This is my inadmissable entry into last weeks Mid-Week Blues-Buster - inadmissable because I was the judge! I was compelled to write though, as this week the song just spoke so loudly, even the first few cords, and the story had to come out. I think it was worth it, although I was stuck with when to end it. I could have gone on for a really long time, but I felt that would mean there was a chance of him getting out of it, and yet from the beginning I knew there wasn't. I hope it works. Enjoy.
The song was Gun, by Emilana Torrina - click on the link if you want to hear it.
He felt the cold of the metal on his temple and his whole
body stopped - even his breathing. His mind paused, running through a rapid list
of variables; what he could say or do that might remove the gun and give him a
chance. But she spoke instead.
“Hey Gary. How’s it going? Anything I can do for you?”
Gary eased back slightly, bringing his weight off his hands onto his knees, hearing the bed groan beneath him as he did so, and hoping it wouldn’t startle Bridget’s trigger finger. But the gun held steady – in fact it didn’t even tremble. He slowly brought his hands up as though surrendering.
“What you doing, Gary? Giving up already. Don’t even want to fight you corner? Disappointing.”
Gary wasn’t foolish. He could hear the edge in her voice, and he knew that edge. His mother had had the same edge, and it usually didn’t bode well for his father. His father was the only one who dared to challenge it. He and his brother learnt quickly not to, especially after she caught their dad with the neighbour; he’d been lucky their mother hadn’t had a gun then, otherwise he might not have survived - just like Gary might not now.
Gary cleared his throat and kept his voice even and soft.
“Easy now Bridget, you don’t want to be doing anything rash?”
“Rash? Rash? What like you and Lucille thinking it’s okay to fuck in our bed? Oh wait, not just in our bed, but in our car, and on our sofa too, eh?”
In that moment Gary realised this wasn’t a surprise discovery, or a knee jerk reaction, Bridget had known for a while – and quite a while too if she knew about the car, that had been months back.
She read his silence. “Yeah Gary, I’ve known a while, not just some dumb dyke that Lucille took pity on and took into her bed for a good time. I’ve known her a long time, long enough to have caught her fucking more than just your pretty arse. But you, you’ve not just fucking her, are you? I’ve counted at least three others that you've been with.”
Gary’s mind spun. He was in deep shit now, and the pressure of the gun barrel hadn’t relented. He’d backtracked out of many things, but this was going to be hard. She’d really done her homework.
“You been stalking me, Bridget? Want a piece of my pretty arse too? I’m sure we can arrange something.”
She laughed so hard he thought he might get away with it, but when it died out as abruptly as it had started, and the metal didn’t budge, he began to think otherwise. Time was ticking on.
“Oh Gary, Gary, you do think a lot of yourself, and your wiener, don’t you? But what you don’t know is that I don’t like wiener, never have - even spent time inside due to my aversion to it -”
“Then you don’t want to be spending any more time inside for it then, do you? ‘specially not my little one.” He ended his interruption with a nervous giggle, trying to keep it light, upbeat, humourous. But beads of sweat were running down Gary’s face.
“Oh I won’t be spending time inside for you, sweetheart, I’m sure of that. We live too far out for that, see, easy to get lost round these parts. Many have.”
That was when Gary knew there’d be no talking his way out of this.
“Hey Gary. How’s it going? Anything I can do for you?”
Gary eased back slightly, bringing his weight off his hands onto his knees, hearing the bed groan beneath him as he did so, and hoping it wouldn’t startle Bridget’s trigger finger. But the gun held steady – in fact it didn’t even tremble. He slowly brought his hands up as though surrendering.
“What you doing, Gary? Giving up already. Don’t even want to fight you corner? Disappointing.”
Gary wasn’t foolish. He could hear the edge in her voice, and he knew that edge. His mother had had the same edge, and it usually didn’t bode well for his father. His father was the only one who dared to challenge it. He and his brother learnt quickly not to, especially after she caught their dad with the neighbour; he’d been lucky their mother hadn’t had a gun then, otherwise he might not have survived - just like Gary might not now.
Gary cleared his throat and kept his voice even and soft.
“Easy now Bridget, you don’t want to be doing anything rash?”
“Rash? Rash? What like you and Lucille thinking it’s okay to fuck in our bed? Oh wait, not just in our bed, but in our car, and on our sofa too, eh?”
In that moment Gary realised this wasn’t a surprise discovery, or a knee jerk reaction, Bridget had known for a while – and quite a while too if she knew about the car, that had been months back.
She read his silence. “Yeah Gary, I’ve known a while, not just some dumb dyke that Lucille took pity on and took into her bed for a good time. I’ve known her a long time, long enough to have caught her fucking more than just your pretty arse. But you, you’ve not just fucking her, are you? I’ve counted at least three others that you've been with.”
Gary’s mind spun. He was in deep shit now, and the pressure of the gun barrel hadn’t relented. He’d backtracked out of many things, but this was going to be hard. She’d really done her homework.
“You been stalking me, Bridget? Want a piece of my pretty arse too? I’m sure we can arrange something.”
She laughed so hard he thought he might get away with it, but when it died out as abruptly as it had started, and the metal didn’t budge, he began to think otherwise. Time was ticking on.
“Oh Gary, Gary, you do think a lot of yourself, and your wiener, don’t you? But what you don’t know is that I don’t like wiener, never have - even spent time inside due to my aversion to it -”
“Then you don’t want to be spending any more time inside for it then, do you? ‘specially not my little one.” He ended his interruption with a nervous giggle, trying to keep it light, upbeat, humourous. But beads of sweat were running down Gary’s face.
“Oh I won’t be spending time inside for you, sweetheart, I’m sure of that. We live too far out for that, see, easy to get lost round these parts. Many have.”
That was when Gary knew there’d be no talking his way out of this.
Nicely done, Miranda!
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