One Offs: Random Rambles of a Crazed Fool

Music Notes 🎶

Not even gonna lie y'all. I love this one. Maybe later I will circle back and expand it into something dark.. nasty.. maybe a little redeeming.. but shouldn't the bad guys win sometimes, too? 

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Dim light cascades from a single stringed bulb. The light barely illuminates the room, casting everything beyond its rays in elongated shadows. To the person just waking up from their drug induced nap, this is the makings of a nightmare.

A rush of fuzzy memories come to the surface. The club, a whore he was fucking and snorting powder off her balloon sized tits, alcohol, and Ricky sitting back and watching before he joined. Ricky..

'R-ri-keee,' he mumbles, shaking his head and trying to use his right hand to scrub his face, but it doesn't move. He tries again to tug it. Still, it doesn't move. He shakes his head and tries to lift the other hand. It doesn't move either. Through the drug-fog, his mind starts to piece together that he is tied up.

'Ree..'

He chokes. 'Rahh-ick-kee!'

He shifts and pulls at his limbs. All four are tied down. The nylon rope digs into his skin. His eyes drift around the room, looking for something.. anything, but the dim light of the room only pools around him, shrouding everything else in darkness.

His wild eyes drift back to his left wrist as he jerks at the bindings again. 'RICKY,' he yells, this time. Anger boils in his gut fueling him.

'THIS SHIT AIN'T FUCKING FUNNY!!' he screams at the top of his lungs, then leans down to gnaw at the nylon. After a few minutes of jaw hurting chewing, he stops and hangs his head in his lap, noticing something strange.. he's naked.

'Mah-uh-therfucker,' he hisses and screams, 'FUCKING BASTARD ASS COWARD! FUCKING COME IN HERE!!'

He leans his head back as adrenaline courses through his veins. His legs and arms aren't as tired as they were due to whatever they gave him is wearing off. He doubles his efforts in breaking free, but the nylon has a center wire that he can't simply chew through.

'Fuck.. Fuck.. FUCK!' he mutters over and over until he screams it aloud, yelling for anyone to hear him. After who knows how long, it starts to sink in that he is not going to make it out of this little game alive.

Fresh hot pain across his face jerks him back awake. Panic, shock, and surprise wash over his features as his blurry vision focuses on the face in front of him.

'James.. Jamie.. Jimmy.. Jimbo..' happily chuckles a pockmarked faced man with a crewcut and a nasty scar running down the right side of his face, which looks to have taken the top part of that ear, too. His joyous tone makes the smile he sports all the more sinister.

'W-whoo a-are yo-oou?' stammers out the captive.

His companion shrugs his skinny shoulders hidden under an expensive black suit. 'James Maverick, 39, lives on 32523 Idles Way with wife Marlynn, 34, Alexander, 12, Michael, 10, and Marcus, 4.'

'H-how.. My family.. How?!' James demands, eyes suddenly turning deadly.

'Ho, ho, boys,' teases expensive suit, 'would you look at that? He thinks he still can get out of this.'

Suit leans close to James as James leans back. Suit is about to say something else, when James collides his forehead squarely into Suit's face, not caring what he's hit. The pain to James' forehead tells him it was a good hit. The captive's elation doesn't last long.

'SUMBITCH!' roars Suit as he grabs a handful of James' short hair, nearly ripping it from the scalp. Suit punches James in the face hard - once, twice, thrice jumps to five and nearly six when another companion jumps in and pulls Suit off.

'MALCOLM! Boss said alive! A-LIVE!' yells another companion.

Pain rages and pulsates in James' face all the way down to his feet. He wants to curl up in a ball, but he can't let that bastard think he's won just because he gave him a few blows to the head. James, in a past life, was an amateur MMA fighter, mainly a sparring partner and knew a thing or two about taking a hit. This is nothing, he thinks as he smiles through his broken nose, possible broken eye socket, and loose teeth.

He spits blood in the direction of Malcolm and the couple of guys holding him back. 'Cunt.'

'Haha. You have jokes? How about I introduce you to a friend of mine?' taunts Malcolm with an evil gleam in his eyes. It didn't sit well with James. It is the look of a complete madman. 'Bring him.'

One of the companions of Malcolm leaves the dull light, receding into the shadows to return with a burlap sack, handing it to Malcolm. The bottom of the sack was saturated with a dark substance dripping onto the floor, but James can't make it out clearly.

Malcolm reaches his pale hand inside the bag, pulling out a ball of some kind. As if acting in a Shakespearian play, Malcolm holds up the ball by the stings, from what James can make out in the shadows, and talks to it.

'Friend, do you or do you not, think Jimbo is funny?' he asks the ball, still holding it up as he steps into the dim light.

The ball morphs into a human head and Malcolm has a fist full of hair as he turns the head toward James. Malcolm's bruised face slides into a sinister smile as evil lights up his eyes while James' face drains of all color.

'R-r-ric-kee,' he whispers while his teeth involuntarily chatter, and he stares into the lifeless blue eyes of his best friend and business partner.

'Now, this is going to play one of two ways,' Malcolm explains as he tosses Ricky's head into his friend's quivering lap. 'You are going to squeal like a fucking pig, right now. Oh and make sure you hit those high notes..'

James is in utter shock. His best friend's head is sitting in his lap with one eye open and the other half lidded, as if posed in a cutesy wink. James starts to shake more and tries to rid himself of the head, the still fresh blood staining his thighs and crotch.

SMACK!

'Jimbo.. my buddy,' calls Malcolm, 'are you listening? Because way number two involves me and my friends taking a little drive to Wincovia and having a little fun with Marlynn and family. Who knows what you told them while you were cuddled up on the couch for Saturday movie night?'

Trembling, James meets Malcolm's brightly shining eyes. 'You will.. leave my family.. out of this?'

'To be honest, Jimbo,' sighs Malcolm as he opens his suit jacket to pull out a black box of cigarettes. He pulls one of the black cylinder tubes with his teeth from the pack and leans into one of his companions to accept the light already waiting. He takes a deep drag from the cigarette, all the while, keeping his eyes on the shaking man.

'Jimbo,' Malcolm starts again, after releasing grey-blue smoke into the air. It climbs toward the light bulb. 'I don't do the family thing, but I am not against sending my dogs to bite.'

The companion who held the lighter for Malcolm barks jokingly to add into the play. James shakes more, the adrenaline slowly leaving his body. All of his limbs, especially his feet, feel cold as ice. He tries to shift his weight to move the head from his lap again. It is heartbreaking to have the man he was just laughing and joking with stare up at him, from a place a whore had her lips.

'But keep in mind, Jimbo, what you sing should be equal to.. Carnegie Hall,' snickers Malcolm as he pulls out his cell. 'So, what will it be?'

He waves his device, watching James's eyes track with it from side to side. He stops and leans in, but not too close. 'Blondie, go--'

'Noo.. wait.. I'll talk.. Please..'

'Ahh, sweet music,' Malcolm hums along with James' pleas. He turns his attention from the warmup singing of the man to Blondie. 'Call The Angel. His tutelage is needed to make this canary sing.'