Rush

Chapter 4

We drove to a dingy neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, one known for its black gangs. Gunfights are common in these areas. I have been to places like this before when disposing of bodies. I feel such contempt and disgust for the people living here that I sometimes think about giving them a taste of my blade. This reminds me, I forgot my Swiss knife at home. It could have come in handy tonight. How will I satisfy my bloodlust if I get bored of Lyman fraternizing with a black drug dealer? Biggy Yo? Disgusting!

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Troy asked Lyman, annoyed, while driving.

"Yeah, this is the place, yo!" Lyman said, checking directions on Google Maps.

"Yeah, just around the corner, nigga. That's it, easy peasy, broyo!" Lyman kept speaking in this strange sort of way to Troy while he stopped the car. I don't understand the reason behind the change in his speech, but it's very annoying.

"Why the fuck are you talking like this?" Troy looked at Lyman's silly-looking face and asked.

"This is the hood, man. This is how you talk here, motherfucka!" Lyman said and laughed. I think he had cocaine at the club before we came here. Why didn't he tell us?

"When did you snort at the club? We didn't see you, and you didn't even share with us, you selfish fuck!" I told Lyman.

"Relax, Kilman. I just had a little bit when I went to the men's room before you came. Some fourteen-year-old kid gave it to me. It wasn't that bad," Lyman replied with a sulky expression.

I scoffed at him. Troy said, "You are lucky the kid didn't sell you his mom's talcum powder." We both then laughed.

Lyman snickered, "He gave it to me for free, dipshits!"

"You selfish fuck!" Troy said to him.

I laughed and said to Troy, "Just imagine how Lyman's head would look on a platter covered in veggies."

Lyman pointed at a small house ahead. "There! That's where Biggy lives! Let's go."

I rolled my eyes and got out of the car. As we walked toward the house, I felt a weird sense of euphoria and anticipation. I didn't understand why. I had the same feeling before I murdered Darryl's ex-girlfriend Lizzy at that party a year ago. He thought she dumped him and moved to Alaska because she had been chatting with an Eskimo guy a few days before her disappearance. He was worried whether a high-maintenance girl like her could live in an igloo. It really baffles me how no one found her body in her apartment that whole night. I had hidden it in one of the closets in her bedroom before I sold her body the next day to some necrophiliacs. They are good kids, those necrophiliacs. One of them is doing a PhD at Harvard while another is an assistant to an astrophysicist at NASA. They told me they do it because 'some habits are hard to change.'

I had told them, 'I understand.'

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When we reached the front porch, Lyman pressed the doorbell enthusiastically, a dumb grin on his face. I looked at him angrily; I didn't want to be there, but sometimes one has to be with certain people in certain places to fit in. Honestly, I wouldn't even think twice before cutting off Lyman's or Troy's heads.

A few seconds later, someone opened the door. He was a short Asian man. He looked at us with curiosity and then suddenly smiled as if something had clicked in his mind.

"Nyman?"

Lyman was confused. "It's Lyman, you yellow idiot! Where's Biggy Yo?"

"Thas wha I say! Nyman! I am Bin Ji Yo. Sum ting wong? All okay?," the man asked with a silly grin.

Lyman was getting angry. He looked funny, his face almost red. "Look, asshole, we came here to buy drugs from Biggy Yo. The man I spoke to on the phone sounded like a nigger. Who the hell are you, Jackie Chan?"