Chapter 7:
The Bee Gees Or The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull?
Bullet Gloryhole!
A clatter of cans.
A hissing like gas leaking, and a cloud of smoke swallowing the living room.
‘Cause you know, the most cliché shit ain’t just armed idiots, no, some asshole always thinks they can escalate and toss in, I don’t know, a fucking SWAT squad vibe.
Flashlights cutting through the smoke? Stupid and pointless. Doesn’t make sense—if you’re using flashlights, don’t lob smoke grenades they give away your spot. If you don’t wanna give away your spot, skip the flashlights. And if you’re ditching both for some cool effect, just open fire and call it a day.
Fuck, I should’ve been pissing my pants, but it looked like an amateur choreography routine.
“Pussy.”
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
“You really gonna do it?”
“You’re giving me a choice between getting swiss-cheesed and, with luck, my dead face landing in your tits, or rotting in some shitty public hospital. There’s your answer.”
“I didn’t give you a choice… just asked if you could pull it off…” she said, paling, tilting her head like she didn’t get what I just said.
“Yeah, look… I meant—fuck it, yeah, yeah, I can do it.”
“Haa… well, at least we’re dying in a fun way I guess…”
I yanked my finger from her wound and jammed hers in. “Sorry, need both hands for this.” I climbed over her and cranked the kitchen gas valves. “Can you move?”
“Ugh… yeah… think so…” I could see flashlights sweeping everywhere except where we were—bunch of morons… like those white-armored stormtroopers from that blockbuster franchise I can’t name ‘cause copyright.
“Why the fuck aren’t you moving then?” I asked, shoving her body aside. “Get to the damn door.”
“You asked if I could move, not to do it,” she shot back like I’d scolded her, dragging herself down the hall. “Now what, genius?”
“Keys are in the lock, try opening the door and haul ass as far as you can.” I answered, ripping open the fridge and dumping everything out.
“You gonna let them kill you to save some chick you met two minutes ago?”
“Gonna test something and stay alive to get a closer look at those tits.” I said, standing. “Hey, hey, you idiots are lighting up everything but where you should!”
Replies? A couple shots that hit everywhere except me, the closest whizzed two meters off.
I get it if the situation wasn’t normal, my reaction was even less so.
Trauma? Adrenaline?
Please, I know y'all love protagonists with a backstory that justifies every weird shit they pull, but nah… sorry. I think I was always on the other side of the fence, and this chick plus the chaos was the last push to unleash all the shit.
You know, like Michael Douglas in Falling Down, though he was a good guy in the movie.
The gas stench was starting to dizzy me, lights turning into shapes closing in.
Yeah, one on each side, one dead ahead, none went for the girl.
Did they think it was me? Forgot her like it was way too convenient?
“Okay… boys… chill the fuck out a bit?” I said, lowering the gun, letting them close in. Feeling an M16 barrel in my chest was… weird. Not fun, not terrifying like I’d expect. Annoying. Annoying ‘cause at this range, surrounded, logic says aim for the head.
“Where’d you hide the bitch?” he asked, jabbing me with the barrel, eyes scanning everywhere.
“If you mean your mom, she’s where I left her: bed, legs probably still spread and wildly panting.” I laughed, earning a rifle butt to the jaw and my first of four lost molars.
“Where. Is. She?” he shouted again, like those idiots who can't avoid to spit when talking.
I hit the floor, eyed the fridge within reach.“Heh… you gonna shoot? Know what? At this point, pull it, we all go boom.” I said, wiping blood from my mouth. “Hell, looks like you’re begging for it.” I nodded at the kitchen.
“Hey, you dumb fuck, you wanna die or what?”
“What? You really asking? I mean... ‘Cause two seconds ago you were itching to blast me, even with the room full of gas, you could’ve blown us sky-high.”
They swapped looks, like they had no clue.
Absolutely fucking annoying. Incredibly annoying. A total, complete shitshow.
I was pissed—this is basic: gas + shot = ignition = BOOM!
Dead simple, but not for these idiots…
“Any of you into westerns?” I asked, shifting so my back hit the fridge interior. “Count to three or some shit?”
“This crazy fuck wants—”
“Goddamn, shut up, Generic Number Three.” I cut him off, spitting blood on the floor. Raised the gun, aimed square at the front guy’s forehead. “Wanna see it all go up in flames? Fine, we’re all getting roasted, together in this, right? Off to the afterlife!”
The trigger felt too smooth. That’s the last I remember, well, that and my head bouncing inside the fridge like a cocaine filled ping-pong ball.
Muffled noises, eyes barely focusing, when they did, first sight was her staring from outside the fridge. She was crouched out there, but her tits were in my line of sight.
No, I didn’t touch them, squeeze them, nothing, I’m not a creep.
“H-How… how’d you get here so fast?” I asked, trying to sit up.
“Uuh… I didn’t move…” she said, helping me. “You just fell in here.”
“Huh?” I looked around. Middle of the street, my house and two neighbors’ engulfed in flames. “Shitty cliché…”
“Damn way to take them out, you crazy motherfucker.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment…” I said, staggering up, shoving fingers in my mouth. No, they didn’t loosen a molar, they knocked it clean out. “Haa… fuck my goddamn life… Now what? We’re both fucked.”
“Rented a shithole motel room.” She pointed to a car at the street corner. “If you can drive, get me there, I’ll handle the rest.”
“Yeah… got it…” I slung her arm over my shoulder, in this weird tandem, we hobbled. “Hiro. You didn’t ask, but I’m Hiro.”
“Cher.”
“That a name?” As I laughed, pain shoot through me.
“It’s my name.”
“Wasn’t literal… ah… fuck it, never mind. Gotta work on that shitty literal streak you got…”
Just to clarify: Folks in nearby houses died from… life circumstances… yeah, that.
The three idiots? Blown to hamburger meat.
A hissing like gas leaking, and a cloud of smoke swallowing the living room.
‘Cause you know, the most cliché shit ain’t just armed idiots, no, some asshole always thinks they can escalate and toss in, I don’t know, a fucking SWAT squad vibe.
Flashlights cutting through the smoke? Stupid and pointless. Doesn’t make sense—if you’re using flashlights, don’t lob smoke grenades they give away your spot. If you don’t wanna give away your spot, skip the flashlights. And if you’re ditching both for some cool effect, just open fire and call it a day.
Fuck, I should’ve been pissing my pants, but it looked like an amateur choreography routine.
“Pussy.”
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
“You really gonna do it?”
“You’re giving me a choice between getting swiss-cheesed and, with luck, my dead face landing in your tits, or rotting in some shitty public hospital. There’s your answer.”
“I didn’t give you a choice… just asked if you could pull it off…” she said, paling, tilting her head like she didn’t get what I just said.
“Yeah, look… I meant—fuck it, yeah, yeah, I can do it.”
“Haa… well, at least we’re dying in a fun way I guess…”
I yanked my finger from her wound and jammed hers in. “Sorry, need both hands for this.” I climbed over her and cranked the kitchen gas valves. “Can you move?”
“Ugh… yeah… think so…” I could see flashlights sweeping everywhere except where we were—bunch of morons… like those white-armored stormtroopers from that blockbuster franchise I can’t name ‘cause copyright.
“Why the fuck aren’t you moving then?” I asked, shoving her body aside. “Get to the damn door.”
“You asked if I could move, not to do it,” she shot back like I’d scolded her, dragging herself down the hall. “Now what, genius?”
“Keys are in the lock, try opening the door and haul ass as far as you can.” I answered, ripping open the fridge and dumping everything out.
“You gonna let them kill you to save some chick you met two minutes ago?”
“Gonna test something and stay alive to get a closer look at those tits.” I said, standing. “Hey, hey, you idiots are lighting up everything but where you should!”
Replies? A couple shots that hit everywhere except me, the closest whizzed two meters off.
I get it if the situation wasn’t normal, my reaction was even less so.
Trauma? Adrenaline?
Please, I know y'all love protagonists with a backstory that justifies every weird shit they pull, but nah… sorry. I think I was always on the other side of the fence, and this chick plus the chaos was the last push to unleash all the shit.
You know, like Michael Douglas in Falling Down, though he was a good guy in the movie.
The gas stench was starting to dizzy me, lights turning into shapes closing in.
Yeah, one on each side, one dead ahead, none went for the girl.
Did they think it was me? Forgot her like it was way too convenient?
“Okay… boys… chill the fuck out a bit?” I said, lowering the gun, letting them close in. Feeling an M16 barrel in my chest was… weird. Not fun, not terrifying like I’d expect. Annoying. Annoying ‘cause at this range, surrounded, logic says aim for the head.
“Where’d you hide the bitch?” he asked, jabbing me with the barrel, eyes scanning everywhere.
“If you mean your mom, she’s where I left her: bed, legs probably still spread and wildly panting.” I laughed, earning a rifle butt to the jaw and my first of four lost molars.
“Where. Is. She?” he shouted again, like those idiots who can't avoid to spit when talking.
I hit the floor, eyed the fridge within reach.“Heh… you gonna shoot? Know what? At this point, pull it, we all go boom.” I said, wiping blood from my mouth. “Hell, looks like you’re begging for it.” I nodded at the kitchen.
“Hey, you dumb fuck, you wanna die or what?”
“What? You really asking? I mean... ‘Cause two seconds ago you were itching to blast me, even with the room full of gas, you could’ve blown us sky-high.”
They swapped looks, like they had no clue.
Absolutely fucking annoying. Incredibly annoying. A total, complete shitshow.
I was pissed—this is basic: gas + shot = ignition = BOOM!
Dead simple, but not for these idiots…
“Any of you into westerns?” I asked, shifting so my back hit the fridge interior. “Count to three or some shit?”
“This crazy fuck wants—”
“Goddamn, shut up, Generic Number Three.” I cut him off, spitting blood on the floor. Raised the gun, aimed square at the front guy’s forehead. “Wanna see it all go up in flames? Fine, we’re all getting roasted, together in this, right? Off to the afterlife!”
The trigger felt too smooth. That’s the last I remember, well, that and my head bouncing inside the fridge like a cocaine filled ping-pong ball.
Muffled noises, eyes barely focusing, when they did, first sight was her staring from outside the fridge. She was crouched out there, but her tits were in my line of sight.
No, I didn’t touch them, squeeze them, nothing, I’m not a creep.
“H-How… how’d you get here so fast?” I asked, trying to sit up.
“Uuh… I didn’t move…” she said, helping me. “You just fell in here.”
“Huh?” I looked around. Middle of the street, my house and two neighbors’ engulfed in flames. “Shitty cliché…”
“Damn way to take them out, you crazy motherfucker.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment…” I said, staggering up, shoving fingers in my mouth. No, they didn’t loosen a molar, they knocked it clean out. “Haa… fuck my goddamn life… Now what? We’re both fucked.”
“Rented a shithole motel room.” She pointed to a car at the street corner. “If you can drive, get me there, I’ll handle the rest.”
“Yeah… got it…” I slung her arm over my shoulder, in this weird tandem, we hobbled. “Hiro. You didn’t ask, but I’m Hiro.”
“Cher.”
“That a name?” As I laughed, pain shoot through me.
“It’s my name.”
“Wasn’t literal… ah… fuck it, never mind. Gotta work on that shitty literal streak you got…”
Just to clarify: Folks in nearby houses died from… life circumstances… yeah, that.
The three idiots? Blown to hamburger meat.
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