--Light and Dark--
I own a comic book store. Need to have some legit income. All those
fat kids pouring their collective allowances into a nearly 40-page
magazine with lots of cleavage and guns—hopefully a #1 printed on
the top right corner. Frankly I don’t give a shit about comics.
When all the town’s people go to sleep, my neon green sign floods
the streets, reeling in all those shut out of society to play trading
card games. As I watch over the mindless fucks I can’t help but
pray that they all eventually get laid, even if it’s by that fat,
drunken girl at eh anime exposition dressed like a school girl.
Game is game. That prayer always makes me laugh and it’s made countless
times each day.
Once that deep fat fried hamburger-eating group of freaks leave,
which is about 2 a.m., I turn on my cell phone. My real business
opens up. That same old ringer. Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Be—stopped as
an annoyed me flicks open the phone, and on the called ID, in a
thin black print, reads some random phone number foreign to my mind.
From my expert judgment I’d say it was from this general area, but
in essence the location of the caller is of no importance to me.
“Yeah?”
“You that guy?”
“The fuck do you mean? I run a comic book store…”
Click.
I get one of those at least every night. It’s funny how ignorant
people are. A hour passes and somebody else tries their luck against
my sick sense of humor…I wonder what that other guy wanted?
“Yeah?”
“The café on 2nd street. Be there.”
Click.
Yeah, the demanding type. The type that needsto be shot in the
face and castrated with a rusty butcher’s knife. Oh well, another
day, another kill.
My wounds still hurt; I felt a kind of sharp pain with each step
and breath, striking the holes in my flesh, never ceasing. I wouldn’t
let that show. No. Not me. I really thought I shouldn’t have gone,
but did anyhow. Greed; thirst for money. Not that I truly needed
it. Addiction.
As I had thought, the pushy bastard who made the call was a man
adorned in dark clothing, appearing threatening to those not falling
into this type of business. He wore a long black trench coat that
more than likely hid a few various weapons. What is it with people
and their trench coats, anyhow? Oh well, money is money. This employer
is smart, handing me a note, probably detailing my task.
“I’ll be in touch…” Spoke the man as he swiftly turned around and
walked off.
And I must say, he looked rather gay in doing so…
Perplexed by his attitude, I stood in silence for a few minutes.
This guy is beginning, no, has pissed me off. I know better than
to kill him here, for if I did, where would I get his money? I’ll
kill him later…Yes…Later…and lay his trench coat before a fireplace
as a hunter would with a bear’s skin.
I did soon unfold that note, and was suddenly haunted by ghosts
of a childhood’s past. Children passing notes to one another, giggling,
as they believe the teacher didn’t know of their acts, but truly
did.
An assassination. Great. So…Original, Mr. Trench coat. Looks like
the governor is having a party this Saturday and I’m the sap that
has to crash it.
That party made me remember about a blind date I have on Saturday
as well. I guess those fat comic loving fucks will have to wait
a few more hours—I have no employees. Blind dates are fun. Exciting,
relaxing. My usual form of unpaid vacations from either of my professions.
“Better get that settled…”
And so I glanced at the clock tower while on the way to my store,
and noting the place I buy my suits at should still be open, my
path veered to the right, to a street parallel to the one where
my store lies. An old fashioned tavern like sign says “Vincent’s”,
my favorite store. I stare at the closed sign on the door, but still
pound on the glass. An employee of Vincent’s comes up, notes my
appearance, and lets me in promptly. Respect. I enter casually,
as always, and much like other small shops a small bell jingles
with the opening and closing of that door to draw the heads of the
employees of that particular store out of their respective stuck
up asses, aside from the one who permitted me to enter, whom I humbly
thanked.
“James! Oh how wonderful it is to see you, mon ami! What’s your
fetish today?” Vincent, the store’s owner and an acquaintance of
mine, asked
. I had guessed he had been masturbating, as he had come out form
the back room. I heard somewhere that gay people tend to do that
a lot and Vincent isn’t one to be cut out of that category. Yeah,
he was…the dim light of his TV flashes and out of instinct my eyes
avert to notice a gay pornography movie playing. I guess I learned
my lesson well enough; never look towards flashing things at Vincent’s
store…Heh…
“Jet black, navy vest, and…”: A pair of sunglasses shot past my
eyes; small frame, tinted navy. “Those,” I commanded while pointing
to the glasses. Vincent knew my measurements, and knew better than
to take too long on making my suit.
“See you then…”
“Au revoir!”
…I hate happy people…Light only hides the dark for so long before
giving out…
This is all I have written so far...I intend on making about three
more installments...
