Losing My Samity: Onslaught

Losing My Samity:

Onslaught

Yonkers 2020

A block away, two flabby men make their merry way down the sidewalk. One man is sweating in the dark sweater & sweatpants combo he’d elected to wear. His companion is dressed a little better for the Summer with shorts on & a tee shirt. But he also is puffing from long years of smoking.

“You sure you couldn’t find his keys, David?” asked one of the men.

The other man nods vigorously. “I swear, Tim, I don’t have them.”

“Then how the hell do you expect us to get into his place?” gripes Berk.

A pink VW beetle pulls up alongside the gentlemen. They both pull their guns in unison and point at the car, but the driver shouts them down. “Goddammit, you white devils!” Baker puts the car into neutral and shows his hands.

The other two relax and holster their firearms. “Baxster!” gripes Valley this time. “What gives you the right to be driving that vehicle?”

“Well, we could always return it and say we FOUND your Dinkness all chopped to little pieces... and my name is Baker!” he says.

Berk doesn’t get it. “What pieces?”

Baker snorts in contempt. He holds up a sheathed machete which had been sitting on the seat next to him.

“Oh, we have a Wee Willy Tallywhacker in um’s hands!” Valley laughs. “And you look so handsome behind the wheel of the Dinkmobile!”

Baker growls at him. “And what is your plan, Genius?”

Berk interrupts. “You have his keys, then. Maybe we should just ambush the sucker after letting ourselves into the house?”

Let us leave these three fools to come up with a solution to their problem on their own.

Sam just happened to come back to his house just as the men stood there arguing. He was more than a little tipsy for having visited every bar he and Billy used to goto during their relationship. It wasn’t many & he had gotten so sick of people’s condolences that he drowned it out with far too many frilly drinks than a cop should have.

He glanced over and saw the car, his car, without realizing it was his. If anything he wondered when one of the neighbors had gotten the time or gumption to imitate him by buying the same model.

The three yahoos arguing were also far enough away that he didn’t register who they were in any capacity. But anyway, he didn’t care. The neighbors had a watch program all set up so it was best to let them do the snooping while he slept off the hangover.

As he reached the driveway, Sam glimpsed around to see he was not Being paid attention to. Then he turned one of the pink flamingos to the right ever so slightly. There was a soft click that signaled he’d unlocked the back door of his house. The trick had been Billy’s idea.

“Shots fired at 13 Elmhouse Row,” came the dispatch. Sam had to listen again as the report was repeated mostly because he didn”t believe it at first. To say Elmhouse was a nice part of the city would be an understatement. It was a gated community that wasn’t listed in many periodicals. So ritzy that crime hardly ever happened there.

Bad stuff came out of Elmhouse. The good? It wasn’t that easy to access that part either because anyone who lived up there could afford to pay off even the most saintly cops.

Sam also had to remind himself Billy was born up that way. And everyone knew how he felt about Billy.

Sam grumbled as a sudden burst of heartburn hit him in the chest. He had to pull over his car and search the glove box for something to appease it. Best not to think of his partner at certain times. He was cheating on his diet which was almost like cheating on Billy.

Either way, Sam wasn’t proud of himself.

“Fire reported at 13 Elmhouse Row,” came the next bad news. Sam had to suck it up and deal with the facts: he was too drunk to drive right now.

Feeling more slug than human, Sam oozed out of his car from the driver seat and managed to shuffle his way to the front door of his house.

He got to the front door and fumbled with his keys at the lock, dropping them to the ground. He bent at the waist to grab them but had instead fallen down to his hands and knees instead. He hadn”t noticed the door was unlocked and ajar. He choked back vomit but swallowed it when he heard the blast of a gunshot.

Some one was inside and they had fired directly at him, missing him just barely where he had stood for a moment. Sam could feel it as the heat of the bullets passed over his butt. “Holy shit!” said Sam. The shooter had exited the house and stomped on Sam”s back between the shoulder blades. It drove him down to his belly and his head bounced off the welcome mat face first. He heard the ratcheting of a shotgun being reloaded.

He didn”t hear anything else. He blacked out as the frenzy took over him. Blinded by pain and shock, Sam lost control of himself. If asked later on what happened, he would simply state “damned if I know!”

Three crooked detectives had entered Sam’s house early in the morning. They huddled in the dark of his basement as Sam woke the next morning and then drove to the bar across town. Baker had won the bet on when Sam would return. His prize was something he never would of asked for. Sam came home, cleaned house, and by dumb luck he managed to walk away leaving the other three men dead. Only Raven knew better”

Crossed Wires

“Wait here!” Sam yells.

“What? Where are you going?” Kyle asked. He knelt close to where Shirley lay on the floor. “She might die!”

“I have to make sure the perp doesn’t get anyone else, I’m sorry!” Sam reaches into the neckline of his shirt. He extracts a necklace with an emergency fob on it tied with shoelace. He pushes the alert button on the fob and it suddenly beeps loudly. He tosses this at Kyle and it bounces off the kid’s head. “When the operator gets on the line, tell them your emergency!”

Sam runs away, leaving Danny confused. As he goes, Sam shuts off his attention to these people, wiping their existence from his immediate consciousness as he focuses on the task at hand.

He finds a door that leads outside. Without skipping a beat, he runs through it and into an enclosed space. Another warehouse is after the one he just exited.

From the open door he hears laughter. Not a good kind either. Stomach sinking, Sam runs inside.

“I felt it fitting that I was to meet both of my adversaries at the same time! I am bridging the gap between our worlds even as I speak!” says the one who had laughed.

Sam runs into the room, a pistol drawn. “What the fuck is going on here?” Sam asks.

Then he remembers himself. “Police! This Halloween party is over!”

A woman in a pixie dress turms at the sound of his shouts and begins laughing as well. Her name (Amber) is somehow displayed above her head in floating white text. It’s the damnedest thing Sam has ever seen.

“I remember you!” shouts Amber. She snaps her fingers once. Sam’s gun disappears. She snaps again and suddenly he is wearing a red coat and jackboots. A ridiculous mustache is growing below his nose now as well. “You’re the captain!”

“Captain Humperdink of the Six Fingered hand!” laughs Raven. He is dressed in exaggerated goth fashion complete with a cape.

“As you wish!” shouts Amber.

Suddenly Sam has grown an extra index finger from his palm. “Oh, fucking great, a magic act.”