| Letters and Diary Fiction posted April 25, 2015 |
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short story
Ginsu Knife-Part 2
by michaelcahill
Part 1 is posted. Be sure and read that first.
I could see two other figures rushing towards the scene. I perceived them as associates of his. I turned with the gun in my left hand and fired at the one on the right, the one pointing a gun at me. I didn't know where the bullet hit him at the time. I switched my focus to his partner. He stopped and put up his hands screaming somethin at me. "I'm not armed" is what witnesses told the officers on scene.
The man I'd stabbed began to rise up towards me reaching for the gun. It went off, hitting him in the chest. I suppose I pulled the trigger, but I don't recall doing it.
I surveyed the scene. My assailant was on the ground unmoving and silent. His wife and daughter were crying hysterically, "Tony! Tony! Noooo … " She looked up at me with terror in her eyes; it was the kind of terror you see in second-rate horror flicks.
I thought to myself, what the hell are you looking at me like that for? Your stupid husband was going to shoot me … what did you expect?
I noticed in the distance, his two associates were no longer there. I'd find out later the one guy got his friend to his car and rushed him to the emergency room. The last I heard, he was still in a coma. I'd shot him in the right thigh. He lost so much blood; it left him with barely enough brain function to breathe.
The sound of people running caught my attention. One of them shouted, "Drop that gun, mister, or I'm taking you out". Cops, I thought to myself. Why are they yelling at me, I wondered.
I realized that dropping the gun was the smart move. I could explain what happened later. It turns out they were park security. It occurred to me they weren't real cops, but I'd thought it wise to co-operate. I was the victim, me and my wife.
I realized the knife was still at the ready in my right hand. I dropped the gun and then dropped the knife on top of it. It bounced to the side making a loud, to me at least, clanking noise.
"Hit the ground. I'll shoot, don't doubt it, punk".
Punk, that pissed me off. Who the hell was he to call ME a punk? I wasn't the thug accosting two innocent people. I started to realize I was lucky to be alive. Fear finally caught up to my mind. I hid it. It wouldn't look good for me to be out of control. I had to stay cool and calm. Let this thing take its natural course.
I could see the flashing lights from several cop cars approaching with ear-splitting sirens blaring. I dropped to the ground and waited. The security officers roughly cuffed me. They shoved me forward my face hitting the uneven asphalt. They both had a knee on me holding me down, one across the back of my neck and one roughly dug into my lower back. I wasn't resisting or even moving.
My wife came to life. She'd been standing in the same spot holding that damn banana. Now, she was crying and yelling at the security officers. "You idiots! They tried to rob us. You're hurting him, he hasn't done anything. Let him go, he's not the criminal." The sight of that banana punctuating each sentence as she waved her arms made me smile.
The dudes wife stopped crying and began screaming at the officers, "Tony didn't do nuthin'. He just wanted to show the yellow thing to our daughter. He turned and cut him for no reason. Then he pulled a gun and started shooting. He's crazy." Then she turned to me, "Why? Why did you do this? You killed him. You killed my husband in front of his own daughter. It's funny? You animal, I hope you fry!"
That pissed me off. They'd pulled me to my feet and I walked towards the lady. "What the hell are you talking about, lady? He pulled the gun on me. I was just defending myself. For Christ's sake, lady…." In the middle of my sentence, I felt a sharp blow to the left side of my head. My last sight before losing consciousness was of a police officer handcuffing my wife. I awoke in a hospital cuffed to the bed.
When I awakened, there wasn't a soul in my room. I wondered where my wife was. Jail? Hell she didn't even move from the spot she was standing in when it all went down. "Hey", I shouted.
In comes some red-faced young cop. "You're gonna fry, hippie. What the hell were you thinking, one dead, one in critical condition. Why? Why did you shoot these people?"
"He was trying to steal my banana. I won it for my wife. He pulled a…." I didn't get to finish my sentence.
"A banana? Are you freakin' kidding me? You shot these people over a damn stuffed banana?" He went on and on.
It turns out, there was only one story told at my trial that made any sense. I lost my mind and opened fire. The victim didn't pull a gun, where were his fingerprints? Mine were all over it. The two men running at me didn't have a gun. Hell, none of these people had ever even owned a gun. There was no evidence that these were gangbangin' thugs, not admissible. Just a wonderful selection of upstanding, hard-working citizens versus a crazed sixties burn out. A drugged out hippie armed to the teeth and ready for battle.
I guess my story though true, didn't sound as good. I was walking along with my wife minding my own business. I was approached by a man, his wife and daughter. He demanded I hand over my stuffed yellow banana. Fearing for my life, I ended up killing the man and putting another in a coma. It was all about him wanting to take my yellow stuffed banana. Nope, it doesn't have a believable ring to it.
The prosecutor loved to talk about that damn banana though. He dropped that word in as often as possible. He had the most mocking look I've ever seen on a human being. He looked at me as though I was the most worthless individual to walk the earth. Then he'd look over to the jury and shake his head. They'd shake their heads too, in agreement, as it turns out. He'd stretch the phrase out emphasizing each word separately. Stuffed … yellow … banana.
"So, you're trying to tell the jury, that Tony Sandoval tried to rob you of your banana at gunpoint. Then you happened to have a knife in your hand, so, to protect the banana you sliced him to bits. Then, still in fear of losing your banana, you made sure he was dead by putting a bullet through his heart. Then when two innocent bystanders caught your eye, you must've thought they wanted your banana too. So, you opened fire and put one in a coma they'll probably never wake up from. It must've been one wonderful banana for you to end two lives and destroy two innocent families for it."
He'd go on and on like that. The witnesses were all friends and family of the victim and they looked suitably devastated when they testified. Me? Well, I refused to cut my hair and put a suit on. I wasn't about to put on some phony show. They didn't like my long hair? Tuff! It didn't have anything to do with guilt or innocence.
Well, like I said, that was over sixteen years ago. Now, I'm staring at that damn green door. Sixteen years ago, I knew what was behind it, my life. My whole life was right out that door and I was being cheated out of it. I look at the door now and wonder, is there anything left of my life on the other side. My wife gave birth to our daughter six months after the incident. I was already in jail. I've never seen her. My wife still visits, but it's rare now. She had to move to get a better job. It's a two-hour drive both ways to visit me. My daughter is sixteen now, but I've still never seen her. I want it that way. I don't want her to see me in jail. She says in her letters she understands.
My wife is going to be waiting for me. I hope so. I don't know how it's going to be once I get out. I'm still considered a murderer. They screamed when I was only convicted of manslaughter. They were all expecting murder one. They were sure they'd be able to fry me. One of the jurors believed me or so I've been told. They wanted to acquit me altogether so they say. But the other jurors convinced her to at least convict on manslaughter. The judge gave me the max sentence. He told me it was the saddest day of his life to let me off with a twenty-year sentence.
Well, the door is open. I'm about to find out what is behind it. That stupid banana pops into my head for some reason. I'm wondering what happened to it. Maybe she still has it. I go through the door laughing as I envision her standing there with my daughter, holding that big yellow stuffed banana.
-THE END-
Part 1 is posted. Be sure and read that first.
I could see two other figures rushing towards the scene. I perceived them as associates of his. I turned with the gun in my left hand and fired at the one on the right, the one pointing a gun at me. I didn't know where the bullet hit him at the time. I switched my focus to his partner. He stopped and put up his hands screaming somethin at me. "I'm not armed" is what witnesses told the officers on scene.
The man I'd stabbed began to rise up towards me reaching for the gun. It went off, hitting him in the chest. I suppose I pulled the trigger, but I don't recall doing it.
I surveyed the scene. My assailant was on the ground unmoving and silent. His wife and daughter were crying hysterically, "Tony! Tony! Noooo … " She looked up at me with terror in her eyes; it was the kind of terror you see in second-rate horror flicks.
I thought to myself, what the hell are you looking at me like that for? Your stupid husband was going to shoot me … what did you expect?
I noticed in the distance, his two associates were no longer there. I'd find out later the one guy got his friend to his car and rushed him to the emergency room. The last I heard, he was still in a coma. I'd shot him in the right thigh. He lost so much blood; it left him with barely enough brain function to breathe.
The sound of people running caught my attention. One of them shouted, "Drop that gun, mister, or I'm taking you out". Cops, I thought to myself. Why are they yelling at me, I wondered.
I realized that dropping the gun was the smart move. I could explain what happened later. It turns out they were park security. It occurred to me they weren't real cops, but I'd thought it wise to co-operate. I was the victim, me and my wife.
I realized the knife was still at the ready in my right hand. I dropped the gun and then dropped the knife on top of it. It bounced to the side making a loud, to me at least, clanking noise.
"Hit the ground. I'll shoot, don't doubt it, punk".
Punk, that pissed me off. Who the hell was he to call ME a punk? I wasn't the thug accosting two innocent people. I started to realize I was lucky to be alive. Fear finally caught up to my mind. I hid it. It wouldn't look good for me to be out of control. I had to stay cool and calm. Let this thing take its natural course.
I could see the flashing lights from several cop cars approaching with ear-splitting sirens blaring. I dropped to the ground and waited. The security officers roughly cuffed me. They shoved me forward my face hitting the uneven asphalt. They both had a knee on me holding me down, one across the back of my neck and one roughly dug into my lower back. I wasn't resisting or even moving.
My wife came to life. She'd been standing in the same spot holding that damn banana. Now, she was crying and yelling at the security officers. "You idiots! They tried to rob us. You're hurting him, he hasn't done anything. Let him go, he's not the criminal." The sight of that banana punctuating each sentence as she waved her arms made me smile.
The dudes wife stopped crying and began screaming at the officers, "Tony didn't do nuthin'. He just wanted to show the yellow thing to our daughter. He turned and cut him for no reason. Then he pulled a gun and started shooting. He's crazy." Then she turned to me, "Why? Why did you do this? You killed him. You killed my husband in front of his own daughter. It's funny? You animal, I hope you fry!"
That pissed me off. They'd pulled me to my feet and I walked towards the lady. "What the hell are you talking about, lady? He pulled the gun on me. I was just defending myself. For Christ's sake, lady…." In the middle of my sentence, I felt a sharp blow to the left side of my head. My last sight before losing consciousness was of a police officer handcuffing my wife. I awoke in a hospital cuffed to the bed.
When I awakened, there wasn't a soul in my room. I wondered where my wife was. Jail? Hell she didn't even move from the spot she was standing in when it all went down. "Hey", I shouted.
In comes some red-faced young cop. "You're gonna fry, hippie. What the hell were you thinking, one dead, one in critical condition. Why? Why did you shoot these people?"
"He was trying to steal my banana. I won it for my wife. He pulled a…." I didn't get to finish my sentence.
"A banana? Are you freakin' kidding me? You shot these people over a damn stuffed banana?" He went on and on.
It turns out, there was only one story told at my trial that made any sense. I lost my mind and opened fire. The victim didn't pull a gun, where were his fingerprints? Mine were all over it. The two men running at me didn't have a gun. Hell, none of these people had ever even owned a gun. There was no evidence that these were gangbangin' thugs, not admissible. Just a wonderful selection of upstanding, hard-working citizens versus a crazed sixties burn out. A drugged out hippie armed to the teeth and ready for battle.
I guess my story though true, didn't sound as good. I was walking along with my wife minding my own business. I was approached by a man, his wife and daughter. He demanded I hand over my stuffed yellow banana. Fearing for my life, I ended up killing the man and putting another in a coma. It was all about him wanting to take my yellow stuffed banana. Nope, it doesn't have a believable ring to it.
The prosecutor loved to talk about that damn banana though. He dropped that word in as often as possible. He had the most mocking look I've ever seen on a human being. He looked at me as though I was the most worthless individual to walk the earth. Then he'd look over to the jury and shake his head. They'd shake their heads too, in agreement, as it turns out. He'd stretch the phrase out emphasizing each word separately. Stuffed … yellow … banana.
"So, you're trying to tell the jury, that Tony Sandoval tried to rob you of your banana at gunpoint. Then you happened to have a knife in your hand, so, to protect the banana you sliced him to bits. Then, still in fear of losing your banana, you made sure he was dead by putting a bullet through his heart. Then when two innocent bystanders caught your eye, you must've thought they wanted your banana too. So, you opened fire and put one in a coma they'll probably never wake up from. It must've been one wonderful banana for you to end two lives and destroy two innocent families for it."
He'd go on and on like that. The witnesses were all friends and family of the victim and they looked suitably devastated when they testified. Me? Well, I refused to cut my hair and put a suit on. I wasn't about to put on some phony show. They didn't like my long hair? Tuff! It didn't have anything to do with guilt or innocence.
Well, like I said, that was over sixteen years ago. Now, I'm staring at that damn green door. Sixteen years ago, I knew what was behind it, my life. My whole life was right out that door and I was being cheated out of it. I look at the door now and wonder, is there anything left of my life on the other side. My wife gave birth to our daughter six months after the incident. I was already in jail. I've never seen her. My wife still visits, but it's rare now. She had to move to get a better job. It's a two-hour drive both ways to visit me. My daughter is sixteen now, but I've still never seen her. I want it that way. I don't want her to see me in jail. She says in her letters she understands.
My wife is going to be waiting for me. I hope so. I don't know how it's going to be once I get out. I'm still considered a murderer. They screamed when I was only convicted of manslaughter. They were all expecting murder one. They were sure they'd be able to fry me. One of the jurors believed me or so I've been told. They wanted to acquit me altogether so they say. But the other jurors convinced her to at least convict on manslaughter. The judge gave me the max sentence. He told me it was the saddest day of his life to let me off with a twenty-year sentence.
Well, the door is open. I'm about to find out what is behind it. That stupid banana pops into my head for some reason. I'm wondering what happened to it. Maybe she still has it. I go through the door laughing as I envision her standing there with my daughter, holding that big yellow stuffed banana.
I could see two other figures rushing towards the scene. I perceived them as associates of his. I turned with the gun in my left hand and fired at the one on the right, the one pointing a gun at me. I didn't know where the bullet hit him at the time. I switched my focus to his partner. He stopped and put up his hands screaming somethin at me. "I'm not armed" is what witnesses told the officers on scene.
The man I'd stabbed began to rise up towards me reaching for the gun. It went off, hitting him in the chest. I suppose I pulled the trigger, but I don't recall doing it.
I surveyed the scene. My assailant was on the ground unmoving and silent. His wife and daughter were crying hysterically, "Tony! Tony! Noooo … " She looked up at me with terror in her eyes; it was the kind of terror you see in second-rate horror flicks.
I thought to myself, what the hell are you looking at me like that for? Your stupid husband was going to shoot me … what did you expect?
I noticed in the distance, his two associates were no longer there. I'd find out later the one guy got his friend to his car and rushed him to the emergency room. The last I heard, he was still in a coma. I'd shot him in the right thigh. He lost so much blood; it left him with barely enough brain function to breathe.
The sound of people running caught my attention. One of them shouted, "Drop that gun, mister, or I'm taking you out". Cops, I thought to myself. Why are they yelling at me, I wondered.
I realized that dropping the gun was the smart move. I could explain what happened later. It turns out they were park security. It occurred to me they weren't real cops, but I'd thought it wise to co-operate. I was the victim, me and my wife.
I realized the knife was still at the ready in my right hand. I dropped the gun and then dropped the knife on top of it. It bounced to the side making a loud, to me at least, clanking noise.
"Hit the ground. I'll shoot, don't doubt it, punk".
Punk, that pissed me off. Who the hell was he to call ME a punk? I wasn't the thug accosting two innocent people. I started to realize I was lucky to be alive. Fear finally caught up to my mind. I hid it. It wouldn't look good for me to be out of control. I had to stay cool and calm. Let this thing take its natural course.
I could see the flashing lights from several cop cars approaching with ear-splitting sirens blaring. I dropped to the ground and waited. The security officers roughly cuffed me. They shoved me forward my face hitting the uneven asphalt. They both had a knee on me holding me down, one across the back of my neck and one roughly dug into my lower back. I wasn't resisting or even moving.
My wife came to life. She'd been standing in the same spot holding that damn banana. Now, she was crying and yelling at the security officers. "You idiots! They tried to rob us. You're hurting him, he hasn't done anything. Let him go, he's not the criminal." The sight of that banana punctuating each sentence as she waved her arms made me smile.
The dudes wife stopped crying and began screaming at the officers, "Tony didn't do nuthin'. He just wanted to show the yellow thing to our daughter. He turned and cut him for no reason. Then he pulled a gun and started shooting. He's crazy." Then she turned to me, "Why? Why did you do this? You killed him. You killed my husband in front of his own daughter. It's funny? You animal, I hope you fry!"
That pissed me off. They'd pulled me to my feet and I walked towards the lady. "What the hell are you talking about, lady? He pulled the gun on me. I was just defending myself. For Christ's sake, lady…." In the middle of my sentence, I felt a sharp blow to the left side of my head. My last sight before losing consciousness was of a police officer handcuffing my wife. I awoke in a hospital cuffed to the bed.
When I awakened, there wasn't a soul in my room. I wondered where my wife was. Jail? Hell she didn't even move from the spot she was standing in when it all went down. "Hey", I shouted.
In comes some red-faced young cop. "You're gonna fry, hippie. What the hell were you thinking, one dead, one in critical condition. Why? Why did you shoot these people?"
"He was trying to steal my banana. I won it for my wife. He pulled a…." I didn't get to finish my sentence.
"A banana? Are you freakin' kidding me? You shot these people over a damn stuffed banana?" He went on and on.
It turns out, there was only one story told at my trial that made any sense. I lost my mind and opened fire. The victim didn't pull a gun, where were his fingerprints? Mine were all over it. The two men running at me didn't have a gun. Hell, none of these people had ever even owned a gun. There was no evidence that these were gangbangin' thugs, not admissible. Just a wonderful selection of upstanding, hard-working citizens versus a crazed sixties burn out. A drugged out hippie armed to the teeth and ready for battle.
I guess my story though true, didn't sound as good. I was walking along with my wife minding my own business. I was approached by a man, his wife and daughter. He demanded I hand over my stuffed yellow banana. Fearing for my life, I ended up killing the man and putting another in a coma. It was all about him wanting to take my yellow stuffed banana. Nope, it doesn't have a believable ring to it.
The prosecutor loved to talk about that damn banana though. He dropped that word in as often as possible. He had the most mocking look I've ever seen on a human being. He looked at me as though I was the most worthless individual to walk the earth. Then he'd look over to the jury and shake his head. They'd shake their heads too, in agreement, as it turns out. He'd stretch the phrase out emphasizing each word separately. Stuffed … yellow … banana.
"So, you're trying to tell the jury, that Tony Sandoval tried to rob you of your banana at gunpoint. Then you happened to have a knife in your hand, so, to protect the banana you sliced him to bits. Then, still in fear of losing your banana, you made sure he was dead by putting a bullet through his heart. Then when two innocent bystanders caught your eye, you must've thought they wanted your banana too. So, you opened fire and put one in a coma they'll probably never wake up from. It must've been one wonderful banana for you to end two lives and destroy two innocent families for it."
He'd go on and on like that. The witnesses were all friends and family of the victim and they looked suitably devastated when they testified. Me? Well, I refused to cut my hair and put a suit on. I wasn't about to put on some phony show. They didn't like my long hair? Tuff! It didn't have anything to do with guilt or innocence.
Well, like I said, that was over sixteen years ago. Now, I'm staring at that damn green door. Sixteen years ago, I knew what was behind it, my life. My whole life was right out that door and I was being cheated out of it. I look at the door now and wonder, is there anything left of my life on the other side. My wife gave birth to our daughter six months after the incident. I was already in jail. I've never seen her. My wife still visits, but it's rare now. She had to move to get a better job. It's a two-hour drive both ways to visit me. My daughter is sixteen now, but I've still never seen her. I want it that way. I don't want her to see me in jail. She says in her letters she understands.
My wife is going to be waiting for me. I hope so. I don't know how it's going to be once I get out. I'm still considered a murderer. They screamed when I was only convicted of manslaughter. They were all expecting murder one. They were sure they'd be able to fry me. One of the jurors believed me or so I've been told. They wanted to acquit me altogether so they say. But the other jurors convinced her to at least convict on manslaughter. The judge gave me the max sentence. He told me it was the saddest day of his life to let me off with a twenty-year sentence.
Well, the door is open. I'm about to find out what is behind it. That stupid banana pops into my head for some reason. I'm wondering what happened to it. Maybe she still has it. I go through the door laughing as I envision her standing there with my daughter, holding that big yellow stuffed banana.
-THE END-
 Recognized |
A tad long, but not long enough to break in to two parts. Hope it holds your interest.
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