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a Shriners’ sash

December 4, 2007

Anne-Marie and I slowed down a little getting close to the corner where the alley let onto the street, and a gimped up fucker appeared from nowhere. By the time I realized it was Rudy he had shot Anne and was swinging towards me, him all bunched up and squinty and definitely hurtin. Something suddenly took him right off his feet and landed him in a lump and the pistol slid away, popping along the bricks. It stopped in one of those reflecting light-puddles near my feet, the barrel facing back at Rudy, who was deader than Kelseys’ nuts. Was then I seen how bloody my shoes were.  Fuckin shoes were ruined like my jacket. Lost half a cow in one afternoon.

  Looking over to Anne-Marie was something I came later to wish I had never done at all. Little Slats was a fucking mess. Skirt somehow bunched up around her waist like a Shriners’ sash, scarlet panties torn, and a round hole without a bottom square in the middle of her solar plexus. No blood in front, all of it running out, a red river in the sunset, fast between the bricks and water and shitty stuff on the alley floor. The cop came round the corner, riot gun first

 “ Hands, man, now !”

The business end of his weapon faced me and I raised my hands in the air, but not too fast. The cop was shaking so bad his shotgun was dancing, and if he popped me by accident I would have been SO fuckin pissed off, mainly because the record would have shown that I was at fault in some way, and fuck that. I had not done one thing wrong all day except show up at the Bosses place on time like a good soldier.

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