eight

The streets were empty, and Kyle still remembered the routs that the cops preferred in this town, so it was easy to find his way to that hidden spot. There was no interference, no red lights, and nothing to bother Kyle save the dead cop in the trunk the stolen car and the lack of opportunity. He hoped that Shaun had some answer for him. Something other than the words, ‘Get the hell out of here man. Get the hell away from me.’

As usual the place had a litter of cars in front of it, Shaun usually went through five or six a year, the nice one was his and the rest of the rust buckets belonged to his roommates. There were normally three intimidating sadists that permanently lived in the house and acted as personal pit bulls, and two or three that simply kept multiple residences. They lived here, there, in their cars, and a few other places. Kyle picked out that two of the rabid dogs were home, and Shaun’s light was on in his room. He strategically picked the window that looked out on the main lot to observe who was coming, who brought who, and when he needed to take one of the three odd exits that the amoeboid residence possessed.

Kyle was still in the habit of killing the headlights at the head of the alley so the curtain in the window never shifted. When he stepped out of the car and shut the door he expected to see the familiar face peek out the corner but there was nothing.

He tucked the pistol into his pocket; the overcoat had nice deep places for hiding all sorts of things from a good sized bottle of vodka to a carton of smokes, and headed to the thick steel door.  Kyle tried knocking but there was no response. He could hear GWAR playing from inside, this was no surprise, so he gave the door a gentle shove. To his shock it swung inward easily.

There was a boa constrictor eating a rat in the dark entryway just beneath the window to the left of the door, and one of the roommates was watching this with a drugged fascination. She didn’t even question Kyle as he wandered in, just kept watching the snake ingest the rat.

Two of the guard dogs were in the kitchen burning a black lump of hash between two heated butter knives, one person held the knives while another used a cut straw to suck the smoke rolling out from in between, and the three onlookers were smoking a tall acrylic bong. The thin one with the straw and missing teeth suddenly started coughing and drooling on the floor, while the rest laughed. Still no one noticed.

So Kyle headed to his planned destination. It was strait through the entryway, no need to pass the snake tank or go through the kitchen, and towards the semi shut door with light spilling through the crack. The rest of the house was always in shambles. Dishes, trash, clothes, half drank beers, and open liquor bottles stacked everywhere. The drugs were normally too heavily consumed to be left out but the paraphernalia was scattered all across the house.

But the other side of the door was a different story. It was a well kept space, even the paraphernalia was neatly arranged beneath the TV, the floor was clean, and the bed was even made. The strangest thing was that none of the roommates were allowed here, ever. But Kyle was allowed free access.

So the door swung inward and there stood Shaun looking out the window, his back turned to Kyle.  

“What’s with the cop car, Kyle?” He asked quietly.

“I got an issue man. I know you don’t owe me anything, but, I need help.”

Shaun never seemed to have a steady appearance. That was one of the many odd things about him, this lack of a fashion statement. Or perhaps it was more of an attachment to a conglomeration of fashions. He mixed everything together. High end polished clothes and tattered denims, or black band tee shirts and expensive pants and shoes. Nothing quite seemed to fit together but in the end it was the exact thing to fit this person. To top it all off, a pair of serial killer glasses. Sort of a retro style with brown frames, or black depending on the pair, that were thick and heavy riding high on his nose.

He turned away from the window, letting the curtain drop, smiling as he said, “What did you get yourself into after you wandered off? Tell me about it and I’ll see what I can do.”

Shaun seemed lost in thought, Kyle didn’t know if it was about the car or his appearance or something else, but he rattled off the story the best he could. Tried to remember what the agent said, tried to explain the feelings, the following, and the cop as best he could. Everything seemed to be spilling out, one long breathless sentence exhaling smoke words and thoughts, in a simple stream of mind vomit.

Shaun sat on the bed beside Kyle, there was no other seating in the small room, and seemed to be distracted occasionally by the sitcom on TV. It was reruns of some office based show. One of those that the stupid boss fucked everything up, while stupidly trying to save everything only to make matters worse, while the co workers, underlings, simply sit there and watch it all happen. Kyle’s story actually felt similar, only he didn’t know the boss. With the right actor this could make a really funny movie. With the right words and descriptions this could be a comedy.

Kyle finished talking just as this thought settled in. His voice finally caught snagging on the words, “So I,” mental foot tripping on the stones in his throat, but he finished, “I came here.”

Reviews

[Mockingbird]

a good man to know...(and gross with the snake)

[.]

Brilliant! The momentum is amazing. So is the narration and the detailing. As a movie, I think this would be an incredible thriller!