Where The Sun Don't Shine by Alex Metcalf

Author:Alex Metcalf [Metcalf, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Restless Ego
Published: 2011-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

19

I thought it was an earthquake. That singular Southern California moment when the ground shudders and all the physical rules of the world disappear.

But it was only Orville. Shaking me. Trying to wake me up.

“Are you okay? Shit, man, you totally got the crap beaten out of you.”

I tried to sit up. Which only made me feel like my skull was caught inside some sort of industrial washing machine.

So I moved a little more carefully. Up to sitting. Then standing. And stumbled over to the sink to wash my face off. Which didn’t go so well. I couldn’t see anything in the stainless-steel “mirror” that was on the wall. About the best I could do was wash the gravel out from what seemed like a deep cut on my head.

“Where. The Fuck. Were you?” My mouth felt thick. I could barely get the words out.

Orville was just standing there. Watching me like a television set.

“You went into the bathroom,” he said. “Then that skinny chick walked in. I thought you two were, I don’t know, gettin’ it on or something. I knew something was up when she walked out with that guy, though. I could tell.” Orville grinned, a strange visual non-sequitur.

I wiped the last of the blood out of my eye. “Orville. I want you to use that gun now.”

“Yeah?” His eyes lit up. “On who?”

“Put the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger.”

He stared at me. And started to laugh. I guess he thought it was a joke.

“You are a fucking idiot,” I said as I pushed past him towards the door.

“You need any help?”

“Fuck off,” I answered. “You’ve helped enough.”

What should have been a ten-minute walk home took me almost an hour. Luckily the boardwalk was emptying out at this hour. And anyone who was still there got out of my way like I had AIDS and was giving it away. Which, given the amount of blood that was congealing over my face and head, didn’t seem that far from the truth.

I’d just lost a million dollars. Practically handed it away to some douchebag who beat the shit out of me ‘cause it was fun. This was not how my evening was supposed to end. I was supposed to be the hero here. Give the money away, get the girl. Instead, I had nothing to show for it but blood trails on the boardwalk.

The last block was brutal. My feet felt like wooden clubs, and my head was beating in time with my heartbeat, threatening to explode. It was only the worry that the beating might have given me a brain aneurism that got me to Formica Manor.

Up the porch. Into the house. Up the stairs. Finding the key was hard, my hand kept bleeding as I reached into my pocket.

Into the lock. Open the door. And froze. There was the flicker of candlelight in the room. I don’t use candles. The stereo was on. A jazz station. I fucking hated jazz.

I started to back-peddle out of the apartment, trying to figure out where I could go when a voice stopped me.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.