Chupacabra Disco

by Misti Rainwater-Lites

artwork by Lisa Y Mendez

My familiar scratched the screen door of the travel trailer to shit. When Carlos comes home from twelve hours of community service he is going to be pissed. I'll appease him, as always, with Caldo and an industrious blow job. I never liked cats until now but this cat is special. Black fur, green eyes, melancholy temperament. I don't know who the cat belongs to. I feed her leftover pizza and Pop-Tarts. I call her Kathy Acker.

Lightning lit up the San Antonio onyx sky and the cypress tree's branches danced a frenzied tango with the howling wind. Kathy Acker mewled and scratched and I said, "Forget it, sister. I'm allergic to kitty cats. I'm tryin' to conjure up some magic here. Scram."

I don't follow the directions in the handbook. Fuck that noise. Who has time to order white sage from Amazon? They don't sell white sage or peppermint oil or crystals or fat unscented jade green candles at Wal-Mart. I improvise. I take out the Monopoly board. I put four strawberry scented votives on the board. One for each railroad. I scribble my lottery combo on a page from my son's Spider-Man coloring book. I place the page in the center of the board. I chant, "Multiverse. I need some money. I need a dentist. I need a deep tissue massage. My brain is too damaged from too many bullshit entry level Texan American jobs to enable me to clock in and clock out for forty years and then draw a pension. Please. Send a ship. So. Mote. It. Be." I seal the spell with a bottle of Corona. I toast Lester Bangs, Charlie Chaplin and Maggie Estep. I take a sip and slip into something less comfortable. My man will be home any minute.