Johann and the Mannequin

by Jonah and Em

 

the story writes itself.

she, nor i, have anything really to do or say about the matter.

unfolding, like fresh laundry, we are but(t) gamblers, knowing not when to do this, nor that, nor the other, over yonder.

 

and as the banjo music swells, one sweet plucking note following another, camera #3 pans in close to a swanky little shoppe in a sweaty little corner of a sleepy little town in our collective nightmarish zeitgeist of love and some lust, babeeedoll yeah :

this was, by no means, the first time he had flirted w/ a mannequin.

indeed, such an outing and an urge had become rather frequent for one mister johann q. sidesnatch.

(no one knows what the "q" stands for; no one had ever dared to ask ...)

looking into her vinyl, deluxe, enticing eyes, johann slowly reached out a somewhat timid yet wholly entranced hand.

this was by no means one's ordinary mannequin.

this mannequin reeked of solid, subtle, sensual potential.

 

this mannequin slowly reached out, too, her hand, meeting his, all taking place in very slow-motion &

in a sort of quiet, reflective, quasi-hallucinative and super-duper erotic meeting of

man and

clothing-store-display-object.

 

without realizing it, johann knocked over the entire garish display of insanity and pervishness.

everything came crashing to a halt with no knowledge of where it began

and where it would end.

 

johann was never good at these kinds of introductions and when everyone turned to stare,

he felt the need to cough uncomfortably and tug at his brown dickey that he really shouldn't have worn.

 

mannequins don't like dickeys! he told himself, only to wear one anyway for comfort and style.

when he turned away from her, the amazonian salesgirl stomped towards him and looked at the display,

lying carelessly on the cheap fluorescent green carpet.

 

johann could not name a more unpleasant time within the last year. his courtship of mannequins always

went off so smoothly, without a hitch. why had he ever come to this outlandish place filled with neon and chaos?

 

he felt sweat beads forming around his neck and alarmingly long beard that would not go away. the salesgirl had begun to pick up the mess and try to restore order in the store,

but johann q. sidesnatch was barreling towards insanity!

he had to regain his composure, as to not look a fool in front of the mannequin, who really looked like her name would be "dolly."

he had always liked the name and this mannequin was a blonde, as were all dollys, so this made perfect sense.

 

johann merely grinned at her and tried not to focus on the salesgirl whose hazel-green eyes were  glaring at him.

 

when all was restored to order, johann asked dolly if she would mind if he lifted her skirt, just a tiny bit,

just to see that she was all right.

she seemed to nod her head and johann lifted the lavender skirt when he thought he heard

the salesgirl calling security.

 

who among us really knows what precisely is going on, in this curiously peculiar and quite unpleasant episode within the confining walls of this hopskotch kistch & schtick place, where sweat rains down in river currents, and a hankey would come in really handy right about now, not only for

 

the purpose of wiping away such incriminatingly pheromonic evidence, but alas, also

to capture - on one fell swoop - all the snot&poop which had been barelling outta sidesnatch's bonker of a hornpipe of a nose, for (at least)

the past 4 1/2 minutes, since first making such seemingly ill-fated connection with dolly.

 

and what are we, mere readers of this pierceingly platonic, grade f & sardonic, piece of piecemeal shit of an excuse of a schtory?

no glory, i tell you. no glory (hole) to be found when johann q. is around.

 

and this is the part of the tale in which things turn a little bit creepy. no sleep, no sleepy. sit up and listen and learn. cause next tis your turn.

 

is it possible - now keep an open mind - anyway yes possible, that the story thus far, and all the sillly-strange goings-on, are but(t) a dream?

dreamt up by the mannequin, herself?

 

perhaps a flashback scene is in order. something tasty & tangible, to provide a real sense of the state of affairs between johann, ms. dolly, ms. hazel-green salesgirl, and security-man, who presently can be seen out of one's peripheral vision, just now coming down the escalator to attend to the mishap in question.

 

why is it, boys&girls, that he is tumbling down, on the going-up escalator? silly little security-man.

doesn't he know to just go with the flow ... and that that would involve the down-one?

 

things are getting really harry here @ the strip mall, and all, and johann suddenly is struck - like a piece of pure lightning sent straight from the gods - against the area between where his scrotum meets the arsehole. by dolly, he's got it!

why, oh good lord why, had he not thought of this earlier?

 

for this is by no means a well-told endeavor. not too clever, be we. nor too fond of any existence without, at least,

a hint

of

mannequin.

 

oh indeed we will have to wait for the flashback scene for that security guard is getting far too close for comfort.  johann worried that he would seem rude, but to garner that precious, priority of time alone with dolly, he would have to snatch her away from this crazy, bizarre place!

 

one minute he was watching that snarling, insecure security guard pounding the pavement beneath those upward-moving steps, and the next, johann had his arm around dolly, pushing his way through the dangerous, deliciously-docile crowd standing just mere feet outside the store!

 

johann had tried his best not to be rude. he sincerely hoped that dolly would not be afraid, nor that she would worry he had kidnapped her.  surely she wouldn’t think he had intentionally mussed her lovely blonde hair, but he must turn these corners quickly or pedro, the perturbed security sleaze would have him in hand!

 

johann had realized that his only real escape was to take the bus, brimming with droopy-eyed darlings and befuddled elderlies, for today was his first date with a doll, that dolly who made him feel all jolly and bewildered. 

 

before he realized it, sidesnatch had dolly leaning up against him on the burly bus, bustling towards someplace unfamiliar, and he told her his still-life story of schticky time lost without her by his side.

 

now may it be noted, if it pleases the court, that by any measure, this little story, this narrative - if it can be called that without sending throngs of the reading public into fits of hysteria, running through the busystreets in the fashion that a barnyard of headless chicken might do - this most daring & bold & completely naked-in-the-snow composition is udderly self-referential. that is to say, it appears to actually refer to itself. yes, dear reader(s), hard to believe, but(t) very goddamn true.

and this is something to be celebrated! a craving that has affected all in this little bare-back barrack of a town.

johann is happy with it (at least thus far).

nor has dolly yet seemed to nod her gorgeous, plastic, welcoming head into any fashion of a "no" position.

fumbling security guard, ditto. tho' he falls. and falls and falls.

ditto as well, our troubled little salesgirl/callgirl. no, make that just salesgirl. equally hazel and green. and mean.

and thus, that being stated - being entered into the official congressional record - be it also recognized, recommends the state, that thissy here is by no means a "story" which is afraid to use the expression "by no means," and etc. etc. et. al. misc. ever-after. dig? cool that.

this just in: johann can currently be seen, if one focuses in on the outbound skeeballville bus # 42 (a rather nice and well-executed transit system - comparable to that of other world-class major cosmopolitian capital cities and ports of entry; a phenomenon rather strange, to say the least, for our dear homey little skeeballville. but(t) alas(s), that's another story altogether. we've got business - kinky, strugling business, at hand, me lads!)

yes, here we spot the governor, johann snatchy-snatch.

and here, dolly, propped so nonchalantly and in deep, inpenetrable melancholia, against our hero's torso and neck. that darn sweaty neck. that folly of a golly of a beard which knows no end (nor beginning). entire poems, whole biographies, sunsetting mountainranges of libraries, have been born and raised within the various 50+ shades of grey of such beard as is his beard. all went on to successful livlihoods, suffice it so say.

 

"dolly," he whispers into her ear. "i'm thinking if we can just, umm, just make it to our stop ... and get off this darn bus, then maybe, just maybe, uhh, you see, maybe you and i could have some quality alone time."

 

and dolly seems to agree, with the slightest of a positive movement in her eyes. those damn gorgeous eyes. 2 of them, in fact. a golden brown, not entirely unlike the shade of johann's bowel movement earlier this very morning.

 

"then," he ponders, a bit outloud, forgetting momentarily that he must not been seen "communicating" with said mannequin, right? he's simply taking it somewhere. on business. official. "them, ahem," he clears the throat. "then, you and i can discuss our wondrous future, umm, together. how we'll make that happen. yeah, how we'll live out our lives in unison and bliss and shit, despite this cruel and never-understanding world in which we find ourselves. ourselves so smitten, yes, dolly?"

 

"we shall grow old together. starting right here, right now, my love. my lady. my pretty little dollbaby who just happens to never have a lot to say. nor many movements to make. alas, sweet dolly: that's among the schmorgasboard of delights that first attracted me to you ... yes, growing old together: ultimate intimate romance. well, well, my sweets, i'll grow old over the years, but i suppose you won't change a bit, will you now?"

 

johann - in a most clandestine manner - laughs a smidgen to himself after uddering that last line.

classic mannequin humour.

 

**

Upon their arrival at his historical, hysterical home, johann of the jive beard grins and in they go, to embark upon some precious but precarious time together.  johann cannot wait to see what awaits him with this plastic, placid gal.

 

johann takes off his touk and settles into the soft sofa with his pink, pretty baby doll wearing only a short lavender dress and gorgeous blonde tresses.  despite the messes lying around his house, dolly seems pleased and just as johann brings his leathery lecherous lips to hers, a knock at the door sends his hopes dashing!

 

“darn!” he cries as he slaps his forehead and regretfully regrets removing dolly from his own sister’s boutique earlier this evening. he cannot seem to stop bringing those dolls back to his place and his silly sibling is sick of it!  she even sends the usual coppery copper, hector, who is standing on his porch currently.  It is embarrassing to have hector catching him in this same predictable predicament once again.

 

“johann!’ hector, the crazy cop calls to him.  johann’s mind races as this racy scene changes from daring to desperate!  he quickly moves dolly to the one place hector never looks and the beardly romeo of the hour opens the overly-large oaken door to a familiar beige face with a mustachioed muscular look. 

 

in typical police fashion, the burly man in black with a badge conducts his convoluted search only to discover diddly.  “sorry hep cat,” he heaves and high-fives our hero.  “got another call aboutcha and hadda-have-a look.” 

 

johann closes the overly-large oaken door and rescues his rather miffed maiden.  as he holds her close in his elegant embrace, our dubious don juan wins her over.  dolly is his, he just knows it…as(s) do we, through whom this terrifyingly terrific tale has been told, with questionable reportage from the small and quite silly township of skeeballville, u.s.a. (nobody knows what the "u" stands for; nodolly dares to ashk).

 

 



Two Left Feet

by Em

The manner in which the victim had been hung from her neck was pretty standard.  However, the location in which her body had been positioned was unusual, to say the least.  In all his years on the police force, Detective Ian Atkins had never seen a body hanging from a flagpole in front of a government building.  The fact that the building where the victim was hanging was the police station didn’t make it any better.

He had no idea how someone had hoisted the young nude female up there & it certainly wasn’t lost on the media.  They were filming from the minute he’d arrived on the scene.  His fellow cops had cordoned off the scene, but until they got photos and evidence, they couldn’t take her down.  Officer Emma Chadwick was taking photos of the crowd in case a suspect was later discovered.  She was being as subtle as possible, but Atkins noticed her anyway.  Of course he noticed Officer Chadwick.  She had curves in all the right places---

YOWCH! WHAT THE FUCK WAZZAT BRIGHT LIGHT?!  Atkins felt sure someone in the crowd had just taken a photo of the crime scene. He strained to see behind the crowd that had formed over the last two hours.

Atkins lurched towards the crowd and noted it shifted when he approached.  He wondered if someone ran off or moved before he could find the picture taker.  The detective realized he wouldn’t be able to find out what had occurred, so he returned to the scene.

CSI Tad Jackson poked him on the shoulder and Atkins jumped.

“Jesus Tad!  Don’t do that!”  Atkins had jumped about a foot and held his hand over his heart.

“Why so skittish, Ian?”  Tad laughed.  Though they had been friends for a long time, Atkins was not amused.  Tad quickly turned serious.  “I found two shoe prints over here, E.  I already got pictures and now I’m taking an imprint.  You’re never gonna believe this.  The two shoe prints are both for left shoes.”

Atkins stared blankly into Tad’s deep brown eyes.  He wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

“Um, sorry,” he stammered.  “Are you saying you found two left shoe prints?

“Yes.”

“Could they have been from two people?”

“Well, at first glance, yes.  However, looking at the treads in the shoe prints, they appear to have the same markings and wear marks.  Also, the treads are from the same size shoe.”

The middle-aged detective closed his eyes and pinched the top of his nose in frustration.  “Tad, are you suggesting our perp literally has two left feet?”

“Well I’m not saying he doesn’t.” 

Atkins rolled his eyes and walked over to the body that was finally being taken down from the flag pole.  It was going to be a long day.

**

The no-nonsense detective felt his heart drop as he reviewed the coroner’s report on this morning’s murder.  He stroked his moustache and Sonia Lopez, the county’s medical examiner, raised her hand in protest.  “Now Ian, don’t give me that look.  I know the report tells you everything you already know, but when we get the blood tests back from the lab, we should know more.”

Atkins frowned and glared at the small-framed elder woman sitting calmly before him behind her desk.  Her chestnut eyes reminded him of his mother’s eyes.  He realized that’s why he was always more patient with Dr. Lopez than with most of his coworkers.

“I know Sonia, but you know there’s a lot of pressure to solve this high profile case.”  He sighed.  “At least you’ve given me the victim’s name.  Looks like her name is Irma Keystone and she’s 45 years old from down on Ellington Street.  That’s the nicer part of town.”

“Yes, true,” Sonia’s Guatemalan accent had softened over the year, but Ian still enjoyed its sing-song tone.  “I forgot to mention, Miss Keystone was manually strangled before being strung up.  I found bruising on her neck and, as you know, the dead don’t bruise.”

Atkins’ mind began to race.  Now that he knew Irma was strangled by hand, what could that possibly mean?  It was time to piece together this fantastic mystery and Atkins looked forward to closing in on this killer fast.

**

Officer Li Ng had been on the police force for a year and finally felt he was getting his bearings.  He was finally off 3^rd shift, a fact that relieved his heavily pregnant wife.  The criminals at night tended to be more violent, but Ng loved his job and loved working the streets at night.  Still, being awake when Lucy was awake was nice.  Ng was finally finishing up his interviews of Ms. Keystone’s family and friends and was eager to report back to his boss.

When he walked into Detective Atkins’ office, he was met with a scowl.  “Bring me anything I can use?” the detective growled.

Ng nervously scratched his full head of hair.  It had finally grown back after police academy training was over.  “Well detective, I talked with the victim’s family and friends and the only thing that stood out was that most of them disliked her, even her sister, Beth.  I’m on my way to type up my report and I’ll have that to you later this afternoon.”

"No officer, you will give me your notes now.”  Atkins thrust his hand expectantly across his desk expectantly.

Ng wasn’t sure what he should do.  This definitely went against protocol.

“I’m waiting,” Atkins sighed.

Ng handed over his notes and stood awkwardly across from the detective.  Atkins looked up and shook his head.

“You can go now, kid.”

“But Detective Atkins, I can’t break the chain of command.  I need to write my report and log my notes.”

“Look Junior, you have no idea the kind of pressure I’m under.  Now I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.  GET. OUT.”

Ng turned with some reluctance and walked in a daze to his steel gray metal desk. He was reaching for his bottle of vodka in his bottom desk drawer when the police chief ran frantically into the room.  Chief Shana Martin was a tall black woman in her late 40’s.  She was all business and seldom had time for pleasantries.  It was strange to see her in such a fluster.  Chief Martin saw Ng and waved for him to follow her.  She also waved for Officer Chadwick and Detective Atkins to join her in her office.  This was going to be huge.

**

Officer Emma Chadwick had never seen the chief in this kind of tizzy before.  She had just finished her diagram of the crime scene and was preparing to follow up on some other business when the chief signaled her into her office.  The only times she was ever in Chief Martin’s office was for performance reviews and to update the chief on crime scene statuses from time to time. 

The 4 individuals sat together in Chief Martin’s office waiting for the chief to speak.  While they were waiting, Chadwick noticed Detective Atkins trying to look down her shirt again.  As if that creep would ever have a chance with her!

Chief Martin drank a big gulp of what may or may not have been coffee.  She finally broke the silence.  “This afternoon, the media received a photo of this morning’s crime scene from an anonymous photographer.  It depicts…well, see for yourselves.

The chief shoved a large black and white photo at the three of them.  Everyone leaned across her desk to get a good look.  It was a picture showing 3 things: (1) Detective Atkins’ face with his eyes closed and his hand up in front of his face; (2) the victim dangling from the pole behind him in the distance; (3) a shadowy figure bending over near the body on the pole.  The figure was not wearing any type of official uniform and appeared to be reaching for something and was clearly inside of the cordoned off area.  How had no one noticed him?

Atkins flushed and said, “The person whose flash almost blinded me this morning took this picture!  I remember when that happened!”

The chief looked at him with a mixture of hope and exasperation.  “You remember the time that this happened today?”

“Oh, well not exactly what time, no.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and looked away.

Chief Martin shook her head and began, “Ian, you are the lead detective on this case.  How did someone not in uniform get behind the crime scene tape?”

“Look Chief, there’s no way I let some civilian into the crime scene.  There has to be a mistake.  Officer Ng was in charge of allowing people into the scene.”  Atkins pointed towards Officer Ng accusingly.

Ng just looked confused.  For a police officer, he always seemed to be off in his own little world.  Some of the other officers thought he might be bringing something more than just coffee in his lunch thermos. 

“Now Ian, leave him out of this,” Chief Martin stated sternly.  “He’s still a rookie and you’re a 15 year veteran of the force.  I expect more of you.”

The chief turned to Emma.  “Young lady, did you get the pictures of the crowd developed yet?”

Emma was caught off guard, but nonetheless, responded quickly.  “I was just getting ready to call the photo lab—“

“Then what the hell are you waiting for?  Go call!”

With that, the meeting was over and Emma had never been so happy to call the lab before.  Lucky for her, the photos were ready and she quickly went downstairs to pick them up.  As soon as she saw the photos, she knew the chief was going to scream at her some more.  Oh well, better get it over with.

**

Chief Shana Martin was awfully glad that she found some vodka in Officer Ng’s desk earlier for a day like today.  She’d known about Ng’s alcohol problem for awhile and had meant to address it, but today she didn’t care.  It had turned out to be a shitty day.  The divorced mother of three had not had it easy raising her children on a cop’s salary, but two of the kids were out of the house and she just had one in high school now.  Chief Martin had a lot of which to be proud.

She truly had a lot going on lately and the Keystone Case was her #1 priority.  She wondered why Office Chadwick was taking so long with those photos.  She took another swig of her modified coffee and called to check on the status of the video that showed the front of the police station.  She hoped Office Ng had found something incriminating.

“Ng, tell me somethin’ good.”

Ng was quiet for a few seconds then nervously started, “Oh, uh, Chief.  I was just about to call you about the video.  I reviewed it and uh…well…”

“Spit it out, young man!”

“Well, the flagpole was out of the line of sight of the camera.  The crime wasn’t recorded on our camera.”

The dull ache that had been at the back of Chief Martin’s head started throbbing and she felt her whole body tensing up.  ”Are you telling me that that camera didn’t record the crime?!”

Office Ng stammered, “N-no, I mean, uh, yes.  I mean, there is no video of the crime.  I mean, I can see if the buildings nearby were pointed towards the flagpole and, uh, and—“

“Do what you have to do, kid.”  Chief Martin let the phone drop into its cradle as she closed her eyes in disbelief.

At that moment, Officer Chadwick wandered sheepishly into the room with a stack of photographs.  Judging by the look on her face, this wasn’t going to be good news either.

“Okay young lady, hand them over,” she put out her hand and Officer Chadwick placed them into her hand and cringed.

**

STAY TUNED FOR MORE...

Serial Cemetery

SERIAL CEMETERY

by Em

While this wasn’t the first time I had stumbled upon a dead body, it was the first time I had literally stumbled over one.  When I stood up again, I realized I was surrounded by several bodies in varying states of decomposition.  The bodies were all within a 20-30 foot radius of one another.  The ones with flesh still attached had clearly been female.

I called for Wade to come see what I was seeing.  He was just zipping up his pants after taking a leak behind a tree.  The truck’s engine was still running and our black lab, Riley, was waiting patiently in the extended cab.  Wade walked over slowly and his eyes widened.  A smile came across his face as he realized what he was seeing.

“Well, well, have you been engaging in extra-curricular activities without me, Jez?”  He laughed and started walking amongst the bodies.  He bent down next to a couple of them and minutes later shouted, “No skulls!”

I stood, staring, unbelieving that there could be a serial killer so close to our fair city.  Wade and I thought we were the only ones.

**

Wade and I met when we were kids and we had been inseparable ever since.  Wade had been in my 4^th grade class and I always thought he was really smart.  In fact, I had no clue that he was into the idea of killing until we were in 10^th grade.  He mentioned that he idolized killers who were never caught and hoped that one day he would be one.  From that moment on, I was very interested in a romantic and violent partnership with him!

I remember reading about Bonnie and Clyde and knowing that he and I would be glorified criminals one day.  Instead, we were just garden-variety lust killers who murdered both women and men.

For me, it really wasn’t about the killing, it was about the “playing.”  I loved whips, chains, and sexual assault.  Let it not be said that I wasn’t easy to please!

Wade lived for the kill itself.  He couldn’t get enough of death.  His choice of tools included various types of knives and screw drivers.  Woe to the hitchhiker with long legs or a nice body---you were just our type!

**

In fact, when we stumbled upon this little cemetery, we were looking for a good dumping site for our latest victim.  We had picked him up at a truck stop and made good use of his ripped abs and hard cock.  He didn’t know at the time that we had murder in store for him later.  I was pretty sure he didn’t even know when Wade slipped the cuffs on him and hog tied him.  “Truck Stop” was a kinky one.  Wade was using his favorite oriental blade when he slashed Truck Stop’s throat and blood sprayed everywhere.  I was immediately glad I had put up some good plastic before we started fucking because this was going to be a bitch to clean up!

In the body dump, Wade shrieked with joy every time he noticed another headless corpse.  “This is just like Ted Bundy!  He decapitated his victims too!”  I wasn’t thinking of that.  I was thinking about something else.  If someone else was dropping off bodies here, why not toss a few of ours in?  If this mysterious decapitator was ever caught, some of our bodies would be listed as his bodies.  I just hoped our victims would fit in!  This must be how a mother feels sending her children off to school on the first day.

First things first, we would have to decapitate our victims from now on, and that could be mess.  Plus, what would we do with the heads?  The idea behind dumping a victim is to get rid of the entire body, not just part of it.  It wasn’t like Riley could play with the heads in the backyard, although it is a pretty funny visual. 

**

On the ride back home, Wade and I discussed our finding.  Leaving our male victim in the field would really confuse things, but we were far too tired to look for another place.  We figured the cops might suspect more than one killer dumping bodies in the area, but we were beyond caring.

Still, the idea of a Ted Bundy copycat killer was thrilling.  Ted Bundy, a serial killer in the 1970’s gained a rock star reputation by pandering to the media during his 2 trials for murder.  He was rumored to have killed more than 30 women and he decapitated at least 12 of them. 

As we mused, we noticed a young blonde walking along the side of the road with a gas can.  Her car must have been the dead Toyota we saw a couple of miles back.  Wade looked at me and I nodded.  Tonight was proving to be quite interesting.

As we pulled the truck over beside her, the tall woman looked at us warily.  I rolled down the window and smiled.  “Hey, need a ride?  The closest gas station is maybe 2 miles away.”  I did my best to look non-threatening and innocent.

“Uh no, I’m fine.  Thanks though.”  She continued walking quickly away. 

**

Three nights later we returned to the body dump with a blonde female corpse in tow.  Wade lifted the headless body from the truck bed.  No matter how many dead bodies he handled, he was always struck by how heavy dead weight was.

I had just found the perfect spot for our victim when I looked dead ahead at a silhouette standing beneath some trees.  The male silhouette stood frozen in place as he eyed the two of us.  He couldn’t have been more than 30 feet away and I wasn’t able to get Wade’s attention until the man was standing right in front of me.

“Are you the ones who left a male body in my cemetery?!” he shrieked in disbelief.

Wade was completely taken aback by the sound of another male’s voice nearby.  He tripped over his own feet, falling face first and stared up at the two of us. 

“Yeah, we left him here,” I stood defiant.

He audibly scowled, “Goddammit!  You don’t walk into someone else’s cemetery and start using it!  That’s just not done!”  His body was shaking and I imagined his face would be red if it weren’t completely dark just then.

I leaned towards the Stranger, who noticeably changed his posture.

“We dumped that body here and we’re leaving another body here tonight.  The idea is that if you get caught for all of your misdeeds and police find this dumping ground, you’ll take the blame for our victims too.”  My voice sounded gruffer than usual and I noticed I was standing on my toes to reach the Stranger’s face.

In hindsight, I probably should have been terrified.  The next thing I knew, the Stranger shot Wade and I somehow found myself handcuffed in the back of his sedan.  How in the hell did this happen?  I truly was at the mercy of a sophisticated killer who had done this many times before.  Compared to him, I was an amateur.

**

As he pushed me through the door, I nearly fell over what appeared to be a pile of ski equipment.  It was strange because we didn’t live in an area that received a lot of snow.  I was still wearing cuffs linked in front and the large man was pushing me towards a small room in the back of his house.  Inside the house, it was pitch black and the walls were painted a dark color to ensure nobody could see a damn thing at night. 

As he forced me to turn a corner, I could feel The Stranger trip and the sound of a gunshot pierced the room.  I crouched instinctively and was grateful not to feel any pain or blood shooting from any part of my body.  I listened for a moment, not sure what to expect.  I felt around for a light switch and located one on a hallway wall. 

The scene in front of me was embarrassing for this particular killer.  When we turned the corner, his gun had fallen from his hand, hit the floor, and shot him in the forehead.  To this day, I don’t know how that could have happened, but it happened and he was killed instantly.  I knew the cops would get a kick out of finding him this way when I called them from a neighbor’s house.  I would appear to be just another victim and the skulls found in the fireplace and Polaroids of victims would just reinforce his connection to the deaths around town.

**

When I returned to the body dump, Wade was gone.  I assumed he had headed to a hospital, but when I got home, he was there.  Turns out, he was barely grazed by the bullet and was able to hitch his way home.  As I was packing my suitcase to hit the road and out of this town forever, Wade turned on the news.  A story about the killer was just being announced.  It seems he was kidnapping young women from college campuses and having his way with their dead bodies.  The media had dubbed him “The Bundy Copycat Killer.”  This guy was so lame he didn’t have the distinction of having his own killer nickname.  At least Wade and I were referenced as both “The Carolina Ripper” and (since some of our victims hadn’t been linked to others), “The Highway Slayer.”  Sheesh, was it so hard to get an original name?

The news story continued and stated that police had noted some inconsistencies with my story and I was now a “person of interest” in the crimes.  I had to get out of town fast, but where to go?  When Riley started barking at the front door, I knew I had a problem on my hands.  Wade became wide-eyed and slowly moved towards the door.  As he opened the door, I noted the gun in his waist-band.

The cop at the door flashed his badge and Wade quickly drew his gun and fired.  The cop went down, but his partner shot Wade in the chest.  Wade was able to fire once more and the partner was hit in the face.  I stood in the hallway in complete shock.  I had no idea that Wade planned to shoot the police at our door.  As he lay in the foyer bleeding, I felt compelled to run to him.  However, I realized that more cops were coming.  I grabbed my suitcase and took off in my Honda sedan.  Things weren’t going to be the same without Wade and Riley, but I had to get out of there!

**

I got 20 miles down the road before I was pulled over by a big burly female cop.  She had graying hair pulled into a bun and manly hands.  She came at me with her gun pulled and I knew I wasn’t getting out of this.  She handcuffed me with those manly hands and down to the jailhouse I went.

It took me hours of bull-shitting and spinning yarns before I finally convinced the cops I wasn’t involved in the killings.  I told them I was leaving Wade and hadn’t even seen the news indicating I was wanted for questioning.  Lucky for me Wade hadn’t survived his gunshot wound and was suspected as the only killer in the “Carolina Ripper” killings. 

I knew that Wade’s death was the only reason I was free, but it still saddened me.  We had known each other for a long time and finding a willing accomplice to help me kill might take awhile, but it was a worthwhile endeavor.  No matter what happened, it was time to move to the North Carolina coast and start a new life.  You know what they say…there are always plenty more fish in the sea!