Brood

Brood

Drinking alone at Frigo’s again. I haven’t heard from her in two weeks. Bottom of my third drink, I start to feel buzzed. Just a buzz won’t get her off my mind. Dame like her ain’t easy to forget. Ain’t no dame out there like her. Audrey. The picture of her in my head reminds me why I care.

A beer is spilled on my lap by some sleazy, low-life drunks at the end of the bar making a pass at the bartender. This city is full of them types. Grabbing at what ain’t theirs. Cindy Cindinski ain’t theirs tonight.

“Whaddya say, toots? I got some singles, see. How about a show for me and my pals here?”

Cindy shoots me a worried look. Damn it if I ain’t a fool for a dame in distress. Time to work. The barstool creaks. I’m making my way over to give the guys a real show when I see Johnny already standing behind them. This ain’t gonna end well. Cindy shoots me another look. She’s read my mind. Johnny’s next to the guy that’s doing all the talking and taps him on the shoulder. The cad’s collarbone looks like an uncooked noodle compared to one of Johnny’s fingers.

“You’re gonna be leaving Cindy alone now.” Johnny’s words don’t phase the male suitor. It just gets my goat when guys like this come around and make a scene.

Johnny never has to speak loudly. “One.”

Everyone in the bar turns. This fella’s friends try to stop him, but he’s four drinks too far from listening.

“Paulie, that’s Johnny Onetwothree. We gotta heel it. Now!”

“What’s that? Johnny Onetwothree? I heard of ya. Tell ya what Johnny, I’m gonna give you ‘till the count of three to get your lousy, four flushing face outta here.” Paulie pulls out a six shooter. Put a gun in a guy’s hand, and he’ll always think he’s made his way up the chain of command. Johnny’s a wall. This ain’t gonna end well.

Johnny’s only counting for Paulie, but every guy and gal in Frigo’s feels threatened. “Two.”
“Hey, bub. I’m the one doing the counting here, see. I’m sick of looking at your ugly mug. One, tw–”

“Three.”

I’ve been wrong before. Paulie got off easy. Three broken fingers, fractured wrist, two cracked ribs, broken nose, and I don’t see Paulie wanting to get lucky with the dames anytime soon. Paulie’s blacked out on the ground. His pals are long gone.

“Sorry for the mess, Cindy. I just can’t watch a broad being treated poorly.”

“Thanks, Johnny. Don’t worry about the mess. God, I’m not even suppose to be here tonight! Uncle Frank, where’s Audrey? She hasn’t shown up in three weeks. Sure, I need the dough, but I can’t stand the vermin anymore. You know where she is?”

Three weeks? That picture of Audrey in my head is starting to get fuzzy. I shake my head, “Don’t worry about it, hun, I’ll raise her.”

Johnny’s sitting at the bar again like nothing’s happened. To a guy like Johnny, nothing has. He talks with a bottle to his lips, “Pulaski’s missing?”

Weeks of stale smoke rushes into my lungs in a sigh. “Seems so…Time to rattle the cages, see what squawks. Both of ya put your specs on. Find me if she shows.”

I take Passed-Out Paulie’s wallet and toss Cindy the cash he’s got on him. Five bucks. Cheapskate. I waste no time foolin’ with anymore drinks. Audrey’s never been gone this long. I got that feeling in my bones I get when she’s in trouble. Seems I’m working the night-shift tonight.

Joint like Frigo’s, it’s safer to leave through the back entrance. Less likely to run into a fella whose looking for a fight. It’s raining out; it’s always raining in this city. I don’t own a single jacket neither. The cold clears my head, and I gotta keep my head straight tonight, for Audrey.

If Audrey’s in a spot, I gotta check the hospital. Even if she ain’t there, every two-timing crook and street rat has connections at the hospital. The least I’ll get is information. I walk past
another bar and I gotta double-take when I hear a familiar voice in the dark narrow of an alley. I recognize the scrawny thug in the trilby hat threatening a prostitute.

“Lithten here huthy. I gottha methage for your bosth, courtethy of the Greco brotherth. It’tha two-parter. Firtht, your bosth owth uth thum dough. He thpillth it or we killth it, can ya remember that? The thecond methage ith more of a warning, and I ithn’t worried about you forgetting thith one.”

The louse about to hit this dame is Benny “The Lisp” Greco. One of the three inseparable Greco brothers. They’re not low on the food chain, but they’re not at the top neither. Last I heard they was smuggling weapons and buying hot items. Low level stuff, so I kept my nose outta it. And I heard they was opening some respectable night clubs where the gals are cheap and the beer is cheaper. Real classy joints. Earns them a sliver of favor among the remaining honest men of this city. The youngest Greco, Benny, ain’t dangerous, but his brothers are. Benny’s just a messenger. Lucky break. If anyone can get the word out on Audrey, it’s gonna be the Grecos. Benny’s grabbed the umbrella out of this gal’s hand and is about to beat her with it. And I ain’t about to let a broad be bruised for no reason.

“Raise your hand any higher, Benny, and you’re tellin’ me you gotta hankering for tasting gun metal.” Benny’s used to threats. Might have to use some warranted force on this one.

“Thith ain’t your bithneth, Uncle Frank. I ain’t bothering you, quit bothering me.” He returns to the quivering dame. Benny, you stupid son of a bitch. In a drop of a hat, I got Benny pinned, making him taste all the rain and sewage the alley has to offer.

“Take heed, Benny, never take your eye off a mick with a gun. I got a message of my own needs sending. Put the word out, Uncle Frank’s looking for Audrey Pulaski.” I feel every muscle in Benny’s scrawny body tighten. He squirms like a worm on a hook, but he’s got no muscle behind him. He knows something about Audrey.

“I ain’t got nothin’ to do with no broad named Pulathki.” His eyes go as wide as a working hussy’s mouth when I rip off his middle fingernail like I was opening a beer.

“I thwear I don’t know a thingle thing!” I got Benny right where I want him. I let him go.

“Jethuth Chritht! My hand…My hand! Look what you did to my hand! You’re a goddamn dead man, you pieth of thit! Dead!” Like the dog that he is, Benny runs with his tail between his legs, right back to his master. Benny, you stupid son of a bitch.

I aim to ignore the dame behind me and follow Benny when dainty fingers grab my wrist. “Real intimidating stuff, pal. What are you, some sorta Dick Tracy private eye?”

“Listen up, doll, because I’m only gonna say this once. I ain’t no sleazy private eye. I ain’t no cop, and I sure as hell ain’t no Dick. Name’s Frank. Anyone with half a brain knows to call me Uncle Frank.”

“Hey, wait big guy. I know that gal you’re looking for. Me and Audrey worked the new Greco brothers’ club every other night together. Ya know, The Cobalt Club. Only she hasn’t shown her face in about a month. Last I heard, she was gone to meet the big guy himself.”

Joey Stachino. He’s far from the “big guy” in stature, but he’s got his greasy fingers dipped in every pocket of the city. Cops, judges, you name it. Ain’t no one I heard of bigger than that. No way this goes that high up. Audrey knew better than to poke around with his type. Dames and gossip. I got a rat to follow. I don’t got time to play detective with a mouthy dame. I flip her a coin for her help.

“Gee, thanks…Dick.”

I’m as patient as they come in this city, but a fella can only take so much from a dame. I take the coin back and grab her umbrella that Benny dropped. I break it in half. “Like I said, I ain’t no Dick. The name’s Uncle Frank. You’re gonna remember that now.”

I walk out of the alley just in time to see Benny taking off in a black Continental. I can’t make out the driver. My jalopy is parked less than thirty feet away. Following them ain’t a problem. Together the Greco brothers may be tough, but they ain’t smart. After five minutes of following them through downtown, I musta been had because their Continental takes off in a puff of exhaust fumes. Their tires kick up a rock. It jams my windshield wipers. Damn! My only hope is to run them off the road, level the playing field. My foot hammers down on the accelerator when I hear the crack of lightning. My shoulder explodes in searing hot pain. Gunshot. Only one man makes a shot at that speed in this weather. Tommy “The Gun” Greco.

Oldest of the Greco brothers, Tommy’s a crack shot sniper. The only time he misses is when he’s not wearing his bowler hat. Tommy ain’t ever been without his bowler hat. Says it’s a God given blessing, but there ain’t no God. Not in this city. That’s the devil he’s praising.

My arm involuntarily jerks. I veer off into a ditch. I pull my way out of the wreckage. The wound’s above the collarbone. Bullet passed in and out. I’ve had worse. Tommy couldn’t have known about his brother yet, I was shot for another reason. I stand and that reason becomes all too clear.

The gates to Joey Stachino’s mansion are twenty yards away. On the roof of the mansion, I see Tommy tip his hat. As I run out of range of Tommy’s gun, I see Audrey’s car parked out front. Joey Stachino, the Greco brothers, Audrey… It doesn’t add up. All I know is I’m gonna need backup. It’s stopped raining.

* * *

“Sure thing, boss. Mind if I play the box first?” Back at Frigo’s, the neon juke stains Johnny’s face a dirty yellow. He plays some Benny Goodman song I ain’t heard before. Catchy. Pays to have a friend like Johnny in this city. He’s loyal. Anyone crosses his friends and their crossing their t’s on their death certificate. Johnny’s not much a man of words. Probably why I can still stand the guy. We take Johnny’s Plymouth and park it a few blocks from the back entrance to Joey’s mansion. Back of Johnny’s car is loaded with pistols, tommy guns and enough ammunition for five fully loaded fellas. Two pistols for our holsters, a tommy gun slung around our shoulders and one revolver tucked in our trench coat pocket. The side of the gate ain’t even guarded.

“Johnny, give me ten minutes. See if I can’t grab Audrey without bloodshed.” I ain’t much on stealth, but I got one up on them. They don’t know I’m coming.

“Wait.” Johnny holds his hand up. He points to a wire running up the length of the metal fence I’m about to jump. On top of the gate is a microphone.

“Damn!” No doubt the work of Sonny “The Lobe” Greco. Middle brother, born a mute. With a build like an overripe peach, Sonny’s obsessed with recording everything. Rumor is he hears anything within a hundred yards, says his hearing extends as far as his elongated earlobes. “The Lobe” is never caught by surprise. “Looks like we go in hot. Ready, Johnny?”

In the upper left corner window of the mansion, I spot Benny “The Lisp” with a tommy gun. He’s shouting something from the window I can’t make out. “One.”

Window next to that I sight Sonny “The Lobe,” hands holding his headphones to his ears. Two lugs on each side of him got pistols aimed straight down my throat. “Two.”

Next window, Tommy “The Gun’s” crouched under his rifle. Sights on me.

I’m coming Audrey.

“Three.” Three wise guys.

Johnny’s two pistols pierce the bitter night air as he clears the gate. I make my move over the gate and plug two louts running towards me before my feet hit the ground. I take cover behind a planter when three more of Joey’s boys pour from the back double doors. Shards of pottery rain down on me like hail as I reload. In the roar of gunfire, I can make out Johnny repeating “One, two, three” over the howling of his tommy gun, like a symphony he’s orchestrating on the fly. Shattered glass falls from the windows as three of my rounds find home in their targets. Johnny takes a shot below the elbow. Lug like Johnny, one gunshot ain’t even a flesh wound. Like a broken record, Johnny counts to three and takes out two more with his bare mitts. I ain’t wasting ammunition with the distractions. I see an opening to the door and make my move. Then I’m hit by a sledgehammer as my left thigh erupts. I look up to see Tommy Greco tip his hat and reload. I’ve got no time for pain. Without stopping for a breath, I burst through the bullet-riddled door and into the grand foyer.

Wallpaper is shredded and lights shatter in a rain of glass as I make one more on the staircase to my left. Sonny Greco barges down the stairs in a silent scream. I take aim and put one right through his beloved headphones. His body goes limp and tumbles down the stairs in a jumbled cartwheel. I catch the corpse and use it as a shield as I make my way up the stairs. Round after round pummels into Sonny’s face, softening it into a bloody pulp. His earlobes flop when each bullet connects. I blindly shoot from behind the stiff and take out two guys at the head of the stairs.

I hear the clod of feet behind me followed by a, “One, two, three.” Turning, I see Johnny crack the skulls of two lugs together. At the top of the staircase, I toss Sonny’s body over the railing. Dashing down the hallway, Johnny and I reach the master bedroom. Empty. The gunfire’s stopped. There’s a ringing in my ears. I hear shuffling coming up the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a gun barrel push its way out of the wooden shutters of the closet.

“Get down!”

My advice goes unheard. Johnny is already charging the closet. Tommy doesn’t have a chance to take a shot. In a splintering of wood, Johnny’s got Tommy in his grip. Without his gun, Tommy’s a dead man. Johnny throws the oaf against the opposite wall. Tommy’s body slams to the ground in a sickening crunch. Johnny slides feet first into Tommy’s ribs.

“One, two, three.” Johnny shoves his knee into Tommy’s stomach as he puts his thumbs onto Tommy’s eyes. A high-pitch, primal scream forces its way out of Tommy. My veins freeze. I’ll hear that scream for the rest of my life. Johnny’s thumbs slowly force their way into Tommy’s eye sockets. His thumbs disappear into Tommy’s skull. I hear another scream come from outside the window. This one’s coming from a gal. From the top floor window, I see a Cadillac peel out of the garage below me. Benny’s driving. Two people are in the back. One of them is Audrey. The other is Joey Stachino himself.

The door behind us busts open in a barrage of gunfire. Johnny and I shoot the glass as we leap out the window.

* * *

The bellow of the engine. The squeal of the tires. The shriek of the wind. Johnny’s Plymouth tears through the empty backstreets into the warehouse district, leaving behind the mansion, the bodies, the pain. The Cadillac is in our sights. A hail of bullets discharges from the tommy gun held by Joey. A bullet connects with our front left tire. We skid into a warehouse wall and smash through it. I shake myself off from the crash. Stumbling out of the car, I hear the doors to the warehouse opening. The boxes around me are labeled “XXX.” I can barely make out two, mumbling male voices. I hear the stifled cries of a female. Johnny’s limp in the car. I’ll come back for him. I follow the noises I hear through the labyrinth of containers.

“Lithen here, Uncle Frank, Johnny. You’ve put your fingerth in the wrong bithneth and your fingerth are abo-”

“No! You listen here, you two, lousy, no-good, yellow, dirty, rotten, ugly, two-timing, pushover, street rats. I ain’t leavin’ here without my niece. And I ain’t dying until everyone who’s harmed her is dead at my feet. So the way I sees it, you got two options. Die now or die later.”

Sparks fly when a bullet ricochets off a box near my head. Beer spills out of the fresh bullet wound.

“Sorry, sorry! That was a misfire. We ain’t trying to kill ya.” Joey, always knew a guy like him would have no backbone. “Benny, he aims to kill us, we gotta scram.”

“Thut up, Joey! If we don’t die here, then your bosth ith gonna kill uth both. Our only chanth ith killin’ thith louth and makin’ off with the gal.” The voice is coming from behind a stack of packages in front of me. I got six rounds. That’s three for the both of ‘em.

I feel the hot opening of a gun barrel on the back of my head. Benny’s got the drop on me. “Take heed, you thcumbag, never take your eye off a mick with a gun.”

“That’s good advice. Onetwothree.” I turn in time to see Johnny grab Benny’s tongue and squeeze. The roar of a gunfire goes off. A hole the size of a felt fedora in Benny’s stomach is smoking. Benny’s gurgling what’s left of his tongue as he drops to his knees. Johnny’s standing behind the body with a smoldering shotgun.

Looking into Benny’s dying eyes I tells him, “Name’s Uncle Frank. You’re gonna be remembering that now. Thanks Johnny, I thought I was made for sure.” Benny’s corpse grows cold before it hits the floor.

“Don’t mention it.”

I hear muffled cries. I can’t make out the words, but I know Audrey’s crying out my name. I’m here. It’s all over. I see Audrey dash by an aisle of boxes, followed by Joey. She is headed to a corner. Thatta girl, Audrey. By the time Joey’s grubby fingers clutch Audrey, Johnny and I got him cornered.

Joey knows he’s a dead man. He’s shaking like a leaf. Joey’s got Audrey on her knees, tears streaming down her grimy face. Holding onto her hair with his pistol on her left temple, he tries one more desperate plea. “I’s only following orders. I swear! I’m the fall guy, the scape. You gottsa believe me. Look, look, we can strike up a deal, see.” His hair is matted down as sweat pours from his face. “You let me go and you can have Audrey. I won’t bother you again, hear?” I don’t say a word. Joey’s body starts convulsing and his grip on Audrey’s hair tightens. “I-I’ll give ya money, dames. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I was only following ord-” The gun in Joey’s hand barks. Audrey’s face and brains splatter on the box next to her. Her body drops and Joey is left holding a chunk of her hair connected to a scrap of her scalp. “No, no! I didn’t mean to do that! Have mercy.”

“This is mercy.” I unload three in Joey’s stomach and three in Joey’s mug.

* * *

“It’s over, ain’t it?” Johnny talks through a bottle again. Yeah, it’s over. Audrey was the last family I had. I protected her and, in turn, she loved me. Ain’t no more unconditional love. Not in this city. The picture of Audrey in my mind is gone. Replaced by a never ending loop of exploding flesh. I bottle the night up in a shot glass and guzzle.

“No, Johnny. This ain’t over. I can’t get Audrey back, but I can find every crook in this city that got Audrey killed. Find the bastard that was in charge. I don’t got all the answers, but I aim to find ‘em. All I got left are my mitts. Time to break some deserving teeth.”

Kevin Explains It All (Ferguson Not Allowed)

Kevin Explains It All

“Umm, thanks… Yeah, can I get a number one with a number two. And some onion rings. Yeah, I’m going to eat them too. Eh, and two apple pie slices and a large orange soda.” A dainty, feminine voice was barely audible over the static from the faulty speaker, “Is that all?”

“Eh? Yeah, can I get one of everything from the dollar menu. For my buddy. To-go.”

“You’re in the drive-thru, to-go is the only way we deliver it.”

“You guys deliver now?”

“Eh? No, this is a Burger King. We don’t deliver. I just mea–. Never mind. Your total is $38.79 at the next window there.”

Tentatively pushing down on the accelerator, Kevin’s ‘85 Honda lurched forward, stopped, then sputtered ahead erratically. The only thing as ragged as the “movements” of Kevin’s car was the exterior. Years of beatings, courtesy of the weather and road, turned the originally crimson car a muddy pink. Inheriting a car from one’s grandmother has its perks, however. Well, perk. Kevin didn’t have to pay for the car, but what he saved in finances, he lost in dignity. Anyone who sat in the car walked out with the potent smell of someone dying clutching to their clothes just as the old woman clung to life.

Two heads in the car bounced against their headrests as Kevin turned to his passenger and said, “Doug, this is the cute burger babe I was talking about. She’s always working this late at night.” They pulled up to the window and Doug leaned awkwardly close to Kevin to get a better look at the girl. After Kevin paid for the food, Doug started rapidly slapping him on the shoulder and said, “Holy crap. Buddy, when she leans over you can see her whoppers.”

“… Her Big Macs,” Kevin said.

“Her McShakes.”

“Her Big N’ Tasties.”

“Her double downs.”

“Wicked. Eh, check this out,” said Doug still leaning over Kevin, “Excuse me, you think we can get some more ketchup?” Kevin and Doug shared a fist bump in recognition of how utterly smooth they were.

“You know I can hear everything you guys are saying,” the burger queen said, leaning over and handing them their ketchup. Kevin and Doug’s smiles were verbally slapped from their faces as both of their necks jerked forward to look at the road. “Have a wonderful night,” grinned the harassed worker, knowing she caused the juveniles as much embarrassment as if she had caught them with their hands down their pants. Two hollow voices replied in unison, “Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Well that sucked…We’re coming to see her again tomorrow, right?” said Doug as Kevin pulled out of the Burger King parking lot.

“Please. There’s no way I’d pass up seeing those Burger Kings,” Kevin replied.

“Her nuts ruled,” said Doug, “Oh yeah, nuts is a thing now. Chestnuts. Chest. Nuts. It’s going to catch on.”

“That is the greatest thing I’ve ever hear–” Kevin was cut off by Doug yelping.

“Crap! Is that the right time? I was suppose to be home thirty minutes ago.” yelled Doug throwing his hands up as what little color in his face drained.

Kevin had no qualms laughing in the face of his friend, “You’re twenty and your curfew is eleven, hoser!”

“Buddy, if your parents weren’t out of tow– You sho– Your curfew is eleven-thirty!” Doug sloppily retorted.

“Yeah, but yours is eleven! Ha!”

“Whatever, take me home already, will ya?” Doug said, playfully punching Kevin’s arm.

Single-story, square houses flew by the car’s fogged windows at twenty five miles per hour when Kevin finally pulled up to yet another suburban home. Doug mumbled something resembling a goodbye as he rushed it to his front door to avoid the bitter weather. However, as he reached into his pocket to find his keys, he turned on the balls of his heels and dashed back to the car. “Aww crap, I almost forgot! Chaw! I’ve been saving it for a good time. Big Chief, the best!”

Kevin took a minute to get the reference, “Oh, Okay! …Okay?”

Doug reached into his pocket and threw a small Ziploc bag at Kevin, “Yeah, no, it isn’t chewing tobacco, but you’re home alone so I got you some weed.” Doug was inside his house before Kevin had the time to process what had just happened.

* * *

Back home, Kevin laid in bed, stared at his yellowed popcorn ceiling and argued with himself. Why shouldn’t I? My parents aren’t home so there’s no worries there. I’ve never heard of a “bad trip” on weed. I was only straight-edge when I was dating Pam, and she left me for that bad-boy American. Don’t they say weed is a gateway drug though…Isn’t there a movie called The Gateway? Or was it The Gate? His thoughts were unable to stray any further as they were interrupted by one of Doug’s signature long texts:

“my curfew is 11 but uve never smoked. whos the loser now? wat else r u goin to do at 3 in the morning? watch paid programs and old reruns of the king of kensin.” Kevin was no stranger to getting run-on texts from Doug. As he awaited the rest of Doug’s text, Kevin pulled out one of the pre-rolled joints and smelled it. Kevin’s Loverboy ring-tone went off again as Doug’s text continued: “…gton. if anythin it will put u 2 sleep.besides i got heavyer stuff just called ‘the henry kushinger.’ stop bein sucha hoser. dont worry i didnt mix bags. actually i just checked again im 99% sure.”

I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t do this, Kevin thought. This is just marijuana, one joint. I’m not going to get addicted or anything. And buddy’s right, I’ll probably just fall asleep. With a surge of adrenaline, Kevin found the nearest lighter, grabbed a joint from the bag, lit it and took a surprisingly big hit for having never smoked. The coughing fit that followed made him regret not opening his straw earlier. Gulping down his soda, Kevin thought, …Now what? Milling around his room waiting for the effects, Kevin fixed some posters on his wall, breathed heavily on his window and drew a maple leaf, checked his phone and noticed that the batteries were dead. As soon as he plugged it in to his charger, the rocking sounds of “Everybody‘s Working for the Weekend” began delightfully hammering Kevin’s ears. Kevin had one new text message from Doug: “…that i gave you the wrong bag. so dont smoke what i gave u. ill come give u ur stuff tom. sorry buddy. enjoy ur reruns.”

“Great.”

Not knowing what to expect from a normal joint, let alone an apparent super joint, Kevin flipped on the television and began eating his Burger King meal. As he unwrapped his first burger he noticed the wrapper shaking in his hands. He was unsure if he was shaking from nerves or if the Kushinger was kicking in. Kevin went to the guide on his TV and found Degrassi. “My bat…it’s wooden,” said a character on the show. Hell yes! Kevin thought, remembering that the episode was the one where the character Spinner gets an erection. Now this is good television, Kevin thought, as the onscreen high jinks continued. Kevin giggled his way through some onion rings and half his burger when he heard, “Hey, umm, excuse me! Stop!”

Confused that the dialogue he heard was not synced with his TV, he pressed mute. “Please, umm can you stop?”

A now terrified Kevin squeaked, “Wh-Who’s there, eh?”

“Please stop eating us. Put me down and, umm, let us go. Please?”

Oh my God…there’s cannibals in my house eating people, Kevin thought. Wait… Even in Kevin’s weed-inebriated state he realized how ridiculous his last thought was. Putting down his food, Kevin slowly tip-toed towards his slightly ajar door.

“Thank you!” cheered the voice.

Realizing the voice was coming from behind him, Kevin shrieked and twirled around. “Down here, yes. Thank you for letting me go. My name is Rocko. And since you will never come to this realization on your own, I’m your burger.” Much to Kevin’s shock, and a little to his disappointment, the burger didn’t grow a mouth and eyes, the buns didn’t flap up and down like a bad commercial, Rocko’s voice simply emanated from his body.

Another voice came out of the greasy bag, “Oh joy, I’m your whopper, Stimpy.”

“Over here, Hey hey. We’re your fries. I’m Mary Kate and this is Ashley.” The dumb look on Kevin’s face bent into a smile as he asked in disbelief, “Mary Kate and Ashley? Take off.”

“Hey sweetie, apple pie’s here. I’m Tia, and this is my sister, Tamera.”

“Okay, now you’re just messing with me. Are all of you named after 90s cartoons and child st–” Kevin was cut off by an obnoxiously loud question coming from his drink.

“Who loves orange soda? I do, I do, I do-ooh.” It was at that moment Kevin realized the night was going to be a fantastic one. Kevin poured all the food out of the bags onto his desk.

With their introductions out of the way, Kevin said, “This is nuts, but I’m Kevin. I’m really sorry for eating half of the onion rings and eating half of you, Rocko. Speaking of which, you didn’t introduce yourself onion rings. Let me guess, Clarissa?”

“Ahem, Kevin, the onion rings aren’t, umm, alive. And no worries about eating me. It’s only painful when you’re actually biting into me. Good thing you stopped when you did because once you finish eating one of us entirely, umm, we die.”

Before Kevin was able to ask any questions, he was interrupted by Tia and Tamera exclaiming in unison, “Now this is good television.”

“Yeah! That’s what I was just thinking!” Kevin said. The new gang of friends watched a few more episodes of Degrassi, laughing at and ridiculing it together.

* * *

After the third episode of the night ended, Kevin unconsciously reached down and grabbed a french fry.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mr. Handsy. Watch what you’re doing up there. I’m not that type of girl!” said Mary Kate.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t even realize what I was doing,” said Kevin, as his stomach yelled at him for having not eaten earlier. Kevin was having such a joy playing with his food that he hadn’t noticed his own hunger growing. “It’s true what they say about munchies then,” Kevin laughed awkwardly.

Jokingly, the apple pies said, “And we look so delicious. Don’t you just want to eat us? Mmmm…”

Only half joking, Kevin responded, “Yeah, you look so delicious. I want to gobble you right up.”

“You got a girlfriend, Kevvy?” asked Ashley, steering the conversation away from food.

“Eh, no, but there’s this girl in my sociology class…”

“Oooh, someone has a childish crush in college!” Tamera said playfully.

“Quit teasing him, Tamera. So, how come you’re not dating her? You’re clearly good looking enough and, from what I can tell, you’re funny,” Tia said.

“Yeah Ken,” said Stimpy, getting Kevin’s name wrong, “You seem really cool. You clearly have good taste in TV, and I see that poster for Strange Brew on your door. Plus, I see you have all of Tegan and Sara’s albums. You’re the perfect Canadian!”

“Perfect or stereotypical? She doesn’t take me seriously. She calls me Gordy, which has always sounded like a fat kid’s name to me. I mean who would name their kid Gordy? So is she being offensive or endearing? It doesn’t matter, she’s outta my league, eh. And she has a boyfriend. Her boyfriend is the Fonz of Canada. Rick has ‘It,’” Kevin said with air quotes, “ I’m too safe. Too boring.”

“Trust me, you got ‘It,’ dude,” said Mary Kate.

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Kevin. What does this, umm, Rick have that you don’t?” Rocko asked.

“Well for one, a life. It’s a Friday night and I’m in here talking to my food, no offense, eh. If you guys weren’t here, I’d be here alone. I heard Michelle got three ear piercings, a nose ring, a lip ring and a tattoo in one night because her friend said she might look good with them. She’s impulsive! My week is planned out two weeks in advance. No, Rick is a bad-ass and I’m just a Canadian,” Kevin said as he looked out the window and noticed it had started to snow.

“Kevvy, none of us are bored! You’re loads of fun. You just gotta woo this girl,” encouraged Ashley.

“Yeah, you need a romantic 80s movie moment. You got a stereo you can hold over your head?” Tia asked.

Kevin’s soda advised Kevin to be a romantic. “Kevin! You gotta be something special, man. Long walks on the beaches with strawberries and peaches, you know?”

“So I should really go for it, eh?” Kevin said with newfound confidence in his voice.

Kevin’s meal shouted, “Yes!”

* * *

An hour later Kevin had finished his joint and their conversation about his girl turned into a “profound” look at love. “It’s like, a flower, you know? It blooms in the morning and bees come and pollinate…and it’s full of col-color… and life. Then at night, it closes up and looks, like, in on itself…ya kn–” Kevin’s inane love metaphor was cut off by an extraordinarily loud grumble from his stomach.

“Whoa there tiger, you okay there,” asked Stimpy nervously.

“Guys, I’m really hungry. It’s been hurting me for the last twenty minutes. Look, I even tightened my belt to fight hunger pains. I need to eat something…I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“…Hello?”

Kevin’s food sat stagnant, not making a noise. “Okay, okay, I can wait longer before I eat something.” Cheers erupted from the meal. “Thatta boy!” exclaimed the soda. Kevin laid down in the fetal position and held his stomach while he continued to talk to his food.

* * *

“Wake up!” Kevin jerked awake and almost rolled off his bed in fright. Doug was sitting on the floor with his back against a wall, laughing at his friend’s reaction. Kevin inaudibly grumbled something, irritated at Doug’s less-than-welcomed wake up call.

In a sleep deprived daze, Kevin looked around and scratched his head. “Why are you here so early, eh?”

“The Kushinger? Remember? I got you your weed, where’s mine?”

“I smoked it,” said Kevin throwing Doug the now empty zip-loc bag. “You need to stop texting such long messages…Where’s my food?”

“Wait, you actually smoked it? All of it? How was it? What happened?” Doug asked standing up, staring at the empty bag.

“Buddy, the food talks. We watched Degrassi, and there… was flowers…Where are they?” Kevin looked around his desk for the Burger King wrappers.

“Eh, that stuff must have been pretty powerful, I think you’re still high…”

“Rocko? Stimpy?…Mary Kate, Ashley? Tam–”

“Why are you naming 90s cartoon characters and child sta–”

“Where is my food?” Kevin asked with a more urgent tone.

“You mean the Burger King food from last night? Yeah, it was just right on the table,” Doug said, walking into Kevin’s bathroom and talking to him through the door, “You were asleep, so I made it my breakfast. Hope you don’t mind. I’ll buy you dinner tonight.” Doug continued talking to himself as he washed his hands and walked back into the room to see Kevin with his head buried in his hands, blubbering.

“When this boy meets world…” Kevin sobbed, rocking back and forth on his bed.

Grime Noir

This Week's Prompt: "False Epiphanies" - Think of a time when you had an epiphany, but it turned out to be wrong. (Yeah, because I didn't get that in the title.) Inspired by:



The bed creaks as I stand up. It’s a bitter night. The heating in this room is shot. Nights like these are the hardest, the longest. Winter in this city is relentless. It’s the first night I’ve spent in a motel though. I wasn’t missing much. The TV is busted. The shattered monitor only shows a rerun: The scarred man sitting on the edge of a bed, wondering when the burns won’t be noticeable. I mumble something about revenge against the arsonist who forever rendered me unlovable. There’s frost forming on the window. I’m a living, breathing irony. Then I remember why I’m here.

I switch on the lamp. The soiled lampshade stains the room a dirty yellow. The dame on the bed looks good in the light. Maybe I’m just saying that just because she’s here. Her delicate frame is resting on her elbows. She looks up at me. Her red locks of hair cover half of her face. How did I end up here? I’ve bottled up the city and poured it down my ready throat every night since the burn. Same time. Same bar. Same drinks. Nothing was “same” about her when she walked in. Only in bad movies do you see reactions like the one’s she caused. Why did she pick me?

I lay back down on the bed. She rolls on top of me. She says her name is Blondie. The pop-singer doesn’t compare. If there was a Heaven, angels wouldn’t compare. Blondie is perfect. And she wants me.

* * *

The sheets cling to my sweaty back as I stand up. It’s a sticky morning. The window’s completely frosted. In this room, I’m no longer the irony. I’m no longer unlovable. Blondie showed me that. She picked me. She wanted me. Wants me. For the first time in a long time, I don’t wake up cynical of the world. I turn around and Blondie is dressed. She is standing with one hand on her hip. “So, like, can you pay me. I got kids to get home to.”

Superman Returns

This Week's Prompt: "Opportunities Not Taken" Think of a time when you made a negative decision: chose not to do something, not to go somewhere, not to act in a certain way.


I have been in this business my entire life, literally. I’ve sold t-shirts, action figures, books, memorabilia, costumes, you name it. But what is my purpose through all of this? An American icon? I’ve saved the lives of millions of people but they only see my as a cartoon, a toy, a symbol. That’s the American dream, ain’t it? A poster child for truth and justice with all the accolades but the personal satisfaction drifted away decades ago. More than once I’ve thought of just ending it all, but of course, I’m Superman and I’m invincible. Hell, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve “died” and come back to fight once again for the American way.

Who can forget that time when a Kryptonic meteor collided with the sun and a solar flare caused my godforsaken powers and responsibilities to melt away. I went from Superman to Normalman overnight and I was criticized for my freedom. A damn savior of the planet countless times and they hated me for being like them. Talk about some therapy sessions just waiting to happen…Fear and self-loathing in Metropolis. I digress. I was spit on, kicked, mocked, ridiculed. My action figures thrown away, shirts burned, costumes tossed. Now was my chance to end it all. Show the world my greatest power, my greatest villain finally defeated…but I didn’t. Why? Love? Truth? Justice? The American way? I’m not Captain fucking America, I’m Superman. I stayed on this rock flying meaninglessly through space because of some lesson my Kryptonian parents instilled in me. And then my powers returned.

“The Great Superman Returns!” People rejoiced and felt safe once more. My triumphant returned once more in the monetization of my fame. There’s no money in being Superman though, they all like the goddamn Batman more anyway.

Kyle Harris and The Corndog Kid

This weeks prompt: "To pinpoint some previously unexplored material that remains 'hot' for you in an important way. 'Scan' back over your life and think of something that has stuck in your mind, but for no obvious reason. Render them precisely on the page beginning with the phrase 'I don't know why I remember.' Don't try to explain why they stuck with you; don't interpret their meaning. Just put you reader there."


I don’t know why I remember waiting for my mother to get a haircut back in my preteen years. After weeks of incessant complaints about my hair being hurled at me by my mother, she finally dragged me to the nearest Supercuts. No other woman, man, screaming kid or content kid was to be seen. The lone hair stylist there greeted us, as usual, with an eerily bright smile that was a little too big. With the way my mom practically forced me onto the stool for my haircut I doubt she could have withstood another second of the sight of my long hair. Hair on the ground under me hadn’t been swept up and began to make shapes at me as clouds do. Mostly hares. Since I’m not a hair fiend like my overbearing, hair-driven mother, I don’t remember the details of the haircut itself (I remember it being a little more bowl cut and a little less Bieber).

As soon as my beautiful locks and manly curls had been sheared from my scalp I found myself waiting outside as my mother pleasantly endured the hollow small-talk and insidious smells of dirty hair and hair products. Sitting in the heat while my chest was being slaughtered by the post-haircut itchiness, I was joined by an older teenager. He leaned against a pillar nearby kicking at a rock by his feet. In his hand, a Hot Dog On A Stick bag. The bag only served as a reminder that I felt like a hot dog slathered with the batter of the sweltering heat. I looked back through the window of the Supercuts to see my mom scanning one of those crinkled, outdated fashion magazines with the B-list celebrities on the cover that rest on the waiting area couches for months while the hair stylist blabbed on. The Corndog Kid, as I would later call him, was wearing black converse, tight blue jeans, a sky blue polo shirt, thick-rimmed glasses and a James Dean-esque haircut slightly flattened with sweat. His blue outfit stood out from the heated environment surrounding him as he reached into the bag and pulled out a corndog.

I watched as his opened, waiting mouth was greeted by the head of the corndog. Corndog Kid’s tongue hungrily greeted the underside of the deep fried cornmeal batter but was quickly pulled away as it burned his mouth. His back and head rested flat on the pillar, his feet several feet away from the wall propping him up, he gently rotated and blew on his hot lunch. Bullets of sweat started to form on his upper arm and forehead as he finally bit into the corndog. His scruff jaw moved up and down, his mouth opening slightly every time he chewed. Corndog Kid took one more delicate, yet sizeable bite when an overweight teen girl joined him.

“Please be his sister,” I thought as he offered a bite of his corndog to her.

Obviously accepting his offer, she finished the rest of the corndog in one chomp. Sitting in the car in the parking lot I saw Corndog Kid and mystery girl pull two more corndogs from the bag, take a bite, and kiss with their cheeks stuffed.

“She didn‘t cut your hair short enough,” my mom complains as she pulls out of the parking space.

Who Shamed Roger Rabbit?

Everyone knows the myth: All rabbits do is reproduce and multiply. And there's total truth behind the expression. Flippin' natural instincts. Anytime I fall in love with a little cotton-tail cutie she goes and reproduces with just any ol' Peter Rabbit. Actually, several ol' Peter Rabbits. It breaks my heart to watch, but I'm the only that seems to care that the bunny babe I love is intimate with a butt ton of other bunnies. Not one other male (or female) cares who they are with. Ugly, tall, short, fat, thin, poofy, slutty, etc., etc. Other males look at me and say, "Wait, you're complaining?! Any girl will sleep with you no matter what you look like and you're complaining?"
I think I'm the only monogomous rabbit on Earth. Bunny after bunny has left me just for the next guy with the bigger carrot to give her. I've fallen for beach bunnies, snow bunnies and any other bunny you can think of. There was even that time in college where I would play with that boy bunny. It doesn't matter what I try, my heart ends up being shattered as I watch them hop away to do the bunny hop with someone else.
And I can't even kill myself! Flippin' nature trying to force me to spread my seed and then die naturally. My body and brain battle anytime I try to jump off a cliff and my body always wins...freaking body.
Then I found my salvation! The one female bunny that didn't leave me for another male! We dated for three years, a record for any of the species. It was unheard of, especially since we never reproduced together. And she never left me for another male, she left me for a female though. Flippin' lesbunnys. Those were still the greatest three years of my life.
And those three years gave me hope for the future. I've given up trying to kill myself, instead, like the Energizer Bunny (before he went to jail for battery) I will keep looking for my soul mate. I will search the entire planet until I find her, and if I don't find her in the first place I look, I'll keep going and going and going...

Huggy Bear

It's not that she was overrated, actually the opposite. She was underrated in every way and THAT'S why things got tricky. Males that didn't know her weren't really interested until they met her. And oh boy did they become interested.
Every.
Single.
One.
And I'm no better than any of these males in that respect. Actually, it took me quite some time before I got punched with the right hook that was her. No surprise that like every other male that met her, I thought I was the only bear on the planet to notice her like this. That thought was instantly erased as I noticed all the swooning bears around me. Things suddenly became like fifty paws swinging their greedy claws at one giant golden salmon. And I sat around like Winnie with a goofy look on my face and honey covered paws. Not that I didn't want to try to catch this beardacious babe, but I wasn't a tough bear. I was basically a life-size, living teddy bear. More Care than Grizzly.
Whatever, this isn't about me, it's about her. Every second that goes by knowing her showed us, the males, that we can never truly comprehend how bearific she was. I saw male after male fight each other to just get the chance to talk to her again. And still I watched longingly at her whilst making a dumb beehive hat or something. THEN SHE DATED THE POLAR BEAR. What a freaking rich, yuppie a-hole. It was unBearable! Ohh sooOoOOOo exotic! Whatever. He only wanted her because he knew he could beat the competition. She went down a notch after going with somebeardy as lame as him. However, I didn't do anything about it. I went off and made the mistake of dating a black bear...let's not go there. Anyway, after I came to my senses she finally dumped him!
Aaaand then instantly began dating a grizzly bear. Oh man, so she's shallow too? She just wanted a bear with the flair (and muscles). I hated every second of watching her with any another male. However, he was poached. She cried and still I sat and did nothing to console her. I sat and did nothing.
In fact, I've been sitting this whole time. I'm actually really sore. I think I'm going to stand up now. OW! Oh my God! My butt-hair came off! I sat on honey and it glued my hair to the ground! I have a BEAR ASS!

Nyea, just kidding folks. But I did stand up in the metaphorical sense and talked to her. She shot me down rather quickly. Then she dated a panda bear. Then I asked her out on a pic-a-nic (no wonder she didn't give me a shot) and rejected me again. Then she left. To this day I have no idea where she went. I hope she found her happiness to wherever she left to.
"So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill."

As for me, I grew up and married a grizzly. A male grizzly. After all, I am a bear. WHOOPWHOOP

A Fishy Love

So there you were at the bottom of the ocean. It was pitch black and you were surrounded by alien creatures and me, the angler fish. You weren't aware that I existed though. I never lit my antenna for you, but I watched you from a distance. I watched as you wasted your time with the fake charms of the vampire squid. As you were dazzled by the good looks and lights of the firefly squid and the green-eye fish. But you passed by me without a care. You were too good for the rest of the creatures down here and you knew it. You were swimming in the dark with sharks and you were okay with it, but I wasn't. When you went for the blobfish I drew the line. Okay, so I didn't look nearly as good as the guy, but come on! The only guy you could have gone for lower than the blobfish is the sea pig. So as you went out with the blobfish (I think his name was Blobbly Hernandez. Maybe you dated him because he was exotic, but the guy was a real remora [My apologies to all remoras for comparing you to this creature]) So as you went out with the blobfish I finally decided to shine my light for you. Of course you were attracted to it as the countless other victims were, but just as all of my other crushes, you're attraction to the light was forgotten as you took one look at me and swam away as fast as you could. My heart instantly broke, but then I noticed that you had stopped swimming. In fact, you had turned around and were swimming back to me. My mind began to race for the answer as to why but before you could say anything a light flickered above us. Little by little the ocean above us began to twinkle as hundreds of lights materialized all around us. If anything in the sea could rival the beauty of you, it would be the sight appearing around us. Looking back, nothing has topped that perfect moment in time. Later I would make it to the surface and see stars, but you weren't there with me so it was trash in comparison. As the lights shimmered around you, your eyes met mine and glistened with such intensity that I began to cry. Never have I experienced such an intimate moment with any being. Then the lights began to move slowly towards you and flicker out until only one light in front of me was still on. It was my light. Before I had any time to even open my gills you were gone in the chaotic sounds of water and bubbles. Hundreds of my own trapped you and took you from me. You died not knowing that I wasn't like the others that ate or ever tried to eat you. You died because of my own selFISHness.