Joe Mack
THUMP! That was the man, and his big fucking axe, and it swinging and lopping off Jake's jead, and that head landing on the hood of my car, making that sound -- thump. Fuck. I was fucked. The man wanted my head, too, 'cuz Jake and I had screwed him on the dairy drop. I didn't know what to do. I was trapped in a lime green Subaru whose doors didn't lock. I was acutely aware of my teeth, like you are in a dream, those dreams where your teeth are falling out for no reason. A fucking maniac is coming for me with an axe and I'm freaking out about my teeth, which is typical me. That made me think of Doctor Love, a dentist connection I had, and his old lady Psycho Laura, who lived just around the block. Psycho Laura was one of those crazy multiple-cat ladies and at the same time a survivalist freak, two stereotypes you wouldn't normally think to graft onto each other. Yeah! Man, if I could make it to Psycho Laura's house, and if she didn't remember the fact that it was me who sold her that fake prosthetic leg, I might be able to get a weapon! The Man was pulling on the Subaru handle, and I was holding it closed, and suddenly I let go, sending him stumbling back a few steps . "Mrrrraooow!!" I heard, and saw a flurry of claws and fur leap at the man. It was an orange tabby cat, scratching at his eyes. The dumb fuck musta stepped on it. I jumped past him, over headless Jake, and ducked through the car wash, taking a short cut. The man came after me, half-blind, trying to keep me in sight while batting away the cat. Fuck, man, it was just over the gate to Psycho Laura's. Just as the man and I were almost out the other side of the car wash, the waxer came on. "What the fuck?" I thought, then I saw Wormy Wayne Doyer, a guy I'd screwed over so long ago that I couldn't even remember what I'd done to him. He was wearing a car washer outfit! The fuck had turned the waxer on me! But the man had it worse -- when the wax hit the cat, it let out an unearthly howl the likes of such that I almost turned to look. Except Psycho Laura was right in front of me, using a really really uncomfortable looking crutch. Damn! She must've remembered me, because she said, "I'm doing this on behalf of my poor tabby, but I'm glad I'm getting you, too." And she let fly the full clip of her Uzi, slaughtering the man and I in one fell swing of her barrel. Fuck, I shouldn't a sold her a hollow leg.
Moral: Never wax an orange cat.
JC