Bad Sammie Saves The Day Today But Still Feels Like Bad Crime Man
It was moments like this that Sammie was glad that he had a shooter with an unlimited number of bullets. With his collar popped Sammy followed the cries of the woman down the alley. She sounded like she had limp, lily white wrists that made doing anything more labor intensive than lifting a pumpkin spice late to her lips a big huge task that she was sure to complain about. Sammie didn’t understand why but her voice filled him with a hollow ennui that could only be settled with lots of malted brew sodas and a few car keys full of slothdust and maybe other skinny women with pixie haircuts with bad taste in music. Sammie didn’t like it. He liked voices that made him think of warm summer days and real fast autocars; especially the ones that were red and went extra real fast, the ones that couldn’t go slower than 54.
Sammy rounded the corner of the three way junction that separated the alley. His shooter was extended in front of him as he sped into the scene of somebody else’s crime. Sammie stopped and tried to find the screaming woman. The only people here were Thomie Yorke, who was on the ground crying, and Thinny Lizzo standing over him with a mean looking tire iron in his huge hands. Sammie shook his gun around because he was asking the questions here now. “Listen to me now! I’m asking the questions here now! What is going on here? Where is the lady who was making screams like a hairless Siamese left outside on a nippy fall morning?” He waved his gun at them then blasted thirty and then seven bullets in the air so they got how serious he was about being the one asking the questions now.
Thinny Lizzo dropped the pipe and it clattered on the ground. Skinny Lizzo raised his hands and said, “I’m robbing Thomie Yorke because he has money for spray paint. I like to huff spray paint so I’m robbing him for money to buy some. The silver is my favorite flavor. If you aim that bullet shooter at Thomie I’ll give you half of what I, Thinny Lizzo, find in Thomie’s pockets. He’s loaded!”
Sweat beaded on Sammie’s forehead. Sammy liked to make crimes and he hated Thomie but something in him robbing Thomie wouldn’t be very righteous. Just because Sammie hated every grain of salt that made up his fallow soul and extra hated every action of his corrupted hands it didn’t mean that he always had to be bad. He was getting itchy but Ronnie had given him a nickle of black tar slothdust so he didn’t need to do more bad to get more. For the first time in a long time Sammie did what he knew was good. He shifted the irons of his shooter at Thinny Lizzo’s center mass. Sammy pulled the trigger and infinite bullets times infinite bullets hit Lizzo square in the chest, burrowing away at his flesh until they streamed out the other side of his body. Sammie kept the trigger pulled and as Thinny Lizzo fell the ruined corpse was divided in a wide line from the sternum up. When Sammie was sure that Lizzo was stomped into the soundtrack he stopped pulling the trigger. He blew a breath at the smoke that came out of the red hot barrel. It looked real extra cool.
Sammie walked over to Thomie and gave him a kick in the kidney to get his attention. Thomie cowered a bit more so Sammie gave him a few more kicks while shouting, “I saved you.” Sammie stopped kicking him when he rolled over with a real good face full of surprised happiness at being alive.
Thomie propped himself up on his hands and raised his kicked up torso. “You saved me, Sammie! You did real good. Why did you do a good thing like this?”
Sammie shrugged. “Because I have all the good stuff I need right now and I thought you were a little girl when you were screaming.”
Thomie laughed and said, “I do scream like a little, weak wristed, self involved girl who puts out music as deep as a small puddle.”
Sammie looked left and saw the two of them reflected in a moon shaped pool of Thinny Lizzo’s blood and chest juices. “This is gross so I’m going to leave. I want to go do some of this slothdust under a bridge and think moody, sad thoughts about how bad my life is and stuff.” Without another sentence of words Sammie walked away from the pee, sweat, and blood stuff soaked Thomie Yorke. Thomie was safe now so Sammie could go about his day.
He got a few feet away when Thomie squished up to him in a spring. “Don’t leave me alone Sammie Haegar! I’ll trade you Wild Scottish Rose non-organic wine from the booze store if you will protect me from other rough bullies. You won’t even notice that I’m here. I’ll be quite like a mouse burglarizing a judge’s mansion.”
“No,” Sammie said. “I work best alone. I don’t want to let you down like I let down my mom and dad.” He tilted his head to the sky and shouted real loud, “I’m so troubled!”
“But, Sammy, my parent’s are getting divorced and I don’t want to go home to them and all the girls at the mouthwash store try to steal my breath when I go there. Please! Let me pay you in Wild Scottish Rose and minty smokies to be my protector because I’m so weak and helpless. I couldn’t fight my way out of a wet paper bag with scissors.”
Sammy mulled it over in his head. It was much harder to mope and think bad thoughts about his existence when there were other people around. That was a plus and a minus. Sammies head hurt. He’d need to do a little bit of slothdust so that he could think this over clearly and the best chaser for the nose-into-throat drainage that the gritty slothdust caused was Wild Scottish Rose. “Fine, but stay out of my way and don’t try to stop me from killing myself if I want to.”
Thomie fell into step a few steps behind him. “Okay, Sammy. Thank you for not shooting me up and protecting me real strong.”
Sammie popped his collar up even more. “I saved you because I didn’t need a fix and because I’m the only one in this town allowed to be doing crimes now.” Sammie wasn’t sure if he believed himself but the short, stuttering syllables felt right in his mouth; whatever they meant.