Baby’s First Noir Part 7

Baby’s First Noir


The squirrel was sitting at the counter of Benny’s café with a cup of coffee in front of him. Billy sat down on the stool next to him and waved to Benny behind the counter. The mouse behind the counter, nodded to Billy and poured him a cup of coffee. He set it down, looking at the empty counter, all those empty chairs, and then looked at the two animals sitting next to each other. Benny was a bright fellow, having gotten through the war by being smart, and went to the back to make some eggs.

“Haven’t seen you around for a while.” Billy said.

“Haven’t been around.” The squirrel said.

“I heard what happened to your place.”

“And what did you do about it?”

“Looked for you.”

“Did you find me?”

“You didn’t want to be found.” Billy stirred some sugar into his coffee.

“That’s true.”

“You’re staying with someone?”

“A nice little red.” The squirrel said. “She’s too young for me, but she doesn’t seem to know that.”

“That must be nice.” Billy said.

“I heard what happened to Betty.” He commented. “Sorry.

“Well, that happens sometimes.” Billy said,

“Still sorry.”

“You part of this?”

“Yeah.”

“You know I should take you in.” Billy said as he watched Benny cooking the eggs.

“I know.” He said. “But you won’t.”

“I can’t cover up for murder.”

“I know.” The squirrel said.

“You want some Billy?” Benny said as he came from the kitchen with a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Yeah.” Billy nodded.

“Right back.” Benny told him and left for the kitchen.

“You could just say it was Big Tony, cleaning house.” The squirrel suggested as he sipped his coffee.

“He is.” Billy said. “You want to talk about it?”

“They did this,” he said, turning on his chair so Billy could see the side of his face. It was the first time Billy had seen his left side, and it looked bad.

“That’s pretty bad.”

“Looked worse before. They took my stash, burned my place. They would have killed me if I wasn’t so damn fast.”

“And you decided to get even.”

“Just getting my stuff back.” He said.

“You know a cut went to Big Tony.” Billy told him. “If you want it all, you’ve got to go after Big Tony.”

“I am aware of that.”

“And?”

“I’ll probably have to give Big Tony a miss.”

“I don’t remember you talking like that back in the day.”

“You want me to go after him?”

“No.” Billy said “There’s no army to back us up this time.”

“Wasn’t really an army backing us up back then either.” He said as he forked more egg into his mouth. “Just a lot of numb nuts sitting around waiting for someone else to do all the work. It could be done, but you’d have to have make it so that his empire would fall collapse into factions and blame each other for it. Make it look like a hit.”

“That’s not easy.” Billy said. “And I’d have to take you in.”

“You telling me that they don’t deserve it?”

“I’m still a cop.” Billy said. “And we’re no where near as corrupt and you think we are.”

“Hmm.” He said.

“Yeah.” Billy said. “I can’t pin anything on you now, and maybe I don’t have to try too hard, but don’t make me have to come after you. You could go to the city or something, take that cute red with you.”

“And let them do it to someone else?”

“How many where there?”

“Five?”

“You gonna kill all five?”

“Can’t.” he said. “Wally and Bertie got Chintzy.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“Watched it.”

“Come in and testify, we could take down a bunch of them.”

“No we can’t.” He shook his head. “Bertie is too useful to Big Tony, and I’m just some no body that can be rubbed out.”

“Oh come on.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Besides, they’d go after Ruby.”

“I think the DA is on Big Tony’s payroll anyway.”

“We’d have to do it ourselves.”

“Can’t.” Billy said. “Cop.”

“We could though.” Benny said coming out from behind the counter. “How many are left?”

“Two.” The Squirrel said. “Reddy the Rat and Petey Possum.”

“You can’t go after Petey.” Benny said. “He’s what you call it, not right in the head. His attic ain’t furnished. They probably just brought him along because they wanted someone who would smack you without asking questions.”

“Petey was part of it.” He said.

“We can take care of Pete.” Billy said. “I can’t talk you into swearing out a complaint for Reddy? We could take him in.”

“Yeah.” Benny said brightly. “Have him fall down some stairs or something.”

“It’s occurred to me in the past.” Billy said.

“And you a cop.” The squirrel said.

“Gonna retire soon.” Billy said. “Might not even loose my pension.”

“I’ve gotta go.” The squirrel said looking at his watch.

“Remember what I said.” Billy told him. “I don’t want to have to come after you.”

“Yeah.” he said pushing his way through the door. “I’ll remember.”

“That was fun to talk about.” Benny said. “But you better be careful, he might be thinking you’re serious.”

“He knows the parts I’m serious about.” Billy said taking out a cigarette and lighting it. “This is filthy, the whole thing. There ain’t a part of this that’s right.”

“Be nice to make something right once though.” Benny said.

“Don’t you start.” Billy said as he left.

cats

Baby’s First Noir Part 6

Baby’s First Noir



Billy the Badger felt that all of this was unfair. He was too near retirement, too tired of the forest, too ready to go to that little place in the city. He had a nice place picked out, and he was going to get it with his retirement bonus. A nice, quite place where the lights were always on and he’d been told the garbage was left unlidded all night long. That was the sort of life for him, the easy life. He could just sit back, munch on the occasional stale pizza crust, and live out his remaining years learning all about cars.

Looking at the remains of Chintzy the Chipmunk was not on his agenda. Or rather, it was and that was the problem. The other problem was that no matter how methodical Tully the Turtle was as a coroner, he was a damn slow talker and frustrating to have to listen to. Not so slow as to be comical, just slow enough to be frustrating.

“It’s Bertie the Bunny’s work alright.” Tully said as he gently turned the remains of Chintzy’s head. “If only all artists signed their work so diligently.”

“But he didn’t do the other two?” Billy asked.

Tully looked up, and then blinked his eyes. He was so damn slow, but if you decided to rush him, he could go fast enough. That was when he’d complain though, and he’d scuttle off to his office and not come back out. You had to just wait until Tully was ready. He turned the head back and placed a claw under Chintzy’s jaw to close his mouth. He then looked up at the detective.

“No sir.” Tully said, “Someone else killed them. The method is entirely different.”

“How so?”

“Who ever killed Chirpy and Chopper had decided to hurt them, but didn’t take a lot of time doing it. Chopper was stabbed, and made to bleed out. These were hard deaths, lengthy in Chopper’s case, but they only required a little effort. An animal could have stabbed Chopper twice and left before he even knew what had happened to him. Burning Chirpy was nasty, but it only required a moment of effort.”

“And this took effort.” Billy stated, rather than asked.

“Yes.” Tully confirmed. “They tortured Chintzy. Beat him into unconsciousness and waited for him to come back to start beating him again.”

“Okay.” Billy said and turned to walk out.

“You can’t get near them though.” Tully said to his back. “Bertie the Bunny still exists because he’s useful to Big Tony. This had to be an order.”

“I know.” Billy said over his shoulder as he walked out.

There was dirt and leaves and stones as he walked from Tully’s log and headed back to his office. It was monstrous to contemplate. Beating an animal like that, right out in the open forest. A hundred mice, ants, bats, roaches and whatnot must have seen, but no one bothered to report it. It wasn’t until a patrol bird happened upon the body that they were even notified. That was the worst thing about this forest, no one looked out for each other.

Billy wanted a cigarette, but they said that if he didn’t quit, he wouldn’t make it to retirement. He took the pack of toothpicks from his pocket and selected one, chewing it slowly and methodically. He had to get out of this city, or get rid of animals like Big Tony. Big Tony was barely an animal though, he was almost a person. He was that bad, that vicious. Billy’s teeth clamped down on the toothpick, needing it and hating it.

He didn’t like Tully’s facts either. He didn’t argue them, but he didn’t like them. There were two killers, possibly with different motives, killing animals who had been associated with each other. It wasn’t a nice thing to think about, and the weight was pulling Billy down, possibly to his death.

He felt like running, trying to get away from it all. Take the early retirement, just walk away, get away from this filthy case, this filthy forest, go to the nice clean city. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, he didn’t want to be part of this forest. He wanted that place in the city.


“Detective?” The voice was soft, small, and feminine.

He turned and saw an attractive red squirrel looking at him. She looked a little shabby, but sort of beautiful in that was that red squirrels often have. She looked worried and maybe even scared.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” She said. “A friend of mine is in trouble.”

“How so?”

“Those chipmunks that got killed.” She said. “They burned him out of his place, took his nuts, tried to kill him.”

“And that’s put him in trouble?” He asked.

“I don’t know where he goes.” She said. “I think he may have done something. He might be part of it. I don’t know anything though, I can’t help you.”

“Okay.” He said.

“I’m afraid he might get himself killed.” She said.

“What’s his name?”

“I’m sorry,” She said shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She started away, but her face had been filed in his brain. She wasn’t rich, she looked like someone from the south side, which would make her easy to find. They don’t come beautiful like that on the south side. He would be able to find her easily, and then he could find her friend.”

He tracked her down, almost not needing to ask a single question. Her path was easy to find in the dirt, another good reason to move to the paced streets. He found her home, and then saw him as he emerged from the hole a few minutes later. His blood froze when he saw him emerge, and it didn’t thaw as he walked towards him.

Git Offa Mah Lahn!

You remember how tedious it was in the 90s when our parents and other old people would jibber on and on about The Beatles or whatever movies they'd seen in 1964 or talk about TV shows from the early seventies? Remeber how they'd bang on about some idiotic old thing that no one could ever care about because it was crap and not a patch on the stuff we had?

Jurassic Park is 19 years old.
Back to The Future is 27 years old.
Raiders of the Lost Ark is 31 years old.
Star Wars is 35 years old.

...

You geeks have not only turned into Old People, you are one of the worst aspects of the Old People.


I'm immune to this criticism because I've always watched old stuff. I tend to watch films that were made before my father was born and only read books by dead authors.

Baby’s First Noir Part 5

Baby’s First Noir

Chintzy the Chipmunk was scared, because the pattern had clearly emerged to his mind. He sat in front of Big Tony and pled his case to the massively fat raccoon, but he could see he was getting no where. Big Tony had barely expended the energy necessary to listen to this story, much less do anything about it. After he was done talking Chintzy watched as Big Tony began to speak.

“What should I do about this Chintzy?” Big Tony asked. “I will agree, that it is unfortunate that two of your colleagues got what was clearly coming to them in such a spectacular fashion. However it was coming to them and we don’t even know that this is related.”

“I don’t think we can arjue that this are is-oh-latted ink-adents.” Chintzy said.

It took Big Tony a while to process this, because he always had to translate everything Chintzy said in his head. Chintzy wasn’t a stupid animal, you couldn’t say that he was at all, but he clearly wasn’t smart enough to look up a pronunciation guide. Big Tony looked at Wally the Weasel and nodded his head very slightly. He then signaled toward the door.

“You’ve gotta do something Tony.” Chintzy said as Wally lead him out.

“You don’ts tell Big Tony what he gots to do.” Wally suggested as he gripped Chintzy’s arm tighter.

“Listen.” Chintzy started, but the grip of Wally’s claw stopped him.

“Just keeps it quiet.” Wally said. “You just keeps it quiet.”

Wally helped Chintzy out the door and shoved him into the street. Chintzy fell down, his face scrapping against the dirt and stones beneath him. He looked over his shoulder at Wally as he started to get up.

“What gives Wally?” He demanded. “Ain’t we been friends forever?”

“You stays away from Big Tony.” Wally said, cracking his knuckles. “Big Tony don’t wants to see none of you bums no mores.”

Chintzy picked himself up off the ground and brushed his clothes off. He looked at the door as it slammed, echoing down the empty street. Chintzy realized to himself that he was totally alone now, not just on the street, but entirely. He’d been cut loose, and that scared him worse than anything. He was smart enough to think that maybe Big Tony was making it look like he was cut loose, so they could follow him and lure whoever had killed Chopper and Chirpy out.

The problem was, news would have to get out first, which meant that they’d wait a while and Chintzy didn’t have that kind of time. The first thing he heard was something smack a tree. Probably a heavy stick, maybe a rock. Then something smacked another tree, making another noise. The sound became rhythmic as it approached. No one was going to come help him. Chintzy looked over his shoulder and in a sudden rush of panic, began to run.

“No good Chintzy.” He heard someone say and turned just soon enough to bang into Wally the Weasel’s chest.

“Wally!” He said gratefully.

“It’s no good Chintz.” Wally said pulling his hand out of his pocket.

There was the snap of a flick knife opening and then the sound of the banging resumed. Chintzy looked behind him and saw Bernie the Bunny with a length of pipe. He was banging it against everything he came near, to make a noise as he walked.

“Wally!” Chintzy demanded. “Wally, no!”

“Big Tony says he can’ts have none of you bums talkings.” Wally said as he plunged the knife into Chintzy’s stomach.

“Wal…” Chintzy managed before Bernie smacked his left knee with the pipe, which caused him to fall and scream.

“You talks too much Chintzy.” Wally told him and then looked at Bernie. “Make it last a while, he don’ts needs to die right now. Teach him about talking.”

Bernie said nothing, simply nodded and swung the pipe, which connected with Chintzy’s other knee, shattering it. Wally watched as Bernie worked, because he loved to watch Bernie Work. Bernie could make a simple pipe job last an hour, and this was a masterpiece. When he finally decided that Chintzy was comatose, two hours into the beating, he finally smashed the head open with the pipe and kicked the scattered remains of Chintzy’s brain into the leaves. Ants were upon the gray matter almost immediately.

“We should probably leave him here.” Wally said.

Bernie said nothing, simply nodded and slipped the bloody pipe into his coat. Bernie sort of scared Wally a little, because he didn’t act like a bunny should. He was silent, and that was all right, but the rest of it was all wrong. Bernie killed with relish, and he seemed to enjoy the feeling of some animal’s blood matting into his fur.

Bernie bent down, grabbed Chintzy’s ear in his teeth and ripped it from the head, then proceeded to chew it like a hunk of tobacco. A shiver ran through Wally as he watched this. Even for a weasel, there were lines. He watched as Bernie happily chewed on the ear and pulled out a cigarette. As he lit it, he had the feeling of being watched, but he ignored it, because who would be in this deserted part of the forest at this time of night?

The answer of course is that anyone who had followed Chintzy to Big Tony’s would be in this part of the forest at this time of night. Anyone who had watched as Bernie and Wally killed Chintzy would be here. Any one who had held his cigarette between his teeth, waiting for them to leave so he could just light up, would be here.

He didn’t need to examine the body, he could tell Chintzy was dead, now it as just a matter of getting over to his place and getting what was his before anyone else. He lit his cigarette and made his way quickly. He didn’t bother trying to separate, he merely grabbed as much as he could carry, which was probably two or three times what Chintzy’s cut of what they’d taken from him had been. It didn’t matter now though, he just had to grab what he could and go.

What really worried him, was that in order to get all of it back, he’d have to go up against Big Tony. As he scrapped more acorns that a reasonable animal would need into the sacks, he wondered if revenge was really all that important. After all, he had almost everything back now, almost more than he started with really. After Louie, he could just walk away. That might be the wisest option after all. Going against these little punks was one thing, but fighting a psychopath like Bernie was more than he thought he needed.

And yet, he couldn’t help but think that there was a reason for all of this. That it was time someone put a bullet into Big Tony’s brain. He could get the other two members of the group and go after Big Tony’s whole crew. He could at least get Wally and Bernie for cheating him out of the pleasure of killing Chintzy. Then he could go make Big Tony disgorge his cut of the money and shoot him too.

Nice as that fantasy was, it wasn’t realistic. Big Tony was too big, as it were. He couldn’t just be killed with impunity. Everyone would come after him for the rest of his life if he even so much as spat in Big Tony’s direction. He would have to give that one up, unless he could think of a way out. Or at least a way out that didn’t involve the bloody maw of one of Big Tony’s dogs.

But still, the image of the clubs came back to him. The sock across the jaw, the boot in the side of the head that made his ear ring and ring until there was just a dull buzz. The way they’d tossed the place, smashing everything as they went along to his store room. The clubs in his side that they kept hitting him with, demanding to know where the rest of it was. The savage smashing his face received when they realized that they’d been tipped wrong and those meager supplies really were all that he had.

That was when they’d gotten inventive. It was Chirpy who threw the kerosene on him, then pouring out more to make a line of fuel so they’d be far away from the blast. He looked at the lighter in Chirpy’s hand as the others laughed at him. The fuel had soaked into his fur, he wouldn’t be able to get clear if the fire once touched him. Droplets formed on his whiskers and dripped off as they laughed.

He got up and ran towards the window, smashing through it as the ball of fire chased him. He landed against the dry leaves and rolled away as his tree began to blaze. It was an old tree, a dead tree, and it went up fast. He did his best to scramble away, cut from the glass and battered by the blows though he was.

They chased him out of the house, guns firing pot shots at him, but he dived into a ditch and managed to hide in a hollow. They looked for him, but not very hard. There was no one to help him out here, after all. Even if he could get the police interested, he’d never last through the winter and a dead animal can’t press charges. The forest took care of squirrels that didn’t store up for winter in the simplest and more efficient way possible.

He managed to crawl to Ruby’s managed to talk her out of going to police, who he knew to be corrupt almost to an animal, and managed to get his strength up enough to get back what was his. And now he was having to consider whether or not to take on the biggest criminal in the forest. This was not an easy thing for one old, gray squirrel to have to decide on his own.

Cat

Twins in Death: Chapter One - Part Four

Twins in Death

A Tale of The Weirdo

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

Chapter One: The Ballad of Captain Scourge

 

  

 

 March 27^th, 2000

12:03 p.m.

 

            The worst part was how shriveled Tommy looked in the blue plaid flannel pajamas. He couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds in his current state. At least he still had most his hair though, that was something. The Weirdo could see the scalp through the white strands, but you had to look for it. It was the shriveled state that the old man had that The Weirdo found so disturbing. The once broad shoulders had slumped and shrunk away, looking like a snowman left out in the warm sun. The wheel chair didn’t help matters, if there had been some real damage caused by violence then even the small metal tube he had in his pocket might not help.

 

            The Weirdo looked down the hall and stepped into the room, closing the door nearly silently behind him. This wasn’t exactly a hospital ward, but assisted living did occasionally mean people would be walking up and down the halls. Besides, lunchtime was coming soon. He took another step into the room and looked down on the aged visage of his best friend.

 

            “Hi Tommy.” The Weirdo said.

 

            Tommy’s eyes, still bright and clear, looked up at him. He seemed to remember that the face was connected to a name, but he seemed slightly confused as to what he was supposed to do with it. His white eyebrows went up, which crinkled his brow, and he smiled a bit. It seemed that all his teeth still remained in his head, which was a helpful sign as well. The old man didn’t seem to fully comprehend what was going on though.

 

            “Did you come to talk about something The Weirdo?” Tommy’s voice was the rasp of an old man, and it sounded unhealthy. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

 

            “I’m not here for an interview.” The Weirdo said, wondering if this was even going to work.

 

            “Aren’t you?” The old man’s voice rasped again.

 

            “Why would you think that was what I was here for?”

 

            “Only reason someone would come visit me before lunch.” The old man said.

 

            The Weirdo closed his eyes and slipped his hand into his pocket to touch the tube of metal. Could this even work like they’d told him it would? What had transpired since he’d left? How long had it been since he’d left them here?

 

            “Sixty-Four years.” Tommy said, nodding slowly. “A lot happened in that time.”

 

            “Nice to see you’ve got some tricks left.” The Weirdo said smiling.

 

            “Yes.” Tommy said nodding in a knowing manner. “Thank heavens I’ve still got all my marbles. They might rattle around a bit more now than they used to, but I’ve still got them.”

 

            “You got old.” The Weirdo noted.

 

            “Yes.” Tommy nodded. “That happens to us mortals, when the Pan leaves us behind to go play in Neverland.”

 

            “I wouldn’t exactly call what I was doing playing.” The Weirdo protested.

 

            “Oh no?” Tommy asked turning his chair towards The Weirdo. “How many women?”

 

            “That’s hardly a fit subject.” The Weirdo admonished.

 

            “Uh huh.” Tommy said nodding his head. “Playing.”

 

            “There was a lot more than that going on.” The Weirdo said.

 

            “So tell me about it.”

 

            “I’ll tell you later.” The Weirdo said walking to Tommy’s closet and sliding open the door. “We’ve got to get you out of here first.”

 

            “And go where exactly?” Tommy asked. “I’m not as light on my feet as I used to be you know. I can hardly stand up without help.”

 

            “That what the chair is for?”

 

            “I’ve got a walker, but the chair was easier.”

 

            “So you’re not so much decrepit, as you are lazy.” The Weirdo said pawing through Tommy’s suits that had been hung up for him. “When the hell did you start wearing tweed?”

 

            “That’s what they young people are wearing now.” Tommy said lifting a hand palm up and then turning it over to rest on the arm of his chair again.

 

            “No it isn’t.” The Weirdo’s face looked like he had smelled something bad, rather than just seeing an unfashionable suit. “Where the hell is your blue suit?”

 

            “I stopped wearing those a long time ago.” Tommy said. “I gave them all away years ago.”

 

            “Gave them away?”

 

            “Well yes,” Tommy said leaning forward. “How long did you think I was going to keep the blue suit in my closet waiting for you to come back from the dead?”

 

            “I wasn’t dead.” The Weirdo protested. “I was off doing important things.”

 

            “Banging hot ladies.”

 

            “Traveling through time to learn how to do things.”

 

            “Banging historically hot ladies.” Tommy retorted.

 

            “Where do you pick up this language?” The Weirdo asked turning around. “I thought all you old fogies watched classic movies on cable all the time.”

 

            “The other old fogies watch old movies.” Tommy said. “I watch a bit of everything, no sense trying to melt too far into nostalgia. You could end up not having any hip talk for when the cats come to jaw with you.”

 

            “You might want to work on some of your lingo daddio.” The Weirdo said with a smile. “Don’t want to be left mouthing at the gate when the skivers come to palaver with us.”

 

            “Do you know what any of that means?”

 

            “Some of it.” The Weirdo said, and then pulled a black suit from the closet. “How is this for leaving in?”

 

            “My funeral suit?” Tommy asked.

 

            “No, probably not then.” The Weirdo hung the suit back on the hook and began pawing through them again. “When was the last time you shopped for clothes?”

            “About three months ago.” Tommy said. “I bought these very pajamas online. You know about online? Computers that fit in your lap and all that?”

 

            “I know about it.” The Weirdo nodded. “I’ve been brought up to date on most things that went on in my absence.”

 

            “During which you were traveling through time?” Tommy asked.

 

            “Yeah.” The Weirdo said drawing a brown suit from the closet. “I think you could wear this without embarrassing me.”

 

            “I haven’t been able to fit into that in thirty years or more.” Tommy said.

 

            “Good.” The Weirdo said. “Then it’s just out of date enough to be retro. Where do you keep your socks?”

 

            “Why do I need my socks?”

 

            “Because you’ve got to get dressed.” The Weirdo said, slowly as if speaking to an idiot or an old friend. “We’ve got to go.”

 

            “Go where?” Tommy asked, looking around the room. “Look, while you spent a few years gallivanting through time, I was stuck here for six and a half decades. I got old in that time you know. Don’t know if you noticed at all but I’m going to be ninety one on my next birthday.”

 

            “I know when you were born.” The Weirdo said opening and closing drawers. “And it was more than a few years let me tell you.”

 

            “How long?”

 

            “No sure, but longer than a few years. I spent nearly sixteen years in the Roman Army alone, and that was only a small fraction of my time.”

 

            “You don’t look much older. What? Did they let me have all your aging too?” Tommy said, tapping his fingers against the plastic arm of the wheel chair. “I mean I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I need a metal framework just to get around. I can’t help with whatever you think it is you’re going to do.”

 

            “I can’t do it without you.” The Weirdo said and his hand slipped into his pocket.

 

            “I’m old and tired.” Tommy said. “Unless you’ve got a magic rejuvenating fluid in your pocket.”

 

            “Funny you should say that.” The Weirdo smiled, drawing the metal tube form his pocket.

 

            He opened the tube and withdrew an old glass syringe with a screw cap over the needle. The substance in the glass tube glowed a sickly color of green and seemed to move like oil in the cylinder. The Weirdo held the needle in his hand, showed it to Tommy and set it on a small table between them.

 

            “What is that?”

 

            “Magic rejuvenating fluid.” The Weirdo informed him.

 

            “Yeah.” Tommy nodded looking at it. “But what is it?”

 

            “Magic fluid, that rejuvenates and stuff.” The Weirdo answered.

 

            “But, what, actually, is it?” Tommy asked, as if talking to an idiot or someone from the government.

 

            “I have no idea.” The Weirdo said. “But I am told that if I inject it into you, you will regain your vitality and age won’t touch you anymore.”

 

            “Is that a fact?”

 

            “So I’m told.” The Weirdo said.

 

            “By who?”

 

            “Longish story.” The Weirdo said. “And one that can wait until we get out of here.”

 

            “Where are we going then?”

 

            “Home.” The Weirdo said, looking slightly confused. “Where else would we go?”

 

            “Where is home?”

 

            “The house.” The Weirdo answered. “I’ve hired a house keeper, built a new computer, tricked out a few things.”

 

            “And I’m supposed to just inject myself with liquid youth and run off after you?” Tommy asked. “I’m old, my children are old. My life is spent. I’ve outlived Amy, and one of my children as well. I’m down to that point where the only person who even knows I exist is my granddaughter.”

 

            “Then she’ll be the only one we need to send a change of address form to.” The Weirdo said with a bright smile and Tommy could feel his misgivings melt away.

 

            The Weirdo could do that to you, make the truly foolish sound like a good idea. It was more than that though, he made you think that the impossible was merely difficult. Somehow, things always sounded like a good idea when he said them and he always had a good and reasonable answer for things. Why not take the glowing fluid and become young again?

 

            Tommy reached for the syringe and held it up, noticing the age spots on his now frail hand more than the glowing liquid. It would work, he could tell that somehow. It would work exactly like The Weirdo had said it would. Of course he could then get shot and killed like Johnny Death had, he could be dead before the sun went down. He knew somehow that if he was injected with that serum, that liquid youth, he’d die by violence.

 

            The doctors had told him there wasn’t any reason that he shouldn’t live another twenty years, but would they be like this? If he tracked the steady decline, he knew what another twenty years would bring. There was a fellow who was a hundred in the home and he could just about feed himself without dropping the fork. Paul actually seemed to be doing pretty well, but every once in a while Tommy noticed a look in his eyes, it was one he saw every morning. It was the look of a man who knew that he had done everything life had asked of him, and he was ready to be done now. They were crawling towards the finish line, and at this point another day of life was just another day.

 

            “Should I go out in a blaze of glory, or fade like the dying ember?” Tommy asked.

 

            “When was the last time you felt you made a difference?” The Weirdo asked.

 

            “I helped catch that Zodiac Killer in sixty-six.”

 

            “Was your granddaughter even alive then?”

 

            “No.” Tommy shook his head. “She’s in her late twenties.”

 

            “Is she cute?”

 

            “We will not discuss my granddaughter in these terms.” Tommy said and then looked around the room conspiratorially. “But yes, she’s a knock out. I don’t know why she’s not got a nice man.”

 

            “She doesn’t like nice men?” The Weirdo asked. “Doesn’t know how to tell you?”

 

            “No.” He said shaking his head. “I asked. You should know the futility of trying to lie to me. She’s waiting for someone really special.”

 

            “Well that’s great.” The Weirdo said picking up the syringe. “So, do you stay or do you go?”

 

            “Oh what the hell.” Tommy said pushing his sleeve up. “Give me a shot and let’s go.”

 

            “Right you are.” The Weirdo said unscrewing the cap from the syringe.

 

 

© 2012 Autumn Knight Productions