I'll come up with something in a minute.

My Art Instillation

I was asked if I could produce a display, for back to school. I could produce a display, and in less than an hour, I decided. Had I more time for planning, I could have made my idea more concrete, but I didn’t. Instead I simply set to work. I had this idea, about an abattoir. I saw a drawing of one once, a woodcut actually, where all the bits had been fastened to the walls and the better organs had been hung along with the carcass. Hanging meat improves the flavor, something we sadly don’t have time for in these days.

My thought was that back packs were like animals, and the pens and binders and such were like those useless organs on the wall of that woodcut. It all came together when I hung things to dry with paperclips. Perhaps a vivisection of the backpacks is more accurate. However, I’ve all ready used the word abattoir and I’m not going back to something simple like “dissection” again.

All people said was “It looks great.” And “It’s neat, I like it.”

Ah well. See if you don’t see it.

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August 10, 2011 Posted by | Photo | | Leave a comment

The Return of Jack Collier (Chapter Thirty-Eight)

The Return of Jack Collier

A Jack Collier Story

By Brett N. Lashuay


Chapter Thirty-Eight: In Which Jack Kicks Ass and Takes Names


            Wednesday was Karen’s late day. On Wednesday, she would be at the office until nine, so I decided to give her a call on the off chance she would answer the phone herself. I dialed and wondered what would happen if someone else answered it. I decide I didn’t much care because I was going to fuck some bitch’s shit up no matter what. The world was going to have to learn that you don’t fuck with a bad motherfucker cause this motherfucker fucks back. Karen did answer herself, giving a route formula.


            “Hi.” I said to her. “Have you got time for a last minute appointment?”


            “I’m not sure Mister Jones.” She said and started speaking in code so well that I guessed Debbie must have taught her. “There are two others ahead of you today.”


            “Just two?” I asked.


            “That’s right.” She said. “I could probably stay a little later if this is an emergency.”


            “I’ll be there in an hour.” I said. “You just hold on and it’ll all be okay in a few hours.”


            “Okay.” She said. “I’ll see you at nine then.”


            I slammed the phone down, grabbed the guns and rushed to my grandmother’s Skylark, and let me tell you that’s a lot less sexy to say than ‘My Hudson Super Six’ is. Still though, it had a bit of pick up and I was able to get to Ypsi in the hour I’d promised. I decided to grab the leather persuader out of my back pocket, palming it in my right hand as I got out of the car. There is no mini pocket on the right, so I had to actually hold the dumb thing. That was okay though, because the guy watching the door was an idiot.


            People who follow people think the key is to never look at the person you’re following, or at least never let your target know you’re looking. As a result, if you look for the person who never looks at you, you’ll know who’s following you. The thing is, if you’re standing outside of a building, and you see someone approach, the natural response is too look at them. Maybe not watch them, but to at least glance, have a look. This guy just kept looking at the robins congregating on the lawn, planning world domination or whatever it is robins do when they’re together. He didn’t look at me as I walked straight toward him, and the door I suppose. He didn’t even look when my right hand came up and I back handed him across the side of the head with the sap.


            His consciousness attended to, I relieved him of his gun, cell phone and his wallet, because why should he have his wallet? There actually looked like there was money in there when I glanced at it before stuffing it into my coat pocket along with his gun. I went to Karen’s office and found moron number two. This second guy should have been outside and the first guy should have been inside.


            People who come to see a shrink don’t like to look at the other people. It’s okay to glance around to see the free chair, but then you avoid eye contact. You don’t look at people if you’re already sitting. You don’t stare at people if you’re in one of these waiting rooms. You only make a momentary glance and get on with your own thing. He looked right at me, staring at me.


            “You’re not supposed to stare at people in a shrink’s office.” I said looking at the chair across the waiting room from where I was standing.


            “Oh yeah?” I asked


            And my hand snapped out, clocking him right across the temple. He tumbled to the floor with a sort of oof sound and then a thump as he hit the carpet. I wanted not to quip, I wanted to do this right, but I couldn’t help myself.


            “Yeah.” I told him, “It’s rude.”


            I took his gun, phone and wallet away from him as well. I also noticed that he was pretty heavily stuffed with cash, which made me happy. If I could make just a little money on this case, that would be nice. So far we’d mostly had expenses and a few bearer bonds. Good, old fashioned, ill gotten cash has always made me happiest. I opened one door, turned a corner and opened another door where Karen was talking to a young woman in black jeans and a Scary Susan t-shirt.


            “Hi.” I said to the Goth girl. “I’m really sorry to do this but I have to take your therapist away because people are likely coming to kill her and they currently have her girlfriend and are going to kill her if we don’t do something really fuckin’ quick.”


            “What… Karen?” The Goth girl asked, at least she had decided against black lipstick.


            “Jack?” Karen asked.


            “All true babe.”


            “I thought you had a guy?” the girl asked.


            “Oh for heaven’s sake.” I snapped. “Karen, we don’t have time for this, go. Goth girl, she’s bi, she’s polyamorus, she used to be sort of gothy when she was in high school and she’s in a lot of trouble right now. If you go google those things you’ll find out your therapist is into a lot more than you thought. C’mon Karen.”


            “Damnit Jack. That’s not the sort of thing I… holy shit.” She got a good look at the guy splayed out on the floor of her waiting room and then pocked her head back into the sanctum sanctorum. “Celia dear, we should probably all leave together, come on.”


            “Yeah, he got a little strumpy, had to take corrective action.” I told her as Celia came out of the office with a long denim coat folded over her arm. “Shall we then?”


            Neither of them spoke, although they whispered to each other as we walked past the first man I’d concussed that day. I was sort of fascinated that with the signs of violence and the big sexy man leading them away, they were still essentially having their session.


            “I didn’t know you were bisexual.” Celia was whispering with a great deal of excitement. “I mean, it changes everything doesn’t it?”


            “I don’t normally discuss my private life.” Karen admitted.


            “Yeah, but.” Celia stopped to glance back at the concussed form on the sidewalk. “I mean, you’ll understand. You’ll get it. I can tell you about it.”


            “About what?”


            “Well, I… next week?”




            “What’s that other thing he said you were polarimus?”


            “Polyamorous.” Karen said, and I could fee laser beams burning a hole in the back of my head. “We’ll discuss it next week okay?”


            “Okay.” Celia said and gave Karen what looked like a pretty impromptu hug. “I’ll see you next week.”


            “Okay.” Karen still whispered.


            Celia ran to her car, an oh three Packard that had probably been her father’s before he got a new car. She waved at us as she got into her car and started to drive away. We walked to the Skylark and I’m glad to say Karen walked right past it looking for the Hudson.


            “This is it babe.” I said.


            “A skylark?” She asked.


            “Inconspicuous.” I said getting in. “Did I fuck up your session?”


            “I don’t know.” She said. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t do much lasting damage.”


            “I’m sure it’ll all turn out okay in the end.” I said.


            “Are you?” She asked.


            “No.” I said. “Wait here. I’m going to go find something out.”


            I got out of the car and started toward the guy who had been lying on the sidewalk. I knelt down just as he was coming around and took a handful of his hair in my hand. He yelped as I gave him a yank and pulled my jack knife open in front of his eyes.


            “Morning!” I enthused. “I’m Jack Collier, and who might you be?”


            “Mike.” He said and decided to complete it. “Mike Tinker.”


            “Mike Tinker.” I said. “Well, tell me Mike Tinker, do you feel like you’ve done well today?”


            “No sir.” Tinker said.


            “Let’s go in Mike.” I said pulling his hair to make him stand.


            I dragged him into the waiting room and tossed him into a chair as the second one started to come around. I grabbed him by his hair, and the idiot actually tried to grab his gun, going to far as to jerk his head down to look in the holster, which caused a sharp cry of pain.


            “Have I made my point about not staring?” I asked.


            “What?” He asked.


            “What’s your name?” I asked yanking on his hair to make him stand up.


            “Fuck you.”


            “You’re going to tell me.” I said placing the tip of the knife against the bags under his left eye. “You want me to start taking eyes because of your rudeness? Or would you rather be polite and tell me your name?”


            “Alan Tailor.” He shouted suddenly.


            “Good!” A said and shoved him down into a chair. “Now where were you going to take Karen?”


            “Back to the house.” Tailor said.


            “Which house?”


            “What do you mean which house?”


            “Which fucking house?” I demanded.


            “Piper’s house.” He said. “Where they’re keeping the other girl.”


            “Ah.” I said and nodded. “Well. I can’t trust you two, so you’ll have to come with me.”


            “What?” Tinker asked.


            “You’re coming with me.” I told him. “If you don’t like that, I can just shoot the both of you right now. If you don’t like being good boys in the back seat, I can crack you over the head and put you in the trunk after trussing you up with a bunch of plastic cuffs.”


            “We’ll be good.” Tinker said, holding his hands up. “You don’t hafta shoot us or hurt us or nothing.”

            “You fuckin’ pansy.” Tailor said.


            “Shut up man, you’re going to get us killed.”


            “The fuck I am.” He said, so I hit him hard across the top of the head with the sap and down he went.


            “Come on Mikey.” I said grabbing Tailor’s feet. “You get the heavy end because you’ve lived a life without moral firmament. The work will be good for you.”


            “Um, right.” Tinker said grabbing Tailors shoulders.


            I was good to my word, and I did truss Tailor up and put him in the trunk. The problem was, that after Tinker helped me put Tailor in the trunk, I gave him a good hard sock across the head and let him fall into the trunk where I trussed him up too. I then took them all back to Grandma’s and we locked the boys in Grandpa’s old work shed, which was surprisingly well built and could work as a makeshift dungeon if and when I needed one.


            So, Karen and Jill were at the house, hanging out. Tinker and Tailor where locked up in the shed, I had an extra two guns to go with the four I was already packing in the Skylark, and I knew where I was going. As I left the house, I decided all I had left to do was to tell one of the women I loved that I was about to enter the lions den and give the lion that cock slapping I’d been talking about.


            “Alice Liddell.” She said as she answered her phone.


            “I’m going to the Piper House.” I told her. “Piper has kidnapped Debbie and the guy behind the Thinkonomics people is there causing problems too. A big fat Texan called Red King.”


            “Yes.” She said. “I know Jack.”


            “You know?”


            “I’ve been following Red King for sometime.” She said. “I was trying to get him in California, that’s what I was doing out there.”


            “So you’re in Michigan now?”


            “I’m at the Piper house now.” She said.


            “We don’t go in until I get there.”


            “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”


            “Did you arrest them already?”


            “No.” She said. “They got me.”




            “Howdy Jack!” Red’s voice said after a second. “Seems I’ve got two of the girls you were sweet on. And a couple of my guys brought me back Cindy too, just had to kill a couple of faggots to get her, ain’t that nice? So I don’t need you at all now.”


            “Wait!” I called out, “King?”


            “Yes?” He asked,


            “You haven’t got Jill Piper.”


            “No I haven’t.” He said. “You know where she is, don’t you?”

            “Let the girls go and well talk.”


            “You couldn’t trust me and I know I can’t trust you.” He told me. “You come up to the house, we’ll talk face to face, see where that gets us.”


            “I’ll be there shortly.” I said and hung the phone up. I then threw it against the dashboard and shouted “Shit, fucking, fuck, shit, goddamnit it, fuck shit.” In various combinations for the better part of a quarter of an hour.


August 10, 2011 Posted by | Fiction, Jack | | Leave a comment