don't go to blutarksi's house
by gerry clough
My lost years were the couple years after I graduated Kurtzville
University; I bartended at Dr. Roberts' Pub. It was a neat place, Keith
Haring stopped in a few times before he died; Yoko Ono complained about
our iced tea one hot august day while she was in town, shopping for
antiques. Here it was, a year after Yoko's visit, 1991... I was still
hanging around Kurtzville doing nothing but barely paying bills and
pissing off my landlord who lived downstairs. She just had her lawyer
write me a "this is your last chance" letter-- she was tired of my middle
of the night parties and temper tantrums. Mrs. Kurtz was a nice lady and
she gave me a lot of chances before throwing me out.
It was 3 p.m. when Mark Blutarksi walked in for his daily White Russian.
"What's up, Cowboy?" Blutarski asked in his usual manner-- coked up,
blood shot eyes, same clothes he was wearing four days ago. Same gut
hanging over his belt.
I was sitting in my second floor main street apartment, it was hot as
fuck in there; the sun beat right thru the sheer curtains that a former
roommate had hung in the apartment. it was sunday, a mennonite buggy
came rolling by on its way home from all day church. Six p.m. and I was
still feeling hung over-- I was still feeling beaten up. Larry Picar had
sucker punched me the night before over at the Kurtzville Volunteer
Firehouse (i pinched his waitress girlfriend the night before) My upper
right cheek was bruised good and hurt like hell. i was really looking
forward to a joint or two. I was hoping Blutarski was home by now; I'd
been over there earlier hoping to score a 1/4 ounce or so... mid August
in Kurtzville could be fairly dry... the plants are growing amidst the
corn and was still months away so it took a real pro to keep things
going; the college kids were home chasing their old high school
sweethearts. Blutarksi was a lifer... been hanging in Kurtzville for at
least a decade by now...I heard he was a business major back in the day;
these days Blutarski lived in one of the 15 apartments situated above one
of the 5 local pizza joints. I climbed the stairs. Blutarski tells his
friends not to knock, to simply walk in-- the cops tended to knock real
hard and loud in those pre no knock days-- so i tried not to knock but,
man, there was this crazy story floating around town as to what can
happen when one follows Blutarski's advice and just walks in. one guy i
knew walked in one day to find Blutarski on his living room couch,
watching a some sort of interracial porno flick-- a dildo stuck up his
ass. Crazy mother fucker but, man, the rest of the town dries up--
Blutarski's got weed. Whole fuckin town is getting busted, Blutarski's
skating around selling like nothing was going down. Creepy dude, but man
if you wanted to get high, it was usually easiest to deal with Blutarksi.
I knocked, as unofficially and sloppy as I could.... a few seconds later,
Blutarksi lifted his curtain, saw it was me and non commitally opened the
unlocled the door. "Dude, you are my friend, right? you know people I
know, right?"
"Yeah, Mark, I'm cool... I know you don't like people knocking on
the door and all but, man, people like their privacy, eh?"
"Just walk in, else I tend to think you're a cop, man...Cool,
c'mon in....you lookin?"
"yeah..."
"How much?
"I dunnno, an eighth or a quarter, I guess."
"You've heard the stort about me and the dildo, eh?"
"uhhhh..."
"No worries, Jer, everybody's heard that story.... just walk in
Jer....I trust you, Jer. I really do. I can tell you're a cool guy. I
can tell you know."
"You shoot up?"
"Uhh, no, man. Maybe steroids, someday....."
"I got coke and speed, man.... you ever shoot this stuff? Man,
it'll take you places. Better get the weed, things might get weird once
the needle goes inside me...."
"Just don't die on me, man."
"We all die, jerry, a little every day. You want a quarter or do
you want an eighth?"
"I'll take a quarter if you got it, Mark."
"Of course I got a quarter."
Quick Dissolve
Blutarski was completey zoned; I was totally stoned. Mission
accomplished. These porno tapes just went forever.... I couldn't tell if
Blutarksi was coherent or not, he just stared at the movies.
It was after midnight , I was heading to the bar.
"Take it easy, Mark... thanks."
I walked down Kurtzville's Main Street . I missed Claire; we went
out for two years then she dumped me; I drank a lot but so did she. She
didn't like my pot habit (her accountant dad didn't like my long hair and
neither did a lot of her preppie suburban friends)... she didn't like a
lot of things about me and I guess I wasn't the changing type. So, that
was that... two years, time for Claire to find someone else to marry.
I walked into my favorite bar back then-- the ShortMan's Bar.
That was it's name. I returned to Kurtzville a few years after this
weird week and the bar was closed. Oh well, i had some good times there.
The next 48 hours from the time I got to ShortMan's wasn't a whole lot
of fun... now that the horror at Blutarski's was over, I hope it was the
most horrible thing I ever see-- to someone else at least. I'm sure when
the Reaper comes for me it'll be horrible enough.
"Hey, Linda, what's up? Buy you a drink?"
"Sure, Jer.... what are you up to?"
"Not much, was over at Blutarski's house."
"Eeeww.. what were you doing over there?"
"You know what I was doing over there."
"Yeah... you got any?"
"Get you high after closing time if you want, we can watch a
movie or something."
"Yeah, the or something part will probably be more fun than the
foreign movie... I couldn't figure out what it was about....how did 8 and
a 1/2 fit into the whole thing?"
"We'll watch it again soon, when we're not drunk."
"Cool, what do we til then?"
"We're getting drunk?"
"You ever play truth or dare?"
"Sure."
"You ever get caught jacking off?"
"Dare."
"I know you got caught now and you got to do the dare- you got to
go spy on Blutarski for an hour."
"Sure, no problem. I've never gotten caught jacking off but you
never really know who was watching do you?"
"Your dare is to go spy on Mark Blutarksi for a half hour
tomorrow night and then report back to me."
"Your wish is my command-- if I get laid tonight."
"We'll see."
I fucked Linda so I was committed to spying on Blutarski. Linda
was a little strange-- she was into porn and the occult. Tarot cards, I
-Ching-- all that crap. I don't know why Linda wanted my report on
Blutarski. I felt a little ill at ease when Blutarski came into Doc
Roberts' the next day for his usual. He couldn't read minds so he had no
idea and he left me the usual 5 dollar tip.
8 p.m.
I brought a watch. An hour. I didn't think it was going to be
all that weird, the worst thing I was going to see was Blutarski involved
in some self gratification.
When I got there he was on the phone.
8:02 p.m.
"Mommy! I'm sorry Mommy! I'll never do it again."
Blutarski listened to what Mommy had to say.
"I'm sorry... I lost control. I'll never go off my meds again.
Yes, I know... I know... Never again."
Blutarski went back to listening and I went back to watching
Blutarski listen to Mommy.
"Tomorrow night Mommy?"
"I'll be on my meds."
8:15 p.m.
"Hey, Tony, 6 on the Washington State , the late game... yeah....
thanks."
Blutarski went to the drawer and pulled out a tin box, I
recognized it immediately as a junk kit. Then he proceeded to shoot up,
didn't use a rubber hose or anything.... spent a minute looking for a
vein-- found one.... he didn't like that one. Another minute or so of
poking around. Blutarski found his success then found his bliss and laid
back and just stared at his tv... I could see in the mirror that he was
watching a hockey game, new york rangers probably.
8:45 p.m.
Phone rings. Yeah, hey, hi.... sure c'mon over.... Blutarski
hangs up.
8:51 p.m.
Linda walks in through Blutarski's front door. She sat in a
chair a few feet from Blutarski. "What are you lookin for, Linda?"
"The usual."
She spread her legs underneath that skirt, just a little.
Linda's game.
"You like hockey, Linda?"
"Not really and I'm busy this week Mark, real busy."
Good Blowoff.
"Yeah hold on... I'll be right back with the goods."
Blutarski rose from deep inside his couch and went into his
bedroom. I leaned over a little bit and saw him reaching down into the
paper bags. The top 7 or 8 inches were twisted. Blutarski got the stuff
so fresh from the cornfields that it was wet and he was curing it
himself. Lucky bastard.
My time was up. I remember making a mental note about where
Linda sat and her position at exactly 11 o' clock when I had made good on
my sick dare. I looked over at the other apartments, all pretty quiet
looking except one-- I saw an old lady gazing out of her apartment
window, staring right at me. I nudged my face downward into a shadowy
nudge and walked down the stairs. I walked over to Shortman's and
ordered a brew. And another. Why did we all like to watch Blutarski so
much? I had no answers so I drank my way straight through until the
dawn.
My alarm clock went off at 11 am ; it was time to bartend to a
small lunch crowd and then tend to a fairly empty bar. I showered and
went to work.
Blutarksi came in for his Russians; I made them extra strong.
"What are you up to?"
"Gonna go visit some people a little later on... you know, partying.
I'll be back sometime in the middle of the night... you lookin?"
"Uh, yeah."
"I'll be back around closing time... maybe i'll have an after
hours party."
"Cool."
I decided what the fuck, why not; Blutarski was a psycho and he
had plenty of weed. I was only going in to take one stick, about 50
bucks worth... Blutarski would never miss it and I'd be a true member of
the People Who Liked to Watch Blutarksi club. Linda would be proud.
I drank at least 5 or 6 beers so by the time I left Shortman's I
was feeling pretty drunk. As far as I knew, Blutarski was miles away
somewhere, visiting his mom. Linda and I were going to have a blast
smoking our quarter ounce of Kurtzville Kind. How little I knew
regardging what was going on in the universe these days-- strange twisted
things are what goes on.
Keeping an eye out for shadowy figures hiding just behind
curtains, I walked toward Mark B's stairs as quietly as I could. There
was no sign of the old lady or the retard. My shoes were wrapped around
my neck. Real quiet. Real dark. No moon.
The window opened easily enough. I crawled right through.
Blutarksi was on of those cats who left all kinds of things around with
the power still on. A weird looking 3rd or 4th generation biracial porn
played in the background. Sports radio played in the kitchen. The guy
had cameras on everywhere outside-- at all kinds of angles around the
building but he left his apartment filled with tens of thousands of
dollars worth of pot. Bedroom was filled with old stuff: old lamps, old
tube radio, a whole bunch of old coins... weird old metal bed with a bare
springed mattress. I looked over at the paper bags in the closet and
quickly walked over and grabbed a stalk, any stalk would do... I folded
it up as carefully as I could and I put it into my jacket pocket. At
that very moment, my life changed. I looked up at the monitor and I saw
Mark B walking up the steps. Something was slumped over his shoulders...
a girl, unconscious or dead. the two of them moving at once were causing
the stairs to shake a little... the camera moved just so slightly...
shaking. I tried not to panic and started moving, looking for an exit...
any exit. I knew there was a door that led to a common hallway.... I was
through the door a couple seconds before Mark B entered his apartment.
and I found myself on some sort of staricase I'd never seen before--
looking back now I guess it ran through the middle of the building. It
was creaky and loud and I could hear Mark B right behind the wall. He
was coming toward me again-- he opened the door. Again, I was a couple
seconds in front of him and I made way down to the basement. It smelled
like flour and some sort of spice.
I tried to open the back door that led to the outside. No luck
and Mark B and his girlfriend were right behind me. I picked the first
door I saw and ducked inside. It was some sort of janitors' closet. My
shin banged real hard against something and made a loud noise. Blutarski
was far too engrossed in his dead woman to pay attention to some mouse or
maybe a small rat running around the basement. I watched thru the crack
and once again I was watching Blutarski. He wrapped an old phone mouth
piece to the dead chick's face.... he took his time placing the earpiece
where it belonged and then the mouthpiece... then wrapped it with duct
tape.
"i'm glad you are back with me mommy... i missed you a great
deal..."
He took off her clothes... her face was battered... her dead eyes
stared right at me while I hid in the closet... watching... watching
Mark B fuck a corpse... repeatedly and for hours... it started getting
hot in that closet... the bucket filled with old stench was making me
sick. It was getting hot, the August sun must have risen.... it was
getting harder stay still... Blutarski was starting to tire. I was
beginning to thank God; i had been planning my escape for hours... i knew
where one door led from the first floor...if i could retrace my steps
back upward I could get out through the back door where the pizzeria guys
came down here for the canned goods and sacks of flour....
That's when Blutarksi pulled out the needle and screamed: Sleep!
Those little slices of death-- how I loathe them! He injected himself
and went back to work. I doubt I will ever see anything as crazy and as
macabre as I saw that day. A few minutes later, Blutarski seemed to be
getting bored. He basically knocked the dead girl off the table-- she
must've weighed about or less than a hundred pounds. It sounded like
bones cracking when she fell. Blutarski wrapped her in an empty sack
and-- thank god!-- went to another closet and stuffed her inside it. He
left the room and I heard him thud his way upstairs toward his apartment.
I waited for less than a minute-- I counted to 32-- then I walked
as quietly as I could up the stairs and I opened the first door I saw.
It led me to a hallway and then immediately out onto Main Street . I was
free.
It took about two minutes to get to my apartment; I prepared a
bowl and smoked it-- Blutarski's weed; my hands did not stop shaking for
hours. As soon as I could I walked down to that payphone that sits
outside the foundry's gate and I dialed 911. I told them they would find
a dead body in the basement of 1312 Main Street aka Vito's pizzeria's
basement and that they wouod find a shitload of drugs in Blutarksi's
apartment. The cops swarmed the apartment building and executed a
warrant. It was a pretty big bust with a lot of cops, guns and german
shepards. I watched them remove the body and lots of drugs.
A few months later I heard that Blutarksi was challenging the
warrant on the basis of the anonymous informant but had just been shot
down by a judge. It was a starting to look like Blutarksi was heading
toward the chair. The state had problems proving that Blutarski was
involved in other murders but i heard he was suspected in at least two
more. I got too drunk a couple weeks after my encounter in Blutarski's
basement; I got into a pretty good fistfight just outside my front door--
and my landlord's. I got an eviction letter 2 days later. I got on a bus
and went back down to Philly and visited with my mom. I haven't seen
Linda in years; I've pretty much forgotten about Claire. I still dream
about Blutarksi's house. I still dream a lot about Blutarski's basement.
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