I Wanna Get Me One of Those Fancy Computers That You Fold in Half

I can’t remember what you call them but boy are they all awesome and shit
they’re like portable so you can haul them around with you looking at porn
all over the place which would be really cool for me since I have nothing to do
ever all I do is pretty much sit here
in front of this huge ass fucking computer that doesn’t fold in half hoping
my roommate doesn’t walk in and catch me shaking hands with Mr. Happy
like the last couple days he says he’s gonna up my rent if it happens again
because of pain and suffering and all the therapy he’s gonna need to get
his name is Toby and he reads the bible on purpose
he used to be a buddhist like me but a couple weeks ago
he turned into a presbyterian and now plays golf
and even shmoozes
he used to go to parties he used to be downtown
but now he just attends mixers and only wears a frown

The End
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Nihilistic Tongue Twister

It all comes down to nothing to nothing from something which grows like moss like weed like jungle encroaching devouring consuming returning to nothing to nothing from something like fire which heats which eats which leaves nothing to nothing and something from nothing or nothing from something and boring and braying of black night sky does nothing for nothing but something for nothing.

The End
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Fuck You Leave Me Alone But Not Just Yet

I’ve been touched in places by very scary hands
& looked into dark faces & seen smiles that meant nothing
I’ve stared back into empty screaming eyes
with no lids & no tears & no color & no light
dry dead eyes looking through me
I’ve trusted & was used & discarded
left alone & left filthy
I liked it & hated you & hated me
hated it & liked you
doing it, doing it to me
again & again

The End
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There’s a Much Simpler Explanation

He was in a way widely read. He knew the various tumbled columns and broken minarets, knew that there isn’t a trace of reluctantly dismissing intellectual challenge. Did he know of life out in the cold tenuous gas between the stars? Had he heard of the newly discovered civilization that advertised the virtues of indeterinancy? The wonders of the universe had failed this man, had never taught him HOW he knew nothing.

The End
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Definition of Tragic Pleasure

Last words as the universe crashes,
meeting disaster grandly, forever undefeated;
perfection of form, keenest when caricaturing
a kind of splendid carelessness. The labor of pacing the floor,
of mere human life deeply stained with blood;
the slow footsteps of fate are what moves on,
shrouded in blackness. The unknown is impossible,
illustrated and dreadful. Any moment we face
the effect produced by weird avenging furies.
Poets can laugh. They are a serious company
and within the province of the same comic palace.

The End
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Cold Dead Hands

The first thing you need to know is that I have a very hot wife. I don’t mean it like she’s got a fever, I mean it like the kids mean it: she’s fucking hot, man. She’s blonde and blue-eyed and has a tight little body–a tight little body I taught her how to use. Along with redheads and brunettes, blondes are probably my favorite.
…………You know how a hot chick can be pretty lame in the sack, like you should already be dazzled just because she was generous enough to open her stupid legs for you? Yeah, we get it, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous. Can you at least fuck back? Well, the wife isn’t like that at all. She’s a hellcat and will screw you blue and true and leave you in a quivering pile of sweat and satisfaction. That is, if I tell her to.
…………Like I said, it was me who taught her how to use that little body, how to buck those hips and drive you in deep. How to talk to you when you’re almost ready to blow, begging you to cum for her and fuck me, baby, fuck me until your mind is gone and there’s nothing left but you and her.
…………I love it when she does me like that but I love it even more when she does it to someone else. When we got some poor sap in our clutches and he’s horny but scared because he’s never swung before and she devours him on a bed or a couch or a floor. It turns me on like fucking fire to watch her and know I get her next and tomorrow and forever and the poor sap is all used up and spent and confused and sort of in love with her.
…………We’ve done it eight times over the last two years and I only had to run some serious interference on a guy once. His name was Kevin and he was a big guy. The wife likes them big and muscular because she’s a tiny little thing, just barely five foot. He fell hard for her and I had to take a baseball bat to him one night in the driveway of his house to get those calls and emails to stop.
…………We’ve done it one more time since then and it was ok. It should have been more, maybe the best one yet, but it wasn’t. It was just…ok. I remember standing there guarding the door, watching the wife take a pounding in the ass, and thinking about this Kevin guy from the last time. We were in the men’s room of the bar and this current guy’s name was Jim. He had a serious thing for the wife’s ass and was making it known to both me and her in a very aggressive way. She was holding onto the dirty sink as he plowed her from behind. His large meaty hands were wrapped around her tiny waist almost completely, like a belt, and he was so tall her feet weren’t even touching the floor but dangled there by his knees. He was ramming into her violently and at the same time jerking her whole body back and onto his cock. He did this all with a steady, frenzied rhythm that grew faster and more frantic as he approached what looked to be one of the most intense orgasms of his life. I could tell the wife was in ecstasy, too, and she came again and again for him. She was swept up, lost, no longer caring how loud she was being. Her face was bright red and she was almost in tears and even though it was very cool in the dingy little bathroom, her entire body glistened with sweat.
…………Yeah, it should’ve been fucking great. It should’ve been fucking spectacular. This was the best one we’ve done, the most intense, and yet I couldn’t keep this stupid Kevin guy out of my head as I watched. Why? As far as the sex went, it had been lame. He was nervous, shy, and while the wife and I love that in a guy we seduce, we want the sex to be good and dirty, or at least interesting. Kevin had rolled on top of her, pumped away for five minutes, shot his load, and rolled off, like some old married dude getting his Saturday night fix. Very fucking lame. The next day he had called, and continued calling several times a week, wanting to see her again. I can tell you she didn’t mind at all. She was flattered, in fact. One of her trips is having power over guys, and love is the ultimate power trip, better even than lust. She flirted with him and played it up and even asked me if we could do him again.
…………“No,” I told her flatly. “You know the fucking rule.” She was disappointed but knew better than to push it. I’ve taken my belt to her before and would again if I felt she was being naughty.
…………The fucking rule is we don’t do a guy more than once. Period. No emotional shit of any kind. It’s is a good way of avoiding it or at least minimizing it. Kevin, though, had been different. He was all about the wife from day one and was trying to talk her into hooking up without me around. A very big no no. After about a month or so of his shit I had to put a stop to it.
…………I sucked down a 12-pack of beer, grabbed our son’s aluminum little league bat, and headed over to his house at about 9 o’clock one night. I knew the guy’s schedule and expected him to come home from work around 9:30. I hid behind a clump of bushes in his yard and went to work on him the minute he pulled up, nailing him a good forty times, mostly his arms and legs, but also his body. The first blow had been to the head and it was the only one. As much as my blood was boiling, I didn’t want the guy dead. I didn’t think I did anyway.
…………“Expect more of this if you call the fucking pigs,” was all I said to him when it was over. I didn’t even mention the wife. I felt that went without saying. I watched for a second as he began the slow crawl to his front door, then got the hell out of there.
…………The whole experience had been a rush. Not just beating the guy’s ass, but everything, the jealousy I felt when he called, the way the wife dealt with him, all flirty and sexy, egging him on, telling me how she’s got him practically begging for her. The anger, the pure, white fucking anger I felt. The whole thing had reached a peak there in that dark driveway and as I raced home, running red lights, I knew I had to take her to the bedroom and put the final touches on the whole situation.
…………I told her what I had done the minute I walked in. I picked her up and carried her to bed and threw her down. “Really?” she asked breathlessly, pulling her clothes off. “How bad?”
…………“Pretty fucking bad. He won’t be calling again.” I couldn’t believe how wet she was as I entered her. She was literally soaked. I grabbed her ankles and put her gorgeous feet on my shoulders and started in on her, fast and hard. “You’re such a little slut for doing that to him,” I told her.
…………“I am, huh? ” she breathed, rising her hips up to meet me. “You fucking love it, too, baby, don’t you?”
…………I did. I did love it. I loved how she pushed him, teased him. I loved how that bat had felt in my hand, cold and heavy, the painful ringing tingle as it struck flesh.
…………“Tell me more,” she said.
…………“What do you wanna know?” I flipped her over and came at her from behind. I smacked her hard on the ass, leaving a red handprint. She was my bad little girl now. All mine.
…………“Did he cry?” she asked, dropping her shoulders to the bed and raising her ass as high as she could.
…………“What?” I smacked her again. Harder.
…………“Did he…mmm…cry?”
…………“I don’t know, baby. I think maybe a little.”
…………“Oooh, really?” This was good. I liked this. She was really fired up. I felt myself getting close and slowed my pace a bit.
…………“Tell me…” she groaned. “Tell me…”
…………“What, baby? What?” I put my hands on her hips and pulled her to me. I had to stop or I’d loose it. I held her there motionless, waiting.
…………“Tell me about the blood,” she said and that was it for me. I fucking exploded. I took her by the shoulders and pushed into her with my hips and released everything, absolutely everything I had. Complete fucking release.
…………So now here we were a couple months later with this Jim guy and it was just not as good as it should have been. Missing something, lacking, and Kevin in my mind. Not just Kevin, but everything: the hate, the anger, the relief of finally beating him, the absolute peace I felt after the sex, the whole month-long scenario.
…………Some drunk began pushing on the door and I snapped back. I quickly wedged my foot and pushed with my shoulder. “Just a minute!” I yelled. Jim and the wife didn’t even notice.
…………“Oh, baby,” Jim was saying to her, “I’m cumming.” His movements were almost spasmodic now. He was practically twitching. His face a blank grimace as he watched himself entering her, sweat leaving his brow in a steady dripping stream. “I’m cumming for you, baby,” he said again, his voice cracking and choked. He yanked himself out, snapped off the condom, and shot his load all over her ass and back, crying out. He covered her. It was truly amazing. I had never seen so much cum in my life and for the first time all night I was there, really there, in the moment with them.
…………Jim fell back against the graffiti-covered wall as she gently cleaned off his cock with her mouth. He was still hard. “Oh my fucking god,” he kept saying. “Oh my fucking god.”
…………On the way back to the house I asked her if we got his number. “Sure we did. We always exchange numbers, but I don’t know what for. You never let me have anyone again.”
…………“It’s a ploy, you know that. Makes ‘em feel comfortable, like there‘s a connection. You liked it, though, right?” I asked, knowing the answer, and looked at her.
…………She rolled her eyes and dropped her head back on the seat. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. That was the best, the best we’ve ever done. I’m gonna be sore for awhile so you’re gonna have to go easy on me.” She smiled and put her hand in my lap.
…………I grinned at her. “You know me, baby…”
…………Back home I paid the sitter Brittany sixty bucks and sent her on her way. More about Brittany later. The wife was done drinking and was making tea and a grilled cheese sandwich, but I cracked open a beer. On these nights when we go prowling I don’t really get a chance to drink more than a handful. Normally after we do one and are finally alone again I’d be climbing her like a tree, but this night I just felt like drinking.
…………Drinking and maybe talking. “I been thinking.”
…………“‘Bout what?” she asked. As usual she was quick to pick up on the gist of any situation and had changed into a pair of comfortable Snoopy sweats and an old oversized t-shirt. She knew there’d be no more sex that night.
…………“We should take on a regular for awhile. I’m tired of constantly looking for someone. I liked what I saw with this Jim guy. He was a little rough maybe, but…”
…………“He was really good,” she said suddenly. “Really, really good.” For just a split second she bit her lower lip and the wild, desperate passion I had seen on her face earlier returned, then vanished in a flash. It made me jealous. It made me angry. They were good feelings, comforting feelings.
…………“If we do it,”  she continued, “I should get to pick the guy since I’m the one who has to fuck him. I pick Jim. I’m tired of looking, too. It’s work getting a guy to do this. Maybe not so much with Jim but most guys.”
…………“I can end it when I want to?” I asked. “Maybe after ten times, maybe after only once. I have to see how I feel.”
…………“I pick the guy, you pick how long. I pick Jim.”
…………“That was quick,” I said. I started to say something else, but she cut me off.
…………“Ha!” I could see a strange, angry defiance in her eyes. “Oh, no you don’t. He’s the one I want.”
…………“Ok, ok. It’s just…”
…………“He was fucking great. You were there. You saw. I loved his hands, how rough they were. How big they were. They just took what they wanted from me. He moved me around like a rag doll. I felt like his toy, like a plaything. I’ve never felt so helpless. It was so hot.” Again her face clouded over as she bit her lip. “He’s the one I want.”
…………“Ok, but I get to end it.”
…………She hesitated. For too long. “You get to end it,” she said finally.
…………So we started up with Jim pretty much on a weekly basis. The wife was very much into him and always had powerful, quaking orgasms each time we did him. Multiple orgasms, sometimes as many as six or eight. She began coming home with new lingerie, asking me if I thought Jim would like it. She did different things with her hair and makeup. She talked about him alot, how big he was, how strong, how rough he was with his hands, and as a “date” with him approached she’d become giddy and silly, like a little schoolgirl or something.
…………It drove me fucking crazy.
…………This is what I wanted, though, right? I wanted the hate and anger and jealousy inside me, growing and burning like brushfire. I wanted to feel it seething through my blood, eating away at me like cancer. The sense of losing control, it was what I wanted, right? I liked who the wife was now, even though I no longer knew who she was really. She’d become a mystery to me. She’d become three dimensional again.
…………We went at Jim for a couple months, always at his ratty apartment. We’d get the sitter Brittany over, then go to the bar. Sometimes he’d meet us at our house, but most often we’d meet downtown. They were a couple on these nights. He’d sit right next to her, rubbing her leg. I’d be across the table, a third wheel. We usually only stayed for two or three beers, then headed out.
…………I got to know him, but won’t bore you with any details, or bore myself by writing them down. He was a typical working-class guy. He worked a typical manly working-class job. He didn’t have alot of cash. He drove a pickup and watched NASCAR and was into ultimate fighting. So typical.
…………I can’t tell you how much I fucking hated him. As our relationship with him went on, I found it harder and harder to even speak to him. One time, about midway through the whole thing, we were at the bar drinking when the wife left to go take a piss. He leaned over to me and said, “I want you to know this is just sex, man. I don’t want to come between you guys.”
…………“Thanks, buddy” I said, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice. “I know it’s just sex.” I looked at him coldly, imagining blood oozing from his eyes like tears. “What else is there?”
…………Then one Saturday night it was over. She was on top, riding him hard and fast, her hands clutching at his bare muscular chest, reddening him, scratching him. He was gripping her hips with his thick hands, grinding her down onto his cock. The entire bedroom was shaking and rattling. They were almost to the top and she began telling him to cum for her, to let it all go, and I just knew that this was it. That Jim was done, a thing of the past.
…………I was quiet during the ride home, my mind racing. No way was I going to tell her that the end had arrived, that it was all over. She didn’t want to know, at least not yet. In a moment I had gone from an observer of events, from being victimized by all that was happening, to being the one in complete control of everyone and everything around me–and the only one who knew it was me. The sense of freedom and power was dizzying, heavy. The whole world had unlocked and lay before me bare and vulnerable. I was no longer simply a noun, but a verb. As I pulled the car onto our driveway, one word was echoing in my mind.
…………“Impunity,” I said suddenly.
…………“Hmmm?” She was sleepy, nearly dozing.
…………“Never mind.”
…………Later, when she was squared away in bed and the house was dark and quiet and mine, I began scheming. A different approach with Jim would be needed. A diversion, in fact. He got home from work around 5:30 in the afternoon instead of later in the evening like Kevin. Plus he lived in a rundown apartment building in the middle of town with people coming and going all the time. Kevin had lived in his own house in an out of the way location on the edge of town. For obvious reasons, it couldn’t be done anywhere near my house. No, I was going to have to yank him off his grid and get him someplace away and alone, and I knew exactly how to do it without raising his suspicions or making him feel entirely out of his element: our babysitter Brittany.
…………So, yeah, Brittany. Jim had seen her a few times before, on those evenings when he’d come to our house for a few pre-bar drinks. She was a gorgeous girl, tall, a little on the thin side but nicely developed. She was just seventeen but not “cutesy” like a lot of teenyboppers. She had an edge to her, a sort of muted emo style. Her black hair hung limply in her white face which was made even more striking with dark, heavy makeup. Her green eyes were luminous and regarded me intelligently, knowingly. For more than a year, she’d been our regular sitter and I completely overpaid her, giving her a minimum of $15 an hour and sometimes more. It was worth every penny just to get to see her every week. I had plans for Brittany when she finally hit eighteen, serious fucking plans. That is, if I could wait that long.
…………Now when I say I get to see Brittany every week, you have to understand I have hidden cameras in my living room. Four cameras, in fact. Two look on the couch and two look on the recliner, giving me four angles in all. So when I say I get to see her every week, I mean that in the best possible way.
…………I’ve recorded all my sitters, but with Brittany, I truly hit the jackpot. She’s a very horny girl and very hands on about it. I leave porn DVDs out where she can easily find them and then later on, alone at my computer, I sit back and watch her go to work on herself. Over the months, I’ve figured out her taste in porn by leaving out different types of DVDs. She seems to like group stuff and anal the best, but pretty much any porn will do–except lesbian. Lesbian porn makes her yawn.
…………She’s like clockwork. As soon as my son is upstairs in bed, she loads up one of the DVDs I selected for her and settles down, usually on the couch. She’s sat for us just about every week for a year and maybe a half and she never misses a night. I have fantasies of her knowing that I record her and getting hotter and wetter because of it, but, honestly, I’m just not sure. She’s not a dumb girl and there’s always two or three different pornos in the same spot every time she comes over. Several times she’s looked directly into the camera with those glowing green eyes of hers…
…………I’d pay her $30 an hour if I had to.
…………The wife doesn’t know about my hobby and I want to keep it that way. It’s our little secret, mine and Brittany’s, but I was going to use it to get Jim alone, out of town, and in the dark.
…………By this time, hooking up with him on the weekend was implied. A phone call would be placed about mid-week, usually by me, sometimes by him, but never by the wife. Important details would be hammered out for the coming “date”. Friday or Saturday? Bar A or Bar B? Pick you up or meet you somewhere? You know, important, life or death shit. The final week, I mixed it up a little. “Yeah, I’ll be picking you up and we’ll be coming over here for the night. The wife’s got something special planned.”
…………“Oh, really?” He sounded intrigued, which is exactly how I wanted him to sound. “What might that be?”
…………“I’ll tell you more when I come over. She’s been talking about it for awhile and I finally gave her the ok. She’s really excited.”
…………There was a slight pause. “Special, huh?” he said and laughed.
…………“Oh, yeah. Very. So Friday or Saturday?”
…………“What about tonight?” He laughed again. This was good. He was eager.
…………“No can do, obviously.” He’d wanted her in the middle of the week before, especially in the early going, but I always said no. “Plus there’s some logistics to work out.”
…………“Jistics?” he asked. What a fucking dipshit.
…………“So,” I repeated. “Friday or Saturday?”
…………“The sooner the better, man.”
…………Indeed.
…………When Friday night rolled around I played it like any other, even though I felt strangely nervous. I called Brittany and had her coming over at 9, her usual time, but told the wife I was picking up Jim at 7 and bringing him back to the house for some pre-bar drinks before we headed out. We were going to Bar A, then back to his place, I told her. This was after supper, about 6:30, so she had to hurry up and get beautiful. I was going out to get some beer, I said.
…………On my way to the car I went through the garage and grabbed my son’s aluminum bat. Even though it was for little league and smaller, it’s coldness and weight felt good in my hands. I swung it under the eerie fluorescent light a few times, listening to it cut through the air. The sound calmed me. I slipped it behind the front seat and drove to Jim’s apartment.
…………The trip over seemed longer than usual. It was like I wasn’t even “there”, if that makes sense. A weird faded softness covered everything, making the world superficial and fragmented, like an incomplete image. It felt like I was remembering what was happening rather than experiencing it. My mind seemed displaced, focused on nothing, and floating. Then the apartment building was before me, a patchwork of dorm and insane asylum, looming and shabby. I caught my breath and turned away. I didn’t want to see him yet.
…………I drove a few blocks to some random convenience store and bought a 6-pack of tall boys. I slammed one in the parking lot, thinking. How the hell was I going to do this? What the hell was I going to do, exactly? Beat his fucking ass, yes, but how far to take it? The wife likes them big, but Jim was the biggest yet. I had to take him out quick, with one hit. If he got ahold of me…
…………I thought about my son and knew I didn’t want to kill anyone. I wanted to be there. Wanted to watch him grow up, give him advice, the works. Just like they do on tv. I reached behind the seat and sat his little bat in my lap and started doubting myself, almost purposefully, doubting my own passion and hate, the only things in my life I could sink my teeth into. The only things that gave the world color and heat.
…………His little bat. Maybe this summer he’ll hit his first homer. But…
…………I opened another beer and put music on as loud as it would go.

…………“Well, I’m a gamekeeper, child
…………And you’re crossing my land
…………Well, I’m a gamekeeper, honey
…………You’re crossing my land
…………Well, I’ll catch you little girl
…………Just to prove that I am…”

…………Headcoats. Perfect. My mind fled and the hole that remained was filled with jangling, angry racket. It felt about right. I started the car and headed back.
…………As I pulled into the large decaying parking lot that surrounded the building like a moat, I dialed him up on my cell. “Jimbo,” I said when he answered. “How’s it hangin’?”
…………“Pretty good, pretty good.”
…………“I’m just pulling in now. You ready?”
…………“Yep. Should I come down or…?”
…………“No, I’ll come up. There’s something I wanna show you.”
…………When I laid eyes on him, I seethed. Oh my fucking god I hated this guy. I tried not to look at him. My eyes darted everywhere else, all over the shabby shithole he called home. I was looking at it for the first time, it seemed. Is this all? Is this what it is for him, really? The guy was only in his late 20s and already he was done. His pinnacle had come and gone and now here he was spending his days like pocket change. Gettin’ by, doin’ his thing. Coasting until he was fucking blue and bloated and rotting worm food. An old Sturgis Rally poster with an airbrushed chick straddling a Harley adorned a wall. ‘Adorned’ probably isn’t the right word. A few feet away, buzzing, a neon Bud Light sign glowed. Jesus H. Christ, was this guy lame or what?
…………He had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was damp. I looked at his muscular body as he dug for a shirt in a plastic laundry basket that sat on the floor. I focused on his big brown nipples for some reason, the size of 50-cent pieces. Like everyone else, he had tattoos. I looked away.
…………“You need to see this,” I said and pulled a disc out of my back pocket.
…………The disc was the Best of Brittany, all her most vigorous and intense performances, all the times she appeared to be looking directly at the camera.
…………“What the fuck?” Jim said as he gradually realized what he was watching. “That’s your little babysitter, right? Holy shit.”
…………He watched in silence, intently, a bit awkwardly, for several minutes, then gave a quick shake of his head as if trying to snap out of something. “How old is she?” he asked, sounding incredulous, and looked at me.
…………“She just turned eighteen a couple months ago,” I lied.
…………“Does she know you have this?” He shook his head again, this time in wonder or amazement.
…………“Oh yeah. She fucking loves it. Here–” I skipped ahead on the disc to probably my all time favorite Brittany scene. It was the night when she had her little purple pocket rocket and worked herself to orgasm five different times. A quick appetizer on the recliner, followed by four more prolonged efforts on the couch, her beautiful snow white legs spread wide, her bare feet resting on the corners of the coffee table, her toes, painted black, pointed and trembling. She always removed her shoes and socks. She was such a good little girl. The last orgasm was maybe the most powerful she’s ever had in all the months I’ve recorded her, causing her to jerk and shake and buck, her head pushed back into the cushions, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, tongue wet and thrust out. When it was over she just lay there limp, her chest heaving.
…………It took several minutes for her to come back down and when she did she sat up matter-of-factly and began putting everything back together. She looked directly into the camera as she returned her purple pocket rocket to the backpack that held her pencils and homework. She continued looking as she dressed. There was a tiny, subtle smile on her face. At this moment, she was watching rather than being watched: watching the watcher, exposing me. Her knowing green eyes danced into the camera. It was obvious that she knew. So obvious. At least to me.
…………As the scene unfolded, Jim rested his head on his hands and watched with rapt attention. Periodically, he would mutter under his breath, saying “shit” or “damn” – actually, “day-um”, with two syllables.
…………When it was over, I popped the disc out and returned it to my pocket and said, “She wants to have a threesome.”
…………“She does?”  he asked and pointed at the now blank tv screen. He stood up and slipped his shirt on, which had been balled up in his lap while the disc was playing.
…………I nodded. “The wife, too. She’s been planning it for awhile.”
…………“Fuckin’ A,” Jim said and lit a cigarette. He walked over to the kitchen area, took two beers out of the fridge and handed me one. “Eighteen, huh?”
…………“Yeah, she’s cool. We’ve done it with her before. On her birthday, in fact.”
…………“You did a threesome with her before?”
…………“Me and the wife and her. She’s a freaky little thing, and so tight. Now they want you, buddy.” I licked my lips.
…………Jim laughed and took a long drag off his smoke. He grabbed an old flannel shirt that was hanging over a chair and said, “Well, you better get me over there then.”
…………Outside, I mentioned offhand that we had to swing by and pick up Brittany. She was having car troubles, you see. I pulled my phone out and pretended to call her. “We’re on our way, baby,” I said to no one. “Me and Jim. Yeah. Oh, ten, fifteen minutes. Yeah. Ok.”
…………“This is gonna be one interesting night,” Jim said, shaking his head and smiling. His voice was distant, as if he were talking to himself.
…………“You ever had two chicks at the same time, man?” I asked him. My nerves were back and I felt like talking, even to this asshole.
…………“Came close once. The other bitch freaked out, though.”
…………“That’s too bad, man.”
…………“No shit. I always wanted to, you know. What dude doesn’t?”
…………“What dude, indeed.”
…………As we drove we talked and talked, more than we ever had before. Jim thought it was fuckin’ cool, man, that we were banging our babysitter. When he got married and had kids, he, too, was going to hire a hot babysitter and bang her. He asked about the finer points. Was she a good cocksucker? Did she do anal? How about titty-fucking? The whole thing was surreal. My nervousness disappeared and I found myself smiling, even chuckling under my breath a little at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.
…………From following Brittany around, I knew she lived in a trailer court over by the lumber mill, but I told Jim she lived out on Maitland Road.
…………“A little rich bitch, huh?”
…………“Not really,” I said. “I mean they do ok. They got a pretty nice house.”
…………Maitland ran in a long, extended loop along the west side of town. About a mile out, it was rural with large houses set back from the road. People had money and space out on Maitland. Some of them even kept horses. Dense stands of trees stood between each house. Traffic was light and at a little before 8 pm the area was nice and dark. It would be perfect.
…………My phone began vibrating in my pocket, but I ignored it. I knew it was the wife wondering where the hell I was. I had gone out for beer almost an hour and a half ago. She probably thought we ditched her and snuck off by ourselves, maybe to snag some little barfly for variation. I would call her soon, just as soon as I was done doing whatever it was I was about to do.
…………Just then we passed the house. The house. Brittany’s place, you might say. It was lonely-looking and somewhat hidden from the road. A driveway led up the hill from the main road to a white house that was smaller than most on Maitland. It didn’t have a garage and there were no other outbuildings apart from a small metal shed. The entire property–the house, the tiny shed, and a well-kept patch of yard–stood halfway up the hill on a little shelf that had been carved right out of the dirt. Most importantly, the porch light was on and the driveway empty.
…………“That was it,” I said and pulled the car over and swung around. “I always miss it.” I eased slowly up the driveway eyeing the house. A small window on the far left face of the house was lit up in addition to the outside light. I guessed it to be a bathroom. No one appeared to be home.
…………I stopped just short of pulling all the way into the empty gravel parking lot and turned off the car. “She wants us to call when we get here.”
…………“Is she here?” Jim asked, scanning the house. “Looks pretty dead.”
…………I shrugged and pretended to dial. “Hey, Brit. We’re outside. Yeah, just me and Jim. I drove passed it as usual. Really?” I looked at Jim for effect, letting him know she was talking about him. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “Sure, I guess.” I continued to hold his gaze. He looked very interested. Man, what a colossal dumbass. This was going to be easy.
…………I put the phone away. “She wants us to come on in. Let’s go.” I got out quickly and stood by the open door waiting.
…………Jim climbed out slowly. “What?” He was smiling, looking at me for clues. Something was up, he could tell, but he seemed a little intrigued, which is exactly how I wanted him to seem.
…………I grinned at him and shrugged. “Let’s go.” I nodded to the house but didn’t move. He took a few tentative steps and stopped in front of the car, hands in his pockets. He looked at me over his shoulder, still smiling, then at the house. I took the bat from behind the seat and came up behind him, holding it down the backside of my leg in case he looked at me again.
…………He didn‘t.
…………I swung overhead and downward like you do when you’re splitting wood. I swung with fucking everything I had in me, absolutely everything, and in that flashing moment as the bat cut through the cool night air, I felt so good, so strong and healthy. I knew also, almost instinctively, as the bat made contact, that I would never ever feel that way again.
…………The bat came down with such force on the back of his head it popped loose and clanked noisily to the gravel. The shock sent a buzzing, blinding electric pain up my arms and my hands went instantly numb.
…………Jim was laying there face down, splayed out in a kind of reverse, dirt-bound crucifixion. He wasn’t moving. I began clenching and unclenching my fists to get some feeling back into my hands when I heard a car on the road below.
…………Everything hit me all at once then, in a rush that was so strong it I nearly tipped over. I saw myself going to the slammer for life and rotting away there forgotten and alone. Sure, the wife would bring my son to visit, but he’d grow up. The visits would gradually become fewer. Then they would turn into letters. Then the letters would stop. Or I’d get the ultimate. After ten or so years of appeals they’d tie me up to a hospital gurney and shoot me full of death.
…………The car passed by harmlessly. “I hope they kill me,” I said out loud and jumped at the sound of my own voice. I looked at the house, watched it, really, for probably a full minute, but there was nothing. I grabbed Jim by the ankles and pulled him into the trees next to the driveway. He was heavy as hell and it took a lot of work. I took him in about twenty yards to a little clearing and sat down next to him to catch my breath.
…………In the dim light I couldn’t really see, so I began touching him. I felt the muscles through his clothes, their firmness, their shape. Even then, defeated in the dirt, he was strong and manly. His large hands were cold and limp and I couldn’t find a pulse, but I was shaking so bad I could’ve missed it. I moved up to his head and found that it was sticky with blood and no longer round. I wiped my hands off on his flannel shirt and watched in horror as his legs began to move and flex with small, trembling movements. I jumped up and backed away, remembering that I had left the bat on the ground by the car. The movements grew more pronounced, almost urgent, until it looked like the legs were actually trying to run. I backed away further until I was at the edge of the clearing, fascinated and a little creeped out. Then, suddenly, they stopped and were still again.
…………I walked back to the car, kicked the gravel around where Jim had lain, picked up the bat, and headed back to town. When I was halfway home, I called the wife.
…………“I need a shovel,” I said when she answered.
…………“I bet you do,” she said, then, amazingly, she laughed. Cackled really. “I knew you were gonna do it. I knew.”
…………“I didn’t. I didn’t know I was gonna do…this.”
…………“I did!” She sounded triumphant, like she knew about a secret all along, a nasty secret that was about her.
…………“Anyway, I’m coming to get the shovel and I’ll be gone most of the night.”
…………She began to rattle out words quickly, excitedly, mixed in with little giggling noises. “I wanna go there with you. I wanna go. Brittany’s here. I have to go there. I just have to. I really wanna go. Brittany’s here so you can take me there…”
…………I stopped listening and sat the phone down on the seat without hanging up. I shivered.
…………When I got home, she was oddly quiet given all the weird yakking on the phone. A strained little smile was permanently stretched across her face as she hurried around the house looking for her purse and getting her shit together. Apart from the way her face looked, all tight and grinning, it was like any other normal outing.
…………“Where are they?” I asked.
…………“Upstairs playing Xbox. Where did I put my purse?”
…………“Are there snacks?”
…………“Yeah. Apples and a bag of chips. I told Brit she might have to pull an all-nighter. She’s cool with it. Have you seen my purse?”
…………Despite everything, I laughed. “Um, I don’t think you’ll need it where we’re going.”
…………She stopped her search, put her hands on her hips, and looked at me like I was stupid. “How much beer do you have?”
…………“Did you look in the bedroom?” I said and headed down the hall. “How about your bathroom?”
…………She remained quiet during the drive out. It was a chilly night but I could see beads of sweat on her forehead. I could hear her breathing. The smile was gone and her face was set with determination. Her arms were folded across her chest.
…………I pulled the car over in the ditch along Maitland several yards before the driveway and killed the lights. “I hope the ground’s not rocky. I’m gonna bury it deep so it’ll never be found.” I popped open the trunk.
…………“You know what I want, right, honey?” She asked suddenly, her voice louder than usual, higher pitched, almost like a little girl.
…………It made me uneasy. I sat without moving in the seat, waiting.
…………“You know, don’t cha, honey?” She continued staring ahead out the window into the dark, her arms folded tightly around her.
…………“I…”
…………“Think, asshole!” she screamed. Her voice pierced through the closed car, unbelievably loud and shrill with nowhere to go.
…………I opened the door and jumped out, my heart hammering in my chest. I lingered, confused, afraid.
…………“Go get them!” she screamed again. “Now!” She turned her head very slowly and looked at me. Her blue eyes were enflamed, shining. Her skin glowed with sweat. Her blonde hair was stuck to the wetness of her face. “You know what I want, baby, don’t you?” She hissed seductively. “Go get them for me.”
…………I walked through the moonlight toward the shadowy hump that used to be Jim. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my little knife. It was so small, maybe three inches, and the hands were very large. I sighed and suddenly felt tired. This was going to take some time.

The End
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