R/T/M

by Douglas, Sean

  She picks her clothes up off the floor and puts them on and I finish my cigarette and stub it out.

  She picks up her hoodie and zips it up and grabs her bag and stands there half looking at the floor half looking at me expectantly. I stand up and I shrug towards the door which leads out to the bulkhead and I say, “Let’s go out the back, I want to show you something.”

  I take the lead and I open the door to the stairs up under the bulkhead and I open the bulkhead and flip the doors open to the sides and step outside.

  She follows me up the stairs and outside.

  It’s a beautiful night out. The air is cool and crisp, almost cool enough to fog your breath.

  The moon is full and low in the sky and there are only a few small wispy clouds high up in the sky.

  There’s a slight breeze that rustles the leaves but it’s barely audible and the night is otherwise completely still and clear.

  I walk over to the mound of the old septic tank cover and she comes up on my right side and I look up into the moon and breath in the cool air and say, “Isn’t it beautiful?”.

  She looks up and sniffs and wipes her nose with the back of her right hand and she’s maybe finally regaining her composure.

  I watch her out of the corner of my eye.

  While she’s looking up I haul back and make a fist out of my right hand and I jab her in her left side with my right. Right at the bottom of her ribs. It’s a good shot and she doubles over and starts gasping.

  I take a step back and lift my right leg up and kick her in the shin between her ankle and her knee. I don’t kick her with my toe, I stomp down and her leg makes a muffled crunchy snapping sound.

  I used to be able to kick two by fours in half when I was working at the college theater so I probably fucked her up pretty good.

  She tries to get her balance but she’s all fucked up and she falls over onto the short damp grass.

  She hits the ground with a whoomph and curls up, whimpering, into the fetal position but that’s not enough to protect her.

  I kick her in the face with the toe of my shoe. Her head snaps back and she howls in pain. I just keep kicking her in the head. It sounds like I’m kicking a watermelon or a pumpkin except for the clicking sound when I kick her in the jaw and her teeth smash against each other or the crunchy squelchy sound when I kick her in the face and something breaks.

  After about eight good firm kicks I take a break and catch my breath.

  She’s not moving really, but her chest is still rising and falling slightly.

  Her face is all pulpy and slack and she’s not so much breathing as she is gurgling.

  I figure that’s good enough so I roll her over towards the cap of the septic tank.

  I walk to the back of the house and grab the crowbar and use it to pry off the lid of the tank and roll it off to the side.

  She’s still making gurgly sounds so I step back and haul off and smash her in the skull with the crowbar a couple times.

  She stops gurgling.

  Maybe she’s out. Maybe she’s dead. I don’t care.

  I mover her over, lining her up with the hole and it’s kind of a pain in the ass because she’s slack, dead weight and there’s a smell coming up from the dark in the hole and I kind of forgot about my friend in there.

  Imagine the worst garbage you’ve ever smelled.

  Worse but different than that.

  Imagine the worst shit smell you’ve ever smelled.

  You know, the kind that takes you off guard and hits you like a wall and almost knocks you over.

  Different and probably worse than that.

  You can’t even endure it for too long or you feel your gorge rise.

  And just when you’ve choked it back it rises again.

  I haven’t ever puked, but God knows that my body wanted to.

  At least it’s nice and cool out tonight. If it was a hot summer afternoon the smell probably would have fucking knocked me right over. And even though the smell coming up from the hole is pretty intense I can smell that the bitch on the ground shit her pants. Fucking ew!

  I drop her and jerk up and huff out a breath to clear the smell out of my nose and mouth. I try to turn my breath and get a clear breath in, but it’s all just pretty ripe and awful.

  I line her head and shoulders up with the hole and go down and grab her ankles and sort of feed her into the hole. Her head goes in followed by her shoulders and when that’s in I give her a shove and there’s more weight in than out and she shoots down into the darkness and some air puffs out and it smells like fresh shit and stale dead body and I’m not going to lie to you, it’s pretty fucking revolting.

  At least I didn’t bury the bitches in the crawlspace underneath my house.

  I can only imagine what John Wayne Gacy’s house fucking smelled like.

  Problems with the plumbing my ass! Dead body only smells like one fucking thing and that’s dead fucking body.

  I take a couple steps away and get some deep breaths of cool night air into me and it doesn’t flush out all of the awful smell, but it helps a little and I reach into my pocket and pull out my cigarette pack and flip one between my lips and light it and breathe the smoke deep into my lungs and blow it out at the moon and think, “Gee. It really is a beautiful night out tonight.”.

  I finished about two thirds of the cigarette then walked back over to the black circle in the ground with the big iron colored lid next to it.

  I took the last drag and blew it toward the hole hoping that it would break up the shit and death smell, but it sort of dissipated and I wasn’t about to stick my head in the fucking hole to see if it was worse inside. I just lifted up an edge of the lid and rolled it back into place and it settled in making a sort of gritty “Klonk!” sound.

  I didn’t bother checking up to see if she was really dead.

  I’d just look in the back yard each night when I got home. I figured if the cap was still in place she was still in there, because in the unlikely event that she was still alive and she did manage to get out I think it would be highly unlikely that she would take the time to put the fucking lid back on the septic tank before she went limping off to try to find help.

  I mean, really, what would you have done?

  I practically fucking raped her.

  I mean, sure, she agreed to come over my house so she was partly guilty, but I know that what I did was kind of fucked up but I just got caught up in the moment and if I let her go she probably wouldn’t tell the cops, but she’d probably tell her friends and maybe word would get around and it could’ve fucked up my MySpace game so fuck that.

  I did what made the most sense at the time and I’m okay with that.

  I sleep okay at night.

  Speaking of MySpace, I’m not so stupid as to be oblivious to the fact that since we had been messaging back and forth over MySpace that there’s an electronic record of our interactions but when I’m messaging back and forth with some cooze I try to be all enigmatic.

  This serves two purposes.

  First, chicks dig it. That whole dark and mysterious thing works every time.

  Second, I don’t provide a lot of information in case in the unlikely event that someone decides to try to break into her computer and read what’s inside to figure out where the fuck she disappeared to.

  I’m not an idiot. I know they can trace I.S.P. addresses and figure out where any incoming messages had come from in, like, five minutes.

  But I mean it’s highly unlikely that this chick let her parents know the password for her MySpace account. That shit’s like a virtual online diary for kids these days and the last thing your average teenager wants is their parents nosing around and finding out what they’re up to.

  And I figure it’s not a computer crime, so why would they check the computer?

  Computer forensics? That shit’s expensive.

  I knew a guy that worked in a computer store and this dude comes in to get his laptop fixed and while it’s at the s
tore, the state police show up and they seize the laptop and they say they’re going to send it to the state computer forensics lab, because the guy supposedly has kiddy porn on his hard drive, but it’s going to cost, like, $4,000 and I imagine, like, one poor schmuck in an office stacked with row upon row of desktop towers at a little desk with a terminal, just drudgingly hacking into drive after drive, looking for financial records and kiddie porn and regretting the fact that he went to school for computers but at the same time grateful to even have a fucking job.

  Plus your average fucking cop isn’t that fucking bright anyway.

  One time I was out helping my friend DJ at this club and while I was out someone kicks in the front door of my apartment and steals a bunch of my shit. They left the TV, but they stole my computer and computer monitor and my Playstation 2 and my bass and electric guitar, but they left the acoustic.

  Anyway, I call the fucking cops and a uniform guy comes over and calls it in and writes a few lines into his little notebook and he says that a couple detectives would come by the next day so I sit in a chair behind the door with a baseball bat and a big fucking knife all night long waiting for the pricks to come back and get the shit they left behind.

  The thieves didn’t come back, but the detectives came by the next day.

  They looked around disinterestedly and dusted the doorknobs with black powder.

  While we were looking around I noticed that there was a handprint on the window that was open when I got home the night before. I guess they kicked in the door, then handed the shit out the window. While they were up to their dirty little business I guess one of the motherfuckers got into something kind of orange and sticky and they put their palm against the window so I called out to the detectives, “Hey! Take a look at this!” and they came over and looked where I was pointing and I could see the fucking handprint clear as day and they just stared like they couldn’t see it and I said, “See?”. The detectives just sort of stared, then looked at each other and shrugged then walked towards the front door with the frame all splintered in at the deadbolt and said, “We’ll file a report. Call in a couple of days and see if we come up with anything.” I’m all fucking incredulous and I say, “What about the handprint?”. The short one with the fucking moustache rolls his eyes and says, “Call us in a couple days.” and they turn around and leave.

  The moral of this story?

  Cops don’t want to work any more than the rest of us do. They just want to look like they’re working. They just want to show up, do their eight hours, hopefully not get shot in the face and go home to their fat wives and dull children.

  Most murders are never solved unless someone important gets wasted.

  And most murderers aren’t as careful as I am. Not that I’m a model of caution, but I don’t kill anybody when there’s tons of people around or anywhere that I’m liable to get caught red-handed and if the pigs put their mind to it and follow the trail back to my house then so what? Most of the time when the cops are investigating a series of similar murderers they interview the perpetrator along with everyone else and they don’t figure out who it is. Does the killer wise up and cut the shit and move away? No! The stupid fucking prick can’t help himself and he goes out and murders a couple more people and the cops come around again and the cops STILL don’t figure out who the fucking murderer is. Sometimes a victim even fucking escapes and the cops don’t figure it out until they fucking catch the serial killer red-fucking-handed with a meat locker full of fucking torsos and body parts stacked up in his refrigerator or whatever.

  Like I said, your average police officer isn’t too fucking bright and detectives aren’t that much brighter.

  I mean I wouldn’t want to fuck with Henry C. Lee or the F.B.I. but that’s a different story altogether.

  So I decide to cool out and not go raping or killing any random chicks for a while, just kind of laying low until the whole thing blows over.

  I knew this girl from when I used to do sound at a club.

  Since I had dabbled in tech theater in college running sound at some cramped dive wasn’t anything really. It’s just knowing signal path. The source goes through a cable to the board. The board sends the info to the power amps. The power amps send the signal through the speakers and you have sound.

  After that it’s all finesse.

  I could nail a feedback frequency either with a hi/mid/low e.q. on the board or with an e.q. of any number on the monitor board’s e.q. I’ve always had a pretty good ear for pitch and tone.

  The club closed down and they remodeled it and turned it into a swanky gay club that ended up closing after a couple months then it re-re-opened as an alt./goth club. Fucking typical.

  My friend got a job as an historical administrator at an old Baptist church. I don’t know what her job really entailed, but what really mattered was she had the keys and knew the alarm codes and she wanted to know if I wanted to sneak in one night and fuck on the altar.

  Of course I did, so we made plans.

  We meet up at the church on the night of. I’ve got a bottle of merlot I’ve been hitting off of on the drive over and she’s got a pint of Southern Comfort in her purse and we’re both good and drunk.

  She unlocks the front door and we stagger in and she goes over to where the alarm pad is beeping and disarms the alarm and it stops beeping. She flips a few switches and the lights go on down the center aisle, down the sides lighting up the “Stations of the Cross” paintings in the alcoves, and the alter nave.

  The church is cavernous and echoey and kind of cool inside. We walk up the center aisle like we’re getting married except we’re drunk and disorganized and laughing all the way.

  We get up to the altar and she takes her bag off of her shoulders and she grabs me by the front of the shirt and she kisses me hard and slobbery and she tastes like whiskey and it mixes with the bittersweet wine taste in my mouth and it tastes pretty good.

  She breaks off kissing me and her hands go down to my waist and she undoes my belt and the top button and rips down my fly and flips down the waistband of my underpants and she starts jerking me off and making out with me. I stop and take a sip of wine and I’m clothed except for my cock and balls hanging out and she goes over and takes the candelabra off of the altar and I whip the white tablecloth off and drop it in front of the altar.

  I’m in front of the altar and she’s behind it and she climbs up on the altar and kicks her shoes off. Barefoot she dances like a stripper squeezing her tits through her shirt and rubbing her cunt through her dress. She’s wearing a blouse and she unbuttons it looking all naughty and coy, button by button, revealing her lacy black bra. With the shirt hanging open she runs her hands down her stomach and reaches down to her skirt and gathers it up and when it’s bunched up at her waste I look and she shows me that she’s not wearing anything underneath her billowy white cotton skirt and she shaved her vag for the occasion. She puts her right hand over her vag and presses on it and slips her middle finger into herself and looks at me and smirks then she turns around and whips over and grabs her ankles and shows me her ass with her quivering quim in the center then whips around and grabs the tails of her shirt and shakes her shoulders back and forth and pulls the shirt off of her shoulders then down her arms and when it’s off she spins it around her head and throws it at me and it lands on my head and shoulders and I whip it off and throw it onto the ground and take a belt of wine and yell, “Yeah! Fuck yeah!”.

  She reaches back and undoes the clasp of her bra and it goes slack, but she holds the cups over her breasts with her hands and gets down on her knees and leans over and does the one finger, “Come here.” gesture and I go over and she leans down, resting her hands on my shoulder and she kisses me and grabs the wine bottle and take a belt then kisses me again, pouring the wine from her mouth into mine.

  She breaks off and standing on her knees she lets the bra fall down her arms and she’s got big soft firm pale white tits and she grabs my head and puts her tits in my f
ace and shakes back and forth. It’s wicked fun.

  She leans back and I take another belt of wine and she sits down on her but and shimmies on her but to the edge of the altar and when her butt is on the edge of the altar she lifts up her legs and puts her feet on my shoulders and leans back on her right elbow and levels her eyes at mine and she gives me a dirty squint and reaches between her legs with her left and rubs her pussy, spreading the lips and making, “Mmm.” sounds.

  She does this for about a minute then she sits up, leans over, grabs the back of my head and jams my face into her pussy. It’s warm and slimy, but it doesn’t smell badly, just warm and rich. I stick my tongue in her and lick between her labia hard and then up over her clit which I flick with my tongue then put my mouth over it and run fast hard circles around it alternating with quick hard sucks. She’s urging me on shouting, “Yeah! Fuck! Do it! Lick it! Eat that pussy!”. Her fist tightens up even harder in the hair on the back of my head then slackens and I lean back up and my mouth is all shiny and slick with pussy juice.

  She gets her heels on the altar and shimmies back and I toss a knee up onto the altar and crawl up on top. I stand up and pull my shirt over my head and toss it over the side and in the second it takes me, she’s up on her knees in front of me and she yanks my pants down around my ankles and puts her mouth on me and cups my ass with her hands to get me in deep enough that she gags and while she’s gagging she’s looking up at me and I’m looking down into her eyes. She pulls it out so that she’s not gag deep and bobs her head back and forth blowing me liberally. I tilt the wine bottle back and drink back the remainder except for the dregs. She stops blowing me for a moment, jerking me off with her left hand and looking up at me and I raise the bottle over her and she closes her eyes as I pour the dregs down over her face and chest. The wine runs in red rivulets down her face and down trailing over her tits and it looks so hot I just have to fuck her.

  I step back and she leans back propped up on her hands behind her.

  I get on my knees in front of her and I walk on my knees so I’m between her legs and I grab her under the knees and pull her towards me so she’s laying flat on the altar. I put my dick against her pussy lips and I slide right in and she says, “Oh, yeah! Fuck!” all sexy like. I’m kneeling and she’s got her legs in the air on either side of me. I take an ankle in each hand and stretch her legs out and lick up her left calf from the hamstring to the ankle.