Jimmy looked at Randy and he said,
"I need a belt, man."
"For what, man?"
"I think I want to go into my garage and hang myself."
"Fuck, what for?"
"Because the wind howls and the sand blows and I'm bored."
"There isn't much to do out here."
"It's not even that, man, it's just that I get to thinking all the time in the silence."
"That's your problem, to much thinking! Make some noise . . ."
"I want to hang myself like they do in prison. Cause' it feels like I'm in prison. The walls are made of creosote bushes and the floors are hot sand. The mountains surround us from all directions."
"Why don't you just try and escape. Like Clint Eastwood in that old movie."
"No water to jump in to swim to safety."
"Shawshank Redemption, man! No water in that one! Well, wait. I guess he did swim through the shit sewer to get out . . . fuck!"
"You see . . . no choice man. The Joshua Trees are closing in. The coyotes howl in the distance. The smell of burnt plastic permeating the air. No girl. No ride. Not enough money. All I need is a sturdy belt. Something made out of leather like Sid Vicious would've worn. Something Punk as fuck!"
"Yeah, if your gonna hang yourself it should be punk as fuck."
"I had a friend in high school that was a punk rocker. He hung himself from a water tower. Before he did he spray painted "Punks Not Dead" on the side in dripping red letters. That was Punk as shit!"
"Punks not dead but he was."
"Ha! Guess you make a point there! Pass me another brew ..."
Jimmy went to the ice box and pulled out a tall cool one.
"I know a dude with a leather bondage belt. Want me to call him?"
Randy pulled his cell phone from his back pocket.
"What was that cat's name again? Lex Bangs I think. Yeah, there he is. I'll text him."
"Erotic asphyxiation, maybe that is the way to go. But I don't come back from it!"
"What is that, man? You choke to death on your own semen?"
"No. It's where you restrict the flow of oxygen to the brain to get your rocks off. But you don't hang yourself all the way."
"Fuck, who thought up that shit?!"
"I think back in the olden times when they did public hangings people saw that once a dude was hung that he got a hard-on."
"So, what your saying is that they got to see how "hung" he really was!"
"Fuckin' a right! I think the fact that other people would get that idea from watching a hanging, then go try it themselves, is nuts! We're just all sexual beasts deep down. Driven by the urge . . ."
"Didn't that dude that played the Chinese guy in that old TV Western show die from that?"
"So how does it work?"
"Well, you restrict the oxygen gettin' to your brain then you start jerkin' your wiener."
"Jesus! I don't know if I could do two things at once like that!"
"You mean like chewing bubble gum and walking? Might be kinda hard for your dumb ass! Anyway, it's supposed to be a real rush when you blow your wad. Like doing a line of coke."
"Dude, you should totally do that instead! Use a punk as fuck belt. I can get a video on my cell phone! Did Kung-fu use a punk rock belt?"
"No. Rope I think. Your a fag dude. You just want to beat off to the video later!"
Randy's cell began to vibrate.
"Dude, it's Bangs! He just texted me. He's got the bondage belt! Want me to tell em' to bring it over?"
"Nah, maybe next weekend. Gotta think some more on it. Any more beer left?"
"There is always more beer, my brother . . ."