“That woman has the charm and personality of a mackerel. How she makes a living here, I’ll never know,” said Johnny.
“And she can’t make a drink for shit. This thing tastes like a bloody nose,” said Bobby. “Hey, what the hell is this anyway?”
“A Bloody Mary, extra bloody, just what you asked for,” she said.
“Doesn’t taste like any Bloody Mary I ever had.” Bobby chugged it downed in one gulp then raised his glass. “Give me another.”
“So, how do you think they’ll get you?” said Bobby.
“I don’t know. Run me off the road. Knife to the gut while I’m at the ballgame. Shot to the back of the head. Death by a thousand papercuts,” said Johnny.
They drank quietly for a moment. The bar emptied.
“You think there’s a hell?” Said Bobby.
“Oh yeah, and a lot more people are going there that don’t know it yet,” Said Johnny.
“Yeah?”
“You steal from your grandma; you’re going to hell. You hurt a defenseless animal; you’re going to hell. You cheat on your taxes . . . maybe not,” said Johnny.
“That’s a lot of people. Gonna be crowded down there, don’t you think?” Said Bobby.
“Hell is an existential place. It’s all in the mind of your dead soul.” He pointed to his head and made small circles.
“Death by a thousand papercuts, huh?”
“As long as I don’t die on the toilet like Gigi on The Sopranos,” said Johnny. “Fucking embarrassing to have people find you dead on the shitter. I gotta take a leak.”
Johnny cleared the men’s room prior to going in. It was empty.
Bobby followed him in a minute later. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open.
“Oh boy, did I have to piss.” Said Johnny.
Bobby came up behind him and pulled the blade across Johnny’s throat.
“Me? I’d rather die sitting on the shitter than standing with my schvantz in my hand.”
Paul Greenberg has been writing since he was a child. His first published work was a review of The Police at The Rat, a legendary Punk club in Boston. An avid reader of crime fiction Paul started writing and submitting to crime fiction journals in 2012. Since then his work has been placed in Out of the Gutter/The Flash Fiction Offensive, Shotgun Honey, All Due Respect, Horror Sleaze Trash, Yellow Mama, Spelk, Thrills Kills & Chaos, and Near to the Knuckle. Paul spent many years working in record stores in the Boston area, and is a former employee of Capitol Records. He resides on the Northshore of Boston with his wife and two sons. His latest with All Due Respect is Dead Guy in the Bathtub.
Image courtesy of Pixabay, altered by Cartoonize.
Retreats from Oblivion: The Journal of NoirCon 