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Sculpted art concepts by James Hakola
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Debris
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Cats
Brushes and Dog Bones
"It's just not right", I told Juddie. We watched the big guy in the tanktop hulk away from us, out of the pet food aisle and turn on his heel, marine-style. You can do that on those buffed supermarket floors. He disappeared around a display of Halloween marshmallow bags, stacked into an eight-foot tower of greedy orange. "Brainless prick," I said. "No!" Juddie stammered. "He's gonna hear! Just " He was still sitting on that linoleum grid, staring into the white reflection of ceiling lights. I think he was trying to become transparent. It's a very sad sight, your fourteen-year-old brother on the floor of a grocery store. "Come on," I grinned down at him. "We came here to shop." I grabbed him under the arms and pulled him to his feet. Juddie peered past me with some damn big eyes, rubbing his butt. "Fuck him, he's gone," I said. I led Jud by the shoulder towards the back of the store. We were passing through the aisle with all the bleach and laundry stuff that makes my nose itch. That's probably what a coke addict feels most of the time, I thought. Maybe I should become a coke addict. So I took a big whiff. Juddie did it too, he snuffled a little. "There was no need for what he did to us, Juddie. None at all." I pulled a bottle of pure bleach off the shelf. The one with the plainest label, since I wasn't I going to read anything these bleach makers were promising. I didn't want any extra perfume or fabric softener or any junk like that. Just pure chlorine bleach. I actually think it was on the shopping list. Not that I was going to be reading lists. Not anymore. "We never got the cat brush" said my brother. He was right. We turned about-face and went back to the pet aisle. Juddie was about to snatch it off the shelf when he turned a little ashen, and stopped himself. He looked at me with those damn big eyes. Poor kid was paper thin, you could read a newspaper through him. I told him, "Don't worry, you're not a cat-faggot. Besides, cats are predators." He jumped up and snatched the wiry brush off the peg, poking himself on the sharp bristles. He shook out his hand, smiling the stupid way. "Hey Jud, what's say we get some sinner's soda?" Juddie smiled a different kind of smile. He was in. That's what Dad used to call liquor-- the sinner's soda. He should have known. We had to go all the way up to the front by the entrance. I wondered why they put the worst stuff in the whole store right up front. You'd think they'd hide it away. I grabbed a clear, square bottle of something. "You get one too, Juddie. Whatever you like." He found a nice big round bottle filled with some dark stuff, almost like maple syrup. "Good choice," I said. So I had the bottle of bleach in one hand, and the clear bottle of liquor in the other. Jud had the cat's brush in one hand, and the dark booze bottle in the other. He was leaning a bit on the heavy side. "Oops, one more thing on the list," I said. There was a display of Thanksgiving stuff up front. They were showing off the stuffing mixes, the basting balls, and the foil turkey trays with pictures of cooked turkeys pasted inside. As if it was time to get excited about this stuff, being almost a month away from Halloween, let alone Thanksgiving. Anyhow, I needed the basting bulb. "Are you ready Juddie?" I asked him. He nodded once with tightened lips. As we were about to head for the checkout, I looked down the magazine aisle and there he was, reading a magazine. The strongarm. The tough guy. A black tanktop billowed off his back. Bushy sand-colored hair chopped flat like a helipad, except for a thin rattail dangling between his shoulder blades. I couldn't believe he was still here. He wasn't even shopping all this time, all he had with him was that same giant rawhide dog chew-thing, tied at both ends like some attempt to make leather look like a bone. The one he had shoved Juddie down to get to just a little bit faster. He couldn't even say "Get the fuck out of my way." No, that would have been too eloquent. "Th- fuck outta my way" was what he said. Yeah, that's what he said alright, just before he shoved a 14 year old kid ass-down onto the floor. A small-for-his-age 14 year old kid. That's just what he said. I took a deep breath. Just not right. I turned us around and we headed up the aisle right next to his, the one with the frozen pizzas. I pulled Jud with me, since he sure didn't want to go. I just kept nodding my head, without even looking at him. Ever since he was really small, that's what I did to make him come along. Just kept nodding and pulling. He got the message and stopped struggling. About halfway in, the pizza aisle opened out into the next one over, where the big guy was standing, reading his magazine, chuckling and shaking his head. The page he was looking at had pictures of shiny mag wheels. He had the rawhide stick wedged in his hairy armpit. I handed my bottle of bleach to Juddie, and made a twisty motion, because I wanted him to unscrew the cap. He did it, and peeled back the foam safety seal for me. Why did it need a safety seal? Nobody would spike something with poison if it's poision to begin with. I took the paper label off the bulb baster, and squeezed it way down into the bleach. I let it take a long drink of the smelly stuff and pulled it out. Tanktop was still reading about his funny, funny mag wheels. Jud looked scared, so I bent down and looked him in the eye. Jud thought for a second but then gave a squinty smile. It was the same as his liquor smile. I nodded and raised the heavy bottle of clear liquor over my head. I halfway closed my eyes as I came around the corner and brought it crashing down on that bushy flattop. It wasn't a loud, window-smash like I thought, it was more like an aluminum bat cracking a homerun, followed by the slop of juice hitting the floor. It hurt me just to hear it. The bottle became light in my hands as the glass gave way on that thick skull. The guy's arm shot back and bumped my nose. I thought maybe he was throwing a bad punch, but he was just reflexing. He braced his head, all soaked and glittering with glass. The bottle's label was sitting on his head like a beanie cap. I couldn't see any blood. He fell down to his knees, and Juddie let him have it with the dark brown bottle. It didn't break the first time, so he did it again, harder. Jesus did he swing the hell out of that bottle. He could be so determined sometimes. It popped with a big slurp. The guy leaned way back on his haunches, he looked like he was about to black out, but not quite. His face was terrible, mouth wide open, like he'd just gotten some very bad news, that he was a miserable prick and, small or not, he'd just fucked with the wrong kid. He looked at me upside-down, right into my eyes. I shoved the turkey baster down his throat. I still can't believe he let me do it. I gave the ball a good squeeze. Now he doubled over and shook his head, like he was somehow trying to deny all of this. He made a weird muffled sound like I never had heard a guy make before, a gurgling wheeze, coming out of his throat. On top of that it seemed like he was trying to talk, but it sounded more like a hum. "I don't think we're done shopping," I said. I unfolded my Swiss Army and took off the guy's rattail. He reached back and tried to swat my arm in a really weak way. Juddie smacked his hand with the wiry end of the cat brush. The guy sort of gave up. He rested his cheek on the floor and made more wet gurgles, and bubbly yellow stuff came out of his mouth, which I guess was mostly bleach. Really gross. "OK, we're done here," I said. And just like that, Juddie and me went out the door. Nobody followed us. I didn't even hear anybody yell. The whole way out of the store, out to the parking lot, past the red pickup with the big dog sitting in the back, and out of the driveway. It was the weirdest thing. They even said "Have a nice day," as we left. All my life I'd never done anything like that. Why did I wait until that day to stand up? I knew why. Because they'd be right there to handcuff me, swear at me, beat me up, lock me up, sue me, electrocute me. But there there was nothing like that at all. Just an open path out of that scene and off to wherever it was we should be going. Interesting. |
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All content ©1997-2006 James Hakola. All rights reserved.
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