Memoirs of a Nutter: Chapter Eight

Chapter 8

“So, how did Dr. Robert Robertson get his head blown off…” says Darren and studies the girls. Then finishes, “… probably by Tracey.”

“HEY!” yells Tracey. She steps away from the pseudo-corner she claimed for herself, five minutes after Frankie left. “I may be a bit of an individual among individuals but, I can honestly says, ‘I did not blow his head off’, okay?” She leans back into “her” corner once again and mutters, “Oh yeah, blame the one with the guns.”

Darren grins slightly and raises the corpse’s right hand. “No,” he states in a matter of fact way. “You just shot a whole with a two inch diameter in his right hand!” He grins even greater at Tracey’s facial expression.

“He almost strangled Sammy!” protest Tracey. Then she has the family smug grin and says, “Plus, you have to admit, that’s a great shot…”

“Okay, okay,” admits Darren. “So, who’s the skater?”

Jack raises her arm. “I’m the skater.”

“I figured,” says Darren. “You’re past boyfriends have been skaters.”

“Dude,” says Jack. “I’ve been skating since BEFORE I even met any of them and worked with them. I’ve been living around them for the past five summer. Only three of them have been my boyfriend at one time. In fact, if any of the boys knew I was in town and that,” she points to Bob’s corpse, “THAT was going down…” she chuckles, “My man, there wouldn’t be any more Bob left. You see, my sisters have SOME self-control, but the dudes, whom of which have adopted me as a ‘little sister’, don’t’ when it comes to someone hurting my family or I.”

“After my examination, we need to talk,” states Darren in a solemn tone. “Call up your boys, we’ll need as many as we can get. And, Tracey, I’m sorry. We’ll have to trash the Den. So, it’ll look like an accident.”

“WHY?!” Tracey almost pleads note ALMOST, Tracey Winchester NEVER pleads to Darren.

“We’re gonna have a party,” says Darren. “And, her boys are invited. Skaters are the best partiers.”

“Do you know how long it’ll take me to clean that up?!” yells Tracey as she steps forward , her western boots making an even clunking sound as she steps from her corner, once more.



“I’ll be destroyed, paid for, and fixed as much as it can be at the time of said clean-up by the boys,” says Jack. “As some as you turn those blue eyes on ‘em, they’ll be like putty… Well, at least some of them. Others may require some guilt tripping.”

“Alright!” says Alex. “Let’s move it!” and lays back on the slab, letting her legs dangle.