A Carton of Cigarettes and a Bag of Double Bubble

2



Tap, tap, tap. Tap tap tap. I still remember that goddamned tapping. I don’t remember where it came from, but it was like drums pounding to me. I woke up wallowing around on the damn floor in my own blood. I’ve never had much trouble with the fuckin’ sight of blood, I guess the fear of blood is something you have to be born with. I didn’t know I had been hurt that bad, until I saw the bastards had slit me a couple of times with a goddamn knife. A couple of times down the arms and once across the back, somebody shoulda told the fuckers that I’d had worse than that. Of course that with the beating made me not feel too fuckin’ hot.

I kinda drug myself over to the subway walls, leaving a nice smear of red the whole way. It looked like a movie action seen from where I sat, except I hadn’t won this one. I got to thinkin’ about that girl at the park. Got to thinkin’ about how she looked scared, and wondered if I had looked scared when the bastards started poundin’ on me. Then I remember the fuckin’ knife slashes, and that made me all the hell madder thinkin’ about them going after that girl with a fuckin’ knife.

The whole time I was thinkin’ this, I sat there drawing pictures and designs on the subway floor with the blood that was drippin’ outta me. Told you I was a psycho motherfucker. It was kinda peaceful sittin’ there at one-thirty on Monday morning, with nothing more than the sound of a subway breezin’ by every now and then. It was kinda funny; I used to be afraid of the subway. When I was little, I used to think that the subway went all the way around the world, and that one day I would get on but it wouldn’t stop where I needed to go. I kept picturing the faces flying by my window, as the subway took me to China or some other fuckin’ far away location. Now I felt like I was on the moon instead of in a New York subway. It was quiet.

I was pretty fuckin’ sure Slim and Shorty were long gone, but I had no fuckin’ desire to let the fuckers know I was still breathing, so I just layed there. I was fuckin’ thinking about the people at my school, all those fuckin’ preps and jocks and cheerleaders, they would fuckin’ have a goddam stroke if they even stepped in the mud, let alone lay down on the fuckin’ subway floor.

I think I’m different from everybody, nobody seems to think like me, I fuckin’ feel like a stranger in a strange land. Even my parents seem different from me, most of all everybody seems so goddam superficial its not even fuckin’ funny. I don’t know its like everybody’s far away and I’m standing back looking at ‘em all standing there and I don’t fuckin’ have one desire in this world to be where they all are. It’s fuckin’ crazy, I know, but then again so am I.

I come stumblin’ up the fuckin’ stairs lookin’ like I had climbed up all the way from the bottom of hell. I felt like it too. Still bleedin’ I took a look around, there were people out, not as many as usual, but it wasn’t goddam deserted. A couple of drunks over there, a cabbie cruising down the road, and a few hookers. Seemed no matter where I went in New York I was always outta place.

So I sat down on the curb, and reached for a piece of gum. No luck, I had chewed the last of it earlier. The only other thing that could come anywhere near the fuckin’ spot was a cigarette and I had a whole goddamn carton in my vest. I pulled out a fresh pack and lit up, taking a big long goddam drag of that fucker made me feel a little better. Only smoke Marlboro, after all, I’m like a goddamned cowboy, right?

My hands were still stained with blood, and my vest needed to be washed before the red would disappear. I didn’t feel like washin’ it, though, I wanted people to stop and look at me bleedin’ and wild-eyed and look at one another kinda sideways in that knowing tone of voice say, “There goes a psycho.” Well it didn’t happen, but what the hell you can’t have everything, right man?

I took another cigarette out and lit it, so one to smoke and one to just fuckin’ sit there and burn, it was so goddamned pretty. The skies were fuckin’ clear and, seems like clear nights here in New York are the fuckin’ lonelinest thing in the whole fuckin’ world, like I said, a million fuckin’ miles away from everybody else. I feel like it all the fuckin’ time, man.

So I was sitting there kinda waitin’ lookin’ around when this yellow motherfuckin’ Cadillac comes flying down the highway doin’ about a thousand fuckin’ miles a minute, this black gloved hand flies outta the goddamned window, and I hear a lot of gunfire. Right over my goddam head, those bullets riddled an empty cafe’ behind me.

There are places in life where time slows down and everything goes real goddam slow, I remember seeing into that car, and I see a girl holdin’ the gun. She was the same girl from the park, she was dressed different, but it was her. I could almost see the bullets flyin’ through the goddamned air, she looked at me for a minute, just one minute, and I saw her eyes get a little wider, then she was gone, swept down the road with the yellow motherfuckin’ Cadillac. I sat there, the cigarette hanging outta my mouth feeling at a complete loss for words. “Thank you.” that was all she had said. The cigarette still smoking, all I could think of was “Thank you”.

I looked over my shoulder, and saw that the cafe’ hadn’t been hit that much. The only thing that made me leave was the alarm goin’ off and the sound of sirens way the hell off. “Thank you.” I got up and limped off, leaving the fuckin’ burnt out cigarettes lying on the curb.

I pulled my hat down low over my eyes, the way I do when I don’t want to be noticed, and walked quickly down the sidewalk. I didn’t want to go home, all it would do is make me want to play a five-bullet game of Russian roulette. I did that one time on a dare, like a stupid motherfucker I pulled the trigger, only to hear the click of an empty fuckin’ chamber. I won a hundred dollars for takin’ the bet, but the disappointed groan from the guys at school when they heard the click took all the fuckin’ bragging privilages away. Not that I like to brag, but winning a game of five fuckin’ bullet Russian roulette doesn’t happen everyday.

I hated the motherfucking schools, all full of goddam preps and jocks and counselors. I’m the least popular person in my fuckin’ school, because I don’t play by their fuckin’ rules. When the jocks gang up on me I don’t cower down, I do my best to take as many of the motherfuckers with me as I can. They don’t like that, because it makes them realize the kinda motherfuckin’ trash they really are. Always talkin’ about this girl or that girl, and how they “fucked the bitch”. I get pissed off at that kinda shit, makes me a mad-dog psycho.

When I get the angriest I can hear music. I remember my parents used to play classical motherfuckin’ music when I was a little kid, but there was one I loved. It was called “In the Halls of the Mountain King” and it started off kinda slow and quiet, but then it got louder and faster. When I get my most pissed off I kinda hear that music slow and even, then I start to fight and it gets louder and faster, and louder and faster, tearing my motherfuckin’ brain apart. I can’t see straight, all I know is that whatever gets in front of me is gonna move or die, and then all of the sudden at it’s loudest point the music stops. And then I look around and see that whoever I was fighting with has either run like a motherfucker, or in the case of the jocks are looking at the few motherfuckers I got, down on the floor kicking the hell outta an unconscious motherfucker. I know that look the give me, fear. They’re afraid because I didn’t back down from their shit.

The music doesn’t always work, I remember once there were way too fuckin’ many of them and I was under all of them, with some big guy way on top of the pile screamin’ about how he was gonna beat the hell outta me if he could just fuckin’ find me.

The whole time I’m under the moutain trying my best to kill the fucker on top of me, screamin me fuckin’ head off. Maybe that’s what scares them, when I get in a fight the mad-dog psycho comes out and I start screaming telling them what I’m gonna do, or about what somebody told me, screaming about how I’m the angel of death sent to fuckin’ kill them all. That may be what makes them a little less anxious to fight me.

But that’s not to say I’m a complete fuckin’ bezerker, it’s just I kinda loose my head. Even when I’m at my fuckin’ craziest I still know what I’m doin’. You see, to me a fight is like a fuckin’ dance, sometimes I fuckin’ hear somebody make a statement about me looking like I’m dancing when I’m fuckin’ fighting. I kinda like that idea, that all a fight is is a different kinda fuckin’ dancing.

Then I remember one day after they had come in from basketball practice I was kinda hangin’ around listening to them talk, I don’t know why but I always do. John Keese, a tall, lanky brown-headed kid on the basketball team and the coach’s goddam son on top of that, started talkin’ about how he had a bet nobody would take. That motherfucker was always makin’ bets trying to beat other people outta their goddam money, well, I said I would take any goddam bet he had just to shut him the fuck up.

He looked like he was about ready to come after me, when his buddy, Ronald Burlik, tapped him on the shoulder and whispered something into his ear. Then he got this bullshit grin on his face and says I’m on. I asked him what the motherfuckin’ bet was, he leaned against his locker with his towel thrown over his shoulder trying to look cool, and told me to meet them out in the main courtyard at lunch period to find out. I wasn’t impressed by his manner and told him he would have to get a hundred dollars together no matter what he did. Again he told me it would be there, but just show up on the courtyard at lunch.

Well, he lived right around the corner from the High School, so he ran home to get something. Oh, those bastards talked up what I was going to have to do big. Broadcasting it all over the goddam school to all the girls and all the boys eager to liven up their dull lives. Fuck, I didn’t care what the bastard cooked up, he could have told me to fuckin’ pop the fuckin’ principal, and I woulda beat the old fuck to death with a desk just to shut the bastard up. I don’t hate the fuckin’ principal, it’s just I’ve come to believe over these past few fuckin’ years that I was born without a fuckin’ conscience, you know, man?

“Hey Everybody! I’m gonna make H.C. look like the fuckin’ coward he is” were the exact words I believe he used. Fuckin’ lame the hell and gone, but the rest fuckin’ ate it up like candy. I think John and Ronald had everyone in that whole fuckin’ school ready to bend over and grab their ankles just to get those two fuckers attention. Made me fuckin’ sick as hell and gone, but what the hell, let ‘em if thats what they wanted to do. So anyway for the next two periods they told everyone what I was going to be doing, except for me. The guys gave me the evil eye, and the girls looked at me like I was the fuckin’ man from Mars, which wasn’t that much of a fuckin’ change for me anyway, until lunch rolled around. The teachers didn’t give a fuck, because what we did outside the actual school building wasn’t any of their affair.

So at twelve sharp almost everybody in the school was in the main courtyard, I see now that I should have known the kinda thing he was going to dare me to do, but I didn’t think about it. In my cargo jeans, vest and blue cabby hat, I walked out there to see what the hell they wanted me to do. I had my two favorite books tucked away in my vest, on one side “The Catcher in the Rye” and “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” on the other. As long as I had those I could do anything, and to hell with the rest of these motherfuckers.

I took my time, walked up to John and Ronald like we were old goddam friends, slapping them on the back and joking. They gave each other a knowing look then John held out the revolver in one fuckin’ hand and the five bullets in the other. Ronald held up five twenty fuckin’ dollar bills where I could see and count them, before he slipped them under his hat.

“Alright, mad-dog Psycho, I bet you won’t play five bullet Russian roulette.” I almost told him he was goddamned right, but then I remembered I fuckin’ could do anything. I put on my best psycho grin and took the gun and bullets. He didn’t like this, but I sat right there jokin’ and smilin’ while I was loading each round.

“That’s Mr. Mad-dog Psycho, shithead, and yes I’ll take your goddamned bet.”

Clack

I opened the fuckin’ chamber, sliding one bullet into the chamber.

“You know, I should have seen this coming,” then I threw my head back and started laughing right in his face. The whole time him and Ronald were getting redder and redder.

Two bullets.

“Come on, motherfucker! You’re so damn mad right now you could kill me.”

Three Bullets.

He finally said something, “You’re fixing to solve the problem for me, you goddamn maniac!”

Four Bullets.

He was getting fuckin’ edgy now, as well as the rest of the goddamn student body, people were whispering wondering what was gonna happen when I reached five. That’s right, Godfrey “H.C.” Michaels is the fuckin’ talk of the town, I was fuckin’ dynamite back then, man.

“Maybe” I told him, “But maybe I’m gonna load this last bullet, and blow you away. You never know with a mad-man motherfucker like me.” I said being calm as a bastard.

Five Bullets.

Clack!

I closed the chamber with a resounding noise that echoed through the whole goddamn school. I pulled back the fuckin’ hammer and spun the cylinder around, then eased it back ‘til it was fuckin’ cocked.

“You better have my fuckin’ money ready when I’m done here, man” I said as I placed the gun to my temple. John’s face was a sick shade of gray, as he looked around like he was about to make a break for it.

‘Better not do that, man. If you run the first bullet outta this gun is going to be headed for the back of your motherfucking head. All right, everybody back way the hell up!” I yelled. John looked at Ronald and Ronald looked at John, both of them sure I was going to blow my fuckin’ head off. They were smiling at each other.

“See you guys in a motherfuckin’ minute for my money, so don’t go anywhere,” I said.

“Whatever you say H.C. Goodbye!” They backed away from me to a safe distance. I kinda noticed Ronald hung back and just kinda fuckin’ looked at me a minute. He kinda looked fuckin’ sad.

I dropped the gun from my temple and pulled out a cigarette, which was completely against the fuckin’ rules, but what the hell I would probably be dead in a goddamn minute. I lit it, stuck it in my mouth, and held the gun up where everybody could see it was cocked. Then I stuck it too my head, and pulled the trigger as fast as I could. Somebody fuckin’ screamed, and somebody else cheered, I don’t know who did what, because all I heard was

Click.

I opened my eyes and looked around, everybody was just standing there looking at me. Then I started laughing. Always laughing at the wrong time. John Keese and Ronald Burlik marched way the motherfuck across the courtyard. John was cussin’ and fumin’ screaming about how I did something and that it wasn’t fair. I just kinda stood there, the cigarette dangling from my lips like the gun was from my hand.

“Just a goddamn minute! You didn’t even pull the trigger! I’m not going to fucking pay you to put a gun to your head and not pull the goddamned trigger! Fucking coward!” John were screaming, though his buddy Ronald looked alittle fuckin’ relieved. I just looked at John \'til he were too tired to scream anymore. Then I cocked it again and put the gun right between his eyes.

“Give me my goddamn money, man.” he looked around for help, but his fuckin’ piece of shit buddy was already running. “You take one more goddamn step, Ronald, and I’ll blow this motherfucker to hell and gone. Now bring me my money.” Ronald waited for a minute then decided to listen. That was good because the way I felt right then I would have killed them both for the hell of it.

I don’t actually know if I would have killed Ronald just then, you see like I said I’m a fucked up bastard. At one time I thought I actually fuckin’ liked Ronald, but I don’t think Ronald was bi like me so it never really even was fuckin’ acknowledged. But every now and then I saw Ronald kinda fuckin’ eyeing me, made me fuckin’ wonder. Like I said I’m a fucked up madman motherfucker.

Anyway, I felt the money slip into my vest, then I backed up still aiming at both of them now.

“Thank you.” that was all I motherfuckin’ said before putting John’s gun in my vest and walking towards the cafeteria. The rest of the motherfuckers didn’t come in until lunch was almost over. I ate all I wanted then went to my next class. That was the last day of school, about two weeks before that night, I hadn’t seen any of those motherfuckers yet and if I had it my way I wouldn’t have the rest of the goddam summer. I hate the motherfuckin’ public schools.

What I hate even more is that I would have to go to the counsellers the very first day of school, fuck the councellors, man! Not that I had to worry about that as you can see. Well, like I fuckin’ said this isn’t that, this is about that week. Fuck my problems for today as long as I have yesterday, man.

Well, I just kept walking and thinking about what I was going to do, and about how I didn’t want to go home, and about why the hell that girl did a fuckin’ drive-by on an empty cafe’, and then why the hell she did it in the first fuckin’ place. I looked at my watch, two twenty-seven. Well, hell. I lit another cigarette hoping it would clear my head a little, and then I went into a small convenience store for some gum.