by Sirloin Furr
***
Before Sammy Ammo has found himself in Awful, Ohio and before he had referred to himself as “Sammy Ammo,” he had lived as a nomad by the name of Samuel Amiable. There wasn’t a piece of land before Awful, Ohio that Samuel Amiable’s footprint didn’t mark, and there wasn’t a wake in the sea that his weight did not break. Samuel Amiable had traveled vastly through the world, greeting and recognizing anything and everything with pleasant smiles and warm greetings, treating everything as if being alive was the only thing required to earn his love and care. Samuel Amiable forever knew that there was no other way to treat existence. His sight seeing and journeys were a blessing that Samuel Amiable was never willing to part with. He was aware that if he was not careful with his blessing, then he would be forced to lose his privilege. One day during his travels, he was careless and lost his privilege.
Samuel Amiable had entered into Awful, Ohio. Money in exchange for goods was not something that Samuel Amiable had a lot of experience with. This lacking skill was obstructed his attempts to acquire the nutrients and health needed to sustain his existence. However, he was talented in finding food where others were unwilling to locate it, and from the perception of Samuel Amiable, trash receptacles had dwarfed into mini-grocery stores. However, in the economic gauntlet of Awful, Ohio, trash receptacles had also dwarfed into mini-grocery stores, where ambitious entrepreneurs would purchase the entire can at a low price, gaining all of its contents, and then selling all of the contents for a profit.
Trash receptacles had morphed from a heap of disease, into a canopy of hunger salvation. The only difference from Samuel Amiable’s perception of the trash receptacle and Awful, Ohio’s perception was the type of currency needed. Samuel Amiable had become familiar with “effort” being the only currency that he ever needed, as it was recognized worldwide. When Samuel Amiable thought he was paying his dues with his “effort,” by using all of his effort to grab what appeared to be a grandiose surprise of an uneaten cheeseburger, he was actually reaching for something that needed to be exchanged for money. The store owner ceased Samuel Amiable from acquiring the burger, demanding money. But Samuel Amiable had no money to offer the store owner for the burger. The store owner then believed that he had restrained a thief, causing the store owner to whistle over the security guard. Samuel Amiable was not sure what was going on, as he had never been a burden on society, eating from a trashcan before. But the store owner made a scene, jumping and shouting, calling for help. The security guard ran over to the situation, apprehending Samuel Amiable. He was then handcuffed and handed over to the Awful, Ohio authorities. Samuel Amiable was held hostage in a prison cell, until a judge had disclosed his ransom.
“Where have you come from?” ordered the judge.
“I have come from everywhere. I have traveled here because this is the last area that I have yet to travel to,” responded Samuel Amiable, now sitting in the court room before the judge.
Samuel Amiable was extremely amused by the situation, as he had never found a society that had valued garbage as much as this location had. He kept smirking with every grimacing glare that the judge would shoot in his direction, thinking the judge would too realize how odd the entire situation was and burst into compatible laughter. But the anger grew out of the judge’s perception, quickly retaliating with vengeful punishment for Samuel Amiable, and his negligence to the way that the city of Awful, Ohio had constructed its existence. Samuel Amiable began to wonder what was going to happen, when he began pondering the idea that he was no longer walking on the same planet that he had before.
The judge continued to learn more of Samuel Amiable when demanding explanations for his despicable actions.
“I do not have any money. I’m not exactly sure what money is. It seems to be pieces of paper that get exchanged for other things. I know where to find pieces of paper,” replied Samuel Amiable.
The judge was in bewilderment at what he was hearing. How could a human being not understand currency in exchange for product? The judge kept listening to Samuel Amiable’s ignorance. The boy had no parents, no home, or any documents verifying his identity. Samuel Amiable had become the mold of a bum in the judge’s mind; an aimless vagabond stealing from the hard working store owners who were innocently selling items of fabricated value from their trashcans. The judge sat silently, building an image in his mind of Samuel Amiable haphazardly and deceitfully deconstructing all of Awful, Ohio’s honesty and integrity and values. The judge grew impatient and tempered from these self-imposed, assumed images of Samuel Amiable. The judge believed that if Samuel Amiable was being honest with his story, then he would do Samuel Amiable a favor and educate him on what he needed to know in order to survive. He was not ready to believe the words that Samuel Amiable was saying. The confusion erratically caused the judge to relieve the following words from his mouth:
“Samuel Amiable, I have no choice but to sentence you to a lifetime worth of community service here in Awful, Ohio. You have no parents, no place to live, and no way of surviving in the world. We, Awful, Ohio, will adopt you as one of us. You should be grateful that you have been guided to us by the divine, where we will help you earn a proper living. We have a vacant lot in the outskirts of our successful community, and you will reside there, and learn the ways of a trade and barter system. You will be educated in the way of the successful world, and will be transformed into a proper man, allowing you to live a long and happy life. Guards, escort Mr. Amiable to his new home.” The judgment was concluded, with the gavel slamming hard, and the guards gripping Samuel Amiable from underneath his arms, taking him to his new location.
Samuel Amiable was very emotional towards the decision. He wasn’t somber or melancholy, but excited and happy for another exciting adventure to engage in. The guards were a little confused by his reaction, but in all of his existence, Samuel Amiable had never come across a situation that he did not want to be a part of.
The judge was very wrong in his assumptions. Samuel Amiable was not a young man. He was 94 years old. He didn’t have any physical resemblance of a 94 year old. He walked straight up, without any wrinkles, and was also slim and lively. The judge was right in that he did not have any parents, because they were fertilizing some plot of land by a tombstone. Samuel Amiable was unaware of what currency or an economy was because he was always able to get what he needed without having to barter with any physical entity with fabricated value. Survival was never a struggle. His youthful and innocent enjoyment of life carried him through. Travelers would always be willing to offer him food and water, without him having to offer any physical form of something. This idea of needing things in order to get things was very unfamiliar and foreign. However, his youthfulness and sense of accomplishment was all that he needed to increase his excitement, as he delved into this new direction.
Samuel Amiable was able to sustain a youthful appearance because there was never a moment where he had to overwhelm himself with anxiety. For the first 94 years of existence, he was able to live carefree, without any worries. His heart ticked like a freshly wound clock, with every joint rotating without any crackling of regretted age. Samuel Amiable had the wisdom of a prophet, wrapped in the youthful complexion of a young, healthy man. He had everything that he needed to live out the rest of his life, and wondered why any of these things the judge had decreed to him as important.
But unfortunately, Samuel Amiable’s youthfulness and wisdom was not enough. The stipulation of his punishment was to work 40 hours a week. And soon enough, Samuel Amiable discovered that in the economic game that generated Awful, Ohio, he was a failure. He was not good at convincing himself that he should take orders from others. The job that he was forced to obtain had a boss that would always demand physical labor from Samuel Amiable. Samuel Amiable had a difficult time responding according to the requests of his owner, because he was never able to understand the idea of ownership. Samuel Amiable would always leisurely stroll through his day, rather than provide the demanded hustle
and bustle.
Bribery did not work either, because the weekly earnings of a paycheck were not able to promote clarity for capitalism in Samuel Amiable’s mind. Soon enough, Samuel Amiable was fired from his job.
Samuel Amiable resided in the location that Awful, Ohio had granted him. They called it a blessing, to be given a plot of land. But Samuel Amiable was unsure of how to appreciate the plot of land that contained a hut that was ready to blow over with a soft whisper. The floor boards were gently coated in green moss that was soft enough to offer Samuel Amiable a comfortable location to sleep on. He would wake up cold, with the weather entering into his home like unwelcomed misfits. And he would wake up hungry, as he did not have any money to acquire the food he desired. The hut had become his cell block.
Samuel Amiable would lay on the moss, gazing into the cracks of the ceiling, and reconstruct the episodes of how he had managed to come to the situation that he was living in. His hands being forced behind his back while being arrested repeated in a casual roulette of regret. He regretted the burger inside the trashcan. He regretted the owner’s ambition to own the contents of the trashcan receptacle. He regretted standing before the judge, submissively obeying the commands and orders of the arrogant honor. He even regretted all of the wisdom that he had earned up until that very moment, as none of that wisdom or knowledge was able to bring him a moment of peaceful security in the situation that he was now in. He regretted not fighting back.
His thoughts whirled playfully around, teasing his conviction, amassing structures of doubt. Animosity was beginning to build a home in his heart, as every ounce of joy that had brought him into Awful, Ohio had abandoned Samuel Amiable, leaving him alone on the mossy floor in the breathable home. He no longer was able to smile with the sunshine every morning, but instead, regretted every morning that he woke up alive. The hunger that overwhelmed his body began to feast on the cells of sanity that remained hidden in his mind. The new world order of aggressive expansion began to competitively invade the once peaceful mind of Samuel Amiable, as it unforgivingly removed his care and compassion for the world and for others. Vengeance had usurped his reasoning, and revenge had conquered his mind. Samuel Amiable sourced all of his misery to the nagging trashcan owner who was unwilling to share some of his expendable wealth.
“He is not guided by kindness or care, compassion and sympathy. But instead, a sense of greed, that portals all of its earnings into his swollen hubris, intoxicating him with fulfillment of possession and ownership,” concluded Samuel Amiable and 94 years of wisdom.
“This man is careless, with no sense of remorse for any being struggling to survive, as he would rather watch an individual suffer than offer help. He worsened my situation. And I fully intend on returning that same service that he had delivered unto me.” Samuel Amiable beat his fist against the floor, which was softly protected by the moss. He concocted a plan, where he would embrace the trashcan owner, serving the owner with the same discretion and compassionless greeting that he had offered him.
Samuel Amiable woke up the following morning, as his malnourished body remained laying on the comforting moss growing over the planks in his home. His head was throbbing from the intoxicating wrath that consumed his being. The floor boards were soft and spongy, cooling his skin. He twisted his head to the side and watched the skin drape over the bones in his hands. The flesh was deteriorating. His bones had crippled, curling his hand into a trigger-pulling, pistol gripper, and it spoke to Samuel Amiable like sign language reciting, a divine message. The message electrified his veins, pumping warm blood throughout his body. The message was strong, and encouraging. Samuel Amiable obeyed the message, deciphering it from his body, as he stripped his body from the moss of the floor, walking from his home, and into the heart of Awful, Ohio.
Samuel Amiable listened to his newly shaped hand, observing the misconfigured shape, filling the void with what it sought, fulfilling its trigger-pulling destiny. Samuel Amiable migrated to the trashcan that he had first migrated to when he first migrated into Awful, Ohio. The same owner that had busted Samuel Amiable was there, still collecting money for trash.
“Hey, I don’t want any trouble!” yelled the trashcan owner to the decaying structure of Samuel Amiable, recognizing Samuel Amiable through the dilapidated appearance. Saliva had flooded from the mouth of Samuel Amiable, coating his chin in a glossy sheen. His clothes were damaged and weathered, separating into ragged strands of fabric draping from his flesh. His skin began to absorb the color of the moss carpeting the floor of his home, as his skin was hued with green ambiance. Samuel Amiable did not meet the requests of the owner, as he was ready to unload some trouble.
“Don’t come any closer!” yelled the owner. The store owner’s eyes were locked onto Samuel Amiable’s hand that was gripping something inside of his coat pocket. These yelling concerns were heard by other members of Awful, Ohio.
Samuel Amiable dismissed the requests and moved closer to the owner. Samuel Amiable had removed his hand from the inside pocket of his jacket. The hand that was curled into a trigger-pulling, pistol gripper had been filled with a pistol. It was silky black, smooth, and seductive. The store owner held up both hands, submissively declaring innocence. But Samuel Amiable had known that the man was a liar, and resembled nothing in the image of innocence. His heartless intentions, his selfish purpose; he was not a man with innocence, as he had no care for the sanctity of any other being that wasn’t him. Samuel Amiable’s pistol-gripper pulled the trigger, and a bullet in the shape of a heart exploded from the chamber. It was intrepid and tenacious, voyaging softly through the air, comfortably traveling, void of fear, and pervading with patience. The bullet removed the distance between Samuel Amiable and the store owner. The fabric of the store owner’s shirt seared from the heat of the bullet. The skin beneath the shirt ripped open, exposing the sternum that shattered into a thousand pieces. The heart shaped bullet stopped in an empty chasm between the store owner’s lungs, discovering its destiny, and filling the vacant cavity with a heart. The store owner grabbed his chest to feel the new heart inside of his carcass, and he fell over. At that moment, the implanted heart allowed the store owner to feel regret, sympathizing for Samuel Amiable, wanting to offer his garbage to anyone that was in need of it. The store owner fell into a deep sleep of death, where he would permanently enjoy the new organ and its sense of compassion that Samuel Amiable had wedged into his soulless body.
“Holy shit!” cried a coincidental observer. The coincidental observer ran over to Samuel Amiable, placing his guiding arms around him, hurrying him from the scene into a back alley. The coincidental observer pushed the hand gripping the pistol back into Samuel Amiable’s coat pocket. The coincidental observer had bulging eyes that pointed in different directions. Teeth plotted his gums like randomly placed headstones in a graveyard. He had tonsil stones in the back of his throat that were fermenting a toxic halitosis that would spew from his speaking mouth in a green stained cloud. He rushed Samuel Amiable through the alley so that he wouldn’t be seen at the scene of the accident. The coincidental observer was Chuck Splatter.
“Com’on man, we gotta hide this thing!” Chuck Splatter was referring to the pistol that Samuel Amiable was gripping. Chuck Splatter lifted the lid off of a trash can dumpster that was stowed away in the alley. Chuck’s intentions were to throw the pistol into the dumpster, but as soon as Chuck opened the dumpster, another store owner revealed himself from a pile of products.
“Howdy y’all!” replied the store owner, but before he could squeeze out a sales pitch, Samuel Amiable raised his pistol and shot the store owner in the chest.
“Holy shit!” screamed Chuck Splatter, jumbling the teeth inside of his mouth. “You gotta put that thing away!”
The store owner’s sternum exploded into a thousand pieces, curdling through the air like fallen ash from celebratory fireworks. The store owner fell back into his store, where the weight of his body shook the lid, slamming it down hard like a gavel, permane
ntly sealing the store owner in his own products. Chuck Splatter was in disbelief and looked towards Samuel Amiable, but Samuel Amiable was degaged from the scene.
Samuel Amiable began to look at his fingers, wrapping around the pistol, gently cradling it like a newborn in the arms of a mother. His malnourished body was desperate for nutrients, seeking anything to consume, as the cold metal compound that structured the pistol began to absorb into his hand. His skin melded together, feeding on the metallic pistol, as his fingers permanently fused onto the trigger, following the design that they were strictly intended for, accepting their newly transposed purpose, eternally gripping the pistol.
It was enlightening and divine. Samuel Amiable rubbed his eyes with his free hand, regaining clarity, able to see the world again, as his body regained nourishment from his new appendage. With newly restored energy from his metallic feeding, he looked over at Chuck Splatter and politely asked, “What is your name?”
Chuck Splatter responded honestly, telling his name, and returning the same question.
Samuel Amiable responded, “My name is Sammy Ammo.”
Sammy Ammo had been forced into the rigmarole of Awful, Ohio, which chewed his soft, pulpy flesh, pissing him out as a calcified kidney stone, sheering away the submissive urethra meat of his mind that was too tender to fend off the destructive ways of Awful, Ohio’s influence. The pleasures that he had acquired through the first 94 years of his life were wiped away. The pistol had transcended Sammy Ammo from his meek approach, into a whirling cyclone of apotheosis, uplifting his callused soul into the sky, towards the heavens, where he had discovered his destiny in the magnitude of space. His body had regained strength, and his thoughts regained clarity. Sammy Ammo stared at the pistol that was permanently fused to his being. His fingers were crippled together, as they curled around the handle, with the index and middle finger uniting into a power appendage, resting on the trigger. The pistol shimmered with a flaunting sheath that glistened in the sunlight, proud of its new home, resting in Sammy Ammo’s grip. Sammy Ammo had recognized the good that he had delivered unto the store owners, refilling their vacant chests with new hearts, making up for the ones that were stolen by Awful, Ohio, liberating them from their oppressive dispositions as trashcan salesmen. The vision spoke to Sammy Ammo from a divine language, with the tonality of a caressing mother, humming subtle vibrations that were deciphered in the following words:
“Deliver hearts to those who are lacking, until they begin to ripen with hearts of their own.”
Sammy Ammo remained fixated on the vision of his hand melding to the pistol, as the divine language repeated through his mind. Sammy Ammo had begun to understand why it was that he was delivered to Awful, Ohio. This was his destiny. Sammy thus became determined to fulfill the destiny spoken to him from the vibrating vision, and to fulfill the vacant chests of Awful, Ohio’s store owners with new hearts.
Sammy Ammo remained standing in the back alley and rotated his eyes over to Chuck Splatter. His gaze remained locked onto Chuck Splatter’s face, attempting to make sense of the chaotic structure, pondering whether or not he had a heart. Chuck Splatter stood there, confused, and a little flattered, having never been stared at before, allowing the examination. Chuck Splatter’s heart began to pump heavily, as he was receiving more attention from Sammy than he had from anyone else in the entire realm of his existence.
There was no rhythm or method behind the structured madness of Chuck Splatter’s face. But Sammy Ammo heard the rhythm of his beating heart, fueling him to fearlessly draw in all of the absurdity of the facial melee of Chuck Splatter. A moment of salvation erupted in Sammy Ammo’s mind, accepting Chuck Splatter for the being that he was because of the kindness that he had offered to him. Sammy Ammo grinned, knowing that that kindness could only emerge from a heart. A breeze slipped into Sammy Ammo’s vented shirt, and he released these words from his mouth into the breeze:
“Do you have any friends, Chuck?” The words echoed back and forth off the walls of the buildings like an ominous squall.
Chuck Splatter’s elliptical eyes widened, anticipating the next move of Sammy Ammo. The attention was exhilarating, with every blood cell pounding faster through each chamber of his heart, carrying excitement for his attention-deprived soul. Chuck Splatter surrendered himself, willing to do anything.
“Yeah, I have a couple,” stuttered Chuck Splatter, hindered by his increasing flattery.
“Well, give one of them a call. We have work that has to get taken care of immediately.”
Sammy Ammo subtlety ordered these words out of his mouth. His grin was emotionless, and he spoke with a catatonic tone, allowing the aeons to guide him into doing what he knew he had to do. Chuck Splatter answered with his eager body language, as Sammy Ammo watched him leave the alley to summon his friend, Doink McTriggers.
Sammy Ammo led Chuck Splatter and Doink McTriggers in engaged acts of rebellion and liberation throughout Awful, Ohio. Sammy Ammo allowed the both of them to join his destiny, as it appeared to him that their destiny was to help him fulfill his own destiny, to restore the lost hearts of Awful, Ohio. Chuck Splatter and Doink McTriggers were not economically gifted, as they had gotten by the same way that Sammy Ammo had gotten by. They were all victims in Awful, Ohio, ostracized from life necessities because of the lack of monetary privileges. They weren’t good at working, as they were unable to submit to orders from their bosses. But mostly, they resented having to work eight hours a day. So they retaliated by exercising their own doctrines, robbing gas stations, exploiting unattended ATM’s, and feasting freely from the isles of grocery stores, in order to acquire the privileges that were necessary for survival.
Heart shaped bullets would explode from the pistol’s chamber, filling the vacant chests of every store owner, sending regret through their egocentric cores, pumping freedom throughout their decaying corpses, accomplishing Sammy’s purpose. Sammy Ammo’s body language grew more coherent with every liberated store owner, as his pistol-gripping hand was now completely coagulated, with his flesh wrapping entirely around the handle of the pistol. The contours of his fingers were no longer apparent, as his entire hand had crippled into what appeared to be a fin wrapping around the pistol. The fin was efficient, smooth and air resistant, gently squeezing the trigger with superfluous grace.
Sammy Ammo, Chuck Splatter, and Doink McTriggers were a corrective force. They made their way through Awful, Ohio, ready to liberate any one that was not willing to provide them with the prosperity of materials that their existence was entitled to, correcting their behavior with new hearts, to replace the ones that were lost to Awful, Ohio. They were ahead of the law and feared by the city.
These renegade actions were made clear through articles in the Awful Gazette, as the media spoke frequently of their actions. The articles would cite accounts of fear and intimidation, as Sammy Ammo and his cohorts would force the pistol upon all who would not acknowledge his prominence, unless Sammy and his cohorts were offered the necessities for life. The more store owners Sammy Ammo liberated, the larger his reputation grew. And with the growth of Sammy Ammo’s reputation, the store owners began to grow hearts of their own, as they would immediately offer Sammy Ammo, Chuck Splatter, and Doink McTriggers all of the contents in the store without hesitation. Sammy recognized this as “care,” something that could only come from a heart.
All of Sammy’s efforts were working. The store owners were beginning to ripen with hearts of their own, proven by their generous, caring offerings. As soon as Sammy Ammo, Chuck Splatter, and Doink McTriggers entered into a store, the owners would greet them immediately with gifts and bribes as if being in the presence of prophets. Sammy Ammo was pleased with the these kind offerings, because it was wisdom that told Sammy Ammo that those possessing life’s necessities are obligated to share their wealth with the brethren of the community. Sammy Ammo had accomplished his goal, earning his share of everything that would allow him to prosper.
However, Sammy Ammo’s purpose
still remained alive, as his coagulated hand was only becoming more prominent, speaking divinely through sign language.
“I have liberated and taught so many store owners, that the rest of them are able to grow hearts of their own. But this pistol still firmly belongs part of my being. There are still many store owners that need to be restored with hearts. I have only made a slight impression upon Awful, Ohio,” stated Sammy Ammo, analyzing the incompletion of his self-imposed objective, thinking that the pistol would remove itself from his fin once completed. Sammy Ammo looked into the sky, believing he was a descendent from the heavens. He questioned the directions of his actions, thinking that he and his cohorts should be approaching his purpose from a different angle.
“It was my purpose to restore these store owners with their lost hearts,” emphasized Sammy Ammo. “These store owners were robbed of their hearts, and I have either honorably restored them with a heart, or have trained them to grow one of their own! But no matter how many hearts I restore, more hearts are still being removed by the machine that is Awful, Ohio. It is fruitless to restore the lost hearts, as more hearts are being stolen faster than I can restore them!” Sammy Ammo used his apotheosis, conspiring what had to be done in order to liberate Awful, Ohio from its heart-pillaging ways. He looked away from the sky, staring back down at the pistol still formulated in his fin, seeking resolution.
“If I am to complete my purpose, then it is my duty to discover and stop the ultimate heart pillaging source!”
And suddenly, the fog of confusion ceased blinding Sammy Ammo. An epiphany overcame his mind, presenting everything through a diaphanous gelatin. The store owners were soldiers of barter of trade, forcefully bound to the cold and heartless industrial mechanism by an overseeing general. There was no accomplishment in liberating a soldier. Accomplishment resided in the liberation of the general. Liberate the general, and the rest will follow. The general that puppeteered all of these store-owning subordinates was the most opulent individual dictating all of Awful, Ohio: Mad Ted.
“Mad Ted is the cause for all of this horror, with his created wealth that he distributes throughout Awful, Ohio!”
Sammy Ammo realized that if he was to liberate all of Awful, Ohio, then he had to remove Mad Ted’s strangling power over the population. Liberating the store owners for their merchandise was no longer desired, as it became clear to Sammy that if he seized Mad Ted’s power, then he would be able to filter liberation to all of Awful, Ohio. Mad Ted was Sammy’s new desire, the largest supplier to the trade and barter system. He had the most employees stocking Awful, Ohio, as all of their paychecks were desired by new owners who opened up stores, hoping that those employees would enter into their stores, and trade a portion of their paychecks for an item of trash from their store. The fabricated value that Mad Ted had created was the power that Sammy Ammo was seeking, and Sammy Ammo was determined to acquire this power through any means necessary, so that he could liberate all of Awful, Ohio from the deception.
This moment of satori was redirecting. Sammy Ammo collected Chuck Splatter and Doink McTriggers, reconciling all of them back at Sammy Ammo’s cabin, into the contemplation rink. Sammy was now determined to discover a plan to cease the madness that Mad Ted was storming through everyone in Awful, Ohio, and to give Doink McTriggers and Chuck Splatter more purpose than they were already ordained with.