“Oh, sorry. Yeah, we didn’t know that; my bad,” John replied coolly.
“Well, I’m afraid that, your rather half-hearted apology aside, I’m going to have to ask for that li’l popgun of yours all the same,” Sheriff Cane said, holding out his hand. John shrugged and nonchalantly placed the gun in the sheriff’s hand. The sheriff looked somewhat surprised by how easily John had surrendered his weapon, but shrugged it off and said, “Great. That’s real fine, boys. It’s mighty nice to see y’all showin’ some good sense at last. Now, I’m just going to have to take you down to the jail where you can think about what you’ve done for a piece. I’m sure the mayor will be stopping by real soon so he can have a heart to heart with you boys about the conditions of your continued stay here in our fair town. That way we don’t have any more embarrassing incidents like this ‘un.” With that, he ushered John and Kurt to the back of his police cruiser.
They hopped inside the cruiser with no undue hesitation or fuss. He looked skeptically at them in the back of his vehicle for a moment, then slammed the door and hesitantly climbed in the front. Sheriff Cane started the cruiser up and started off through the streets toward the jail. “Oh good sweet merciful Lordy, I nearly forgot,” he said suddenly, slamming on the brakes. He rolled down the window and yelled to the closest passerby, “Would one of you get that dumb drunken fool to the hospital before he bleeds out in the street!”
CHAPTER 20
PRISON AND THE PLAN
John and Kurt sat somberly on an uncomfortable metal bench in their dreary prison cell, awaiting the inevitable fallout from the shooting of an unarmed drunkard and their subsequent capture. The prison cell they had been placed in was by far the most non-ornate thing they’d seen in this town to date. It managed to be somehow even more drab than the church. It was dreadfully plain, with flat walls of a drab grey color. All of the furnishings, what few there were: a metal toilet, a grimy sink, and the uncomfortable benches, were all made from the same faded silver metal. This cold and sterile room they found themselves in lacked any color or imagination whatsoever, and should’ve been by all rights deeply depressing; somehow, in this town full of such outlandish, garish oddities, it seemed in some way to be strangely comforting, if not a little refreshing.
“Well, this is going simply swimmingly. I’m so glad we could find the time to get out of the house and do this,” John chirped optimistically.
“Yes, we’ve managed to be arrested exactly according to schedule, yay. Go us! Although, for the record, I fail to remember any part of the plan that included you blowing some poor guy’s kneecap clean off in the middle of the street with an inordinate amount of potential witnesses. That seemed like a risky play to me.”
“Well, that’s what makes me one of the greats, buddy; the ability to improv, shake things up, and be unpredictable. That should keep that dancing demon on his tippy toes.”
“Right, so now that we got that unpleasantness out of the way, here we find the shiny, all-new unpleasantness of us rotting away in a jail cell. Remind me again, John, because it seems a little ludicrous to me now; what exactly was it that convinced us that this particular bit of scheming by the preacher was the best plan we could come up with?”
“Because it was the plan they’d least expect.”
“Ah, right. Well, we have them right where we want them then.”
“As crazy as it may seem, I really don’t see any better options, pal. We just have to relax, stick to the plan, and hope for the best. Speaking of which, remember the plan; once they let us out of here, you subtly convince the sheriff that you are going to make a break for it. That way, you bait him into going out to the road by the railroad tracks so he’s well out of our way, and remember, we need you to really sell it. We need you to make him think that you’re honestly hell-bent on trying to get past that train. That way, while he’s out there wasting all his time looking for you, I’ll break back in here and steal our explosives back. You give him the slip, cut back here, and take a few for yourself. That way you can go back and blow that annoying trap of a train off the tracks once he leaves, and clear a way out of town for us if everything goes horribly wrong. Which, let’s face it, it almost definitely will, knowing how our luck is running lately.
I’ll take the rest of the explosives with me and reduce the mayor’s precious town hall into a flaming pile o’ cinders. That’s where all his power comes from, so after that’s destroyed we’ll be able to just walk right out of this place for good. Whatever you do, don’t forget whenever we make our move it has to be during the day. Remember, the preacher said that all the defenses come out at night to protect the town while he’s feeding, and I’d rather not have to deal with demons and monsters today. That would seem like a risky play.”
***
As they sat, embroiled deeply in conversation rehashing the intricate details of their plan, directly across the cell from them and glaring intently in their direction was a behemoth of a man. He sat on the bench opposite theirs and leaned forward aggressively toward them. Noticing the undue attention they garnered from him, they looked up and observed that he seemed to be nothing more than a hulking mass of muscles and tattoos. He had a black eye patch and a wicked grin hovered on his face.
“Um, can we help you with something, kindly stranger?” Kurt asked. The man just continued to glare at them with his trademarked cruel sneer and growled with a low guttural sound in response. Without flinching, Kurt cheerily chirped, “Hi, my name’s Kurt, fella. What’s yours?”
The man still glared, but finally spoke, “You don’t need to know, feller.”
“I was hoping for Snake,” Kurt whispered to John.
“Well ,that’s fair enough, pal, but for the sake of politeness and on behalf of me, my fellow captive, and wrongfully-imprisoned, musically-challenged rogues everywhere, may I sincerely say what a unique pleasure it is to make your acquaintance,” John offered. The man didn’t reply or show any form of reaction to his brazen courteousness, so he asked, “Sooo, whatcha in for?”
This time the menacing prisoner replied, leaning back as he did, the shadows from the prison bars casting eerie shadows across his face as he regaled them with his tale: “I had suspected for quite a while now that my old lady was runnin’ around behind my back. Let me tell ya right now, up-front like; I don’t stand for that kinda thing, not one single, solitary bit. So one fateful day, I pretended to leave for work like I always do in the morning, but instead, I hid in the bushes outside the house, just outta sight, all stealthy-like, and I watched and I waited. Sure enough, I wasn’t even out of the house for more than thirty minutes and this here feller showed up, tall skinny beanpole he was, with that slicked-back hair and those fancy city duds; oh, he made me powerful sick. So, I did what any real man would do in that situation; I snuck back in the house and crept along the hall real quiet-like so as they wouldn’t hear me. That’s when I saw him kissing her there, in the house I paid for with my own two hands, my hard work. I’m out every day, busting my back, dealing my drugs on the street corner and running my hookers and all for her.
I tell you rightly, I couldn’t even think straight when I saw ‘em together; so I just took one of the kitchen knives in my hand and I sliced him wide open, stem to stern, afore he knew what was happening. Took my sweet time though, made her watch while I did it. Then I reached in, pulled out his intestines, wrapped them around his scrawny li’l chicken neck, and I hung him from the ceiling fan with ‘em. I turned on the fan and I watched the blood spray out and his little twig legs that were a-kicking in the air as he went round and round, organs flying out everywhere, splattering on the walls. Tell ya true, I don’t rightly know whether he bled to death or choked to death first; don’t matter, really. All I do know is he got off easy, compared to what I did to my cheating trollop of a wife,” the man said with a sneer and that same evil grin. Kurt just stared at him in distress, disgust, and disbelief; his jaw literally hung wide open, not knowing what to say.
“Well,
yeah, I guess that would land you in jail, then,” John finally answered slowly, sliding as far away from him as he could on the bench.
“Oh, that wasn’t it, friends. That wasn’t what did it, not by a long shot. Y’all see, being as the mayor is a big-time demon and all, he thought it was a hoot and a half when he saw it. He even took a whack or two at the guy’s body with that cane of his, like he was some kind of flesh piñata. Trouble was, I didn’t feel much like singin’ the funeral song when they buried my little tramp of a wife. Oh, and I raped her dog Fluffy too, but I think mostly it was the not singin’ thing; he’s real particular ‘bout that.”
“Huh...” John replied.
“Dude, dibs!” Kurt whispered into John’s ear. John kicked his friend as hard as he dared, without being so obvious as to draw the attention of this monster of a man seated before them and he prayed the man hadn’t heard Kurt’s ill-timed joke.
***
The mayor and the sheriff watched this entire morbid exchange on a TV monitor in the sheriff’s office. They laughed uncontrollably, but their laughter was not directed at the hulking prisoner.
“That was their plan, the entire thing!? Well, I do declare; they ain’t very bright but they got guts, that’s for sure. Not that it’ll do ‘em any good,” Sheriff Cane said.
“Yes, and just like our pal’s little friend, we’re going to get to see them soon enough, how lovely.”
“Ha! Good one, boss.”
“It’s a shame, really, my dear sheriff. You know, I wasn’t lying when I said that I thought that they would’ve made excellent additions to our town. It’s been quite a long while since I’ve had such amusing prey to play with.”
“Yeah, darn shame that, but whatcha gonna do? Well, you want me to just put ‘em out of their misery and shoot ‘em both in the brainpan right now in that there cell, or what? It’d sure save time later. Plus the cells hose off so easily for a quick hassle-free cleanup. You can’t beat that. Suppose we could let our friend in there kill ‘em, but where would the fun be in that?”
“No, that won’t be necessary, my dear sheriff. I may as well give them the grand speech, as it were, while I’m here. Maybe they’ll change their minds; maybe I just like hearing myself talk. It doesn’t really matter; any way you slice it, their souls will still be mine by the end of the day, but I may as well give it the ol’ college try since I did come all the way down here and all.”
***
The mayor, escorted by Sheriff Cane, grandly entered the cell block, striding proudly to stand in front of his prized captives. The sheriff opened the cell and said, “You’re free to go, pal, but remember I’ll be watching you like a hawk, so try to stay outta trouble, you li’l scamp.”
“Yes sir, thank you, sir,” the hulking prisoner replied, surprisingly respectfully as he shuffled out of the jail.
The sheriff then closed and relocked the cell. The mayor moved to stand directly in front of the bars facing them and said, “Well, this is a mighty fine mess you’ve managed to land yourselves in gentlemen, and to think all this silly unpleasantness could’ve been avoided oh-so-easily.”
“Well, in my defense, the worst thing we did was shoot the town drunk in the kneecap. You just let double-homicide, dog-rapin’ dude go,” John said comically.
“Well, in his particular case, his crime was far less heinous than yours. You see, it wasn’t so much the brutal, sadistic, murders or the not-singing at the funeral that bothered me. All that, I could deal with; it’s just that I really liked that dog and I wanted to be the one to rape it. It was always looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes; oh yeah, you know that li’l hussy wanted it, but I got over it. Plenty of dogs in the kennel, as they say. It’s just another remarkable tribute to me being the bigger man; speaking of which, I don’t even hold ruining my suit last night against you. Although it helps I remembered I’m basically magic and could fix it with a simple thought, but there you are.”
“Well that seems...fair...” John replied, not knowing how to respond. He hoped the mayor was kidding, but seriously doubted it all the same.
“Yes. Well, in any case, it was delicious; now, if we can be serious for a moment gentlemen, I’d like the opportunity to just speak plainly to you for a while. if I may. Which I may because let’s face it; you can’t really go anywhere, now can you? By now I know that you must have heard some, shall we say, less than savory things about our beloved town here from that nasty little rumormonger of a preacher you’ve been hanging about with. For the record, I am truly disappointed by your choice of companions here in our fair town, but I am greatly encouraged by the fact you chose to go your own way. That shows great initiative on your part and some serious improvement in your decision-making skills gentlemen; I, for one, applaud you for that.
To set the record straight, let me tell you a little something about this unique slice of paradise we enjoy here. As you know, it’s a place between the worlds. I saw the world for what it was and the afterlife for the pretty li’l lie that it is, so I was forced to take drastic action. I carved out my own little piece of what you kind folks know as ‘limbo’, and I turned that barren, desolate wasteland into all the wonders that you see before you now; a beautiful, musical utopia sprang up from where once there was nothing. It is true and I freely admit to it, that I do feed upon the souls of the townsfolk here, but they do get to retain their souls, mind you, and they get to live forever too; don’t you forget about that. That is a pretty good tradeoff if you ask me, or ask anyone for that matter.
Obviously, the gentle citizens of Musicarolina have had no problem with our, shall we say, unorthodox arrangement throughout the centuries; it seems to me that you may just be a little bit judgmental. You should really take a hard look at yourself about that, before you go casting any more stones in my direction, but I digress. It also may be true that some poor devils do happen to expire within the boundaries of my world; you have to allow for the fact that accidents are bound to happen even in the nicest of places. Why, you could just as easily get ripped apart by an unfriendly shark in the tropics as eaten by our lake monster. However, I would like to point out that only the souls of the lost are ever even allowed to come into my little realm. Why, it may seem cruel to you on the surface; if you think about it for only a microsecond, you’ll see that they lived far beyond their expected years out there, here in Musicarolina, and I, in my infinite compassion, prevent their souls from an eternity of hellfire and damnation. Now, friends, that doesn’t make me evil, does it? Why, I think it makes me downright saintly, if you ask me. On the other hand, the outside world that you came from, the world you seem to be so consumed with thoughts of returning to, well, gentlemen, let me enlighten you, that’s the real hell.
You know why I decided to do what I did? It’s because that world out there, that you love so very much, had ceased to interest me in the slightest way. You see, as a full-time demon, my job was to corrupt the souls in my charge, but it just wasn’t a challenge for me anymore. We demons don’t experience time the way you mortals do out in the world. It’s not so much a linear experience for us. After one’s first millennia on Earth or so, time sort of loses its meaning; it blurs, mixed in with the visions and prophecies of the future. It’s like one is experiencing the entire wondrous totality of time within a single instant. We move in and out of time, just behind the history written in the books; messing with souls throughout the ages.
As a side note, I peeked ahead to the end of days, spoiler alert; it doesn’t end well for the world, but that’s neither here nor there. This, unfortunately, can get monotonous under the best of circumstances. What I had discovered lately, much to my great dismay and chagrin, was that mankind was now so full of hatred, selfishness, lust, violence, prejudice, and all other forms of perfect wickedness, and they were only getting worse the closer they came to the bitter end. Which was fine and all, but it isn’t any fun if I’m not the one pushing the lemmings off the cliff. Each generation pushes the envelope of what’s acceptable
further toward the edge of the abyss and the next generation gladly picks it up from there and pushes it further still; each successive generation pushes closer and closer to their own imminent doom. It’s gotten so bad that we demons don’t even have to nudge them the tiniest bit to get them to do the wrong thing anymore; they just want it, with every miserable fiber of their being, they want it. They desire it to their rotten core, gentlemen.
I’m sure the preacher told you that evil never really wants to totally destroy good. That much of what he says is true at least, for what would be the fun in that? I know he told you that because I‘m the one who told it to him a couple hundred years ago. After all, what’s a devil to do when I take my delight in taking the purest of souls and getting them to commit the most heinous and vile acts against their fellow man, but I don’t even have to try? If there is no effort, no challenge, there can be no real reward. What’s the point of going on then, when there are no truly pure souls to corrupt anymore? Granted, there are still some of the greats working hard out there, still in the game. A demon friend of mine is in charge of a whole flock of supposedly pious souls down in a church in Kansas. Why, you should see the awful sins of pride, hatred, and wrath, just to name a few, among so very many beautiful others, that he gets them to commit on a daily and extremely public basis, and all the while saying it’s in the name of their loving Lord and savior. Oh, that kind of pure evil still gives me the type of chills that run up and down my spine, gentlemen.
I see that perfect wickedness and a tear runs down my cheek. You see, when you hear a still small voice telling you to hate, to destroy, to murder, to go against the very principles of your religion, it isn’t your God speaking to you, whispering in your ear; it’s someone just like me. Sadly, those folks have become almost too evil for even me now, as much as they’ve given in to the evil that speaks softly in their ears. That’s coming from a demon who eternally feeds off the souls of the wretches that I trap here—but again I digress. I lost that certain zeal for my job that so many of my contemporaries laudably have managed to maintain, and subsequently I lost my way. That’s when I stumbled through all of time, looking for my purpose again, until I finally got trapped by a pesky group of Native Americans, that is. I, for the life of me, just couldn’t find a way to properly corrupt them. Maybe I had lost my edge in all my wanderings; maybe it was because they were just happy living with what they had, the heathens, but no matter. Fate soon delivered unto me that which I had been searching for all along: wicked men who thought they were kind and good. That’s the best kind you see, the tastiest of all morsels.
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