He dropped me off beside my car and said, “Why dontcha go home for the day? There ain’t much else left to do. Truth be told, we need a few more displays in the Aviary wing. I gotta get on the field crew to get out there and find me something with wings.”
I asked, “What’s the field crew? Are they the ones who capture the exhibits in the wild?”
Vic groaned, “Don’t call it ‘capturing’, okay? Especially not around the guests. It sounds bad. I like to refer to it as ‘procuring’. Sounds a lot nicer. And yes, that’s what they do. If you think the Caretakers are a bunch of hardasses, you should meet the field crew. They’re a different breed, those people.”
I thanked him for lunch, and I drove home with a full belly and a blank mind. I decided to take an afternoon nap and flicked on the TV for background noise. As I was starting to drift off, I was startled wide awake by a news update. Someone had found a body in the trunk of an abandoned car. The victim was identified as Bobby “The Bricklayer” Antonio, a career criminal who was known to be an associate of the Mafia.
They briefly showed the dead man’s picture on the screen, an old mugshot. I felt my heart freeze in my chest. I recognized his face immediately. It was the guy Vic had pummeled in the McDonalds parking lot.
In my head, I heard Vic say, “We’re all family here,” and I wondered about the nature of a so-called family that would kill each other so casually. I got up and paced around the apartment for a while. I was restless, but I felt too paranoid to go out for a walk. Anyone could see me out there. They could follow me around and watch me without being detected. They could scoop me up and spirit me away, and no one would ever know what happened.
There was a knock at the door, and I answered it with a kitchen knife behind my back. To my surprise, my unexpected visitor was Len.
“Can I come in?” he asked. “I think we should talk.”
I pasted a surprised look on my face and exclaimed, “Wow, this is new. You’re asking to come in instead of just pie-facing me and forcing your way in.”
Len grimaced and gently pushed me aside with his fingertips. He said, “No need for the sarcasm, kid. I’m trying to be polite. I’m not very good at it. Look, just get the fuck outta the way and let me in. We gotta talk.”
Len settled himself down on my couch and looked around approvingly. He said, “That’s much better. Keep it tidy, keep it clean. Makes life a lot easier, don’t it?”
Reluctantly, I nodded my head and agreed. Len folded his hands in his lap and let out a deep breath. He said, “Victor likes you. I think he has plans for you. He don’t want you kicking around the zoo forever. He wants you out there earning your keep.”
I sat down across from Len and said, “What, you mean he wants me out there doing gangster stuff? I’m no tough guy, Len. I think that’s obvious.”
“We got plenty of tough guys already. What we need is someone with brains and insight. That’s you, kid. Here’s the problem... I got a feeling you’re up to something. I dunno what just yet, but when I get a feeling like this, I’m usually right.”
I felt the blood drain from my face, and I started to vigorously deny any wrongdoing. Len held up his hand and snapped, “Just can it for a second, Dumbo. Just listen to me, okay? If I’m gettin’ this feeling about you, it won’t be long before Vic does, too. He’s too happy with you right now to listen to his instincts, but that won’t last forever. If he starts sending out feelers, he’ll eventually find out about the thing with the hippie. Me, I’ll be okay. I’m a made guy. Nobody’s gonna touch me without the go-ahead from the Commission, and frankly, I did everyone a favor by getting rid of the snitch. You, however, that’s a whole different situation. You ain’t nobody important. You were drawing heat, and Vic likes to stay cool, if you get my drift. It don’t matter if you didn’t know about the snitching. You were involved, and you know too much.”
“Well, that isn’t exactly new information,” I grumbled. “I’m painfully aware of that, thank you very much.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Len rumbled. “I’m tryna tell you, point blank, that I know you’re cooking up some hare-brained scheme. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m aware of it. You gotta understand something here, okay? If Vic puts your name on a piece of paper, I’m the one who’s gonna take the job. Keeping an eye on you is my personal assignment, dickhead. That means I gotta keep you outta trouble, and it also means I gotta take care of things if you become the trouble. Do you follow me, Billy? I like you, I really do. You might be a goofy little fuckhead, but I like you anyway. But if I get the call, I’ll strangle you with a piece of piano wire and bury you in the woods. Full stop. I’d have to do it, kid. It’s my job.”
Len leaned forward, his massive hands laced together tightly, and he breathed, “Don’t make me do that to you, Billy. I don’t need the blood of another innocent person on my hands.”
We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. When I opened my mouth to speak, Len shushed me and stood up to leave.
“Don’t say anything more about it, kid. Just forget whatever dumbshit scheme you got cooking upstairs and go with the flow. Ask for a raise or something. Take some of that money you’re earning and have a wild night at a strip club. Ditch that shitty car and get yourself some respectable wheels. You earned it.”
Len paused at the door and looked back with a grave expression on his broad, scarred-up face. He added, “You gotta understand, kid. I’ll kill you. I'd have no other choice.”
He walked out of my apartment without another word. I slowly closed the door behind him and put the kitchen knife back in the utensil drawer. It was dull as shit, anyway. I needed to buy a new whetstone. Hell, why bother? I could just contact the guys who offered me a job selling steak knives and buy an entire set, replete with a chopping block and a lifetime guarantee. I had four thousand dollars sitting in my bank account, and another two grand in a box under my bed. By my own standards, I was rich as hell.
But my new-found wealth came with a heavy cost of its own, didn’t it? I was stuck between my own morality, my fear of being murdered, and my desire to never be poor again for the rest of my life. Somewhere outside of this three-pointed dilemma, there was yet another factor: I genuinely liked most of the entities who populated this crazy, confusing new world I lived in. I liked the prisoners, but I also liked the people who ran the prison. More than that, I’d found a place where I belong, and that’s almost as important as having enough money. Not quite, but it was definitely up there.
Taking everything into consideration, I really did choose a terrible time to quit smoking pot. The cigarettes just weren’t cutting it. If I didn’t find some kind of an outlet for the bad feelings soon, I was going to lose my shit and implode in a spectacular fashion. And that wouldn’t help anyone, would it?
theworldisgrim OP t1_jeaznb8 wrote
Reply to BONESAW VIC’S CRYPTOZOOLOGICAL GARDENS, PART 5: SPRITES, DRAGONS, AND GANGSTERS GALORE by theworldisgrim
He dropped me off beside my car and said, “Why dontcha go home for the day? There ain’t much else left to do. Truth be told, we need a few more displays in the Aviary wing. I gotta get on the field crew to get out there and find me something with wings.”
I asked, “What’s the field crew? Are they the ones who capture the exhibits in the wild?”
Vic groaned, “Don’t call it ‘capturing’, okay? Especially not around the guests. It sounds bad. I like to refer to it as ‘procuring’. Sounds a lot nicer. And yes, that’s what they do. If you think the Caretakers are a bunch of hardasses, you should meet the field crew. They’re a different breed, those people.”
I thanked him for lunch, and I drove home with a full belly and a blank mind. I decided to take an afternoon nap and flicked on the TV for background noise. As I was starting to drift off, I was startled wide awake by a news update. Someone had found a body in the trunk of an abandoned car. The victim was identified as Bobby “The Bricklayer” Antonio, a career criminal who was known to be an associate of the Mafia.
They briefly showed the dead man’s picture on the screen, an old mugshot. I felt my heart freeze in my chest. I recognized his face immediately. It was the guy Vic had pummeled in the McDonalds parking lot.
In my head, I heard Vic say, “We’re all family here,” and I wondered about the nature of a so-called family that would kill each other so casually. I got up and paced around the apartment for a while. I was restless, but I felt too paranoid to go out for a walk. Anyone could see me out there. They could follow me around and watch me without being detected. They could scoop me up and spirit me away, and no one would ever know what happened.
There was a knock at the door, and I answered it with a kitchen knife behind my back. To my surprise, my unexpected visitor was Len.
“Can I come in?” he asked. “I think we should talk.”
I pasted a surprised look on my face and exclaimed, “Wow, this is new. You’re asking to come in instead of just pie-facing me and forcing your way in.”
Len grimaced and gently pushed me aside with his fingertips. He said, “No need for the sarcasm, kid. I’m trying to be polite. I’m not very good at it. Look, just get the fuck outta the way and let me in. We gotta talk.”
Len settled himself down on my couch and looked around approvingly. He said, “That’s much better. Keep it tidy, keep it clean. Makes life a lot easier, don’t it?”
Reluctantly, I nodded my head and agreed. Len folded his hands in his lap and let out a deep breath. He said, “Victor likes you. I think he has plans for you. He don’t want you kicking around the zoo forever. He wants you out there earning your keep.”
I sat down across from Len and said, “What, you mean he wants me out there doing gangster stuff? I’m no tough guy, Len. I think that’s obvious.”
“We got plenty of tough guys already. What we need is someone with brains and insight. That’s you, kid. Here’s the problem... I got a feeling you’re up to something. I dunno what just yet, but when I get a feeling like this, I’m usually right.”
I felt the blood drain from my face, and I started to vigorously deny any wrongdoing. Len held up his hand and snapped, “Just can it for a second, Dumbo. Just listen to me, okay? If I’m gettin’ this feeling about you, it won’t be long before Vic does, too. He’s too happy with you right now to listen to his instincts, but that won’t last forever. If he starts sending out feelers, he’ll eventually find out about the thing with the hippie. Me, I’ll be okay. I’m a made guy. Nobody’s gonna touch me without the go-ahead from the Commission, and frankly, I did everyone a favor by getting rid of the snitch. You, however, that’s a whole different situation. You ain’t nobody important. You were drawing heat, and Vic likes to stay cool, if you get my drift. It don’t matter if you didn’t know about the snitching. You were involved, and you know too much.”
“Well, that isn’t exactly new information,” I grumbled. “I’m painfully aware of that, thank you very much.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Len rumbled. “I’m tryna tell you, point blank, that I know you’re cooking up some hare-brained scheme. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m aware of it. You gotta understand something here, okay? If Vic puts your name on a piece of paper, I’m the one who’s gonna take the job. Keeping an eye on you is my personal assignment, dickhead. That means I gotta keep you outta trouble, and it also means I gotta take care of things if you become the trouble. Do you follow me, Billy? I like you, I really do. You might be a goofy little fuckhead, but I like you anyway. But if I get the call, I’ll strangle you with a piece of piano wire and bury you in the woods. Full stop. I’d have to do it, kid. It’s my job.”
Len leaned forward, his massive hands laced together tightly, and he breathed, “Don’t make me do that to you, Billy. I don’t need the blood of another innocent person on my hands.”
We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. When I opened my mouth to speak, Len shushed me and stood up to leave.
“Don’t say anything more about it, kid. Just forget whatever dumbshit scheme you got cooking upstairs and go with the flow. Ask for a raise or something. Take some of that money you’re earning and have a wild night at a strip club. Ditch that shitty car and get yourself some respectable wheels. You earned it.”
Len paused at the door and looked back with a grave expression on his broad, scarred-up face. He added, “You gotta understand, kid. I’ll kill you. I'd have no other choice.”
He walked out of my apartment without another word. I slowly closed the door behind him and put the kitchen knife back in the utensil drawer. It was dull as shit, anyway. I needed to buy a new whetstone. Hell, why bother? I could just contact the guys who offered me a job selling steak knives and buy an entire set, replete with a chopping block and a lifetime guarantee. I had four thousand dollars sitting in my bank account, and another two grand in a box under my bed. By my own standards, I was rich as hell.
But my new-found wealth came with a heavy cost of its own, didn’t it? I was stuck between my own morality, my fear of being murdered, and my desire to never be poor again for the rest of my life. Somewhere outside of this three-pointed dilemma, there was yet another factor: I genuinely liked most of the entities who populated this crazy, confusing new world I lived in. I liked the prisoners, but I also liked the people who ran the prison. More than that, I’d found a place where I belong, and that’s almost as important as having enough money. Not quite, but it was definitely up there.
Taking everything into consideration, I really did choose a terrible time to quit smoking pot. The cigarettes just weren’t cutting it. If I didn’t find some kind of an outlet for the bad feelings soon, I was going to lose my shit and implode in a spectacular fashion. And that wouldn’t help anyone, would it?
I decided it was time to find myself a hobby.