Chapter 2
| The Story | The Authors |
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| Hickey was pissed. Jeremy Crink Had been a boil on his ass long enough. He had a good mind to suspect that Crink was involved in the Brinkley case. Hickey was put off by the way Crink would toggle back and forth between surfer dude lingo, and trite well articulated formalities. Perhaps there were other kinks in the Crink as well. "Is 'at right there Crink? Since when 'you become such a stickler for paperwork boy?" | |
| "Ooooh, that! It ain't me, it's the ol' man. The ol' Mortster. He's fuckin' anal about the paperwork, cha! I swear, sometimes I think I should go back to my old job drivin' a UPS truck. But this job is way cooler, dontcha think, Hickey-boy?" said Crink flashing the 'hang loose' hand sign. | |
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Officer Hickey was by that point literally speechless.
"Listen, there, prettyboy," continued Crink, "We'll have your Mommmmy lookin' like a goddamn prom-queen when I'm through with her. Ol' 'Magic Fingers' Crink'll rouge that blue out of her face... A high-collared dress, of course... You'll never be able to tell she hung herself... Course, I imagine the whole town already knows, what with that loud-mouthed Chief of yours holding forth over pie and coffee down the diner, prob'ly even as we speak... Tut, tut, tut..." Officer Hickey sucked tears back into his tear-glands. If there was one person in this world he was not going to let see him cry, it was Jeremy Crink... And Crink, with the naturally plastic empahty of a born mortician, saw this, and seemed to delight in egging it further on. "There, there," he crooned. "Oh you poor big man. It's okay. Jeremy's here. It's okay. You let loose all you want..." With which pronouncement Officer Hickey could not contain himself. Floodgates opened. Boo-hoo-hoo echoed clarion through the night. Jeremy, comforting Officer Hickey as one would a baby, looked over the blubbering policeman's shoulder and grinned malevolently into the dark woods on either side of the highway. | |
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"Dude! Hey, you wouldn't mind if I..." Jeremy's gaze moved from the dark
distant woods to Officer Hickey's puffy tear-streaked face. "Nah, nevermind."
"What?" said Hickey, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. "Well, I was wondering..." Jeremy's gaze moved back towards the woods. "If I - that is my friends and I - could... That is if you didn't mind, if we could..." he looked back at Hickey's piteous visage. "Nah, you wouldn't go for it." "For God's sake, man! Spit it out!" Officer Hickey was not known to be a patient man. "Well, could we eat your mother?" Officer Hickey pulled away from Jeremy Crink in horror. "What!?!" "Can we, you know, eat 'er?" "What kind of a ghoulish freak are you?" "Now don't be that way, dude. Look, she's already dead, it's not like we'll have to kill her and she's not going to know the difference. Think of the money you'll save on funeral costs." Jeremy said cheerily. Officer Hickey was stunned. | |
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Then the floodgates opened once again. Tears, dreadful tears streamed hotly
down his cheeks. As if it weren't bad enough that Mother had killed herself,
now this macabre fiend wanted to knacker her corpse up and eat her with an
apple in her mouth. Every emotion he had ever felt for his mother welled up in
the battered moth eaten organ that was Officer Matthew J Hickey's heart. He
doubled over in a panting sob. Gasping for breath as his soul wrestled with
itself to resolve the endless torture of his love/hate realtionship with his
newly departed mother.
Crink putting on his best mortician's face bent to comfort him. As soon as he felt the reassuring pat and "there there, my man, Cool out a bit. We got time." Hickey snapped. He roared and screamed and came up with fists flying. Crink was caught off guard by the first punch and fell to the muddy shoulder. "Whoa dude! I was only jok.." he began, but Hickey never let him finish. Thirty five years of pent up anger and frustration and humiliation spewed out of him like water from a hydrant. He pummeled Crink mercilessly. It all came out. |
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