Life is funny
A short story by S. Redenbaugh
“Listen”, she said as she drove the knife deep into my heart, “you were never meant to love me” She laughed so wickedly and walked out, leaving me in a puddle of blood, dying both inside and out. I stumbled to the window and watched her drive away in my 07 BMW. I thought for a moment whether I wanted to call 911 or just sit down and die, but I have always hated to make rush decisions so I wanted more time, which equaled 911. I pulled out the knife and waited.
I woke up in the hospital with wires and tubes running from my body to beeping machines, and though I could tell someone was sitting at the end of the bed I could not focus on whom it was. I attempted to raise my hand but failed, looking down I could see that I was strapped down at both wrists. It was then I heard his voice. “Mr. Jackson, my name is Detective Fripp and I have a few questions for you.” “Such as, why did you try and kill yourself?” I heard his words which connected my being bound but didn’t make sense, digesting his query I closed my eyes.
Three months later I walked out the door from the hospital, a free man in to many ways for my tastes. I had been cleared of attempted suicide, and she was now in police custody, my car though had been set on fire in some remote area south of the city. I knew that by now my houseplants would be way past dead but headed home nonetheless.
The police tape around my house had been removed. I had seen it while watching TV during my recovery, which the doctors said was nothing short of a miracle. Some how the blade of the knife curved when it struck my ribcage and had missed my heart by a measurement so tiny it boggled the mind.
I turned the knob and walked in. There appeared to be no sign that I had been stabbed in here 90 days ago. I wondered who might have cleaned the blood stains up, but really it didn’t matter that much. I hit the button on my machine and was told I had 122 messages. I then hit the button that deletes them all so quickly and quietly. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, and then sat down on the same chair I sat in when she had attacked me. It seems softer, like the stuffing had been replaced. This brought a very sickening feeling to my stomach. I dropped to the floor and flipped the chair over; taking out my pocketknife I ripped the bottom liner open. I then crammed my arm up inside and felt nothing. This would not be good I thought, sipping my beer while sitting on the floor.
Four days later my phone rang. It was a woman who said she had something that I probably would want. I asked her what it was, to which she said I knew. We arranged a meeting and I left. Stopping by the bank I entered and went straight to the safety deposit box window. I confirmed my identity and was soon alone, opening a small metal box. I withdrew a 9 millimeter Glock which I stuck in my waistband.
A dark blue SUV pulled up at the meeting spot, and the drivers’ window was rolled down. I exited my Jeep and wasted little time as I pumped 4 shots into the man at the wheel. Quickly I determined he was alone. The search of his car produced nothing I wanted. I then emptied a one-gallon can of gas out inside the car and tied a lit cigar to the steering wheel. I slammed the door and drove away. The explosion could be seen in my rear view mirror a minute later.
An hour later my cell phone rang and her tone wasn’t pleasant. She told me the price had just doubled and the time frame to retrieve my item was shortened. I listened to her instructions and hung up. I reloaded the Glock and whipped a u-turn. I soon pulled into an alley behind the Maxi-Bowl, which had been closed, during my hospital stay. I could see two men with semi automatic rifles pointing at me, and figured there would be a few more. I fired off two shots killing them both and then came under fire. I slammed the Jeep into reverse and smoked the tires. I also was able to throw a smoke grenade out the window. As the smoke built I exited the moving Jeep and took cover behind a industrial trash can. The jeep stayed straight for a moment then hit a parked car. Its alarm began to sound and I heard footsteps running towards my location. Three men carrying Uzi’s past me and soon lay face down in puddles of each of their own blood. I reloaded and ran towards the bowling alley. The door was opened and I inside stayed low as I entered. No movement was detected as I stood and walked to a desk that sat in the center of the room. There was also a chair with handcuffs on it and a few small electrical wires sitting next to it. They ran down to a car battery.
Again my cell rang, only this time it was Detective Fripp. He wanted to know if I had time to come downtown for a chat about a burnt out SUV with a crispy man full of bullet holes. I suggested he talk to my attorney and hung up. The phone rang again. This time it was a man yelling at me. He told me that my item was now on its way to the local FBI branch. He also told me that I was a fool. I replied that I was indeed a fool, and that I would find him and kill him. I searched the room and found what all people looking for clues find, a book of matches.
The jeep was still usable and I backed out of the alley and headed towards “Vic’s” bait shop. I did so not out of a need for fishing supplies but because that’s where the matches came from. When I turned the corner and drove up “18th” street I saw the police cars all over Vic’s. I turned off and went to plan “B”.
Plan “B” was not as good as “A” but I would still be able to salvage my day. The officer at the Stanislaus County jail looked me over as if I had a head wound, but allowed me to visit the wife who had tried to kill me. See didn’t look surprised to see me, and was glad that we were separated by a glass partition. We dispensed with the formalities and I told her I wouldn’t testify against her on the attempt murder charges if she’d give me the name of the woman who was apparently trying to kill me. I left a minute later and dialed the number I had gotten.
As I left the jail I saw two squad cars following me, Fripp must have been tipped off. I had no beef with them so I would have to lose them. Hurting good cops wasn’t allowed in my universe. As I began to accelerate she answered and told me he that I had one more chance to obtain my item. I was to drive out to the lake south of town. She’d call me with further instructions once I was there. I informed her I would need a few extra minutes to lose my tail. She agreed and we hung up.
I pulled the pins on two smoke grenades and tossed them a few seconds apart. As the second one flashed coating everything with a thick smoke cloud I pulled over and parked. Seconds later two police cars shot past me and I flipped another u-turn.
The lake was desolate. I pulled over by the marina and my cell rang. I knew that meant she was watching me. I scanned the possible locations she could be hiding at and saw only a large tent half way up a hill. I listened to her and reached under the seat. I pulled up an outdated Soviet surface-to-surface rocket launcher and pointed it out the window. I squeezed the trigger. The explosion could be heard through the phone right before the call was dropped.
I hoped for the best and drove home. If my item was inside with her I would still be ok. The heat from the missile would have melted it. The knife used to stab me would no longer have a chance to surface at her trial. I would still be able to save her from her self.
The trial was never held, I had stuck by my statement I had given from the start, that I had stumbled and fell into the knife. Even though they had never believed me, mostly because the knife was never found and people that accidentally stab themselves can usually locate the knife, she was let go. I was being watched closely but I did get her home.
Three hours later she was dead and I had ditched the cops again. I headed north thinking how she had been right when she said I was never meant to love her. I had been paid to kill her through a hit contract but thought she was way to pretty to kill. I guess I was wrong.
A short story by S. Redenbaugh
“Listen”, she said as she drove the knife deep into my heart, “you were never meant to love me” She laughed so wickedly and walked out, leaving me in a puddle of blood, dying both inside and out. I stumbled to the window and watched her drive away in my 07 BMW. I thought for a moment whether I wanted to call 911 or just sit down and die, but I have always hated to make rush decisions so I wanted more time, which equaled 911. I pulled out the knife and waited.
I woke up in the hospital with wires and tubes running from my body to beeping machines, and though I could tell someone was sitting at the end of the bed I could not focus on whom it was. I attempted to raise my hand but failed, looking down I could see that I was strapped down at both wrists. It was then I heard his voice. “Mr. Jackson, my name is Detective Fripp and I have a few questions for you.” “Such as, why did you try and kill yourself?” I heard his words which connected my being bound but didn’t make sense, digesting his query I closed my eyes.
Three months later I walked out the door from the hospital, a free man in to many ways for my tastes. I had been cleared of attempted suicide, and she was now in police custody, my car though had been set on fire in some remote area south of the city. I knew that by now my houseplants would be way past dead but headed home nonetheless.
The police tape around my house had been removed. I had seen it while watching TV during my recovery, which the doctors said was nothing short of a miracle. Some how the blade of the knife curved when it struck my ribcage and had missed my heart by a measurement so tiny it boggled the mind.
I turned the knob and walked in. There appeared to be no sign that I had been stabbed in here 90 days ago. I wondered who might have cleaned the blood stains up, but really it didn’t matter that much. I hit the button on my machine and was told I had 122 messages. I then hit the button that deletes them all so quickly and quietly. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, and then sat down on the same chair I sat in when she had attacked me. It seems softer, like the stuffing had been replaced. This brought a very sickening feeling to my stomach. I dropped to the floor and flipped the chair over; taking out my pocketknife I ripped the bottom liner open. I then crammed my arm up inside and felt nothing. This would not be good I thought, sipping my beer while sitting on the floor.
Four days later my phone rang. It was a woman who said she had something that I probably would want. I asked her what it was, to which she said I knew. We arranged a meeting and I left. Stopping by the bank I entered and went straight to the safety deposit box window. I confirmed my identity and was soon alone, opening a small metal box. I withdrew a 9 millimeter Glock which I stuck in my waistband.
A dark blue SUV pulled up at the meeting spot, and the drivers’ window was rolled down. I exited my Jeep and wasted little time as I pumped 4 shots into the man at the wheel. Quickly I determined he was alone. The search of his car produced nothing I wanted. I then emptied a one-gallon can of gas out inside the car and tied a lit cigar to the steering wheel. I slammed the door and drove away. The explosion could be seen in my rear view mirror a minute later.
An hour later my cell phone rang and her tone wasn’t pleasant. She told me the price had just doubled and the time frame to retrieve my item was shortened. I listened to her instructions and hung up. I reloaded the Glock and whipped a u-turn. I soon pulled into an alley behind the Maxi-Bowl, which had been closed, during my hospital stay. I could see two men with semi automatic rifles pointing at me, and figured there would be a few more. I fired off two shots killing them both and then came under fire. I slammed the Jeep into reverse and smoked the tires. I also was able to throw a smoke grenade out the window. As the smoke built I exited the moving Jeep and took cover behind a industrial trash can. The jeep stayed straight for a moment then hit a parked car. Its alarm began to sound and I heard footsteps running towards my location. Three men carrying Uzi’s past me and soon lay face down in puddles of each of their own blood. I reloaded and ran towards the bowling alley. The door was opened and I inside stayed low as I entered. No movement was detected as I stood and walked to a desk that sat in the center of the room. There was also a chair with handcuffs on it and a few small electrical wires sitting next to it. They ran down to a car battery.
Again my cell rang, only this time it was Detective Fripp. He wanted to know if I had time to come downtown for a chat about a burnt out SUV with a crispy man full of bullet holes. I suggested he talk to my attorney and hung up. The phone rang again. This time it was a man yelling at me. He told me that my item was now on its way to the local FBI branch. He also told me that I was a fool. I replied that I was indeed a fool, and that I would find him and kill him. I searched the room and found what all people looking for clues find, a book of matches.
The jeep was still usable and I backed out of the alley and headed towards “Vic’s” bait shop. I did so not out of a need for fishing supplies but because that’s where the matches came from. When I turned the corner and drove up “18th” street I saw the police cars all over Vic’s. I turned off and went to plan “B”.
Plan “B” was not as good as “A” but I would still be able to salvage my day. The officer at the Stanislaus County jail looked me over as if I had a head wound, but allowed me to visit the wife who had tried to kill me. See didn’t look surprised to see me, and was glad that we were separated by a glass partition. We dispensed with the formalities and I told her I wouldn’t testify against her on the attempt murder charges if she’d give me the name of the woman who was apparently trying to kill me. I left a minute later and dialed the number I had gotten.
As I left the jail I saw two squad cars following me, Fripp must have been tipped off. I had no beef with them so I would have to lose them. Hurting good cops wasn’t allowed in my universe. As I began to accelerate she answered and told me he that I had one more chance to obtain my item. I was to drive out to the lake south of town. She’d call me with further instructions once I was there. I informed her I would need a few extra minutes to lose my tail. She agreed and we hung up.
I pulled the pins on two smoke grenades and tossed them a few seconds apart. As the second one flashed coating everything with a thick smoke cloud I pulled over and parked. Seconds later two police cars shot past me and I flipped another u-turn.
The lake was desolate. I pulled over by the marina and my cell rang. I knew that meant she was watching me. I scanned the possible locations she could be hiding at and saw only a large tent half way up a hill. I listened to her and reached under the seat. I pulled up an outdated Soviet surface-to-surface rocket launcher and pointed it out the window. I squeezed the trigger. The explosion could be heard through the phone right before the call was dropped.
I hoped for the best and drove home. If my item was inside with her I would still be ok. The heat from the missile would have melted it. The knife used to stab me would no longer have a chance to surface at her trial. I would still be able to save her from her self.
The trial was never held, I had stuck by my statement I had given from the start, that I had stumbled and fell into the knife. Even though they had never believed me, mostly because the knife was never found and people that accidentally stab themselves can usually locate the knife, she was let go. I was being watched closely but I did get her home.
Three hours later she was dead and I had ditched the cops again. I headed north thinking how she had been right when she said I was never meant to love her. I had been paid to kill her through a hit contract but thought she was way to pretty to kill. I guess I was wrong.
1 comment:
Wow, killer story dude
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