Bad Day – Easter’s Three Wise Guys – Short Story

Where do I start? I know asking you makes no sense as I’m the one telling the story and you, you don’t really know where it’s supposed to begin. So I’ll start where it makes the most sense. I’ll start the handful of memories involving bathroom blow jobs, home cooked meals that always seems to taste like dirty socks and ice cream buckets used as helmets, because that’s all I have to remind me of Terri.
She wasn’t stunning, and she didn’t stop cars in the street, but she was as close to the perfect piece of the puzzle that I needed to have in my life at the time, and I enjoyed every piece of her. I guess you forget the good things when they go bad, and we went bad like a ham sandwich left in some glad-wrap and shoved underneath the front seat of old faithful only to be discovered some months later all green and slimy.
I don’t know how I felt when I found out she was dead, I think I was sad although I wasn’t sure if it was because she was dead or because I never got to keep that promise I made to her six long years ago.
Two days later when I received a letter in the mail I almost spat my chips over myself, because I recognised the writing on the front of the envelope as hers.
I opened it up and read the fucking thing from top to bottom, each word wrapped into the next one like they had been ran though a rhyming dictionary at high-speed only to have some major malfunction somewhere in the middle and started throwing out random words just for the fucking hell of it. I’m not going to go into great detail about the letter because I truly didn’t care about what it said, I just wanted to know why it existed. The last line read like it was clipped out of some espionage novel, and she was the informant facing the firing squad, while she still desperately held our hope that the super spy would swoop in and pull her out of the fire just in time.
This wasn’t the case for her, she faced the firing squad and took the bullet square in the old scone, while I waiting ignorantly for the post office to continue it’s dismal retardation of the postal system in our country, by sending a letter that was dropped off a few miles away, to another state by plane only to come back two days later to be delivered at my door. Had the system been what it was when things weren’t all about sucking money from the people who support your business by utilizing it for what services you are supposed to supply, I would’ve got the letter with enough time to save her life and stop the people who were ultimately killed her.
Sure you can argue the world over that she could’ve called or sent a text message, or failing that she could’ve sent an email. But you’re surmising that she had this information about me in the first place, or that I had these service when I may or may not.
Anyway that is all not what this conversation is about. What it’s about it how life can move quickly around us, when we sometimes need to stop and take that moment to reflect on not all the bad things that befall us in life, but the things that make us smile. That make us laugh. That make us who we are, then in doing all that we will see who makes these things happen for us, and how important that are to us.
Now I know this conversation is getting boring, it was for all those fucks as well, when I lined them up, one by one and made them cry over what they had done.
Terri wasn’t a bad girl, she want that good either. But she didn’t deserve to die in a back ally gutter, dressed up like a crack whore so they could cover up the face she’d found out the local drag kingpin Franki Salamore was on the way out, thanks in part to Pattie Dezi and a few hundred kilos of Ice.
When I read Terri’s letter I didn’t let the bullshit about us get in the way of what she was trying to say, I could’ve and that would’ve been nothing overall. But when I saw Pattie’s name plastered at the bottom I knew the night was going to be a long one.
I made a few calls as I pulled my targets from the mud. Once I had the final three names I made sure Killdone wasn’t in bed with any of the shit heads, and he didn’t have a problem with me taking personal time, then I started to clean up a mess I should’ve had the chance to do days ago before Terri lost her life.
Vince Hallwot was the first piece of shit I visited, they call him meat stack, I’m assuming it wasn’t because he had a big piece of man sausage between his legs, because he didn’t. I found out as the night went on it was because he liked being the ham in between the buns, one upstairs and the other downstairs. He cried for what seemed like forever, about his kids, how his wife won’t be able to handle the news of his infidelities, especially with the same sex. I told him to hold onto those memories, to savor them, for they are what make him the man he is today. I used a blur butter knife to cut his cock off, before shoving it up his gaping arse hole. He sobbed as his life drained from the car wreck that was his genitals, begging for death while I made him watch his own cries of ecstasy as I played him randomly selected tapes from his personal home erotica collection.
Sydney Babb was the second piece of shit I had to pass though my digestive system tonight, he was all corn. I played with my food for a good hour before I started slicing piece off, he didn’t do much at first and hardly screamed at all, which impressed me to no end. It wasn’t until I dragged in his whore of a mother and put a bullet through her skull in front of him. I couldn’t shut him up after that, fucker screamed at me non stop. He threatened my life, the lives of everyone I’d ever met, anyone I’d ever fucked or wanted to fuck, and anyone who was related to me regardless of it by blood or marriage. I applauded his threats and made a few uncomfortable comments about the frothy saliva that was forming around his mouth, that didn’t seem to dent his now abusive, volatile demure. So I dragged out his Father and made him clean his dead wife’s cunt out before I placed a bullet in his head as well. Through all the snot, tears and death threats I think Sydney and I really started to bond somewhere in the middle of it all, so when I sliced his throat I almost couldn’t bear to watch the life drain from his eyes.
As I was rearranging the bodies to make
It seem even more fucked up that it already seems I received a phone call from Killdone, he said he had a present waiting at Zeppa’s Pizzeria for me and I didn’t need to bring my wallet as everything was free. I was surprised to see you sitting here all alone when I walked in, I was even more surprised to find your seat wired and the manky aroma of shit and piss wafting from you.
Killdone said I earned this, and to consider you a well deserved bonus, cheap fuck. I could’ve found you myself and had my fun, now Killdone’s turned it into a favour that’ll owe him one day, used shit like this to his advantage, which is why I hate the old bastard.
Anyway, I’ll deal with that hand when it comes into play, because right now it’s all about you, and believe me after I’m finished with you you’re not going to rise again after three days and walk on fucking water.

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