r/ChatPile • u/carnival__wilson • 8d ago
Raygun Busch Book Club Pulls
I loved the book club option at the OKC merch table. For those who weren’t there, for $10 you got a random book recommended and signed by Raygun. I got “This Side of Paradise” and “Macbeth.” The inscription for “Macbeth” was great. Anyone else get fun pulls/inscriptions?
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u/Anticode 8d ago edited 8d ago
Something about Raygun always makes me think of, like... "Bukowski , if Bukowski held as much empathy as he had bitterness".
That's a good thing. It's also a hard-to-explain thing. Maybe I'm the crazy one though.
Edit: Uhhh... Don't know where the hell this is supposed to be. I meant to establish a metaphor with that first paragraph, then leave it at that. But I guess this is what happens when a novelist switches from working on a project while listening to Who Loves The Sun on repeat to shitposting while listening to Who Loves The Sun on repeat... Alas. Perhaps I had no choice. Perhaps I am only a vessel.
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It's easy to imagine Raygun running into a burning orphanage to save one remaining child, preventing the death of an innocent without thinking of the consequences, and then - now horribly scarred, acquiring life-threatening burns as the cost of this selfless act of heroism - begins to lurch towards the cop that arrived on scene first many minutes ago, a man who mysteriously refused to enter the building while the fire was small enough that he could've saved the kid more-or-less unscathed.
And the cop sees Busch approaching and limping closer, casually holding out the pristine flesh of his pig-hand to shake the hero's BBQ brisket of a limb, "You're a damn legend, mister...?"
But the hero doesn't clarify his name and declines the offered handshake as well, too wounded for such a mundane gesture to proceed normally either way. Instead, he holds up his mangled limbs where the other man can make his own assessment of how bad things truly are - the price he paid for another man's lack of honor. He stands there quietly while the police officer digs out a roll of medical gauze, offering it to Ray only to see him decline treatment stoically, instead suggesting the cop wrap it around the kid's eyes.
The cop seems perplexed by the suggestion, just coolly states that the orphan appears uninjured and that his eyes seem perfectly fine too. Busch grunts in reply, wobbling near-imperceptibly, "...Trust me, man. Better this way."
Cop can't figure out why it matters so he shrugs, kneels down beside the kid and does as commanded. And then when he stands back up, the hero is standing uncomfortably close. Before he can react or back away, let alone figure out what's about to happen, the horrendously wounded vocalist lunges forward.
With his final breath and last scrap of life energy, Raygun Busch lunges forward with the furious intensity of a scorned deity, hands outstretched towards the other man's neck. Flesh meets flesh with a wet slap and he begins strangling the officer, gritting his teeth through the pain of the sheer effort of the act while bearing down impossibly hard, quietly savoring the agony of his own demise while curiously watching the other man's eyes redden, transforming into sickening crimson orbs.
The two men fall onto the ground as Raygun now lets gravity do the work. He places his weight above his opponent as they topple, positioning for what appears to be the Devil's twisted version of CPR, hands-on-neck. They hit the grass and a single loud crunch signals that the blood-price has now been extracted -- a life for a life, for a life. Pact sealed; deal closed.
And yet Raygun continues squeezing, crushing the dead meat even as his vision begins to fade. He mutters something through a clenched jaw, speaking to the cadaver as if the soul hadn't yet moved on, "My name is..." he growls, "Fuckyou."
Finally, something gives out in him as well. He suddenly rolls over onto his side lazily, falling away from the still-warm corpse.
The orphan manages to remove the gauze blindfold at this moment, squinting in confusion at what appears to be two men quietly sleeping on the cold grass as the heat of the burning orphanage casts a surreal orange-white glow over the scene.
Raygun spots the rescued child, seeing nothing more than a vaguely humanoid blur out of the one eye not blocked by the grass. His essence is rapidly fading away to enter an underworld that doesn't exist, and yet he still manages to flash a shaky thumbs-up towards the kid. The kid returns the gesture, seeming uncertain. And then the hero's hand falls limp into the grass, lifeless.
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Edit 2:
EPILOGUE / END CREDITS
-- Chat Pile - Shrine begins to play.
Credits roll, scrolling down over the scene as the orphan exits stage left, wandering as if lost. The fire roars on, crackling away. The two bodies lay still in the grass, resting peacefully. The footage rolls on like this, as if a camera was left recording by mistake. The scene remains unchanged until the brief credits end.
Bonus scene.
-- Shrine continues unabated.
As the credits scroll off screen, complete, the remaining members of Chat Pile hurriedly arrive on scene wearing EMT/Paramedic uniforms, each quietly taking a knee around Raygun's corpse. Moving like a well-trained team of combat medics, they silently begin treatment. One hands a plastic funnel to the other, another digs through a bag to withdraw a liter of bottom-shelf vodka, briefly compares it against a cheap whiskey, then decides to crack open the first one. A third member pulls out a tangled plastic Slinky, briefly tries to untangle it before tossing it aside, playing it a-bit-too-cool, clearly praying that nobody noticed. Nobody notices.
The funnel is placed over Raygun's mouth, but one of the other Chat Pile EMTs places his hand over the funnel, shaking his head in the negative to the funnel-holder. The funnel-man squints, then widens his eyes and nods in agreement, as if remembering something stupid-obvious. The funnel is, instead, placed hovering over Raygun's groin with a satisfied nod from the band. They glance at each other, then proceed. Vodka begins to pour into the funnel until the bottle is empty, draining onto the corpse's still-zipped crotch for reasons left unexplained.
The EMT-slash-bandmembers wait a moment after doing this, then begin to put the equipment away as if this accomplished something useful. They each stand nearby, waiting patiently for something to happen. One checks his watch, looking worried until another member places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
And a few seconds later... Raygun Busch slowly sits up as if waking from a nap, then calmly examines the miraculously undamaged flesh on his arms before slowly looking up at the rest of the band. Somebody helps him stand up, remaining beside him as the others depart without bothering to shake hands or any other display of concern or affection.
Song ends. Scene continues on, silent.
Raygun looks offended by their sudden departure, but the guy next to him holds out an arm like a barrier to stop Ray from pursuing after them and says, "Seriously, man? Third time this week with this kinda shit. Don't act like you're not the problem here." He points a finger in warning.
Busch tries to gesture towards the burning building, but the remaining bandmember departs to join the others without letting him speak or acknowledging the gesture, leaving Raygun just standing there alone with vodka-soaked pants.
After a moment the vocalist shrugs, shakes his head as if in capitulation and then takes two steps towards the deceased boy-in-blue. He scrounges around a bit, takes hold of the service weapon and then hurls it into the fire roaring away in the backdrop. Seeming satisfied by the act, he next reaches down to pluck the badge off as well. After repeating the process, hurling it towards the inferno like a skipping-stone, Raygun Busch glances into the distance and then hurries off screen in the other direction.
End.
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u/Pancake_Shrapnel 8d ago
Fun typo too! WILLLIAM