "Is sexy."

"Nope," Samantha said. "Too late. The damage is done."

"Now hear me out," Cap said. "The problem with beauty is that it doesn't always translate to film. Something's lost. Either the eyes look too flat, or the cheeks are too undefined..."

"High maintenance bee-yatches," Luis said.

"But sexy," Cap said, grinning at Samantha. "That translates virtually every time. Even if the camera does add ten pounds, it just makes the girl more voluptuous."

"True dat," Luis said.

"You two are like, obsessed with cameras and film and stuff," Samantha said. "I guess you have to be, with your job."

"Oh, it's a passion as well," Cap said.

Luis giggled. "Better than sex."

Cap turned and looked at me. "Allow me to be blunt," he said. "What gets you off?"

"Uh. I don't know," I said, looking down.

"Young man." Cap laughed. "Know thyself!"

Cap turned to Purcell. "And if I may ask, what gets you off?"

Purcell shrugged. "Friction."

Cap titled his chin at Purcell, then laughed. "Every time you talk I like you more."

Purcell smiled with the corners of his mouth.

"And friction is categorically correct," Cap said, smoothing his hands on the bar. "When I was a younger, simpler man, friction was sufficient. Over the years, however, I've acquired certain tastes: An aroma of danger, a patina of resistance. Anything else, I'm afraid, fails to... inspire me. So to speak." Cap was smiling.

Luis giggled. "Pure fucking poetry."

Purcell didn't say anything.

"Luis," Cap said, his smile vanishing. "You may now commence."

Luis jumped off the barstool, pulling a pistol from his sweatshirt and aiming it at Samantha.

Screaming, she dropped a pint glass.

"Be tranquil," Cap called out, stepping off the bar stool. He raised his arms and waved, his jacket flaring open.

Purcell was staring at Cap's jacket.

"Everyone, please gather round the pinball machine." Cap said.

Stepping back farther, Luis aimed his gun at me.

Purcell slowly got off the bar stool, his hands in the air. I did the same. Samantha, walking around from behind the bar, met us at the pinball machine. My hands were shaking but Purcell's weren't. Beside me I heard Samantha taking fast, shallow breaths.

"Oh shit," Samantha whispered. "Oh shit."

Luis pointed the gun at Purcell, then me, then Samantha, alternating every few seconds.

"I didn't bring enough restraints for company," Cap said, looking at Purcell.

Luis aimed at Purcell. "I can do him."

"I think not," Cap said. "He can barely stand."

Cap reached into a pocket sewn into the lining of his suit jacket and pulled out six strips of transparent plastic. They were ties, a centimeter thick and over one foot long, grooved, with a one-way mouth at one end.

Cap slitted his eyes at Purcell. "You're not going to present a problem, are you?"

Purcell coughed violently, shaking his head. "No," he whispered.

Then Cap looked at me, his eyes slitted. "Kindly turn around, dear busboy."

"What is this?" I said.

Giggling, Luis pointed the gun at me. "Turn the fuck around, cuddlebum."

I turned around.

From behind me I heard Cap's heavy breathing, then felt him grab my right wrist and pull it behind my back. He formed a wristband around my wrist with the tie, then yanked it taut. He did the same to my left hand. Then, pulling my hands together, he used the third tie to loop the other two together. I jerked my arms away, feeling the ties dig into my skin, my wrists locked two inches apart.

Cap roughly spun me around. "Sufficiently tight?"

"Yeah," I said.

Cap slapped me hard in the face. "I should inform you," he said loudly, "that these very ties are used on prisoners of war. If soldiers can't break out of them in the most unfriendly of conditions, then neither can you."

I swallowed, my cheek stinging.

Purcell stooped over, coughing. After a few seconds he stood back up, blood on his chin.

"Kindly keep your lungs in your chest," Cap said.

Purcell nodded.

Cap kicked me in the stomach, throwing me into the pinball machine, my back and hands slamming on the metal before I crashed to the ground. Wheezing, I rolled into a sitting position.

From the ground I watched Cap handcuff Samantha. "No!" she screamed. Then he spun her around by the wrists. She whimpered. With his free hand Cap grabbed the camera and turned it on. Holding her wrists with one hand and filming her with the other, Cap marched Samantha back to the women's restroom. She screamed the whole way.

Luis alternated pointing the gun at me or Purcell.

Ten seconds after the women's restroom door swung closed a slap echoed through the silent bar. There was a short cry, and then another slap.

Suddenly Purcell doubled over, coughing loud and deep. Luis startled and aimed the gun at Purcell. Shaking his head, Purcell glanced at Luis and waved, coughing even harder. Blood dripped from Purcell's mouth to the floor.

"Lung boy is hell of pale," Luis said.

Purcell kept coughing.

"You're fucking monsters," I said to Luis.

Luis aimed the gun at me. "No," he giggled. "We're artists."

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