Friday, April 13, 2012

The Money (pt. 4)

What I had forgotten about were the dogs. The good thing is, although they are not my number one fans, they are both tea cup poodles and they cowered under the television stand after I hurled a fake kick in their direction. I head to the bathroom and find it to be immaculately clean, unlike the rest of the house. I turn on the water and just get in, clothes and all and begin scrubbing. I am mersmerized by the swirl of red that circles the drain before going away. My mind is filled with thoughts of stupid CSI shows and all the ways they catch a killer. Luckily.... or perhaps unluckily they will probably never find Shawn's body, because these guys clean up shop very quickly and very effectively. I start to peel off clothes as the red color starts to fade and I allow myself to soak in the heat of the shower and try to let it wash the memories away. Instead I keep seeing my blood covered hands fall down on a body that is no longer moving.

I leave my clothes in the shower when I climb out. I drip water all over the floor as I look through his cabinet for a towel. He has an overabundance of big fluffy towels and I flip the towel out before wrapping it around me. As I leave the bathroom I realize one other miscalculation. Shawn was shorter wider and more metallic then I am, which means finding clothes might be a problem. I flip through things and find a huge t-shirt and some pants, that have a layer of dust on them, that are only 4 sizes too big. It will work if I use a belt and cinch it up tight. The alternative I have is that I could relive the style of my youth and let the pants hang low.... so all the ladies can see my rear end.

I emerge from the bathroom, with the belt as tight as I can make it, and hear the welcoming growls of the still cowering dogs. I walk past them, which causes a bit of yipping, and I head into the kitchen to look for food. I am greeted by a pile of dirty dishes and an overstuffed trash can, that has a faint odor of rotting fruit to it. I look around for food anyway and I find a frozen dinner that looks somewhat edible and I throw it in the microwave for the required time. Then I grab a beer from the fridge and I sit down and begin eating with Shawn's last clean fork.

After I finish I decide to take a look around. I peak in drawers, cookie jars, containers, piggy banks and I start piling up things that might be of use. I have a wad of cash, a gun, some travelers checks and a knapsack piled in the middle of his couch. It is when I look in the garage that I see what I never knew that I was looking for. I see a Harley Davidson Fat Boy sitting there begging to be rode. I locate the keys hanging on his key rack and I head back in and grab the knapsack. I open the garage, back the bike up and then crank over the engine. It gives a loud satisfying growl. I put the helmet on my head and I take off down the road. I notice a van drive past me as I sit waiting to turn right off the street and I recognize one of the people in it. I turn the corner and pick up speed and hope they failed to notice me or the stolen bike.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Money (pt. 3)

I hang up after leaving my last message. I hope that the people will call back.I hear Shawn outside my cell singing taunts to me. If I had just trained to be sneakier, a bit quicker..... instead I find myself looking through my contacts for one more person.

"Gimme the phone." Jimmy says breaking through my desperate thoughts. "I can't have you dialling without supervision."

"I'm just looking at the contacts... trying to see if I got them all...." He takes the phone from my hand to end my objection.

"Maybe one of those people you called will call back. We'll wait and see." His compassion confuses me. It is like he is a different person.

"Doughtfuhl." Shawn yells as he walks in. "Yooh ahreh screhwehd!"

I just look at him for a minute and fight the instinct to attack him. I am half sure I would win but it seems like too big of a chance to take at this point but if things get more desperate....

"Give it a rest Shawn. Don't you have work to do that will take you somewhere else?" Jimmy asks.

"Thah bohsss tohld me tooooh stay here. Thhinks yoooh wehnt sohft." He smiles self satisfactorily. "He cahlled meeeh in to mahke sure ahll loohse ends are tiehd uhp." The twinkle in his eye seems to be dancing as he reveals this last bit of information. I wonder if that was a threat to Jimmy so I steal a glance at Jimmy who seems to be stunned by what Shawn has said.

"What does that mean you metallic piece of crap? You trying to scare me? I don't think the bosses would send an incompetent in to take care of me! You could never make it happen!" Jimmy responds.

Shawn turns his back to me and seems to be no longer aware that I am in the room. "Yooh hahve noh right tooh speahk to me lihke that Jiiiihmmy. They dohn't cahre what you'hre doing here. They just want problems eliminated." He says as loud as his hoarse voice can go.

I look at the back of Shawn for a moment as I formulate a plan. I decide that now is my chance. I have to attack Shawn. I doubt Jimmy would stop me, he has made the loathing of Shawn very clear, but I wonder if he would allow me to escape.

"You are a lousy manager Jimmy. Everybody  hates yOOOOOOFFF!" I tackle him in the midsection knocking the wind out of him. Then I just start wailing on him like a man possessed. He is trying to cover up while whimpering but I have no intention of letting up. After what sems like several minutes but is in reality only about a minute I feel my arms getting tired. I don't want to stop the pummeling so I bring my hands together and use my ebbing strength to hit him with my conjoined fist while adding some kicks for good measure.

Soon I notice I have made him bleed and I feel like stopping but I am too afraid to stop. I begin to wonder why Jimmy isn't pulling me off. I notice that my teeth begin to hurt because I am clamped down so tight as I wail on Shawn. My arms scream out in exhaustion and my hands feel so sore that I am sure they are about to start bleeding. That is when I let up. That is when I stop and look at my hands.... at the blood. Shawn doesn't move.

I fall away from him and back up to the wall. I look over and Jimmy is staring at me like he is not sure he knows who he is dealing with. I echo that sentiment inside my own head. Who am I and how did that just happen? Then another thing occurs to me and I race back to Shawn. Fumble around for the keys and get ready to barrel through Jimmy. When I turn around I notice he is gone and I feel the urge to stop think my next steps through but I don't have the time. I can't squander the opportunity to escape and I am not entirely sure Jimmy didn't go to get a gun. I rush out the door and try to find the exit that will take me to the dead tattooed guys car.

I look down at my hands and notice I have more then Shawn's keys, I have his wallet and a long knife. I do not recall taking these but I recognize that I could probably use both. I tuck the wallet in my pocket and I flip the knife so the back rests against my forearm. I push through the exit toward a back parking lot. I take off my bloody shirt as I walk and I try to use the back, the non bloody side, to wipe up the blood. It soon proves futile and I start walking while hitting the lock button on his little keypad until I hear a distinct chirping. I head that direction and notice Shawn was a proud owner of a minivan. A minivan with the little stick figures that people like to put on their cars to let you know they have a family but this just shows one guy and 2 dogs. I breathe a sigh of relief that he still does not seem to have any redeeming qualities. I would have felt bad about killing someone's father.

I open the door and notice the stench before I even see the mess. It is filled with half eaten fast food and some seems to have went South. I look in the mirror and see blood speckles and my face and decide not too judge. I decide to take a look at the license as I pull out of the parking lot. I take note of his address and I head there immediately. I have the feeling that I should get cleaned up and I have no desire to go home.

The ride passes in a blur and I find myself outside of a small little house that looks run down even though it happens to be in a super wealthy part of the city. I shake my head, get my keys and head to the door. As I do this my head is filled with one thought "What happened to Jimmy?"

Thursday, April 05, 2012

The Money (pt. 2)

Normally, if this really were a bad '80's movie, I would spend my blacked out experience reliving the last few days so that I could fill in the audience on what happened. Unfortunately this isn't a bad movie andmy mind doesn't like following rules. Instead I am stuck following 3 pink rabbits who occasionally kick me for no apparent reason. Well no reason besides that they are evil devil worshipping Satan spawn rabbits. I am still not clear why I know that about them because, like real rabbits, they can't talk. I am also not clear on why a Satan spawn would also be a devil worshipper. I could share our adventures but they don't really make sense. I could also blather incessantly about how dreams make total sense while your asleep but no sense once you awaken but I am kind of awake and in pain now. It seems the illustrated porcupine has a taste for ripping off fingernails and I am in the middle of screaming bloody murder.

"Don't start on the next one Shawn! The goal is to get him to talk not to wilt in pain!" Jimmy screams. Such compassion.

I whimper something that is supposed to sound bold and brave but that fingernail deduction really sucked. My whole hand is on fire from him pulling out one freaking fingernail!

"What was that? Did you feel like talking? You can tell Shawnie!"

I almost throw up at his self imposed nickname (or perhaps it is the blinding pain) but instead I look up at him and I repeat myself. My mom didn't raise no fools.... well with the exception of me she didn't. "I said I specifically requested a pedicure with a high gloss clear coat and not all this red...."

My voice is barely a whisper but he hears me and his eyes broadcast instant anger. I find myself instantly wondering why this looks so much cooler in the movies as he leaps at me with the pliers. Once again I find myself in the weird position of thanking Jimmy for coming to my rescue as he collars Shawn and drags him, screaming newly created curse words at me, from the room.

"I never knew you were this friggin' stupid kid. Just get us the money. Ain't you got no family you could get the four grand from? You seem a likable guy, at least a guy with some con ability. Someone who could talk his way into some one's pocket. Yet here you are talking crap to a man who wants to make you suffer." Oompah says to me and it is starting to sound like true compassion. I try to stay focused and stop envisioning him singing the songs from the original Chocolate Factory movie. "You clear your frigging head! When I come back, I hope you have come up with a plan. I honestly don't got the stomach for murder and I hate the fingernail thing. If it were up to me I would have just beat you into the hospital but you caught the eye of those above me. So now we can't let you go with out showing something."

Once he has left I start to regroup. It is not easy with the throbbing of my hand but I manage to get a handle on a few things. Most importantly I start to realize that I don't like being hurt and that I need to make it out alive and with no more assaults to my person. After I come to a realization that should have been obvious, I start to look around the place. I see a camera looking at me. Which seems odd... who records torture? A part of me thinks it is just a b.s. psych out thing but the other part of me is sure that the ones in charge want their proof. They want to see me break. I am not wild about being watched so I push myself up to my feet and stumble my way underneath it, so I am only partially in it's view. The camera doesn't move. I turn my focus to inventorying this room. There isn't must besides blood and me. Nothing is in my pockets and I don't have my shoes. I spend the next few minutes being pissed about losing those shoes, I made them myself online. They were sweet. I realize I am drifting again and I tell the rabbits to leave me alone.

I know now that I won't outwit or overpower them in my current state. I spend a few depressing minutes feeling my pain and thinking about my impending painful demise. Once I am done with that I began trying to think of every single person I have ever oweed me a favor.....

Monday, April 02, 2012

The Money

Sometimes you have to shake off a run of bad luck. It ain't always easy, but anything worth fighting for usually isn't. I figured my life was worth fighting for. There are those detractors out there like the guy I was running from right this moment. He would give anything to shake me and my bad luck into the hospital. I had one chance and it was the ferry that was supposed to be leaving in 15 seconds. If it was going to work I had to be barely within jumping distance and he had to be outside that distance. It felt like I was in a movie and I hoped my luck was movie luck. I pushed past some people that were waving goodbye to loved ones. There weren't a lot of those because most ferry passengers are day trippers but there were some. IT should have seemed odd. One of the well wishers catches my eye a second too late and I feel my side explode in a solar flare of pain. My run has not ended as planned. Sometimes....... things don't shake so well. I feel like I am spinning as I actually plummet into the frigid waters of the Sound. My last conscious thought is about the large cleavage of the woman who stabbed me.

I awake in a grey building with a scary tattooed and grotesquely pierced freak sewing me up like I am Sally from the Nightmare Before Christmas. Odds are, with the way I feel, that Sally is still the better looker of the two of us. It takes me a moment to hear the noises that go along with the overly bejeweled lips of the scary one. I briefly wonder if the person is female or male when it/he/she slaps me. The voice does not help me clear it up, it's a dry scratchy noise that sounds like what a muted dog would sound like if it's barks were human speech. "...... bloooohdy ihdioht! Yoooh shouldenah rahn. Iht mahkes theh bosth mahd. Thehn yooh ehnd uhp here ahnd I hafta pahtch yah up."

"I take it from your whining that Ray is awake and with us again. How was that nasty little spill into the Puget Sound? Worth the run you little shit!? Nearly caved your head in on the boat and I am still trying to figure out if that would have been bad or not. On one hand a dead man never pays but on the other you seems like a big time loser that won't ever pay!" hollers Jimmy Oompah Loompah (as he is less then affectionately referred to due to his overtanning and rather underdeveloped stature).

"Thihs bloohdy ihdioht prohbahbly wihshes heee nehvah mahde iht bahck ouht ohf the sohund!" cackles the walking piercing.

"Shut up! I hate your breathy voice Shawn! Isn't it about time for you to be done? Don't frigging answer that! It was a rhetorical question!"

At least Oompah and I agree on something, the voice does make the pierced and tattooed one even harder to handle. I can see that Shawn, the living canvas, has been offended when he yanks a little too hard on the thread. I can't help but let out a whimper in response. I see a smile spread across both of their faces and realize that pain from others is what brought this dynamic duo together and will probably keep it together long enough to deal with me. Luckily for me, Shawn, the world's ugliest canvas, has hurriedly finished up and left. But not without kicking me very near my flesh wound first.

When the world returns to a less pain blurred focus I see the Loompah is patiently waiting on me. "I am betting you were hoping for a bit more luck today. Unfortunately you weren't focused on all the details that a man like me has to be focused on. I anticipated your move, it was so 1980's cliche movie get away...."

"Really..." I whisper, "must have missed those movies.:" Jimmy's orange face slips out of sadistic smile mode and takes on an 'I will kill you' facial expression. That is when I realize that I am living out the ultimate cliche where the hero, ha!, taunts his captor. Unfortunately cliches do not protect you from searing pain and I wake up with the tattooed one cleaning me up again. It makes me think of the Princess Bride and the pit of despair. I smile as I think of Wesley being cleaned up before his torture begins.

"The ihdioht ihs ahwahke." Igor the rhinestone pierced cowboy announces.

"I don't like you Ray!" bellows a high pitched orange.

"Really...?" I breathe.

"I just want the money and you run from me. I am forced to have you stabbed and then sewn up and all you can do is mock me." He glares at me and I try not to smirk, even in this much pain my urge to laugh at inappropriate times is trying to take over. "I will kill you if we continue in this fashion, RAY!"

All I can think is 'why does he keep saying my name, does he think I might think he is talking to Shawn the fishing lure?' That makes me laugh, unfortunately. I briefly swim through a tide of crimson before the blackness falls on me like a wannabe vampire's ever important cape.

To be continued?