by Jordan Krall
The guy pointed to the sign in back of him. “A bunch of classic Barbara Stanwyck movies. Are you interested?”
“Give me a minute,” Peachy replied, wanting so much to take his elephant tusk gun and beat the ticket seller to a bloody pulp and then use those pieces of pulp in a display of snowy, blood-soaked divination.
He settled on buying a ticket.
“For an extra five dollars more, would you like a Barbara Stanwyck Halloween mask?” He held up the mask.
Peachy looked at the seductive features of the mask and felt his heart flutter a warning.
“Shove it up your ass!’ Peachy said. With a grunt and a curse, he fell backwards into the snow and crawled away from the theatre.
“You shove it up your ass!” the ticket seller laughed while he started rolling a joint.
Chapter 9
“Hey, pull over for a second,” Jake said. He tapped the window with his knuckles.
“What for?” Tommy slowed the car down.
“Just pull over.”
A parking spot opened up in front of the liquor store so Tommy pulled right in. “Okay. Now what?”
Jake gave a half smile. “I’m starting to think you might’ve been right.”
“About what?”
“About this whole situation. I mean, why are we running? It’s like we turned into a bunch of paranoid assholes all of a sudden.”
Tommy stared Jake. “What the hell is this? I told you that you were overreacting from the get-go. Christ Almight. I can’t believe this shit.”
“I know. It’s my fault, I’m sorry. I’ve just been on edge for a few days.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I have no fucking clue.” Jake ran his hands through his hair. “It’s this town, it’s messing with my head or something.”
“I know what you mean.” Tommy didn’t elaborate but instead looked out his window.
Jake shouted. “Oh my god, isn’t that…?” He pointed to the sidewalk where a man was pulling his hair out of his head, ranting and raving. His skin was blotched partly from the cold and partly from years of hygiene neglect.
“Holy shit, it’s Pastor Timothy. I haven’t seen him since he threw that rock through the window of the soup kitchen.” Tommy laughed. “That fucker is crazy.”
“Yeah, was he that nuts when he was preaching? I can’t imagine any church would put up with that shit.”
“My parents used to just say he had a nervous condition or something. Anytime he’d do something fucked-up, they’d tell me that we have to forgive him because God forgave him. I just think he’s a hateful son of a bitch.”
“Are pastors even allowed to hate anything?”
“Apparently.”
“I thought religion was supposed to make you nice.” A flash of memory illuminated Jake’s mind. He remembered a kind uncle from his childhood who used to point to the grass and say “That’s God” and then point to the sky and say “That’s God”. Before Jake could ask any questions, the man would point to a stray cat and say “That’s God, too.” Jake would then be treated to an ice cream cone which was, much to Jake’s surprise and delight, God as well.
“I don’t know. I guess for some people it’s something to make them nice and compassionate. I think Pastor Timothy just hates a lot of things, figures God wants him to. Figures if they don’t believe the same things as he does, they aren’t worth giving two shits about. He’s just miserable and thinks that he might as well be since he’s going to heaven to live in paradise.”
“That’s one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever heard.” Jake thought again of that compassionate uncle who spent most of his free time helping feed the homeless, mentoring orphans, and helping nurse sick animals back to health. All of this without having gone to church. His good deeds had outshined his lack of religious showboating.
That all ended, however, when the uncle was eaten alive by squid after being thrown into the Raritan River by an angry mob of religious conservatives. They thought that his time would best be spent raising funds for the church rather than helping the needy. After all, Jake’s uncle was the mayor and what else should a politician do but support the church?
Tommy and Jake watched as the disheveled man screamed while lighting a book of matches on fire. “The Lord your God is a devouring fire, a jealous God!”
Jake scoffed. He remembered his uncle reciting a scripture from the bible….Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude…
Pastor Timothy spit onto a woman’s face, a woman he suspected of being a homosexual and, even worse, a democrat. Witnessing this, Jake thought again of his uncle… For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son.
“Ah, I guess having a son coming home a longhead doesn’t help either.” Tommy reasoned. “That’s gotta do some psychological damage to a man.”
Jake felt a tang of compassion. “Shit, I guess that explains some of it. But still, what’s the point of religion if it ain’t gonna help you deal with shit?”
Pastor Timothy was scratching the skin off of his face, throwing the flakes of flesh into the air like confetti. “Hear what the Lord thy God has spoken! If anyone comes to me and does not hate,” the pastor said, gritting his teeth, “his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, even his own life, he cannot be my disciple, says the Lor-“ Pastor Timothy was cut short by a snow shovel to the face wielded by an elderly drag queen.
“Ah, shut your pathetic little pie-hole. The hell I’m hatin’ my parents for any god!” the drag queen shouted as Pastor Timothy fell backward, his yellow teeth coming straight through his lower lip.
Tears started to stream from the pastor’s eyes. “My son, my son, the pagans killed my son,” he repeated over and over.
Jake looked at Tommy. “This town’s fucking weird, man.”
“No kidding. But it’s not as weird as Fisherville, let me tell you. That place is a fucking zoo.” He laughed and looked at his watch. “Shit, I feel calmer now that we’re not going fucking crazy running from nonexistent assassins.”
Jake laughed, reclined his seat, and continued to look at the scene out on the sidewalk. “Man, let’s just sit here and enjoy the show. But I do think we should give Aaron a call later, like you said.”
“Sounds good.” Tommy and Jake sat for a few minutes, watching Pastor Timothy and the drag queen arguing over who got to keep the shovel.
“You hit me with it, look at my lip, I’m a wreck, I should be able to keep the shovel!” The pastor was insistent about it in between mumbling about his son and how the pagans were destroying the country with all of their talk of peace.
The drag queen wasn’t having any of it. “Oh no, you don’t. It belongs to my girlfriend and the hell if I’m gonna let some impotent fire and brimstone cocksucker take it home so he could shovel heavy metal albums onto his little bonfire!”
Jake laughed at the drag queen’s argument and then dug in his pocket. “I’m going outside for a few minutes, have a smoke. Want one?”
“No thanks.”
Outside the car, Jake smoked and watched the crowd that was growing around the shovel debate. Inside, Tommy leaned his head to the side and stared at Jake. Man, he put on some weight. Should I tell him? Nah, he’ll get pissed. Maybe I’ll tell him we should join a gym together.
His eardrums crackled as a gunshot rang out. Instinctively his head went down and as he did so he saw that Jake did the same thing. Then he realized that Jake didn’t go down to protect himself. He had been shot.
Chapter 10
Tommy crawled over the seats and out the passenger side door. “Jake! Jake!” He could see that the shot wasn’t fatal. It had grazed the side of his stomach. Despite being scared and face-first in a slushy pile of what looked like snow, motor oil, and dog shit, Jake was okay.
“Can you move?” Tommy asked him, pulling him up.
“Yeah, I could. What the fuck was that? I knew someone was after u
s. Christ!”
Tommy held Jake and started him walking. “Let’s fucking go, NOW.” They started running, not bothering to look back at where exactly the bullet came from. They had an idea about who it was but weren’t in any sort of rush to confirm their suspicions.
Even with the snow and the screaming crowd on the sidewalk, they managed to make a good run for it. They made it to the corner and slipped up the side street.
Up the street Peachy stood clad only in his dirty diaper, brandishing his ivory gun. His thoughts alternated between thinking about those two assholes and creating new adventures of Fauntleroy LeRoux. Peachy created an alternate ending of the comic strip, one in which Little Bing Bong does not usher in the apocalypse and mankind does not have to learn the ultimate truth about their existence. Peachy loved ignorance and he didn’t want to know any more than he had to.
Through his quickening madness he heard Pastor Timothy and started to agree with the man. Maybe this life was a shithole. Maybe he should just put his faith in God so that he can spend an eternity in paradise. Who would want to be happy here and now on earth when you could be happy forever in the ambiguous heaven of God? “Damn straight, pastor, you have a point.” Peachy sniffed the muzzle of his gun. “I’m livin’ this life for my soul and my soul only. God damn everyone else.” He giggled.
Pastor Timothy looked over at Peachy. “Oh yeah, son, you smell that? Smells like the burning flesh of sinners, don’t it? Sweet smell, it is.” He looked at Peachy’s diaper. “Does your momma know you’re out here in the cold?”
Though his mother had been dead for over twenty years, Peachy said “Yes, she does,” and then walked down the street toward Tommy and Jake. He thought he heard police sirens but realized it was only the humming of the Dynatox factory down the street.
The snow got heavier and blinded him for a minute. Every snowflake became a weak hand of resistance that pushed him away from his goal. Tiny white hands, cold with rebellion, slapped Peachy across the face, across the stomach, across the legs. It melted against his skin and soothed his diaper rash.
Meanwhile, Tommy and Jake stood against a brick wall. Tommy took out his gun, opened it up and thanked God that it was loaded as he had never checked after buying it from Red Henry. With a deep breath, he cocked his gun and turned the corner.
Through the blinding snow, Peachy was stumbling toward him in the middle of the snow-covered street. Tommy quickly aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped into Peachy’s kneecap and it exploded like a piece of oversized ravioli. Despite the wound, he didn’t go down but instead used his good leg to stay standing like a scarecrow.
Tommy turned to Jake. “Get up! Get the fuck up! We gotta go!”
Jake was pale and mumbling.
“The bullet barely hit you, Jake. Come on, you’re alright. You’ll be fine. We gotta go NOW!”
With a cough, Jake motioned for him to get closer. Once Tommy was in earshot, he started talking in a gargled voice. “You know, my dad was in the war. He wasn’t supposed to have another tour of duty but he wanted to go. He was patriotic, you know?”
“I didn’t know that, Jake.” Tommy didn’t like where this was headed. Besides, they didn’t have the time to go into all of this.
“He came back alive. Mom and I were happy he didn’t come back a longhead, you know, but the thing is, he just wasn’t the same. He didn’t have that spark that we loved, didn’t care so much about life, about living things. It was like he became an inanimate object during his tour or something.” He coughed up blood and wiped his mouth.
“Oh shit, Jake, shit, man..” Tommy whispered, using his own jacket to wipe away the blood. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Fuck, man, let’s go.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer; he started crying.
Jake smiled. “After three months, dad died. Doctors told me and mom they didn’t really know why. Said he just gave up. Never heard of that before, you know, someone just giving up and their body listens. My dad didn’t believe in heaven even though he went to church every week. I was there when he died and know what he told me? Know what his last words were?”
Tommy thought it was a rhetorical question but Jake stared straight at him as if expecting an answer.
“I don’t know, Jake, what were they?”
“He said to me ‘Son, none of this is real. Not a goddamn thing. We’re all the fucking same. All just ants waiting to be burnt by the sun.’ That was it and then he closed his eyes like he was going to sleep but there was no snoring, no fidgeting. He was just gone.”
Tommy turned his head and sobbed into his hands. He’d heard many stories about Jake’s father but never this one. He knew Jake’s father was a dependable, loving father who always provided for his family. Even though he was disappointed in Jake’s criminal path in life, he had never turned his back on his son.
Jake’s head fell back. Tommy could see that the life was slowly leaking out of his body. He bent down and gave Jake a long, soft kiss on the lips that tasted like copper and salt. “I love you,” Tommy said, “Don’t go.”
A barely audible bubble of speech escaped from Jake. “I love you, too.” He coughed. “Thanks for the laughs.” And then, like a snowflake on a stove, he was gone
.
Chapter 11
Aaron Jeffords stood in his office looking out the window at the pink, snow filled sky. He shook his head when he saw the image of Barbara Stanwyck appear and noticed that her breasts were much larger than they were in her films. Her cleavage was a long, deep black lightning bolt across the sky. Aaron longed to smother himself in it, lapping up the breast-sweat. He imagined her drooling down her chest causing him to drown in her abundant saliva.
He leaned back, picked up his phone, and dialed his attorney.
“Hey, Bill, Aaron Jeffords here. Yes, remember what we were talking about earlier today?”
“Yes, of course I do. What about it?”
“Is everything in order?”
“Uh, yeah, Aaron, why? What’s the matter? Aaron!” Bill shouted.
Aaron hung up the phone. He opened up a desk drawer and took out a gun. He turned to face Barbara, mentally sinking in between her massive, fiery breasts. The sky behind her became a mixture of pink and black swirls. She lifted a foot and Aaron could see her wrinkled soles that were as large as a mountain. In an instant he could smell her foot stench through the windowpane. Aaron sniffed up as much of the smell as possible and then put the gun to his head.
Lord, I’m on my way.
He pulled the trigger with no hesitation. Blood spurted and pieces of brain fell like dice onto his desk. His skull, however, stayed connected to his body in one piece albeit a bit disfigured. He now resembled a longhead. The gun dropped to the floor, smashing a spider that had come out to witness the sight of Barbara Stanwyck outside. Aaron’s body fell forward and was held up against the window by his misshapen forehead.
Chapter 12
Pete and Randy dragged their sleds up the hill, laughing the whole way up. They were quite grateful that this early snowfall had come. School would surely be cancelled the following day and that would mean more sledding and more snowball fights.
When they reached the top, Pete saw something that nearly made him faint. A dead donkey, stiff yet bubbling from corpse-gas, was lying in the snow.
“Holy shit! A pony!” Pete yelled.
“It’s not a pony, jack-ass, it’s a donkey!” Randy was quick to correct his friend.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Duh, it’s dead.” Randy walked closer to it, still holding onto his sled. His eyes flickered with adolescent creativity. “Let’s put it on your sled and send him down the hill.”
“Why my sled? Let’s use yours!”
“Mine’s brand new. Your sister gave you that piece of shit so who cares what happens to it?”
“Fine,” Pete gave in, knowing that arguing was futile when talking to Randy. He brought his sled over to the donkey and the two of them held their breaths and heave
d the donkey onto it. “We’re gonna get in so much trouble. Man, I don’t want to be grounded on a snow day.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pussy. No one will find out. Trust me.”
They positioned the sled so that the donkey would be sent down flying down a path that ended just to the left of Main Street.
Randy took a deep breath. “On three, okay? One..two…”
Chapter 13
Even with his kneecap blow off, Peachy was able to stagger down the street toward Tommy. I hit one of them, I know I did. He saw the two of them run away and felt his self-esteem lower just a bit. I used to have better aim.
From around the corner, Tommy stuck his gun out and sent three shots in Peachy’s direction. Two of the bullets missed but one hit him in the other kneecap, sending him to his shredded knees. With the diaper on, it made Peachy resemble an ugly infant playing in the snow. He dropped his gun.
Tommy looked at Jake one last time and then came out onto Main Street. He aimed his gun and was ready to finish Peachy off when he heard a ruckus down the street. Through the thick snowflakes he saw a small army of longheads stomping up the street, shooting the guns that Red Henry had sold them. One by one, they slaughtered the citizens of Thompson in a macabre parade.
After seeing this, he knew that Peachy was the least of his worries. Then he saw the bastard pick up his gun. Before Tommy could react with his own firearm, a brown and red blur sped past him and into smashed into Peachy, slicing him in two.
“What the fuck…” Tommy questioned as he now realized that the blur that had turned Peachy into a quivering mess of flesh and diaper was a dead donkey on a sled. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.
Tommy took another look toward the oncoming assault of the longheads and decided his best bet was to go over the hill into Fisherville. He would have liked to take Jake’s body with him but knew that he didn’t have the time. Besides, he knew that whatever consciousness or soul that had been Jake was now far away from his corpse.