Wildcard

Like, it’s a Saturday and I just take a break to go get something to eat. The mall is pretty busy – as always – but Le Blues (my department) is as dead an old geezer’s cock. I mean it figures since we sell nothing but cheap ass clothes, party favors and bottled prune juice. All the gawking idiots outside ever do is stick their heads through the door and ask where the bathrooms are. I can’t really blame them.

Anyways, it’s only me today and my stomach is churning something awful, so I say to myself fuck this, post the ‘Out to Lunch’ sign, lock up and head out into the mall.

The gawking idiots are festering like syphilis sores, infecting almost every department with their presence. Some of em’ have both hands riddled with shopping bags; others are just taking up space. Then there are the faithful few (and I mean few), that are just plain and simple up to no good. Of course, those are the ones that stand out the most – well to me anyway.

Like, a couple weeks ago some lucky bastard robbed Maceio’s, a little deli around the corner from where I’m stationed, in broad daylight. Sucker’s got away with three grand and change, and don’t ask where the dumbass security guards were when it all went down.

So I’m walking down the mall and a group of G.I’s (fuck, you should know what a G.I is by now) – about four of them – are walking toward Digital Plus; a little electronics store that sells everything from Xboxes to computer chips. What strikes me funny about this group is how huge everyone is. I mean like fucking HUGE!

Mom is a whopper! Bitch looks like she eats everything that passes in front of her. Dad is no lightweight either; with a gut that looks like he’s gonna give birth to something big and nasty. Sucker is sweating heavy too, and breathing like he’s just run a marathon. His shorts are all bundled up between his crotch and he’s wiping his face every few seconds, while conversing with wifey.

The kids are like Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dumb. Neither of em’ looks older than ten, but could make any professional sumo wrestler think twice before stepping into a ring with either of em’.

Jesus Christ, lay off the steak and ice-cream folks. I think to myself grinning.

Then I see him.

He is wearing a dark blue hoody, jeans and a pair of sneakers. He is propped up by the vending machine a few yards from Digital Plus, and all at once I know something is wrong with him. Don’t ask me how I know; I’m just good that way I guess.

He eases up off the machine and for some reason I just stop moving. His eyes are planted on the biggies and he begins moving toward them. I begin looking around for the guard and as always, he is nowhere to be seen. Just a mall full of festering, infectious G.I’s.

I look back over at Mr Hoody. He is now a couple steps from the family and he begins to reach under his shirt-

“LOOK OUT!” I yell without thinking.

All at once they turn in my direction – along with probably every other gawker within earshot – and I point toward Mr. Hoody.

Mom and Dad turn back just in time to see the gun he’s just pulled being aimed at them.

“Oh my, HE HAS A GUN!” someone screams. Of course, this is the part where everyone begins bawling and scampering about like a bunch of headless chickens.

There is a loud crack and dad’s face implodes in a mass of blood and tissue. Mom begins shrieking as dad takes two blind steps back and crashes into an old guy that is standing close behind him. They both hit the floor in a pile of fat and blood, as Mr Hoody squeezes off another.

This time mom is the one on the receiving end. The bullet hits her in the neck and her screams transform into gurgles as blood spews from the gaping hole. She spins around twice, like some kind of overweight ballerina and then she too joins her husband on the mall’s tiled surface. Mr. Hoody stands over her and puts one more in her torso.

G.I’s are running in all directions and screaming at the top of their lungs as the carnage unfolds smack dab in the middle of the mall. My hands are clenched at my sides as I just stand there, paralyzed by shock and awe.

Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dumb the sumo super kids, are staring down at the dead bodies of their parents as Mr. Hoody’s barrel bears down on them. This time I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore.

Several more shots, a million more screams.

A couple seconds pass…

…I force my eyelids open just in time to see Mr. Hoody sprinting toward the fire escape. He smashes into the door and then disappears.

A few heads begin to pop up from behind counters and plant pots like zits on prom night, as terrified shoppers come to grip with what they’ve just witnessed.

“What in God’s name is going on?” I hear someone ask.

“Oh God, somebody call 911!” someone else screams.

I finally get past the urge to piss in my pants and begin moving toward the spot where the sumo family met their demise. I elbow my way through the small crowd that is rapidly forming around their bodies, until I’m close enough to get a ringside view of the carnage.

Surprisingly enough, the old guy is still buried under dad’s oversize corpse with three gawkers trying their best to pull him out.

A woman is crying and grabbing onto her male counterpart. Another is shaking her head from side to side and clasping her hands together, as if lost in some kind of prayer ritual.

What a time for fucking religion…HA!

Several are on cell phones relaying the incident to anyone fortunate enough to be on their calling lists. A little boy is staring on and licking an ice cream.

G.I’s at their finest.

Mom’s head is turned slightly to one side, and her eyes are locked on that distant object most dead people stare at, when they’d rather keep their eyes open after giving up the ghost. Who knows…when I die (HA, fat chance of that!!!) I’ll probably stare at that object too. A puddle is widening on the tiled spot beneath her neck, and a stream of blood is coursing its way from her lips. The entry wound on her neck looks like what you would get if you peeled skin off a vagina.

Uggghhh!

Oh look, there are now six gawkers uniting in an effort to pull yon old shmuck from beneath the crushing meat pile. Dad’s body just jerks from side to side with each heave. It would probably be easier to just push his fat ass aside, but none of them seem to keen on touching him.

Good luck idiots!

Don’t ask about Dee and Dumb. I couldn’t bear to see those two.

Fuck you, I have a heart!

Oh well, the rest of this tale aint’ worth telling. The cops came, questions were asked and two weeks later the dumb prick was caught in a stolen car. No one ever found out why he killed the family, and quite frankly I don’t think anyone really gives a shit. I sure as hell don’t.

Jamie.

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"Even if you win for the short term, you'll ultimately fail, alive or dead. Imagine if the great men from the past - men who thought they were working to shape the world – could see what their efforts have yielded. There is no change. There is no hope. Marx failed. Hitler failed. Jefferson failed. I just don't try."
-- Reilly (Everyday Madness)