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Twins in Death: Chapter Four – Part Six

Twins in Death

A Tale of The Weirdo

By Brett N. Lashuay



Chapter Four: The Red Twin



October 23rd, 2002

6:15 p.m.


            “What’s gonna happen to us motherfucker?” The laughing man said.


            “Something very bad.” The Weirdo reassured them.




            “I will happen to you.” The Weirdo said and smiled.


            The Bengal tiger can smile; most people don’t know that but it’s true. It’s not a very pleasant smile, but the large animal does indeed smile. The reason most people don’t know that the Bengal tiger can smile is because very few people who had seen the large cat smile have lived to tell the tale. It’s sort of why there are no reported events of wolves attacking humans, because the wolves never leave witnesses. Animals are much more resourceful and conscious than we would ever give them credit for. It might not even be a very important fact about the smiling tiger, if not for The Weirdo. He had a smile that resembled in all but the actual length of tooth, the smile of the Bengal tiger.


            “Yeah, fuck you crackhead.” The first talker said, pushing his hand out to shove The Weirdo into the street.


            His plan had been to push The Weirdo into the street, maybe make him fall. It would have been perfect to make him trip and fall, and then they could all start beating on him. Perhaps a truck would come along at the right time and run the guy down. The problem with this plan is in Scotland.


            In Scotland there are massive standing stones that were put up by the ancient Celts. Often they’re arranged in circles, but sometimes where are just huge pieces of granite, sitting on lay lines. There are legends about the great stones, most of which involve their immovability. The Weirdo learned how to channel these stones, and make himself as much of an immovable object as the stones were. The young man ended up pushing himself back a foot.


            The Weirdo’s hand swung up quickly and caught his hand before the young man fell over. He yanked the young man forward and as he came close, brought a curled fist hard into the young man’s solar plexus. A gloriously hideous sound escaped the young man as something inside him gave way. The Weirdo, still holding his arm, spun him around and smacked him face first into the ground. In the sudden, and one hesitates to use this word, struggle The Weirdo’s hat fell from his head and tumbled to the ground, rolling across the pavement and landing in one of the beams of light. The Weirdo’s knee was pressed into the man’s back, and he had twisted his arm so that his elbow was pointing at heaven, when it should have been parallel with the ground. As it was, a great amount of pressure was on the youth’s shoulder and elbow at that moment.


            “This is not going to end well for you.” The Weirdo said conversationally. “You’ve got the shoulder dislocated, but if you like I can rip it from the socket and beat you to death with the bloody end of it.”


            “Weirdo?” Jack’s voice was even, but held an edge of worry in it. “Could we maybe forgo this?”


            “No.” The Weirdo said in a calm, plain manner.


            “Ah.” Jack said, drawing the automatic from it’s hiding place and priming a round into the chamber. “Very well.”


            “You fucking bullies.” The Weirdo said fixing the crowd of them with an angry glare. “Always trying to beat on a weaker person. Notice it took five of you to start shit with him.”


            “My fucking arm.” The young man under The Weirdo’s knee said.


            “Quiet you.” The Weirdo said twisting again.


            The popping sound, which came with a sort of tearing, was sickening to those who had become part of the playlet that was being spun out on the street. They each knew that if they all ran together, in different directions, that anyone of them might get away. The problem is that the other four would be killed, and maybe not just four. It was thoughts like this, rocketing through their unprepared minds that kept them rooted. Had he begun to explain complex algebra they would have possibly ceased up like this. Unaccustomed thought has a way of doing that to young male minds.


            “Weirdo.” Tommy’s voice came across, and it made The Weirdo stop.


            His turned and looked at his friend’s eyes. Tommy’s eyebrows raised and The Weirdo relented. He let the arm loose, but didn’t release it. He reached into the young man’s hair and lifted his head, turning it around to see where Tommy and Jack were standing.


            “I moved his head because I want you all to look at something.” The Weirdo said looking at the rest of them. “You see those guys over there?”


            There was no answer, he took in a lung full of air and released it. There was still no answer. His free hand reached into his coat and produced the colt forty-five automatic and held it up.


            “Do you see them?”


            “Yeah, yeah.” They all began to say at once.


            “Good.” The Weirdo said smiling. “Now we are getting somewhere. That guy with the Thompson sub-machine gun is called Tommy, and the big Englishman on his right is named Jack. Now they were bad motherfuckers when your granddaddies were nothing more than an itch in his daddy’s pants. The young man on their left, about your age I’ll note. Well, his name is Max. Max has been an official badass since two thousand two when he actually capped a motherfucker who was A- his friend and B- trying to kill him. Y’all ain’t bad mutha’s, y’all is a bunch of crap asses. Am I making myself clear?”


            “My fucking arm man.” The one under him complained.


            The Weirdo rolled his eyes and placed the handgun down on the young man’s back. He then took hold of the free arm again. This time, when he twisted there was a splintering sound as well as the tearing. The young man screamed but The Weirdo clapped his gloved hand over his mouth. He didn’t want to hear screaming, he wanted to be obeyed.


            “Am I making myself clear?” He asked in a calm measured tone, which was completely at odd with the fact that he was twisting the man’s arm out of the socket.


            “Yeah.” One of them spoke up. “Just don’t hurt him anymore man.”


            “Don’t hurt him?” The Weirdo said standing up, letting the useless limb fall limp and picking up the handgun again. “Would you have listened if nice little Tammy had asked you not to hurt Mister Soun?”


            He lifted his hand and brought the butt of the gun down across the young man’s nose. Blood sprayed immediately, and The Weirdo hit him in the stomach and shoved him back. He tripped over his friend and hit his head on the stonewall behind him. His scalp split and blood began to pour from behind his head. The other three looked and didn’t wait. They scattered like rats when the lights come on. The Weirdo stepped over the two fallen and slid his gun back into place, he then bent down to pick up his hat. There was a single blade of light still falling on it as he reached down for it. The light was just touching the top of the crown. He picked it up before the light was gone from it, and held it up into more protected area where there was much more light.


            “Are you done now?” Tommy asked.


            “Yeah.” The Weirdo said, “I think they’ve learned their lesson.”


            “Yeah.” Tommy said. “I think they have at that.”


            “You have, haven’t you?”


            “My fucking arm.” The one whined.


            “I think we can take that as a yes.” The Weirdo said.


            “Should we wait around for the police?” Max asked.


            “Why?” The Weirdo shrugged. “They can’t do anything to us. Mr. Soun and Tammy over there can tell them what happened.”


            “So let’s go then.” Tommy said.


            The Weirdo looked around and then nodded


            “Yeah all right.”


© 2012 Autumn Knight Productions

October 20, 2012 - Posted by | Fiction | ,

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