The Drive

He was free now. Before that he lost all sight and sound. Before that he felt the head-pain fade away. Before that he saw his blood fan out around him like inky wings, and he realized the fucker did good work after all. Before that he was pushed to the tattoo parlour's piss-wet sidewalk, connecting it with his skull. Before that he took a swing at the big, bald fucker. Before that the big, bald fucker smiled and said, "But every good one, too, right?" Before that he told the big, bald fucker, "So every bad word I speak is soaked in her name." Before that the big, bald fucker said, "That's it? You're not gonna tell me why?" Before that he turned to leave. Before that the big, bald fucker said, "Get the hell out of my shop." Before that he said, "Can't? Or won't." Before that the big, bald fucker said, "You're serious? I can't do that shit." Before that he stared at the big, bald fucker. Before that the big, bald fucker bellow-laughed. Before that he said, "Open me up, ink my lungs." Before that the big, bald fucker said, "Come again?" Before that he said, "Can you tattoo my lungs with her name?" Before that he slid her photo across the glass. Before that the big, bald fucker said, "How can I help you?" Before that he approached the counter. Before that he entered the tattoo parlour. Before that he came in out of the drizzling rain. Before that he crossed the parking lot night. Before that he got out of the car. Before that he parked. Before that he noticed the tattoo parlour. Before that he drove. Before that he turned on his windshield wipers. Before that he hung up the phone.