Chapter 5 (short story)

Adam inhaled the cigarette slowly before sitting onto the park bench beside Wallace. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he asked.

Wallace shook his head.

‘There’s something wrong.’ Adam continued. ‘It’s always something wrong when you’re quiet.’

Wallace made a weak smile as he stared off into the empty sky. Adam was right, there was something wrong, but not what he thought.

To Wallace’s dismay, he had stumbled onto a bit of knowledge, important knowledge that answered the questions that thinkers throughout time though and wrote about. Questions such as: What’s the meaning of life? Why are we born? Is there a God? , and many other inquiries into the mysteries of human existence. Wallace knew the answers. They were inside of his head dancing, bumping, and crashing into what he had known. And what he had now was now worthless.

‘I Know what’s brothering you.’ Adam said. ‘It’s about Norm. You didn’t want to kill him, did you?’

Wallace looked over to Adam. ‘Why wouldn’t I want to kill Norm?’ He said. ‘That’s what we do, that’s what we get paid to do. We kill for money, or have you forgot?’

‘I haven’t forgot shit.’

Wallace gave a weak smile before returning to his stare into the sky.

‘I’m just saying, I know you and Norm were real cool.’ Adam said. ‘He was your celly for what . . . 3, 4 years locked in a box for the majority of a day.  Plus you told me before that he was cool. I know if I was you I’d be a little fucked up about killing him.’

‘Why?’

‘Why not?’

‘Why would that had fucked you up?’ Wallace asked before abandoning his stare into the sky. ‘It’s in our nature to do what we do. We have no control over what he wants us to do. Shit, the name of the damn book is ‘Shooters’.

Adam shook his head. ‘I should of known that was coming. Listen, we already know we’re just characters in a novel. The readers know that too. So stay in character and don’t think so damn deep all the time, because now the author will have to start the chapter over.’

‘You already knew?’ Wallace said as his eyes returned up to the sky.

Adam nodded.

‘I didn’t know.

‘What you mean, you didn’t know?’ Adam said. ‘Everybody knows. Every single character in every book knew that they are only characters created out of the imagination of a writer. So my advice to you is to suck it up and let the author finish the book.’ He leaned back into the bench, interlocking his fingers, resting his hands on his lap. ‘Besides, I would like to live out my life even though brief and pointless except for the entertainment of the readers. You never know maybe when the book is over you and Jessica might get married or something.’

‘I already know what’s going to happen.’

Adam studied Wallace’s profile for jest. As usual Wallace’s face was stone with its perpetual deadpan. ‘How do you know what’s going to happen?’

Wallace smiled weakly and said ‘Cause I’m the protagonist.’

Adam laughed.

‘Yeah, I’m the protagonist.’ Wallace continued. ‘The book is about my coming of age. I think it’s a comedy and a tragedy.’

‘Your acting like you read the book or something.’

Wallace ignored him. ‘Right after we kill Norm I start wondering about life and shit. That’s what this chapter here, chapter five, is about. While you’re asking me what’s wrong, I’m suppose to be in deep thought about my life.’

‘It’s no way you could of read the book. It’s impossible for a character of a book to have read it. It’s not logical.’ Adam paused. ‘Okay, let’s say you did read the book, which I don’t believe you did, wouldn’t that make life more meaningless? If everyone knew how his or her life turned out and knew all the mysteries of it, wouldn’t it take away a lot from living life?’

Wallace ignored him again. ‘I’m going to have what they call an existential crisis or situation, which is some philosophy shit. There’s supposed to be three stages in life: aesthetic, ethical, and religious. The crisis is when you’re stuck between two of the three stages. Right now I’m stuck between the aesthetic stage; where you live for the moment and for every opportunity of enjoyment, a slave to desires, and the ethical stage; where you become serious and make moral choices. I’m not sure what the religious stage is about cause that’s never explained in the book.’ He paused and turned with a weak smile to Adam. ‘I bet you can’t guess who tells me that philosophy shit, a few chapters away?’

Adam shrugged.

‘Old man Mackie from the bar. He’s supposed to had studied philosophy when he was young. How lame is that. He’s an old dirty drunk from the worst hood in the city and he so happened to have studied philosophy.’

’I don’t believe you.’ Adam said.

‘ What that Mackie knows philosophy?’

‘No.’ Adam replied. ‘I don’t believe that you read the book and all shit you talking; you’re making it up. Old man Mackie is about as smart as a jelly donut and you’re telling me he explains philosophy to you. You’re right, that is lame. And you’re acting lame. So, relax and let the author finish the fucking book.’

‘I read the book.’ Wallace said, before making another weak smile as he looked up to the sky.

‘How the hell could you have done that?’

‘Easy, I went to the bookstore.’

Adam shook his head and then said, ‘ I know what it is.’

‘What is it?’

‘The author must have writer’s block when he sat down to write this chapter. And, I guess since he had work done on this novel already so he figured he could reread whatever he wrote and then just started writing. And this is what came out.’

‘What came out?’

‘This.’ Adam said. ‘You claiming you read the book.’

‘How did you get to that conclusion?’

‘I don’t know, but it has to be right.’

Wallace chuckled lightly and then asked, ‘Why?’

‘Because, I wouldn’t have said it.’ Adam replied. ‘The author is the one who creates our words, right? So by the simple fact that I even said what I said, makes it right.’

The two killers; spawns of despair, poverty, fatherless homes, the forgotten and blamed, the ignorant and apathetic from the disenfranchised underbelly of the African-descendent American community, were dressed similar in fitted baseball caps, white T-shirts over gray thermal shirts, black fitted jeans, and black sneakers, stared quietly at each other until Wallace stood and walked to his car, that was parked at the curb. When he returned, he tossed a book into Adam’s lap.

Adam lit another cigarette before asking, ‘What’s this?’ as he picked up the paperback. The front of the book was all black with ‘Shooters’ in white block letters across its top and Christopher Reel in the same lettering at the bottom. ‘Well, this don’t mean shit.’ He said after studying the cover for a moment.

‘Read the back.’ Wallace said.

Adam flipped the book over. The back was designed like the front; black with white letters. Below the title read:

Remarkable . . . A crime novel for the ages – USA Today

Terrifically entertaining . . . I’ll read it again . . . Wallace Jones . . . one of the finest literary characters in the modern novel – Philadelphia Daily News

Beneath those lines was a brief summary of the book. Adam read the first line:

We follow Wallace Jones, a hired gun, and his partner Adam Green into a whirlwind of sex, murder, and betrayal.

Adam tossed the book onto the bench and then said ‘That don’t mean shit, either. I’m sticking to my writer’s block theory.’

‘Did you read what it said?’ Wallace asked.

‘A little.’

‘You see what they said about me?’ Wallace said, as he sat back onto the bench. ‘One of the finest and well-constructed literary characters in the modern novel, good shit, right?’ He looked up into the sky. ‘See, I told you that I was the protagonist. I know you’re upset about being my sidekick.’

‘It don’t say anything about me being a sidekick.’ Adam said. ‘It said partner.’ He shrugged. ‘But I wouldn’t have any reason to be upset if I were a sidekick. There are some legendary second fiddles out there like . . .um . . . Robin from Batman and . . . um . . . oh, Condoleezza Rice from . . .’

‘You know I die, right?’ Wallace cut in.

‘Huh, really?’

Wallace nodded.

‘I’m sticking to my theory.’ Adam said. ‘The author has writer’s block and is writing anything and will stop sooner or later and read it and laugh at it. Then he will get rid of it and start over. Let’s get real about this, no one knows how their life turns out.’

A silence sat between the two killers.

Adam couldn’t believe that this was a chapter, a normal chapter of the book. It didn’t follow the logic of a plotline. It was all very absurd. So, Adam was going to stick to his theory, but he had to ask ‘Do I die?’ out of pure curiosity.

Wallace shook his head. Another brief silence came and was broken when he said ‘I don’t want to die.’ He found himself fighting back tears. It didn’t take long to realize that it was pointless to cry and a little funny. He had to fight back laughter.

‘That’s the inevitable.’ Adam said. ‘There’s no way to stop it.’

Wallace gave up his dual battle and allowed a tear to run down his cheek as he chuckled lightly. He stood and then said ‘Well, I think I could stop the inevitable.’

‘Yeah right.’ Adam said. ‘How’s that?’

‘I’m going to make this novel into a short story.’

‘How and better yet, why? Don’t you like what those critics said about the book and you?’

‘Sure, but I don’t want to die. Especially not the way that I do at the end.’ Wallace said. ‘So I figured, since you’re the one that murders me and runs off with Jessica and the money that we steal from some major nigga with money, that I should kill you. I already killed Jessica. She’s in the trunk with a hole in the back of the head, right now.’

‘What are you talking about? I’ve been with you since we left Jessica at your house a few days ago. It’s no way you could of shot her and put her in the truck without me knowing. You’re not making no fucking sense at all now. The author must be high or something.’

‘I killed her, I’m sure.’

‘When?’

Wallace shrugged before pulling out his gun. ‘I don’t know.’ He said. ‘But I must had to if I said it, right? Isn’t that like something you said a couple or so pages back?’

‘Don’t get crazy now.’ Adam said. ‘I would nervy kill you. We go back to childhood. I got love for you like a brother. That’s how I know this chapter is some writer’s block bullshit that the author is allowing to come out of his mind for the hell of it before he deletes it.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Like I said, the author is making me say what I’m saying, so it has to be true.’

‘Okay, I hear you.’ Wallace said as he smiled weakly and then rose and extended the gun, with its barrel less than an inch away from touch Adam’s face. ‘But the author is making me say what I’m saying too. So what I’m saying has to be true as well, right?’

Adam shrugged.

‘It’s a paradox.’ Wallace continued, catching eye contact with Adam. ‘Listen homie, don’t take this personal, I’m not going to kill you because of your betrayal, shit to be honest that book says that you never liked me and that you have been fucking Jessica since I met her. I can’t even call that betrayal, because you were never loyal to me to begin with. The author made me blind to your shit. But none of that matters to me, all I

want is to become a great character that lives at the end. That’s all I want. So my plan here is to make this into a short story. To be honest with you, the book isn’t that good. This chapter right here, Chapter 5, that we just, I’d say with a bit of irony, improvised, is better than the whole novel.

‘No one remembers short stories or their characters.’ Adam said.

‘Sure they do. How about Walter Mitty or Benjamin Buttons.’ Wallace replied.

Adam didn’t respond. He dropped his eyes off of Wallace’s face to the quiet hole of the pistol’s barrel. He wanted to push it away, stand, draw his own gun out, and then shoot Wallace between his eyes. It’s true that he never liked him. Actually Adam hated him. He hated everyone, well, except Jessica. He loved her. He loved everything about her, from her personality to the way that she took it in the ass and cooked a good meal. At first he would hang around Wallace because he knew how to make a fast dollar, but for the last four years it had been all about Jessica. Now Adam hoped that the book that Wallace had read is the novel that the author will eventually write. What more could he ask for? He will run off with Jessica and money. Everything would be cool sailing. But only if the author would trash this bullshit and start this chapter over and then finishes the novel.

‘Well, Adam.’ Wallace said. ‘It’s been fun but it’s been time to end this shit. No one likes a drawn out story. Besides, it’s not like you can do anything about it. It’s inevitable.’

Wallace pulled the trigger once. Adam’s head jerked back and then forward; his chin dropped onto his chest. Wallace tucked the gun into the waistline of his jeans and then sat onto the bench. He looked at Adam’s face bloody face before looking up into the night sky. Slowly he eased into a laughter that grew and grew until the end of the story.

Either you won't (short story)

Marvin jumped up. The bullet exited his forehead. The wound closed as his head jerked violently forward. Another bullet zipped by his head after flying out of the wall behind him. Two banks! Two flashes! The bullets reconstructed and then re-entered the guns barrel.

‘!up fuck the Shut’ Mila’s husband spat.

‘ . . . I’m. . I . . .she. . .It’s’ Marvin stammered.

Mila, standing beside the bed, screamed. ‘.don’t honey, No’ The shock expression on her face relaxed before she fell to the floor.

Her husband tucked the gun into his waist as he yelled. ‘.both you kill I’ll’

From the floor, face down, Mila sprung up onto the bed. Frantically she rolled onto Marvin.  The two of them stared towards the man at the door.

‘!motherfuckers dirty You.’ Said the husband.

‘!shit Oh.’ Mila yelled.

Her husband backed quickly into the hallway as he grabbed the door’s knob, as it swung from the wall, before he slammed it.

As their heartbeats slowed Mila and Marvin turned to each other and then kissed. Mila’s kisses moved south, to his chin, to his chest, to his stomach. She then ran her tongue up the length of his penis and then regurgitated his sperm back inside of him. His stiffen body relaxed. She then gave him oral, tasting herself on his penis before climbing on top of it. After a while went past she lifted herself off of him and stood beside the bed.

‘.me Ride’ Marvin said before sliding out of the bed as Mila replaced him.

‘.back gets husband my before hurry Let’s’ Mila said.

Marvin dressed and then smiled. As he walked backwards to the door he said. ‘.time no waste to want don’t you see I’ He opened the door, stepped out into the hallway, and then shut it. He quickly walked backwards through the house, out the door, and into his car. He picked up his cell phone and dialed ‘8131-313-512’

‘.come you’d knew I. open already is door The’ Mila said.

‘.front out I’m’ He said.

‘.Hello’ She answered.

Marvin pressed the phone’s on button, it shut off, before putting it back into his pocket. He drove home backwards. Once inside of his apartment he took off his jacket, hung it onto the coat rack, and then backed his way to his kitchen table and sat down onto the chair that sat in front of his laptop. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and then pressed the off button, it turned on.

‘Hello.’ Marvin said into the phone.

‘It’s me, Mila.’

‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing.’ She said. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Finishing up my manuscript before I send it to my editor.’

‘My husband just left and won’t be home for awhile.’

‘I thought you said he was staying in tonight.’

‘He was, but I decided to let him go out with some of his buddies from work.’

‘You let him go?’

‘Yup.’

‘You’re the boss, huh?’

‘He knows who wears the pants in this house.’

‘You wear the pants, huh?’

‘You, really tight pants that shows off my ass.’

He laughed.

‘Why don’t you come over and take them off for me.’

‘Right now?’

‘What you think?’

‘I don’t know. I’m kind of busy right now.’ He said. ‘Besides, don’t you think what we’re doing is wrong?’

‘I would if I believe that loving you is wrong.’

He didn’t respond.

‘Marvin.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you having doubts about us?’

‘There’s an us?’ Asked Marvin.

‘Why do you do that?’

‘ you get in front What?’

‘Look, are you coming or not?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You know.’ She said. ‘Either you will or either you won’t. If you do, call me when you get in front of the house. Bye.’

After he hung up the phone Marvin grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and then opened the door. Startled, he took a step back. A man in a black hooded cloak, clutching the long wooden handle of a sickle, stood across the threshold.

The idiot in the supermarket

Maybe I am weird. Maybe I am a few steps backwards and off to the left of what society consider normal. However, people tend to misjudge and cast me off as being an idiot, a misconception that begun in my childhood; the main perpetrators were my schoolteachers. I was aware that I didn’t blend well with my classmates and it was probably a little strange when I would stand up suddenly in a quiet classroom and scream ‘You are not the boss of me!’ while throwing wild punches into the air. The class would erupt in laughter. The teachers on the other hand reactions differed. The teachers would keep me after class and speak to me with the patience and hidden frustration one would use in the attempt to explain to a dog, that was not house trained, where to shit.  They would ask me why do I act out in such an unruly manner. It was simple, the quietness of the classroom was driving me nuts so I did a random act of stupidity and made the class laugh. But I couldn’t tell them the truth. I would open my mouth and allow my brain to shut off into a quiet hum and would just sit there, my open, in silence. The teacher would mumble a few obscenities before explaining to me in the most compassionate voice why I an idiot.

Although I loathe and burn with indignation about being labeled an idiot I thank the God for littering the world with people who do. It alleviates the remorse from the mid of a recreational Kleptomaniac who larks hidden in a plain sight for an unsuspecting victim to pilfer. Such occasions occurred frequently.

For an example, a few days ago I went shopping at the near by supermarket for a few necessities. Once I finished collecting my items I slid into a cashier’s line. It moved in a slow crawl. I was stuck behind a happily overweight woman who snacked with undivided concentration on a big bag of potato chips. Her young child sat in the baby seat of a shopping cart. The child’s head was large and uneven with wide slightly crossed brown eyes peering at me. I wondered if the child was a boy or a girl. Finally I came to the conclusion that I had no idea what sex the baby was and started thinking about cartoons.

A light baby’s chuckle pulled my attention back to the little hermaphrodite, who had an open carton of eggs sitting on its lap and held two eggs in its small fat hands. He stared down at the eggs with gleeful deviance. The baby suddenly smashed the eggs against its forehead. The child face balled up in both pain and enjoyment before repeatedly smashing eggs one by one against its face until the mother noticed in horror. She chastised her child, removed the carton and what was left of the eggs from the baby’s possession before inquiring why I failed to inform her. I shrugged as if I didn’t have a reason. The truth was that it did cross my mind to alert her but the baby’s manic enjoyment amused me.

Although I did speculate that the mother wasn’t very fond of me I didn’t get the conformation until it was revealed before her exit by her choice of vocabulary after I asked if her baby was a boy or a girl.

‘Way to go jerk.’ A cock-sure voice said from behind me.

I ignored who ever it was as the plump and pale cashier scanned my items and tossed them to the bag boy without care.

’35.17’ the cashier said.

I dug into the breast pocket of my suit for my wallet. It wasn’t there. I ran my hands through my other pockets and found noting. My brow cracked into a light sweat.

’35.17’ the cashier repeated.

I had a clear mental view of my wallet lying on my kitchen counter.

The cashier flopped onto her stool. She let out a grunt that I though only a gorilla was capable of. I gave her a smile. The cocky voice behind me returned with ’35.17! What are you waiting for you fucking idiot.’ I turned. The guy was all muscles and hair grease. ’35.17’ He barked. I turned back to the cashier. She sat hunched with her face balled up with angst. The guy tapped my shoulder. I turned. ‘35.17 pay or get the fuck out of line, you fucking idiot.’ He said in his most intimidating voice. I remained silent. He stepped forward. Our faces were inches apart. ‘What are you, some sort of retard? He said with a small smirk. He was having fun and I almost smiled myself but I was force to hold my breath because his smelled the way a preacher would describe damnation. I took a step backwards and then turned to the cashier and dug into the wallet, paid for my groceries and left the store.

On my walk home I stuffed the remaining bills from the wallet into my pocket and tossed it into a trash bin. When the guy remembers that day he probably will still consider me an idiot but when he had attempt to pay for his groceries and found his wallet missing I’m pretty sure he felt like an idiot himself.

The soldier and naked lady

Calvin, in full army gear, sat on the floor resting his back against the wall. Blood ran down the left side of his face. In his gloved hands he clutched a marine issued machine gun; dusty with sand and still hot from recently being fired. The room was small, gray, and bare, smelling of blood, gunpowder, and death. There were no doors. On the wall across from were he sat was a vertical slit of window; metal framed. A thin blind hung lazy in front of the window rolled down barely, only enough to become aware of its purpose. The view behind the window was of naked men, women, and children with machine guns running chaotically shooting each other. Screams, explosions, and rapid gun firing produced the clashing melody of war’s music played sound track to the view.

Calvin didn’t like what he seen or heard but could not stop paying attention to it for long. When ever he did manage to pull his eyes a way from the window he would stare at the naked woman who sat directly below it. The naked woman sat on top of a bed of roses staring at Calvin, while she puffed on a joint. Her dark hair sat in an unkempt flow down her back. Her brown eyes were quietly smiling. Occasionally she would laugh. Her glee would make him cringe. It amazed him that she seemed so at ease while outside of the window humanity was once again trying to destroy itself.

‘I had no choice.’ Calvin had mumbled this sentence 10 minutes or so. The naked woman would respond every time with ‘They chose for me.’

Finally Calvin said ‘I had to enlist in the marines or I’d . . .’

‘You’d what?’ The naked woman asked as a gray steam of smoke exited her mouth and nostrils.

‘I’d be dead.’

‘Why Dead?’ The woman’s face flashed quickly with a sadness that switched so fast into her normal expression Calvin wasn’t sure if he had seen the sadness or not. Calvin wasn’t sure of much at that moment. And he wasn’t sure why he understood every word that the naked woman spoke but knew she wasn’t speaking English.

‘Because the marines saved my life. I was average in everything from childhood up until I joined the marines and came to this war. But I’m still only an average soldier. If I didn’t come here, I would have been just like my pop in jail or like my dead brother or found a woman like my mom strung out on some drug that would just had sucked my life away. But what’s the point of life anyhow? Does it matter if our life is good or not? Don’t we all die anyway? What’s love? Well, I know what love is, but what’s it’s point?

‘You sound upset at your life.’

Calvin tried to think over what she had just said but his mind was too dazed and confused to think things over and simply opened his mouth and let out ‘I don’t know if I am upset at my life or just upset at life period. More or less upset at existence.’

‘Do you love your family?’ The naked woman asked.

‘Sure, I guess . . . I don’t know.’ He shrugged.

‘Everyone loves their family.’ The woman said.

‘’I guess you’re right. Family love is an obligation.’ He said.

‘Obligation?’ She laughed. ‘Wow, that’s so depressing.’

‘It’s easier to look at it that way. I don’t understand love.’

Smiling, the naked woman said. ‘Have you ever been in love romantically?’

‘Tara.’

‘If you don’t understand love, then how do you know you love her?’

‘I don’t know.’ He said. ‘What else could it be? It’s this feeling when I see her. It’s deep in my gut.’

‘Maybe it’s an ulcer.’ She laughed.

‘Were you ever in love?’ Calvin asked.

Her face grew somber and her eyes had begun to water. ‘I never had the change.’ A tear slowly escaped.

‘At all?’

‘At all.’ The naked woman stood and then paced on top of the bed of roses, crushing none, before turning to him with a wide smile. ‘Do you believe in coincidence or things happens for a reason?’

‘Sometimes I believe in one and not the ever. But I have no idea which is right.’

‘I use to have a dream where this soldier would come and save me from a pack of monsters. And the soldier and I would live happily ever after.’ She allowed that to sit on the air for a moment before continuing with ‘I thought you were that soldier.’

‘Sorry for disappointing you.’

‘You didn’t, you are the soldier. You destroyed my future.’ Tears rolled down her face freely, although she smiled. ‘But you saved my me.’

Calvin was lost and stuck in confusion with the naked lady playing the tour guide. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘I was a child prostitute.’ She sighed. ‘I was took from my parents a few years ago. To be honest, I never thought that I’d live as long as I did. And I didn’t want to. I seen girls get killed for refusing to have sex with customers, so I would say no too so that they would kill me. But they wouldn’t kill me. They would just beat me and rape me and say that I was too beautiful to die. They said that they would break me.’ She paused. ‘I was breaking’ She paused again. ‘Then your unit came into the village. My captures tried to gather all us girls up but I snuck away and gathered up my flowers that I was growing in a box. I had begun to grow them because in every dream you would tell me that you liked roses. I went out the back door to find you. I knew it was you who came to save me from the monsters. A damaged child’s fantasy, I know. But you saved me and I love you.’

The naked woman was no longer naked or a woman but a young girl no older than 14 years old with a young beautiful face. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a yellow sundress. The chest area of the dress was black and red with blood. She sat against a wall. A box of flowers sat upside down beside her. The light breeze caused the roses to dance and scatter across the sand.

The music of war flooded Calvin’s hearing. He stood about 20 feet from the little girl. His heart cringed and broke. He didn’t see her coming. His focus was set on the man with a gun creeping pass a window from inside. When the building’s door opened Calvin fired. Next thing he saw was a bed of roses in the air and a little girl’s body collapsing. He stood stuck, in shock, in disbelieve. That was his first kill. The little girl’s beautiful dying face stared smiling, familiar, allowing him not to be aware of the guy with the gun. The bullet crashed against the left side of his forehead. He fell.

When Calvin reopened his eyes the naked women was dancing on top of the bed of rose.