Silent, easy

The ground was hard from the cold, so the two men digging took a break. The moon was halfway up and waxing full, the night air silent, easy.

“Stop biting your nails.” The one man said.

“What’s it matter if I bite my nails? I like to bite my nails.” Said the other.

“It’s just disgusting. For one, we’re digging in the ground, who knows what animals came along and took a piss right there.” He pointed with his shovel at the other man’s foot. “Plus, you wipe your ass with your hand don’t ya? You don’t imagine any gets stuck under your nails?”

“Well, I’ll just bite the nails on my other hand then. That make you happy?”

“I don’t care what you do, just don’t do it in front of me.” He leaned on his shovel and stared up at the moon. “Did you bring the sandwiches?”

“I brought’em. Turkey for me and peanut butter and banana for you, since you eat like a kid.”

“Who doesn’t like peanut butter and banana? You know that was Elvis’s favorite sandwich? He would go in a restaurant and get a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Guy like that, have anything he wanted and he ate that.”

They ate in silence and watched the black and grey clouds move in and cover up the moon.

“Rain is coming in. Probably be here in 45 minutes or so. Maybe if we each dig in the same hole it’ll go faster.”

“No, you dig yours and I’ll dig mine. If we dig the same one our digging might overlap, waste time you know?”

Light drops started to fall but they had finished. Unceremoniously they each kicked the body that had been lying beside the now dug graves, then piled the dirt back on.

Money, Self, God and Repeat

Brick duplexes boarded up all along the street. The gas station at the corner closed up with an anachronistic price for gasoline still up. Cars up on blocks and as we drove along the few people that were left peeked anxiously out their windows.

“Last time I was here people were walking the sidewalks, people on roofs listening to music.”

“That was the last time you were here, like 3 years ago. It’s all changed now. The only people who stayed were the ones that kept their jobs and the small gangs that robbed them.”

The sun and blue sky seemed out of place here. It should all be gray with a light mist continually falling, reminding everyone of their plight. But, the world is prosaic and the sun shines wherever it wants to.

“I guess I didn’t realize it was hitting the cities this hard.” A lone child with a sad, brown paper bag walked along carrying a folder in her hand. “Are the schools still open?”

“Only a few privately funded ones. Some of the teachers got together and bought a warehouse and some desks and they let anyone who wants to learn come and learn. But, there’s about a dozen teachers and hundreds and hundreds of kids. I went to help out a couple of times but it’s too dangerous. Half of the kids are older and there to sell drugs. Teachers mostly ignore them and try to reach the younger ones before they get into that stuff.”

“It’s hell here.”

“Yeah. Mostly.”

Between two crumbling two story houses there was a garden with a sign that read “Brickland Community Garden”. A woman with a red scarf around her neck worked at the weeds. When we passed she gave us a glance then got back to it.

Hamburger Meat Machine

Shouldn’t’ve robbed the bank. Or probably would’ve been better if we thought it out more. Armed robbery, first real offense besides some drunken disorderlys, would have got maybe 10 years, 7 or 8 after parole, good behavior. There’s something wet behind my ear. Blood. And a little bit of brains. Feels like a wet sponge made of hamburger. That’s all we are anyway is hamburger meat. All those synapses firing a billion times a millisecond in order to run this hamburger meat machine.

Sirens in the distance and me down this dark alley. No doors, no metal fence to climb like in the movies. Shouldn’t’ve killed those people. Bill shot the clerk and then the cop reached for his gun and that was it. Kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. This bag feels light. Can’t be more than a couple grand in there, Bill had the big bag. Now Bill is the hamburger meat I left on the pavement. God never could have imagined man bringing weapons against other men or he would have made us out of stronger stuff. A rifle bullet through the skull is like a baby with Christmas wrappings.

I’ll do life that’s for sure. Good behavior will get me jack shit now. I’m a cop killer, my name will be in a little square beside ‘Cop Killer gets Death Sentence.’ My little picture with an orange jumpsuit and sad, dark face. Mom will probably never stop crying.

Probably will get lethal injection and the way they botch those things now I’ll die in some pretty miserable pain. The sirens are here, I can see the red and blue beating off the dark, night buildings. All the apartment lights are heating up to watch the show.

No show. One bullet in front, out back.

"...cold, dead fish."

              I used to get salmon at work and I would cut off the best fillets and throw the skin and the scales into the garbage can. 

             Her body: limp, cold, covered in an oily sweat: reminded me of those salmon. The smell was vaguely the same as well. I woke up to her like this: Just dead beside me on her back. I have woken up to her like that thousands of times, but today I knew that she was dead. I could smell that sweet, sour smell of lingering death. I tasted it in the film in the roof of my mouth.

             I tested the pulse on her neck and wrist and felt nothing but the chill of blood that has stopped pumping. A whole body that has known nothing but pumping blood from six weeks in has now stopped its futile work.

             I propped up a couple of pillows in bed, rubbed my eyes, and looked straight ahead into the dim future. I thought of all the changes I would have to make in my life in order to accommodate this unforeseeable event. I would have to find a new place to live, move all of my things, go to a funeral, probably answer a couple dozen questions about my whereabouts; “I was sleeping beside her all night. I woke up and she was a cold, dead fish.” Well, death has its consequences.

            The morning sun pierced in through a sliver in the curtains. My head ached and my eyes burned. I went down a flight of stairs to piss, I patted the dog on the head as I passed him on the couch, and I went back to bed. I picked up the phone to call the cops, decided against it, rolled over and went to sleep.