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We Are Gathered Here Today
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Excerpt from We are
Gathered Here Today
The Medford police were on
their third or fourth pass when the blue convertible pulled alongside the curb.
The lot of us mouldering in the mid-day sun on the painted wooden steps of the
Whitelandian storefront, over 90 degrees of Fahrenheit, no doubt aroused
suspicion, but we had settled into a serious wait and were in no position or
mood to consider fault.
“We’re not taking any shit for
this,” Nemetz said. “We agreed to meet at two. That was the
deal.”
“Evil bastard,” I
mumbled, looking at my watch.
Two-thirty, and Best Man was not to be
found.
“Best Man my ass,”
said Nemetz.
“He’s not going
to get away with this,” I said.
“I should have stayed home and watched
Young and Anal,” he continued. “I rented part eleven, which is
probably the best in the series. There was one part where this
girl...”
“Which one was
that?” someone hollered.
Nemetz
and I turned to look.
JIF. Half-a-block
away, getting something from his Jeep.
“Part eleven,” said Nemetz.
“What SERIES?” JIF demanded.
“Young and Anal.”
“Which one?”
“Young and Anal,” Nemetz
repeated.
“What?”
“YOUNG AND ANAL!!”
I noticed an old woman sitting on her front
porch across the street. She, in turn, had clearly noticed us.
“We should probably keep it
down,” someone said.
“It’s alright,” I insisted.
“She was young and anal once.”
The young couple that had stepped out of
the convertible were now passing us on the sidewalk, out for a spot of
“quaint” consumerism. Medford is an olde towne with plenty of shoppes
lining Main Street for “ye” buying pleasure.
As they passed our adopted stoop, I was
able to focus more clearly on their suburban character: late twenties or early
thirties, he in a baseball cap, khaki shorts, polo shirt, she in shorts and a
sleeveless summer top that exposed two golden arms already toasted to the shade
of mid-summer, terminating in... five slender digits. And that was exactly all,
as the other arm, the right one, simply ended.
Just a stump.
“Five-finger discount,” I said to
Nemetz, but the bizarre spectacle had already stolen his attention.
“I saw a movie like that once,”
he beamed.
And you don’t own it? I
thought.
“What sort of impact is
this going to have on the fisting community?”
“Just when it was starting to break
through,” said Nemetz.
JIF had
returned with a large plastic bag over his shoulder.
“There he is, “ he said, pointing
to the red SUV that was sitting at the stoplight nearby. Gleaming in the
afternoon sun, it made the day seem even hotter.
Another funeral would have sufficed, so far
as I was concerned. Over and done in a few hours, the heaviest work being a
little dead weight, and if all goes well, there may even be something in
it.
“He’s not going to need
this anymore.”
But this was
involved.
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