Steve B. Howard's Blog, page 140

Family trait, unfortunately. And not uncommon at all at least in the US.

Family trait, unfortunately. And not uncommon at all at least in the US.

Yep definitely partly my intention.

Yep definitely partly my intention. The sumo world in Japan has taken some very heavy blows to its reputation the last 8–10 years because of corruption, the death of a young kid in a sumo stable, and some really bad behavior by some of the top sumo wrestlers. In a way it is very sad when these guys come crashing down from near godhood status to average obese Joe with a drinking problem and a violent temper.

I’ll Burn the Pain Out of You Baby

“lighted white rose flower decor” by Gianni Zanato on Unsplash

Every disgusting stain on those six tatami I can trace back to his giant fat ex-Sumo ass drinking himself unconscious. Blood stains, sweat stains, even sex stains, wanted and unwanted. Every cigarette burn too. I have to take the burning butts out of his fingers when he passes out so he doesn’t set our little shit apartment on fire. I’ve seen him sleep through earthquakes when he’s drunk.

He gets paid a little cash for a job he does every three months, intimidation stuff, and on those nights he buys a bottle Everclear and Bacardi 151. “American Power!” he always screams right before he guzzles one of them. The only upside is he passes out faster. He can never finish both bottles though. After chugging one he attempts the second one and ends up crashing to the floor on our moldy futon in front of the tv with the cracked screen.

He was still a sumo wrestler when I first I met him, Ozeki, in fact. All of Japan thought he would be Yokozuna someday, the first Japanese Yokozuna in almost twenty years was the hope, even though he’s a quarter Brazilian. But his knees blew out and now he’s just a 200 kg slab of stinking meat. Abusive meat too when he’s drinking.

He came into the hostess club one night and I got his table. “Ai-chan, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” were the first words out of his mouth. It was a line, of course, one he used all the time, but it sounded so innocent coming from that flabby Sumo wrestler’s baby face of his. While he had money I became his regular. Wild and happy times mostly. I felt special being with a respected mountain like him. After the knees went and they cut his topknot I took him in like a sad puppy dog.

He was angry at the world then. He would often fuck me hard while wearing his mawashi. I’d always say, “No, don’t do it Tori-chan, Sumo says no women. This is very bad. You’ll anger the Gods.” And he would growl, “I’m not in Sumo anymore. Fuck the Gods.”

He’d do his best to keep his full weight off of me though, another example of his strange mix of sweetness and brutality. But the deep puddle of his sweat was always a part of our lovemaking even though he finished fast every time.

There wasn’t much for a guy like him to do, obese, could barely walk, his size was his only asset. Bringing fear and the threat of violence was something he could do though. When he was offered full membership they sent him in to get his back tattoo, but he couldn’t take the pain. I never understood how he made it so far in Sumo being such a baby when it came to pain. Maybe the desire to be a member of the gang just wasn’t as strong for him. He got one shoulder done and settled for life as an associate.

It was a heavy blow to his self-esteem and he’s taken it out on me ever since. The last time he backhanded me across the mouth my lips were cut and swollen for over a week.

I couldn’t work and we were down to eating Cup O Noodles for a month. He swore off the booze and apologized profusely, but after his next job a month later he was passed out on the tatami again soaked and bleeding from the bottle he broke over his own head in his drunken rage. He kept screaming, “I don’t hurt old ladies, I don’t do that! I’m Sumo!” At least his violence was directed at himself that time. I stubbed out his cigarette as usual but left him in his shit. Told myself, “He can clean up his own mess from now on.” We slept in broken glass for three days before I finally cleaned the futon.

Tonight I wasn’t so lucky and his fist and feet found me again. He’s out though now, half soaked in Everclear. The tip of his cigarette is glowing red and I can already see the small blue flames moving along the tatami towards his bulk. His snoring face is sweet and innocent again in its unconsciousness, but not sweet enough to make me care.

I’m in the elevator lugging my overstuffed gym bag. On the first floor, I wait for a cab so I can go have my ribs mended at the hospital. As the taxi pulls away from the curb I hear the fire alarm wailing.

I’ll Burn the Pain Out of You Baby was originally published in Other Doors on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

A Poetic Death in the Sewers

“selective focus of man sitting beside body of water” by Randy Jacob on Unsplash

Half Irish, almost never Full Irish.
No matter. Half is enough to die
what some consider a poetic
death even though it was really
just your standard bar fight
gone bad in the bowels of some
no name city.

A Poetic Death in the Sewers was originally published in The Rabbit Is In on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Oldies, But Goodies IV: More Unloved Orphan Stories and Poems

“white and blue sticker” by Greta Pichetti on UnsplashDeep in the bowels of my Medium profile lie some early gems that never received the clap polishing they deserved, lol. Enjoy!

Preacher Man’s Karma (part1)

Just a little note, I screwed up when I originally published these. The series makes more sense if you read #1, #3, #2.The Preacher Man’s Redemption (part 3)The Preacher Man’s Purgatory: Part 2Thanks so much for reading my stuff. If you enjoyed it and want more including free books please subscribe to my website here.

Home

Lots of great advice!

Lots of great advice! I’m planning on releasing 7–10 short story collections as ebooks on Kindle and Draft2Digital. I’ve been using Canva to make book covers There aren’t the most professional looking, but it’s free and they are better than some of the ones I’ve seen. Recently I’ve been using Ello to promote my books. I joined about a month ago and have gotten 14k views and over 400 fans already. It hasn’t turned into book sales yet, but I’m hopeful.

Thanks Hannah.

Thanks Hannah. I’m glad you like it. I’ve been told my covers aren’t all that pro looking which makes sense since I do them for free in Canva. Not much choice when you’ve got a zero budget for your ebooks, lol. I know the writing is good though.

Jousting Literary Windmills Again!

Photo by Raul Cacho Oses on Unsplash

Jousting literary windmills again. This will be out December 1st. I haven’t put a version up on Amazon yet because they don’t allow pre-orders unless you ransom your book to Kindle Select, but I will put a Kindle version up in December for sure. And if you’ve already bought and read any of my other stuff please write a review. Reviews help writers. Thanks.

https://www.books2read.com/u/boZkRR

I’ve already decided to self-publish it instead.

I’ve already decided to self-publish it instead. After the nightmare, I had with my last publisher and watching my current novel get rejected by 150 agents I’ve given up on the gatekeepers.

Burn Down the Only Castle You Ever Had

“photo of burning house near trees” by Chris Karidis on Unsplash

And tell me is it over now? Do you know how? Pick the Pieces and go home… -Gold Dust Woman Fleetwood Mac

I stand on the sidelines watching you
sledgehammer everything good in
your life for someone far too young to
take your love serious for much more
than a sunset moment.

I’ve always been as loyal as a friendly dog
so I can’t possibly walk in your shoes you
scream. Maybe so, but even a blind fool
can feel the heat radiating from a burning
house.

Burn Down the Only Castle You Ever Had was originally published in P.S. I Love You on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.