Hell is Arizona (631 hits)
Category: RomanceRating: 0.6 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by olivia_tremor_control (View user info) at 2005-03-05 18:44:15 EST
(note: this isn't a comedy-type story, but people i've showed my writing to have liked it, so i thought i'd try here, though you guys usually like to laugh)
I killed a man in Tucson, Arizona two weeks ago. That's right, and after I did it I took a greyhound straight out of there. I got way the hell out, all the way to New York City. I knew they wouldn't find me there. Not the police, not his friends, not my conscience.
See, you come by killings pretty often, so it wouldn't be too big a deal except that I didn't just kill anyone. I killed a real hot shot, a real big wig from some company that made computers. No, I didn't know him too well. Didn't need to. He was just another guy with a tuxedo and a pension.
I saw him in a bar- just a little place I go to get a whiskey, smoke a cigar. He was there with some of his big shot friends. They were laughing it up- probably laughing about his 1,000 dollar suit and the man he pays a dime to shine his shoes. Well, he was laughing real hard, one of those coughing laughs that's all deep and raspy, and I looked over at him from my booth and yelled "Why don't you shut up about it now?"
I don't even know why I said it or what I was thinking. I mean, here's this guy in a bar who's about twice my weight, probably pretty drunk, and I go and yell at him to shut up. But I did it. And what he did was, he turned around real slowly and said "You talkin' to me?"
"Yeah. Yeah I am talkin' to you, asshole, yeah, I am. You're gonna do something about it?" I don't know why I kept talking, I should've just realized to keep my damn mouth shut.
Well, he got up off his stool at the bar and started rolling up his sleeves. He didn't stop looking at me the whole time he did it. He just took of his cuff links, put them in his pocket, and rolled up his sleeves.
I kept going. I must've been drunker than I thought. I stood up.
"Oh, what, you're gonna hurt me? Big rich man's gonna hurt me real bad. He's gonna hurt the poor bastard who's here by himself. That's what you're gonna do?"
He cleared his throat.
"Well, you better watch out if you're gonna beat that poor bastard, better watch out not to get your goddamn italian leather shoes too dirty stained with blood."
He snarled right at me. He looked just like a rotweiler dog lifting up his lips and flashing his pearly whites.
"All right, big man. Think you're so rich it's gonna help you fight? Well, money isn't worth anything right here. Not worth a goddamn penny here."
The guy lunged at me, dove right at me, but I moved and he landed on the ground. He almost got my feet but I got away.
So I was standing there with this big man laying on the ground with his sleeves rolled up. He looked exactly like a goddamn rotweiler, a dog all laid out right next to the fire. Well, he looked so damn silly I started laughing, which got him pretty angry.
He stood right back up and snarled at me again. I swear I heard a growl coming from that bastard. Well, I kept laughing and his face turned red and he dove towards me again, except this time he got me. I was laughing so hard I didn't see him coming.
We both fell hard on the ground. He yelled "get the hell offa me" then rolled over so he got me pinned down. His knees were on my chest and his hands were squeezing my arms and pressing them against the floor.
"Think I'm just a rich bastard do ya? Would 'just a rich bastard' do this?"
He shoved his knee right into my groin. It hurt like hell and I let out a scream that felt like it lasted for about a full minute.
Well, I can't remember what anyone else in the bar was doing. A couple of times I heard that guy's big shot friends laughing, I guess they were watching. I only ever saw one bar fight before and I remember I just watched, I didn't want to do anything to help. Just watched it like a TV.
So after I was done groaning, the goddamn cuff-linked bastard says "Got anything to say?" I must've been out of my mind, cause what I did was, I looked right up at him, right into his big fat rich eyes and spit right up into his face. I spat a big old wad of saliva mixed with whiskey right at him.
He stood up and I stood up right after him, I didn't want him to step on my crotch, I thought his knee was enough. His face was bright red and my spit was dripping down his cheek. He didn't even bother to wipe it off, just let it slide down his face.
Then he turned around and I thought he gave up on our fight. He walked over to the bar and picked up his cigar and took a puff.
I yelled "yeah, that's right you goddamn asshole, you just go back to your goddamn ten dollar cuban cigar and your fifty dollar champagne"
What he did was, he walked right back over to me, still holding the cigar in his hand and took a big puff. He let all the smoke out right in my face and grabbed my arm at the same time. He twisted it behind my back with one hand and took his cigar out of his mouth with his other hand. Then that goddamn bastard put his cigar out right on the small of my back. It hurt so bad I screamed.
I pulled real hard and got my hand free, then gave him two good punches right in the gut. When he was bent over, I socked him a good one right in his rich fat nose. He started bleeding, I know cause I saw some of the blood hit the floor. I was pretty impressed with myself. I mean, I'm no boxer or anything, and I got blood on the third punch.
He made some noises and I said "yeah that's right" and popped him another one right on his cheek. He fell over, I'm not sure why, but when he hit the ground I started kicking him real hard just all over, any place I could find his body I kicked. I kicked him for probably about three minutes straight when I finally heard some of what was going on in the background. One of that bastard's friends finally said something. "Hey, why don't you stop that?"
I turned around and looked at the bastard's friend. He was smaller than the guy on the floor. I could take him on too. "Oh yeah? Oh yeah, you want me to stop that?" I grabbed the rest of my whiskey from my table and threw it into his face. Right into his eyes. I knew it burned. He sat down.
The guy on the floor must've had the softest skull in the world. See, what happened was, I stepped on his face. That's right, I put the sole of my shoe right on that bastard's rich little face. And at first I just felt his nose go in, so I put all my weight on his face and I felt some things crunching. I figured I was probably done.
So then all I did was, I bent down so I was right over him. It didn't look like he was breathing and he looked bruised. I put my hand right in that bastard's pocket and pulled out his cuff links. I put the cuff links in my pocket and walked out.
Well, I went to my apartment, packed my clothes, and got right on a bus. I only made one stop on the way- I rented a Tuxedo, replacing the cufflinks with my souvenirs from Tucson.
User Reviews
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-03-06 03:40:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Whenever your post is missing cowbell, feel free to link http://www.ubersite.com/m/57454 to it. That's right, I'll supply your cowbell demanding customers free of charge.
Submitted by Dead_0hi0_Sky (user info) at 2005-03-05 22:57:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
eh, not too bad.
BUT
..its obviously missing more cowbell.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-03-05 22:40:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
too many notes
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-03-05 18:58:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Not too bad, but it just lacked punch. I'm not quite sure how to explain, but if I think of a way, I'll come back and do so.
Submitted by barnaby (user info) at 2005-03-05 18:49:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
i didnt read the whole thing, but your writing style sounded like you were trying to make it like every other "i killed a guy, here's what happened" story.
but what can i say, all my posts are shit and i have a negative rating.