insomnia.

Abbie hadn't slept. She'd sat there, in the dark, thinking. Martini after martini until she got to the point where the liquor lost its taste and she held the Smirnoff in her lap, with the cap uncapped. She ocassionally took heavy swigs, to her it was like drinking water. She hadn't been able to sleep recently. Twelve shots and she's usually making out with the floor but last night she was on number thirteen and she was only swaying. Eventually she must've dozed off because Lauryn came in looking for a fix and there Abbie was, her head slung back over the back of her chair and an empty bottle of Smirnoff lying on the floor. Even her pin curls had gotten tired and fallen off her head. Lauryn helped her down the stairs but only after she got her fix. She propped Abbie up like a ventriloquist doll and let her stare. Lauryn felt the punch and turned on some music, she also made trips to the liquor cabinet. Abbie wasn't fully awake until 2:30. After a couple quick mimosas she's almost back to normal. The girls trail in through the back and before she knows it, it's a party. Abbie sat back, watching her finest girls dance and sway and drink and play. Renee came for her treatment and quickly announced the news. The Christians were back and Abbie was surprised she hadn't smelled them coming. Some messed up substance must've made its way into their soup because if Renee was telling the truth, they were going psycho. Abbie was slightly entertained. Especially when she heard they were burning books. Abbie had resented education from a very young age. The only thing she'd ever learned from school was how to roll a joint and spread her legs. Seeing that Madame Abbie was happy, the girls were happy and continued to drink. Very heavily. By five they were being plain rowdy. They were shouting and screaming and dancing even when there was no music playing. Even Abbie danced a little. When the rain came down the girls came out. Abbie, prepared with some Smirnoff under both arms set off into the night with her army of tweaked up girls behind her. She was leading the pack, wandering until they found a reason for the night. Eventually they were being admired. The local homeless population had fallen in love with Abbie a long time ago after she supplied them with booze and girls after one crazy night. The men followed closely behind. Before they can feel the sensation, the rain is coming down like a monsoon. There's thunder loud enough to drown out Renee's singing and bright enough to leave sparkles in their eyes. A clash, a bright light, a burn. They watch the mosque go up in flames. But they don't even care. Abbie begins to open up one of her handles and passes it back to the group of ladies behind her. The trotting up heels behind her turn into a tumbling mess once girls topple over and heels break. Abbie maintains her composure. Some what. She follows the scent of the smoke. She decides she may finally get some peace if she aids the book burning. She never really learned how to read unless she saw it in a bar. Books were foreign to her. They make it to the burning and it's a spiritual experience. Her girls immidietely surround the bonfire because they too have a grudge against books. They figured that books never taught them what they really needed to learn. So they gathered, like vultures to a carcass and turned tribal in their joy. Abbie felt powerful. She felt important and she felt redeemed. All her pent up hatred towards her teachers who failed, her parents who forgot, and her loved ones that never showed up became the fuel to Abbie's own fire. Before she knew it, another half of a handle was gone and Abbie tossed it into the fire. Chemistry should have taught her that alcohol increases the intensity of a fire but she learned that on her own that night. Watching the fire react, the girls copied Abbie. They took beer bottles and samplers and handles and fifths and threw them into the fire. As glass hit the ground a little bit of the fire spread and the girls were amazed again. The homeless had become their minions. They had broken into the closest liquor store, which was probably DD's, and gave more ammunition to the girls who were shooting more chaos at the fire. Abbie even joined in on Renee's tribal rant. The whole flock moved together as a singular wave moving around and dancing, gaining energy by the light from the fire. The Christians had mostly gone home but some troopers had stayed, continuing to throw books off of carts and into the fire. Abbie's girls amused the men who were left. Perhaps they assumed that a bump or grind from a lovely girl couldn't hurt. They should've realized that they were wrong. Abbie watched as her girls formed little mobs around the remaining Christian men who were still shoveling books from the library into the fire. Their own private dances and Abbie didn't even think to charge. She was too caught up in the wonder of it all. She still felt powerful. She still felt in control. And she still felt good. Her body hadn't passed it's alcohol limit where it's no longer fun to be drunk but more focused on how and when can she get home. It seemed that tonight there was no such barrier. Tonight it seemed that after every swig of the bottle handed to her she didn't feel worse, she only felt better. If shot 12 had been a face to floor move then now she was definitely on 20 at least and continued to feel wonderful. It was like no matter how long or hard or burning the last shot may have been, it only built up her happiness. She watched as her heathen women began to take control of the civilized men by dancing and giving sexual offerings. The fire burned and burned. As Abbie lit her cigarette by one of the pages in the Odyssey that a bum had taken out for her. She began to think again. Her throne was a large overturned dumpster from where she could perch herself and watch the town burn. From a distance she could see a wall of fire made between the mosque and the library. A city divided by fire. A kingdom. The library was only a street away from the mosque. It could be done, Abbie thought. It can be done. From some help from some homeless and the remaining Christian men Abbie conducted a line of books in order to build a connection between the mosque and the library. They began to drag alcohol - doused books down the streets and under benches and over fire hydraunts to build to the wall connecting the library to the mosque.

Abbie was waiting for the signal to come so that she could light a match for the firewall to erupt. Abbie had no patience. She took a cigarette from behind her ear, plopped it in her mouth and brought out a pair of matches. She struck one for her cigarette and it was lit. She took out a second match stick. She could'nt wait to light it. It was the light that would ignite this crappy town and expose the truths that some people were too afraid to confront. But to Abbie these things were connections. For her, this was all coming down to a point, a fire, or not? Do I sleep or do i never wake up?

boots and heels.

Abbie expected a peaceful day. It was not her kind of weather outside but she didn't expect any action. She still dressed up of course, and sipped on a mimosa through a straw while watching Dave Gorlomi through their adjacent windows. He was tenderizing meat. She liked to watch. Her legs were propped up on her register, her head was relaxed back over the back of her chair. She was completely in peace, but then she heard it. That dreadful noise. The noise that indicates that a certain person, a particular rat was coming closer. Abbie's head perked up. She quickly slipped her feet off the register, removed the straw from her mimosa, took a giant sip and rushed to the glass door of Abbott's Dream. As she was halfway through closing the blinds on the door, the face popped up. The noise ceased. Abbie was stuck, paralyzed even, staring into the eager eyes of Courtney Red. Abbie scanned her, from her ugly clothes all the way down to her monstrous, blood-red boots. Abbie was shocked back into reality by the presence of the boots. She slammed the blinds down and locked the door. The boots made their way to one of the glass windows.

"Hi." the boots said.

"No, no." Abbie said, shaking her hands in the air, grabbing her mimosa as she kept her back turned to the window.

"I know-"

"No, no. No you don't. You don't know anything." Abbie shot back the rest of her mimosa, and made her way to the mini-fridge beside the register.

"I saw Kandie-"

"That's nice." Abbie threw open the mini fridge door.

"And Renee-"

"Wonderful." Abbie scanned through her collection and grabbed a sampler of Smirnoff and Patron.

"They came here."

"This is a store." She tossed the Patron back into the fridge and closed the door.

"Through the back."

Abbie stopped.

"I know what they were doing here. There were men."

Abbie untwisted the cap off of her vodka sampler and slipped it down her throat. She cringed, but popped up behind the counter. She stared at the boots, and then at Courtney.

"Listen, Red." Abbie said, swaying a bit. "You don't know anything. What I got going on is completely illeg- I mean legal. Just some girls having a good time with some guys that need a good time. There's nothing wrong with that."

"So you confirm?" Courtney said, whipping out a small notebook and jotting things down feverishly.

"Do I confirm what?" Abbie hiccuped and held her stomach.

"That you're running a brothel." Courtney looked up from her notebook, a sly smile curling on her face. Abbie turned red. Her face became hot and she stomped to her door, unlocked it and stood outside on the sidewalk. Courtney backed up slightly, continuously noting things down.

"Unless you want a job, run." Abbie shook her curls back, preparing herself.

"What?"

"I said unless you want a job, run." Abbie placed her hands on her hips, ready.

"Run? Why?"

Abbie bent down and grabbed her vintage heels. She took aim and threw one directly at Courtney's face. Courtney dropped her notebook and held her face. A drop of blood hit the sidewalk.

"Assault!" Courtney yelped, revealing a bloody eyebrow gash. Abbie bent down again. Courtney grabbed her notebook from the ground and started to jog away. Abbie chucked her other heel at Courtney's back. "You're psycho!" She screamed and sprinted for the rest of the block. Abbie stood, hands on hips, still a little tipsy, but relieved.

"Hey baby," Renee said, appearing from the doorway of Abbott's Dream. "We're out of tequila downstairs. Should I make a run?" Abbie turned around, a new rip forming in her tights.

"Yes." She said going back inside the store. "And pick up my shoes while you're at it."

chicks.

Abbie felt like doing something today she rarely ever does. She left the store closed up and decided to take a walk. The screams hadn't stopped. The laughter seemed only to get louder with each attempt at sleep. So she gave up and forced herself out of Abbott's Dream. Heavily clad in her fur coat, trench, and wellies, she lit a cigarette as she locked the door behind her. It was dim out, nothing too intense. She predicted a storm later and smiled at the thought of being lulled to sleep by the elements. She took a long, hard drag. She kept her gaze forward, she never wanted to attract any attention from the people who lived in her town so no chance at eye contact. She kept walking towards the sounds of screams and laughter. A few more drags. She turns a corner and there it is. The carnival in all of its disposable glory. A rusted ferris wheel, a stumbling clown handing out balloons, and kids. Lots of kids. More kids than she thought actually lived in her town. She found a dry tree and leaned against it. A long drag and then an overdue ashing of the cigarette. Normally in a situation like this she would feel overwhelmed, suffocated by the attention of a gaggle of kids. But now she felt comfort knwoing that there were greater freaks than she who could hold their attention better. She took a travel mug and took a sip, another mimosa. Extra champagne. Instead of reflecting on her own childhood she watched the young ones play and run. She couldn't remember when she'd been that small or when she'd been so innocent. So she convinced herself she never was and took another drag. She liked to watch people. She was interested in what they talked about, how they acted, and what they did when forced with a balloon by the strung out clown. As if God had planned to make her day anymore eventful than it had already been, Abbie began to notice a few chickens trickling in with the children at the carnival. At first it seemed like some chickens got lose from a pen or the food tent or somerthing so she thought nothing of it. But when the chickens began to out populate the children, she knew something was wrong. Wonderfully wrong. Chickens streamed into the parking lot of the carnival. Kids had fun at first but when the roosters came it was all terror. The roosters pecked and hissed and flung themselves onto the smallest children. Chicken feathers spread everywhere as the children ran, talons digging deeper into their shoulders and heads. The screams got louder and Abbie began to smile, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Kids were curled on the ground, their only cover was the small t-shirt fabric that could hardly stand up to all the uric acid flying around. She began to laugh, and took the cigarette out of her mouth. She watched mothers and fathers try and pry their children away from vicious roosters with no luck. Kids were screaming and crying and some were even bleeding. A lone hen made her way to Abbie, pecking at her shoes for food. Abbie kicked but it would not budge, so somewhat dizzily she bent down and picked the hen up and held it under her arm. Giggling, she began to walk away from the carnival. Chickens were flooding the streets and she could see the butcher screaming and yelling profanties at a pimply truck driver. She stopped and watched the chaos. She looked down and there was a small girl next to her. Abbie tried to avert her eyes but the little asian girl kept staring. Abbie continued to walk but stopped and turned around. The little asian girl was still there, staring. "Chickens!" Abbie laughed hysterically and walked shaking her head all the way to Abbott's Dream.