Thursday, June 29, 2017

STORY #2 IT HAPPENED AT THE TRAFFIC LIGHT

 This one came about while I was sitting at a traffic light this afternoon, The traffic was backed up due to all the construction work going on. The young couple beside me were taking advantage of the extra time and turned it into a make out session. They were going at it so heavy I thought they'd be better off going across the street to the sleazy bedbug ridden motel where they'd have more privacy. Maybe. If they did that they'd probably be filmed by some perverted clerk who'd put it up on the Internet on some porn sight. Then I thought. What if the guy killed her right here in the middle of the road? What if he was a psycho? I don't know why I thought that, but I did. I swear. Us horror writers always look at the worse case scenario.


IT HAPPENED AT THE TRAFFIC LIGHT

Charlie drummed his fingers on the wheel. I can't drive fifty-five playing on the radio. He wished he was driving fifty-five. Eighty would be better.
Not a chance.
The blinking red lights said 'not today, Sonny,' As if they were laughing at him.
So, he was stuck there smelling the soured cheese fat from the obese woman in the Dodge Neon to his right. And with the humidity that cheese soured and curled quick. An odor he often recognized due to his drunken sailor days back when he screwed fat women just cause they were easy-peasy at closing time.
Another day squirting bugs for a living.
Already an hour behind.
Some dude pulls up behind the fat woman in the Dodge and screams at his GPS for not informing him that there is a traffic jam.
It's bumper to bumper on Shadeland Ave. Once again the light was out. Happened every time after a bad storm. He wished the county would make better use of the taxes and update the equipment. Maybe put a few more lights up and replace some of these stop signs. He could go on and on about what the government could or should be doing. Truth is, they're not going to do anything they're supposed to unless it benefits them.
His blood pressure rose every time he thought about the government.
Horns blared.
Drivers getting more and more impatient while the July sun beat down.
The air smelt of exhaust and burnt rubber, courtesy of the tire factory down the street.
Didn't help his air conditioner was out.
To his right some hot chick filed on her nails. Making good use of her time he supposed.
Each had their own story. Same as he. Hard working people trying to get by, all dealing with the same issues.
The single mother who is running late because she had to drop her kids off at daycare first because her dirt bag husband left to go to the store and never came back.
The hard working dad who works way too hard to satisfy everybody in his family and is running late for the twentieth time and was told by the boss that he is going to have to let him go if he continues to be late.
Then there's the management type who show up to work any time they want. Just cause they can.
The car beside him changes lanes and another moves up in its place. In it is a man with a fat veiny nose, plush cheeks and brown sags under his eyes. He can tell he is an alcoholic.
To his left sitting in a rusty pick-up a couple were going down on each other pretty heavy.
Now that was a couple making good use of their time.
Made him jealous.
Right now he wanted to be that guy sitting in pick-up making out with a hot chick.
The guy in the pick-up looked at Charlie and grinned.
Caught gawking Charlie looked away.
He couldn't really tell but the one sitting in the white Escalade in front of him was on the phone. He must've been Italian because he was doing that waving thing with his hands.
A few cars behind him was a paint crew in a white van.
Then there was a guy in a truck with ladders on top that looked to be in the gutter cleaning business.
Though everybody had different jobs they all had one thing in common.
They were all going to be late today.
Taillights blinked as they each inched ahead one extra car.
A car honked at the the smooching couple beside him.
The smooching dude gave the car behind him the finger then proceeded to move.
“Happy now?” He screams.
The one behind him raises his hands as if to say. “Bring it on, sucka.”
Charlie felt something pinching on his neck. Smacked it. “Nother skeeter bites the dust.” Ever since the county stopped spraying the skeeters became worse.
The phone rang. It was the office.
He answered.
It was the customer calling the office wondering where he was for their 8:30 appointment.
He notices the chick in the pick-up kicking.
“Hi, Charlie,” Melissa said. He liked talking to Melissa. Her sweet voice was always very soothing. “How's it going out there?”
“Stuck in traffic right now.”
“Well, Janet Marshall called and wants an idea of your ETA.”
The chick's fingernails clawing his back.
“About ten minutes.”
Now, the dude is on top of her covering her mouth. He supposed she was a real screamer in the heat of the moment.
The taillights blinked as each car advanced.
“She says she has to leave in five minutes.”
If she has to leave why did she set her appointment so close? Once again. If it ain't the customer, it's management. “Tell her I'm on my way.” He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was dealing with one of those 'I got to have it my way' type.
“Okay. I'll tell her.”
“Thanks.”
It was now 8:30. People have no patience these days. Seemed the disease was getting worse.
He couldn't keep from watching the two love birds as they continued going at it.
The redneck dude grinned.
He held a knife.
He grabbed a handful of the woman's black hair and slides a blade across her throat. The woman slumps down.
Redneck dude puts his finger over his lips as if this were their own little secret.
He couldn't believe he just saw this.
He grabs his phone. The second he does a beer bottle comes through the window and knocks him in the face.
The man shakes his head.
Horns blared signaling him it was his turn to advance through the intersection.
The truck sped off. He at least wanted to get the plate number but it had one of those glossy type covers over it.
He envisioned the killer taking the body home, chopping it to pieces and placing them in the fridge with several other body parts he'd collected over time.
Tomorrow the woman's face could possibly show up on the news asking people to come forward if they have any information.
Not easy telling the cops that it was some redneck in a pick- up that he didn't even get a good look at.
He wondered how many victims Redneck dude left behind.
Worse yet. How many saw him and did nothing?
He continued on through his day wondering if he should've at least got out of his truck and rushed the guy.
Something.
Instead, he played coward and allowed the truck to speed off.
Such a shock. It happened so fast.
There's not a day that goes by that he doesn't see that blade slicing across that woman's throat.
Seeing it wasn't even the hardest part.
It was the fact that he did nothing. As quick as a blinking red light it was over.
He supposed the redneck dude was right after all. This was their own little secret.



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