That was all about five years ago. They never did find Sarah. (Sarah, not Jasmine. I kept forgetting.) She was listed as a runaway. Her folks didn’t buy it, but with nothing to go on there was no case. Throw her file in the cabinet and let it collect dust. The four fingered broad in the Prius never did blab, as far as I know. Nothing came of it if she did, so whatever. Anyway, that’s about it. No more to tell. It’s getting close to that time anyway. Yes sir, it’s almost here. Ah hell, I suppose I got time for one more story! There’s only one fitting for the occasion, the important one, so I’ll tell that one. Ready? Too bad, here it goes. It all started with that damned clock. Well, to be exact, it was probably before the clock. I’ll just start with that morning. I woke up to the phone ringing. It was Mr. Chen, my boss at the liquor store. I was an hour late for my shift, again, but that didn’t matter because he was firing me for stealing. Apparently all the bottles of hooch and packs of cigarettes hadn’t gone unnoticed. He said I could pick up my last check and after that I was permanently kicked off the property. Wow, big loss, that joint had more roaches than downtown Fremont. I got to the store about an hour later. Chen’s not there, but his rat-faced wife May is. She handed me the check with a scowl, not saying one word. I look at it and see that it’s about $100 shorter than it should be. “Whoa whoa, what the hell is this? Where’s the rest of it,” I demand. “Oh, the rest,” she says, “that went to the liquor and cigarettes you stole.” “What?! That’s bull! I have rent to pay!” “You should’ve thought about rent before you stole from us. You get out now, or I’ll call the police.” I gazed at her for a moment. She just turned her back and pretended to dust the shelves. I walked out of the store, snagging a bottle of wine on the way. I hate wine, but it was the principle of the thing. When I got home I went straight to the manager’s office. I had to tell them I’d be short on rent again and beg for more time. They told me I had 24 hours to pack my crap and get out. To make matters worse, the dick groundskeeper reported that I was parked in a red zone and had my truck towed. So my day was going great. I was jobless, homeless and car less, all before noon! I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, but of course I was dead wrong.
As I walked back to my apartment, a funny thing happened. Not funny “ha ha,” funny “that’s messed up.” As I got to my staircase, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head that threw me on my face. I tried to get up, but was stopped by a flurry of punches and kicks that left me barely conscious. I felt hands rooting through my pockets, removing my wallet. Then I heard their footsteps as they ran off. Perfect! On top of everything else I get beaten and robbed! I picked myself up and crawled up the stairs to my apartment. Then I filled a freezer bag with ice, put it to my lumpy head, and lay on the couch where merciful unconsciousness took me for the rest of the afternoon. It was full dark when I woke up. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I thought I was hung over at first, but then the day’s events came back in a nauseating wave. I stood up, feeling like I needed to do something. The realization that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do put me back on my ass. And that brought me to the clock situation. Tick tock, tick tock… Looking at that pretty blade and reliving all those memories made something snap inside my head. Without warning the Red was there, clouding my vision. The voices came too, but they weren’t whispering, they were laughing. Without thinking, maybe without the ability to think, I picked up the knife and left the apartment. I had no destination. I just walked, much like the night I cleared Danny boy of his sins.
About an hour later I found myself on the Strip. Since I despise the Strip with every fiber of my being I had no explanation for this but, hell, since I was there, I might as well mingle. I took a look around. I was in front of the Starlight casino. People flooded the joint in droves. The laughter grew louder. I went inside. The place was packed. Saturday night on the Strip you could expect no less. I walked through the casino observing the cattle as they grazed through the field of flashing lights, ringing bells and falling coins. Eventually one of the cows caught my eye, a scantily clad blond tripping over her own bare feet. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the cocktail she sloshed all over her evening gown. The floor must’ve been uneven. She went into the ladies’ room and I followed, surprisingly unnoticed. Despite all the traffic in the casino, the restroom was empty. Stumbly miraculously made it to a stall, but that’s where her luck ended.
I rushed her as she entered the stall and smashed her head against the wall once to keep her quiet. Then I held her head inside the toilet and stabbed her in the back several times. I don’t know how many, I lost count in the teens, but by the time I’d stopped I had her blood all over my pants and shirt. I left her there, face down in the crapper, and left. I was almost at the exit when I heard someone talking loudly on a cell phone. I pressed against the wall and waited. A boisterous bitch in a hooker skirt traipsed in like she owned the place. This was a problem. It was too soon for witnesses. I had to deal with this. As she admired herself in the mirror I crept behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around I said, “HI!” Then I grabbed her by the neck and squeezed until her face turned purple under all that whore paint. What a sight she was: makeup thick enough to cut with a knife, tongue lolling out of her mouth, eyes bulging from their sockets, and still she held on to her phone! That’s dedication! Eventually, though, the spark died in her eyes, and she died in my hands. I got the hell out of there before any other idiot witnesses could stumble in. Conscious of the blood I was now soaked in I snatched a long coat off the back of a chair at one of the slots. I also snatched the beer and pack of cigarettes that were with it. I felt giddy. I’d never done this so publicly before! It was a hell of a rush! I walked through the casino, headed toward where the crowds wee thickest. It was like wading through a sea of human flesh. The best part was no one even bothered a glance at me. They were all too engrossed in the ancient art of throwing their money away. It was perfect. I walked over by the bar. Some Guido douche bag had just got shot down by a pretty thing in a leather skirt. To console his fractured ego he ordered a shot of Patron, staying true to the Jersey Shore image. As he waited for his drink I walked up and stuck my knife in his gut, ruining his pretty silk shirt. Then I walked off before the moron even knew what’d happened.
A midlife crisis was slobbering all over a group of college girls at a Wheel of Fortune machine. He looked fun. I walked up behind him and stabbed him in the spine. I think he may have grunted or something, but the sound was lost to the cheers of the girls winning 20 bucks on the slot. I was having such fun! But, alas, all good things must come to an end. I knew it was only a matter of time before the bodies were discovered, and as soon as the thought struck I heard the first screams, coming from the direction of the bar. Woops, time to go. I made my way to the closest exit, now avoiding the crowds I’d welcomed just moments before. I had to get away ASAP. Apparently my escapades hadn’t gone unnoticed. As I started out of the casino a security guard with pepper spray tried to stop me. Pepper spray? Really? I put my hands on my head. He came over to cuff me, but he obviously failed to notice the 8 inch blade in my right hand. When he reached for my wrist he got cold steel in his chest. I ran off, leaving him to choke on his own blood. I exited to the employee parking lot. I needed a quick getaway, and I found it in a car just pulling in. The driver was halfway out when I got up to him. “Hello. I was wondering if you could help me,” I said. “Sure, what can I do fer ya,” he said. “Well…” I kicked him hard in the crotch. He dropped like a sack of bricks. I positioned him with his head resting on the car’s frame, and then I drove the door into his face again and again until I was out of breath. He was damn near decapitated by the time I’d finished. I drug him away from the car, which was no easy task. The guy must’ve been pushing 250! Then I dug his keys out of his pocket, got in the car and took off. I could hear sirens everywhere now. Looked like Vegas Blvd.
Escaping unnoticed was no longer an option. Lucky for me there a series of back streets behind the casino I could use. I pulled out and drove away. I dumped the car about a block from the complex and hoofed it from there. I never liked Fords anyway. When I got home I didn’t even bother cleaning up, I just took out my bottle of hooch and drank myself unconscious. The last sound I remember hearing was that infernal clock. The next sound I heard was that of my front door exploding in, followed by a lot of running and a guy with a gun telling me to get my damn hands up or he’ll put a bullet in my chest. “Ok super cop! Easy with the hardware!” He slammed me down, cuffed me up and took me away. On the way to jail it finally sank in; they actually caught me. Between physical evidence, eyewitness accounts and surveillance footage it wasn’t that hard. Then they found the trophies in my freezer, completely eliminating any chance I may have had of beating the case. I declined a lawyer and plead guilty. The judge asked if there was anything I’d like to say before sentencing. “Yes sir your honor,” I said. “There is one thing. I noticed when the officers were searching me for weapons that they spent an awful long time in my crotch area. I was just wondering if it was normal police procedure to cop a feel on a suspect.” He sentenced me to death by lethal injection. No sense of humor at all! Honestly, I expected more from a guy in a long black dress! So here I sit, waiting for my date with the needle. Hey, I think I hear them coming! “DEAD MAN WALKING.” Ha ha ha ha haaa, I love that line! Well, time to go. Hit the lights and pay the strippers, the party is over.
