You are on the road for business
when you are notified of a tornado watch.
Already running late,
you consider your safety and readjust your plans.
The appropriate calls are made
and a motel becomes visible on the horizon.

It is an old motel,
the kind that advertises color TV
as a feature. The quaint, dated grime,
is charming,
though you'd feel better
if you had someone to share it with.

You check in
and a family pulls up.
A mother, a father,
and a miserable child.
Growing up,
road trips were never fun.
The couple, unfazed by their sad son,
smiles together.
They are in their late forties, by your estimate, and are very attractive.

From your room you see
the family pass by the window.
You remember a half eaten sandwich
that you left on the passenger seat.
Upon retrieving the sandwich, you see the couple,
without their child now,
having a smoke by their station wagon.

The woman lowers her gaze.
She elbows her husband.
She looks at you and smiles.

The hubsand mouths something to his wife.
He looks at you,
and smiles.

He takes a long drag from his cigarette
and exhales,
all without breaking eye contact.

You get turned on.

They return to their room,
watching you
as they close the door behind them.

You retrieve your sandwich.

The tornado watch
becomes a warning
and the motel management is gone.

You shower,
not wishing to risk being
an unpresentable corpse
should the storm take you.

Now dry and dressed,
you sit
in the center of the room,
with the television on.

You think about the attractive couple,
and you fall asleep before you touch yourself.

The thunder comes
and goes with the rain and wind
and sound bleeds
into your dream
and you slowly wake up.

A steady creak and thud.
A muffled voice.
You press your ear to the wall.

It is coming from next door.

The room is warmer now too,
so you open the window.
You can see only your car
and the family's station wagon
and you return to your bed
to find that the thudding has continued.

It's louder now and you can hear voices.

A low, masculine moan
followed by a breathy femenine voice
that pants something
that sounds like "fuck".

Lately you've been too tired
to get off on your own.
Work grinds away at your fantasies
and leaves your once fertile mind
sterile.

Before you know it you're turned on again.

They must know
that you can hear them.
They get louder.

Occasionally words can be made out.

"Both.
Holes.
More.
Yes.
Fuck."

You start to think of how you can get there.
There's very little separating you from them.
The crushing gravity of monotony is washed
away for a moment
by a renewed sense of bravery.

You will not get off by proxy.

Voyeurism is not enough.

You rinse and spit
with mouthwash and
throw on some clothes.
Think of a playful way to tell them
that they're making it hard to sleep
because of the noise
and you imagine them inviting you in.

In the distance, lightning flashes and illuminates an empty field.

In your mind you play back stories that your friends have told you.
Stranger things have happened.
This will work.

You move outside
and pat your pants down
to make sure you haven't
locked yourself out.

Your skin is electric
and even this simple gesture
makes you more aroused.

Another crash of lightning reroutes your focus.

You see something sparkle
on the pavement
next to where the couple's station wagon sits.

You move to it and find a small, red, Hot
Wheels cadillac
and you suddenly remember.

There was a child with the couple when they first arrived.

You wonder where the child is.

The other rooms are vacant.

Their shades are drawn.

They're all empty.

You check them,
window to window,
searching in vain.

The child must be
with them.

And while your body remains electric,
your mind is not.

The lurid promise of indulgence and climax
is replaced with
a dread that's heavier than your dead end ennui.

You gather your things.
The storm warning does not seem so scary now.
You decide to take your chances with the storms in the night.


Drone Metal. Blown out widescreen textures.
Mostly Guitar
Album Photo by E Rega
Album Art by Seamus
All instruments by Seamus