Friday, April 29, 2016

Joe

Joe liked to drink. He drank it all. All the time. Beer, Whiskey, Gin, Vodka, Rum, Tequila, Sake, Champagne, Red Wine, White Wine, Cider, Brandy, Scotch, Liqueurs, it didn't matter. He once drank forty-two beers during a high school football game. He was playing quarterback and the Yellow Jackets won by fourteen. He threw three touchdowns, rushed for two and set a state record for all purpose yards in a game with 482. Joe knew all the cops in town. He fucked their daughters and signed autographs for their sons. He lived with his Uncle Ricky on the rough side of Monroe but everyone left them alone. Joe was 6'4, 255lbs and mean as a bull with lightning bolts running through his veins. He smoked a pack a day and would burn through an ounce of grass a week. He woke up and would pound three beers before he brushed his teeth. Three Bloody Mary's for breakfast along with a bottle of Champagne. Three or four shots of Bourbon before lunch and he'd head down to Mac's Diner off of 33rd and Pike for a Cuban. Six beers while he ate mixed with Tequila shots and Irish Car Bombs and he'd drive back to Uncle Ricky's to get stoned. After four or five joints and ten or so bong rips, he was ready to go to work. Joe worked the night shift down at the steel mill as an utility worker. He would sit in the crane and shoot Vodka from a water bottle and smoke cigarettes until his shift was over. At 4:30am, he was down at Stroker's paying for lap dances and tossing back Rum and Cokes until it was time to head back to Uncle Ricky's to pass out. 

It was a Thursday, unlike any other day of the week and Joe was on his usual tear just about to say goodbye to Brandi and leave the strip club when his cell phone rang. 

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Joe I need you to come to Kings Corner. Amber's place."

"Julie? For what? I was about to head home. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, Chris is, yeah, well."

"Julie. Shut up. You can tell me when I get there. Not on the phone," he said, cranking up the rusted out Ford.

"Okay not on the phone, right. I'll tell you when you get here. Hey and Joe, bring daddy's chainsaw."

"Fuck, alright. Don't move and I'll be there in a half hour. Try not to touch anything."

"Okay , see you soon," she said, but he had already hung up the phone. 

Joe pulled into the Shell gas station before he crossed town and grabbed a twelve pack of Budweiser. He chugged three in the parking lot in just under a minute and peeled out of the parking lot headed towards King's Corner. He hated that shitty, broken down trailer park and all of the skeletons that lived in it. He never had a taste for meth and it put holes in his Uncle Ricky's brain. He lit a cigarette and cracked open another beer. He would need to go by Daddy's shed before he hit State Road. The chainsaw. The bloody chainsaw. He couldn't forget it.
x

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Kings Corner

When he got to the dilapidated trailer in the back of Kings Corner he noticed her light was on. It was 3:45am and she shouldn't have been awake. He made his way to her bedroom and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear chatter and forced laughter. He wanted to listen to what lies they were telling to impress one another, but he was beat to shit and needed to pass out. He pushed the door open and there she was, Julie Watkins, the Prom Queen, a dollar bill up her nose, snorting a huge line of meth. She smiled her perfect smile and stuck her face in the pile of crystals.

"What the fuck ya'll doing," he said, yanking the Prom Queen up by her sundress. "You trying to fry your brains more than they already are? You think this is a fucking game?"

"Let me the fuck down you piece of shit and mind your own business," Julie said, "you don't live here anymore and we can do whatever the hell we want. Get your fucking hands off me before I call Joe and he comes over and stomps your damn head in."

He flipped Julie around so that their eyes were staring back at one another and put his hand around her neck. The room went still with a cold silence as his face turned to stone.

"You call Joe if you want Julie, but I want you to run something through your teeny tiny brain before you do girl. You still live off Rivercliffe, right? About twelve miles away if I remember correctly. Over by the jail," he said, tightening his grip around her soft white neck.

"Goddammit, let go you fuck," she said, flailing like a gazelle pinned down by a lion, "you're crushing my windpipe and I can't fucking breathe."

"Let her go Chris," Amber said, still sitting on the bed, clutching a pair of rusty scissors in her hand, "Put her down now or I'll scream."

"Twelve miles is gonna take him at least fifteen minutes to get here," he said, pressing his forehead into hers. "Even if he catches every green light, can you imagine what I'm going to do to you in that time?"

The Prom Queen was silent now. Her eyeballs rolled back into her purple head. She wasn't fighting anymore. Chris shook her like a can of spray paint, but she didn't wake up.

"Let her go you fuckboy," Amber said, lunging at him from the bed, plunging the rusty scissors into his rib cage, twisting them like a screwdriver, he let go and Julie collapsed into a lifeless pile of glitter and pom poms in the corner of the room.

"You fucking bitch. You stabbed me. You fucking bitch." He fell into the wall and it folded under his weight. The back of his head hit the top of a screw sticking out of a broken down beam and opened a deep gash. He ripped the scissors out of his side and threw them at Amber.

Blood was beginning to puddle up around his boots as he fought to stay on his feet. Amber picked up the scissors and came at him again. He stuck out his arm trying to shield her off and she drove them through his forearm.

"Shit fucking asshole! Goddammit stop. I'll fucking leave."

Julie came back to life and rubbed the starry haze from her temples. "What the fuck happened," she said, "and what the fuck happened to him?"

"He wouldn't let go," said Amber, "so I stabbed him with the scissors. I told him to let you go. I told him over and over but he wouldn't. Kept saying his was going to kick your ass until Joe got here."

Julie stuck her face back into the mountain of crystals, sucking up as much as she could and then jerked her head up. "Wait, Joe is on his way over here? We need to get the fuck out of here. He'll kill us if he sees us doing this shit. We've got to leave."

"What about him," said Amber, motioning towards the pile of blood and bone hanging out of the wall. "What the fuck are we going to do with that?"

"Fuck you stupid bitches. I'll kill you both. Fucking whores. I'm going break every bone in your body."

Julie put the drugs in a bag and slid it into her Coach purse. She went outside and grabbed a shovel that was laying against the molded trailer and came back into the bedroom.

"Amber, call 911 and get me to a hospital or I'm going to bleed out. I think you hit an organ. I can't feel anything. Call them Amber and I won't say a damn thing. None of this happened. I'm losing blood goddammit. Call them please."

Amber reached for the phone but Julie smacked it out of her hand.

"What did you tell me Chris? Twelve miles to get here right? Fifteen minutes. To use my imagination? You sick fuck. Imagine this cocksucker."

The shovel swung around like a hammer into a railroad spike, smashing into the side of his head. It exploded like a stick of dynamite in a watermelon and the two girls were left covered in blood and brains.

"What the fuck did you do?"

"He would have ratted us out. The drugs Amber. He would have told the cops about the drugs. Give me the phone so I can call Joe to help us get rid of the body. Do you have any trash bags? We're going to need them. And duct tape. Bleach too. Do you have a chainsaw?"

Amber fell back on the bed and took a slug of an old beer that was sitting on the floor. It was full of cigarette butts, but she didn't care. She took another slug and lit a menthol. "I, I, don't know. Chainsaw? For what?"

"We have to chop him up. Spread him all over town so they can't identify the body. Haven't you ever seen the First Forty-Eight?" Give me a smoke and call Joe. We don't have all night. Do you want another line? I do. Have another line. It'll calm you down. Here."

Amber snorted another line and called Joe. He picked up and she passed the phone to the Prom Queen.

"Yeah, Joe I need you to come to Kings Corner. Amber's place. Yeah, Chris is, yeah, well, okay not on the phone, right. I'll tell you when you get here. Hey and Joe, bring daddy's chainsaw. Yeah that's right. Okay see you soon."

They sat there in the cracked out trailer blowing lines for another half hour until Joe's busted up Ford pick-up slid into the driveway outside the front door. Joe hopped out with a Budweiser in his hand.

"Kings Corner. What a fucking shithole! Nothing good ever happens here. Ya'll got any liquor?"