It was about noon. I was driving down a street they called Turnover. It had nothing but a bunch of apartments lined up on either side of the street. The parking for all of them was located in the back of the areas. I don’t know where they got these street names from, or why they called a street this or that. It didn’t make any sense or nor did it seem to matter. They should have just numbered them. It would make more sense. Well, common sense didn’t always exist in our vocabulary. It was these types of subjects that I thought about as I began my day. I was looking for a crowded street. It was not Turnover. There was not a single soul walking out on that street or nobody with a car decided to ride down it. It was just myself driving alone down this strangely deserted street. I had driven down it before and there had been people on it. Usually on a Saturday I could count a crowd but not this Saturday. There were other streets and I would find one where everyone in the world was walking down or driving along them.
I left Turnover street around 12:30 and headed towards a street downtown. There had to be crowds of people downtown along those streets and so that is where I headed. I couldn’t wait. It got so lonely at my job and I needed to be around some people. It didn’t matter if we talked or not, I just needed to be around them. I didn’t know why. I was hoping downtown would be the place where it was all at.
I had almost reached one of the streets downtown when a man who looked to be about 30 ran across in front of my car and I barely missed him. He just turned and laughed at me. He continued on his way onto the sidewalk to the left of me. I slowed down and got closer to the sidewalk he was walking on and then closer to him. I slowed down a bit more and then got behind him riding halfway on the sidewalk. He kept looking back at me with a confused look on his face. The son of a bitch wasn’t laughing now. I stopped the car suddenly. He stopped. I reached into my glove compartment and pulled out my bb gun which looked like a real .45. I got out of the car and pointed it at him. He ran like hell. I got back in my car and threw the bb gun on the front passenger seat. I hit the gas as hard as I could and I hit the man and didn’t look back. He ended up under my car and I heard a rumble or something. I looked back and he was a bloody mess. I laughed and kept going.
I was on one of the streets downtown and sure enough it was crowded. There were crowds of people on either side of the street. I couldn’t believe it. I rolled down my driver’s side window and reached into my glove compartment. I pulled out a .38 special and checked to see if it was loaded. It was. It was real. I continued to look straight ahead and stuck my arm out holding the .38 and I just kept pulling the trigger nonstop. I heard some screams, bullets ricochet and a few things crash down. I just looked straight ahead and started laughing. I kept on firing for about maybe 15 minutes and then I threw the gun on the passenger side seat. I left downtown and headed back home. I was laughing hysterically.
I made it home without a hassle from anyone. I couldn’t believe there were no cops. They were nowhere to be seen. It made me wonder if there was some sort of a trap being set up for me. This seemed too good to be true. I shrugged my shoulders and got out of my car. I headed up to my apartment. I got in and laid on my futon mattress. I destroyed the frame. I didn’t need it. I just laid on the mattress. I didn’t want to sleep. I was not tired. It just felt good to lay there looking up at the ceiling. I didn’t miss the people anymore. I had gotten my share of them. It was one of my goals on my days off. It was to be around crowds of people and kill some of them randomly.
I awaited the cops come knocking at my door but two hours had passed and nothing. I waited another two hours and nothing. I just laid there on the futon mattress continuing to look up at the ceiling and the cops never came. It was my first day off that I had decided to just randomly go on a killing spree like that. I didn’t plan it this time. I just went out and started shooting randomly. I can’t believe no one was armed or if they were why they didn’t fire back? It was strange. It was delightful and beneficial to me. I got out of there without a scratch or dent in my car and still free to roam the streets during any time of the day. I heard a knock at my door. I figured that was the cops. They didn’t say anything though. I thought the cops would say ‘open up it’s the police!’ but … nothing. I went over to the door still fully dressed and armed with my .38 special that I reloaded. I looked out the window and it was a woman. What would a woman being here? A strange woman? I didn’t know any women. I just saw a few at my work but I didn’t know any. I opened the door.
“Hello.” She said.
“Hello.” I said confused.
“My name is Shelly.”
“I am Charles.”
“Nice to meet you, Charles.”
“Nice to meet you, Shelly.”
“Did you want to fuck?” She said.
“Sure. What man wouldn’t want to fuck?”
“I thought you would.”
“Come on in.”
She came in and immediately took off all of her clothes. I took off mine.
“Where did you want to fuck?” I said.
“In your room.”
“All right, I only have a futon mattress.”
“I don’t care. I will fuck you on the floor or on the moon. We can blame it on the moon if anyone asks why you got aids.”
“I am not fucking you if you have aids.”
“Oh yes you are.”
“No I am not.” I still had my .38 special in my hand.
“You come near me and I will blow your pussy off.”
“I love it when they play rough.” She was an amatuer. Who the fuck said that kind of stuff about sex? A woman of people, too.
“I am warning you. I will shoot you if you come any closer.” My hand was shaking. What the hell was going on? She came closer. I put my finger on the trigger.
“Do I make you hot?”
I don’t know what woman talked like this. She made me hot all right but I wasn’t telling her that.
“No.” I said. My hand was shaking. I couldn’t move. She was so beautiful. I wanted to fuck her so bad. I wanted to live too. She was a foot away from me and I lifted up the gun and put it in her face.
“You leave now or I pull the trigger. I won’t kill your pussy. I will kill you if you don’t leave now.”
“I make you hot.”
“You are not going to kill me.” She was right. I dropped the gun. She grabbed my hand and we walked into my room. She laid on her back on the futon. I came down on her like a vampire bat on a dead horse. I was a lousy fuck. I lasted for about ten minutes. She laughed and slid out from under me. She left the room. I got up slowly and followed her. She started putting her clothes back on. I stood there naked in the doorway to my room.
“What the fuck is so funny?” I said.
“I don’t have aids.”
“Well, fuck me.”
“You don’t mind again?”
“I meant…are you stupid?”
“I know you meant it as a figure of speech.” She was fully dressed now.
“I wouldn’t mind fucking you again.” I said.
She laughed even harder.
“I will see you Romeo.” She said and walked out.
I don’t know what the hell that had been about but it was great getting fucked again. It was the best I had. It was the only one I had. I went back into my room and laid on my futon mattress looking up at the ceiling. I heard another knock on my door. It was more of a volcano than a knock.
“Open up … you son of a bitch … open up …!!”
I got up and grabbed my gun off of the floor. I didn’t bother putting on my clothes. I opened the door with my .38 in hand pointed at this man who looked to be about my size and age. He was a holding a shotgun on his side with his left hand.
“It looks like we have a high noon situation here.” I said and laughed.
“The joke is on you.” I heard someone say from behind me. I looked behind me and it was the woman I just fucked.
“Whatever the joke is.” I said. They both laughed. I dropped the .38. What the hell else could I do? I couldn’t shoot her before and I sure couldn’t do it now either. I didn’t know they made woman as beautiful as her.
“There is no joke. Just you are dead.” The man said. He lifted up his shotgun and shot me in my left kneecap. I fell to the ground instantly screaming and holding it. I stopped and was kneeling holding my knee which was all but gone. I don’t know how my leg managed to stay together.
“I like it when my victims suffer. You won’t be fucking my wife again.”
“She fucked me .” I said. It was hard to say that. He punched me on the top of my head and I fell landing on my back. He laughed.
“You really pick pussies … honey.”
“If you fucked with any real passion, I wouldn’t fuck these … as you call them pussies.”
“You know how many couples even fuck? We fuck all the time, most stop after marriage or definitely slow down”
“You are some marriage counselor?”
I didn’t need to hear this shit. I laid there just rolling my eyes hoping to die so I wouldn’t have to hear this shit.
“It is in the news … darling … maybe you would learn something, if you watched it just once in your life.”
“You seem to love the news more than me.”
I wish they would just kill me right now. This was worse than death. I felt like I was watching a damn chick flick.
“Come on, sugar this bum will be dead soon enough.” The man said.
She walked around me and grabbed his hand. They left without shutting the door. I tried to find my cell phone but I didn’t know where it was. I could make it if I could get an ambulance over here. They were such amatuers. Why did they leave me alive? Why didn’t they make sure I was finished? I didn’t understand this world.
My cell phone was nowhere to be found. I screamed as loud as I could hoping someone would notice. I heard some voices.
“Shut up.I am trying to watch the game.” One man said.
“I am trying to sleep.” A woman said.
I turned to my side and tried to crawl towards my door but it hurt so much. I then saw my cell phone right in front of me near the door. Why would they leave the cell phone? I wonder did they figure I would be dead by the time the ambulance got here? It was the luck of the draw. I crawled and grabbed it. I attempted to dial a number and it died. I guess I was fucked.
Randall Pretzer started writing short stories again in 2006 and before had written poetry, plays and screenplays. He currently lives in Texas and his favorite authors are his father, his brother, Knut Hamsun, John Fante, Charles Bukowski, Anne Bronte, Richard Matheson, Mari Wolf, Clare Winger Harris, Gertrude Stein, J.D. Salinger, Charlotte Bronte, Emily Bronte and Jane Austin Ray Bradbury and Judy Blume to name a few.
2 thoughts on “Blame It On The Moon by Randall Pretzer”
Randall, your obviously crazy. I love that! this story rocked.
You set the scene up nicely and ending was good. Only thing that tripped me up was the guy screwing the lady who said she had aids. Cool she was lyin’ about it, but I woulda shot her pussy off anyway.