Anthony Ainsworth & Lucas Vereline
[email protected] & [email protected]
Hollow Words
on it, and almost immediately knew what he ought to do next. He should open his eyes, and figure ought what was happening and what was around him. Having decided this, he realized that he did not want to. He didn't want to find out where the furry animal with sharp teeth were, he didnt want to look at any bones sticking out of his skin and he didn't want to think about talking hawks that may have just tried to save him from the animal or may have tried to catch him and the animal. Thus, he made a quick executive decision and decided that having figured out what he ought to do next deserved a reward, namely sinking back into unconsciousness.
His plans for a bit of piece were interrupted by the sudden movement of whatever it was that he was resting on. His eyes flashed open unwittingly and het saw the tangle of roots sticking out from the cliff that held him and what appeared to be a giant flying squirrel. "I'm terribly sorry about that, but I had to get you away from those hawks immediately. You can't trust those hawks, ever. And now they'll be looking for you." It said in an impossibly high voice, as a if a boiling kettle of water had just spoken
to him.
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Jimmy Truly enjoyed his life. He woke up every morning with a bright smile on his face. He would then make breakfast which consisted of two eggs sunny side up, two pieces of rye toast, three strips of bacon and a large mug of coffee. After this he would shower and get dressed in his faded blue jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt.
He lived with his dog Sammy on the third floor of a moldy apartment that was built in the early 70's. The apartment wasn't large, a small bathroom, a tiny kitchen with a two burner stove and a bedroom that also doubled as a living room when people came over. He spent most of his time on the back porch. It was made of gray faded wood that had tar stains all over it from the overhanging roof.
After showering Jimmy would grab his .22 rifles and bottle of Jack Daniels and go sit on the porch with Sammy. Jimmy rescued Sammy from the pound on a hot July day four years ago, just after he divorced his former wife Agatha and the pair became inseparable. Sammy used to be a bird dog, or at least this is what Jimmy came to believe because when Sammy heard the pop of the .22 going off he would perk up but being old he didn't even try to get up.
Jimmy's passion was shooting pigeons. He sat in his easy chair sipping Jack, occasionally pouring a little it into Sammy's water dish which Sammy licked up eagerly, and shot pigeons that roosted on the power line that hung across the alley. Occasionally the cops were called and Jimmy would either be hauled off to jail or just pretend that he didn't know anything about anything but for the most part the police ignored gun shots in this area of town.
He sat contentedly on the back porch, already having finished off three quarters of the bottle, thinking about his former life, his life before he decided to drop out and shoot. He used to be an office assistant, assisting the secretary of the vice-president of a large company in the downtown, but he feared that he might loose it and come into work with a golf club bag full of automatic weapons. He used to have a wife and a child. He used to pay attention to the holidays and what the newspapers said. He used to have two cars, a large bank account, a house in the suburbs and when people talked about his they would say, "you know, he really is a swell guy." Jimmy used to like compliments like this. On June 3rd 19- He decided that he just didn't care. He left his job divorced his wife, sold his car, house and just about everything else he owned. He moved to the Westside into the shitty apartment where he made his pastime drinking and shooting. He used to take pharmaceutical drugs prescribed by a doctor but after he moved from filling to shooting and drinking he realize he didn't need them anymore and traded them with the liquor store attendant for another bottle of Jack.
Three quiet raps sounded on the door. "Come in," yelled Jimmy. The door opened and two young black kids came in, snot nosed and dressed in matching red sweat shorts from K-mart.
"Uncle Jimmy," they chimed in together, "Tell us a story." They patted Sammy's head who looked up gratefully and nipped at their fingers.
