Saturday, March 28, 2009

Loch the car

I never expected the head to blow up completely. I may have talked like a tough guy but the truth was I never shot anyone before. When I saw the blue Cadillac coming up the drive way I knew it was Phil. He had a curly Jewfro whose profile I could see above the steering wheel from a mile away.

There were a lot of Jewish gangstas in Cincinnati, believe it or not but Phil was indeed the enforcer. And if he was coming out to my house out in the Indiana woods a good hour away from Cincinnati he was planning on doing more than breaking a few bones. I knew it had been risky setting a competing fake ID shop at the college but I didn’t expect to see Phil the Hebrew hammer here at my house.

I wasted no time and as soon he opened his door I pounced, pistol to the temple and just a slight squeeze. When the bullet hit his head it was like a sledgehammer hitting a slightly off watermelon. It was a good thing the power of the blast knocked him back into the car because cleaning pieces of skull attached to jewfro out of the gravel would have been a real pain in the ass.

So his head was mostly gone, the bottom part of his jaw was intact, even his teeth were still there. His bottom lip was starting to sag since there nothing holding it up. There was still plenty of body to be found so I had to think quickly, I didn’t want to drive a Cadillac with blown out brain upholstery very far. Lake Meadow was on the drive to Cincy but you could take back roads so I decided that would have to do. It was quiet enough at night at least, to dump a car.

I got in the Cadillac sliding Phil over to the passenger seat. I should’ve got a hat because pieces of Phil were still dripping off the ceiling; I thought about it for a second and decided it was worth it to get a towel, rubber gloves, hat and change of clothes. This time when I got in the car I noticed the meat smell, it had only been like 45 minutes but it was a very humid summer. Flies were all over Phil like he was some kind piece of meat…your right he is. Whatever.

I got the car on the road about 35 flies decided they were along for the ride by now, they had taken to buzzing grey matter spread through out the inside of the car. I should had gotten a fly swatter when I went back in the house I could bag them all without aiming.

The road was empty of cars, which was good because in the headlights of an oncoming car things would have looked pretty bad considering Phil was missing most of his head. I didn’t think ‘he’s just drunk officer’ or ‘man did he puke his guts out’ would work tonight so when I got up to the dock at lake meadows I was fucking stoked.

There was a dock that was rarely used behind an old redneck bait, tackle and cafĂ© called the porthole inn. The 33 styles of Catfish had a loyal following that, with each passing year succumbed to various heart problems. It also meant that the porthole didn’t bother staying open late. This time of night it was deader than Dale Earnheart. The perfect place to put a body and it’s automobile resting place to the bottom.

I wiped down what I could, now that I was by the lake the skeeters coming off the water were thick and eventually they covered Phil like a blanket. I reached in to put the car in neutral and pushed. It started rolling toward the water. I didn’t think I would have to go far, when daddy took me fishing here I remember a drop off not far from the water line, when you were swimming it was like coming to the edge of the deep end.

The front of the car went in the lake and seconds later I was up to my ankles and could feel the lake sucking the car in. Sweet! I was home free, I thought. The hood dipped down and I thought I saw the car drop. It started to when I heard a muffled thunk under water. The ass of the car was sticking out of the lake and the car was moving.

Something was blocking the car. I had no choice but to dive in, I reached in to the Cadillac and turned on the lights which were already under the lake. When I held my breath and dipped below the water line I almost swallowed a mouth full of Lake meadows in shock when I saw what was blocking the way. I looked twice after I caught my breath.

There were already two goddamn cars down there, on the second dip I could see what was pretty fucking safe to assume were corpses sitting in the front seats. I took a moment to take my breath, calm myself. Maintain. Chill. Think. But it was hard with the ass end of Phil’s car sticking out of lake meadows and his harem of skeeters growing by the minute.

I wondered how long those cars were there, I mean people have been whackin each other and dumping cars in lakes for hundred years now atleast. The odds were that most would been pulled from the lake sooner or later. Could it be that there was some Indiana backwoods whacking rush hour and now Phil was just stuck in traffic.

I started to push the car on it’s side, as it landed on it’s side I heard another thunk. I reached in the water and felt under Phil’s car the rust shape of yet another car. Jesus fucking Christ! How many fucking cars are down there! I couldn’t help thinking this was another draw back to urban sprawl, everybody moves out of the city and starts hogging all the resources.

That is when the lights from the car turned into the parking lot. I wasn’t even to the shore when the sheriff shined the spotlight on me.

“Son that lot is full.”

I hate a smart ass.

Originally published in The Gutter Limits by Booger Murphy.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. "everybody moves out of the city and starts hogging all the resources."