Episode 07: The Head On My Shoulders Won't Fuck Itself

I’d never heard a noise that loud in my life. It wasn’t startling or even surprising. It was fear-inducing. It was fucking scary.

The bottle exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, lost in the wind and snow. It didn’t even leave a mark on the fence. It was like it had never even existed.

“C’mon!” Demon grabbed me by my hand and pulled me back through the still propped back door. The heat of that back stairwell hit me instantly. Combined with the rush of watching him pick off that Premium bottle from 35 yards, I started sweating and shaking. He noticed right way.

“Ha huh! First time you ever seen something like that?”

“Jesus Christ! Why did you do that?”

“To make sure this damn thing works. I hadn’t even tried it out yet.”

I noticed that he was still holding onto the pistol. It was hypnotic. Still shaking, I asked, “Can I see it?”

He handed it to me. “Careful, it’s still hot. Don’t touch the barrel.”

I took it from him and held it up, out of the shadows. I‘d never fired a gun before. Never even held one, really. I carried a rifle in its case for my Grandpa when I was just a kid, but I guess I didn‘t really get the sense of just how powerful it was. I looked it over thoroughly. It was black with some gray trim around the barrel and trigger. “Magnum” was inscribed on the side.

“You picked this up out East? Why?”

“I got some dudes back home who needed this one to disappear.”

“Couldn’t they have just thrown in in the river? Or the goddamn ocean?”

“Trust me, those NYC cops know all the tricks. The only legit way to get ridda these things is to get them out of the boroughs. These Minneapolis cops aren’t looking for it. They’re too busy towing cars and writing tickets to even think about it.”

“Aren’t you worried that someone heard us just now. Fuck me! I’ve never heard anything so loud.”

“Yeah, they probably did.” He reached out and took the gun back from me. “We probably ought to go back upstairs.”

He tucked it into his pants, behind his belt. I couldn’t help but laugh at that. He was always doing little shit like that, y’know, to show that he was “real.” I should probably stop laughing though. I mean, bringing guns back from New York is pretty fucking real to me. Too real, in fact.

He took my hand again and pulled me back up the stairs. By the time we got to the second floor we could hear the bass pounding from his apartment on the third. Evidently the party was still going.

“Ay, don’t tell anyone about that, alright?”

“Who would I tell?”

“Girl, how the fuck should I know? I know you girls talk. Just keep this between you and me. It’s no one’s business.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

I finally stopped shaking as we stepped back through the door. I still felt excruciatingly hot, though. I got my boots, gloves, hat, and jacket off as quickly as I could, grabbed a fresh Premium, and headed straight for the bathroom. The noise was still echoing in my brain.

My reflection was comical. It was like someone had painted my skin and bright pink. As I rubbed cold water across my cheeks I heard a knock on the door.

“Ay, girl.”

It was Demon.

“What?”

“You need some more?”

I opened the door. I desperately needed some more.