The Untimely Death of Jimmy Gums by Meyers Brandon

Author:Meyers, Brandon [Meyers, Brandon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-01-14T08:00:00+00:00

William Zatel woke to the smell of vomit. The bitter stench of the vodka-tinged mess in his lap caused him to be sick again. He heaved until his chest hurt.

“Ohfuck,” he said, fumbling with the door lock mechanism. He would never be able to stop gagging. Not while he was covered with this shit. “Ohfugh—” He leaned across the gap between door and ground unsteadily to empty the remainder of his stomach’s contents.

“Tommy,” William said. “We need…urp…home.” There was no reply. It took a moment for this to register in his pathetic state. “Tommy!”

William looked around. They were still at the fucking titty bar! What if Nina saw him puking all over himself like some drunken high-schooler? He shouted for his brother again before stumbling from the car. The parking lot was empty except for a few cars. William was baffled. He had to lean against the car to steady himself, trying to make sense of his newfound predicament. He reached instinctively for the heavy bulge of his gun in its shoulder holster. Drunk and without Tommy in his direct line of sight, William felt vulnerable there in the dead of night. The presence of his shooting iron at least offered some bit of reassurance.

And then it hit him. Tommy had gotten pissed at him for getting so drunk and must have decided to teach him a lesson. He laughed at the idea. Imagine that, he thought. It was like being attempted to be outwitted by a five-year-old. Shit, how long had Tommy been waiting for him to wake up? It couldn’t have been that long, he reasoned muddily, if the parking lot still had a couple cars in it.

“Tommy!” William shouted, making mockery of feigned distress. “Oh, Tommy boy. Where ever have you gone? What will I do?” He examined the tree line at the edge of the parking lot. His brother was hiding among them, he knew, waiting to get a rise out of him. William wasn’t falling for it. Yet, still there was no response.

“Oh, I wish I wasn’t such a drunk asshole. I’m sure sorry about it.” This he said with slightly less sarcasm. He got up from the hood and crossed a few yards of parking lot to examine the forest’s edge. “Come on, Tom. I said I was sorry. I almost mean it, too.”

Now he was getting irritated. The remaining booze in his system helped to shorten his temper. His mouth was raw with stomach acid and it irritated his throat to yell. “Alright man. Enough of this horseshit. I’m sorry, alright? Now get your big ass back over here and take me home so I can get cleaned up.”

And then he realized that the ground beneath his feet was shining with wetness. He followed the slick, foot-wide trail with his eyes into the pine needle-littered ground at the end of the lot. It looked like… Puzzled, he leaned down and brought up a finger coated in crimson syrup. William’s stomach tightened.

“Jesus,” he said. It was blood.

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