Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Sequel to "Lamb to the Slaughter"

Custom User Avatar
More by this author

I open my eyes in shock. I look around this peculiar room filled with detectives as I see through this white fabric sheet on top of me. I stay still as they poke me with their scalpels and hit be with a skull chisel. But that came with pain so I quiver and tremble gently so that they can stop hurting me with their obscure tools and gazing running lights.
“Jack, stop moving it, we need to make an autopsy for his body.” said Charlie with a sigh as he took of his gloves.
“I swear it wasn’t me, maybe he still has activity going on in the brain causing anxiety attacks.” said Jack in as he gringles about the grody Campbell soup that he left cold, like the typical Jack I know.
“Quit lighting up the tilt sign, now I’ve finished this fingerprint testing; let’s go back to the heat, shall we?” , said Charlie as he shut his case while putting on his hat and opening the door.
“Righto, but you shouldn’t always rattle your cage…” said Jack as he looked at me for one last time and took off his lab suit.
“Well if you want to go then put an egg in your shoe and beat it!” said Bill as they left the room and locked the door shut.
I slowly take off the white sheet that was on me, I look around the room; I had no sweat in escaping from here, but what happened? Am I dead? It can’t be possible, I know I'm alive, but why do they think…. I gradually feel frosted. I remember getting hit by a large object…..I cast an eyeball towards a paper that in fact was a letter:
Dear Ms. Mary Maloney,
There has been an autopsy made that might help find the germ that created this unfortunate murder. We found dried blood and bruises on the top left of his head, he must have been hit with a club of sort. We are predicting that there was an altercation between Patrick and an anonymous man that left him dead; we will inform you more by February when we get our fingerprint results.
Sincerely,
                Jack Noonan
I drop the paper and touch my head; I rub my fingers together as I touched this red substance near my ear …… the leg of a lamb. They thought that I was dead when this was just blood from a lamb leg  that I was hit with….so I must have passed out and been trapped in a coma! I search in my back pocket, I find the keys for the office and I take Charlie’s earth pads as I walk out the door. It was as if I was a fream, I go walk down several blocks and I see my 1953 Cadillac and hop right in. But right before I go, I notice a newspaper stand and squint to see the date; December 12th, 1953. The last time I remember, I went to The Dingo drive-in on October the 3rd…..but I’m vacant.
Wait a second….who hit me with a lamb leg? If I’ve been in a coma for 2 months and the “attempted” murder has still not been caught, then this must mean that they are calculated and clever at the most. I press on the gas pedal and my car starts zooming through the road, I examine my car and notice a picture, clipped on to the edge of the window. Who is this young lady?
Blonde hair….blue eyes…..familiar face…. “Wait a second!” I tell myself as I slam the brakes. “This had to be my wife, the one who did those chores around the house ,she was pregnant, WE were expecting a baby….but I don’t love her….?” I said in a confused tone as I hear honking sounds from behind. “I swear that  it was as if she hit me with that leg lamb….but she’s a woman….that can’t be possible”, I said as I drove to a local barber shop , “Sal’s Lucky Barber Shop”. I pull the car over by the curb, “Time for a new nest….something greaser like.” I said in a muttering voice as I walked in to the barber.
“Hello yoot, nice threads, how can I help you?” said the barber as he shaved a man’s hair into a buzz cut.
“Hey, mind if you bleach my hair and get me a wig chop, a jelly roll would be good. But, I'm skinny, and I really need to get a nice perm at the least, I only got a quarter.” I said in a disappointing voice hoping that he would feel pity.
“That’s fine, as long as you give me more than a thin one, I’ll cut your hair. Nice car man seems like it’s souped up, you in a hurry?” said the barber as he got the bleach and sisccors.
“I indeed am…. smog in the noggin as usual, that I had an important appointment today!” I said in my enthusiastic, lying voice as I stared at my watch and looked around as if I was really busy.
“Well you should have told me so! Don’t worry you will look real nice! Let’s hit the bottle!” said the barber as he dumped the bleached on to my hair. I hear the snipping of the sisccors as I look down to see a mountain of hair. “All done heat, proud to help you like you help us in crime”, said the barber in a delighted voice.
“Thanks, do you know any places with great threads? I asked with a pinch of wonder.
“There’s the Gotham thrift shop, but those are for punks down Meadow avenue.” said the barber as he looked through the window.
I left without a response as I opened the door and walked down the street, I went into the thrift shop. I grabbed a used jacket, a Harley Davidson shirt and some nice jeans for a nickel and I now felt a different life to come. I looked towards the mirror; I no longer looked like I was the heat or a detective , I’m like a greaser , it looked good enough to convince my wife to like me , and with that , revenge sounded simple.
“Now where do I live? My memory is as bad as expired liquor…Now where is that picture?” I said as I opened the chariot door and examined the picture. “This is a postcard, hmmm the address.” I flip over the card. “My wife must be bad news. Ain’t that a bite?” I said as I turned in the car keys of the chariot, grinning. I rode around Fairview until I met Williamsburg street. “Now which house….it was blue, if I can at most remember….” I pressed on the breaks. There it was that sky blue house of MINE.I walk up to the steps and rang the doorbell, I pulled my shirt down and picked up my pants.
“Hello, I don’t have time if these are detectives or journalists….. I recommend you to tune out.” said Mary Maloney as I noticed that she must be peeking through the eye hole of the door.
“It looks like you need slodge? Eh? You look a bit like an actor, hey are you that lady whose husband was murdered? I heard it all over the radio!” I said to convince her that I was cruisin’ for a bruisin’.
“Are you writing a book? Leave me alone! I'm drowning in the fact that my husband is gone and that I feel low!” exclaimed Mary as I hear her drop a glass plate.
“Are you righto? You look like your living in Nowheresville?” I said as I snickered quietly and tried to look through the window that was baffled with curtains. I heard a snap and click as a door opened.
“I’m not alright, I’m having my 9th month of pregnancy in 2 weeks for an ankle-biter soon to come and I have no clue how I will take care of this child without a man!” said Mary with despair as she rubbed her fingers on the apron.
“Hey, don’t worry; I can get you cash, fast. I work for a Ford car company, chill.” I said in a calm voice towards her.
“And how do I know if you’re a shuckster? You seem like a spaz.” said Mary as she put her hands on her hips in anger.
“We can be tight, look at this”, I just realized that before I was hit I got my 20 dollar salary with a raise. I gently pulled it out of my pocket and held it in the palm of my hands.
Her eyes went gleaming, she tried to grab it. “Oh would you look at that, I guess brunch would be nice for a generous man like you.” said my foolish wife as she let me in. From then on, she let me stay in the guest bedroom, and I waited and waited till she would give birth .She was like a tyrant, she switched the roles, instead of her doing the chores, she made me do the chores. It’s been 2 weeks; Mary has recently given birth to a baby boy. She’s in the living room sitting on a rocking chair as she put her 2 day old baby in the crib.“Hey nosebleed , get me a soda or a slurg , make it quick and I think beef for supper would be good , place it in the oven for  30 minutes.”, said Mary in her dictating voice.
Oh, I’ll get you…..I thought in anger, it seemed like the perfect moment for her life to come to an end. I walk to the fridge, and grabbed her coke as I opened it for her.
“Now carry on…” said the wife that I whom never loved.
I walk towards the freezer…. getting hit by a cow round would be pleasing. I walk up the stairs towards her. “Get bent!” I yelled.
“What?” said Mary in confusion, as she got a blow to the head. I decided to hit her several more times. But of course I had to make sure that she’s dead. She cannot end up like me, alive. I grabbed her by the legs and took this passed out body into the basement where the freezer was , locking it. She was gone, I thought in shock, I grabbed the cow leg and put it in the oven. Now she will now how I feel, but won’t have the opportunity to actually live!
“You fade out, Mary, but no one has the jets like me.”, I said as I laughed and took the baby. It started to cry and wail, so I decided to just leave it on the front neighbor’s porch. I ran off and put on my police attire in the chariot and repeatedly practiced saying, “What’s buzzin, cuzzin?” towards the car mirror as I drove off.
“How innocent can I be?” I said , chuckling.
1950’s Slang Terms:
Actor: show-off
Ain’t that a bite: that’s too bad
Ankle-biter: a child
Are you writing a book: you’re asking too many questions
Bad news: depressing
Cast an eyeball: to look
Cruisin’ for a bruisin’:looking for trouble
Drowning: baffled
Earth pads: shoes
Fade out: To break a promise
Germ: a pest
Get bent: Drop dead
Gringles: worries
Grundy: sloppy , messy or dirty
Heat: police
Hit the bottle: to bleach one’s hair blonde
Jelly roll: men’s hair combed up and forward on both sides , brought together in the middle of the forehead.
Jets: smarts, brains
Lighting up the tilt sign: not telling the truth
Low: depressed
Nest: a hair-do
Nosebleed: Stupid (Not a compliment)
Nowheresville: a boring , bad place to be
Punk: a weak, useless person
Put an egg in your shoe and beat it!: leave!
Rattle your cage: get upset
Righto: okay
Running lights: eyes
Shuckster: liar
Skinny: broke , without money
Slodge: a friend
Slurg: a milkshake
Smog in the noggin: lost memory ; forgot
Souped up: a car modified to go fast
Spaz: someone who is uncoordinated. A klutz.
Thin one : a dime
Threads: clothes
Tight: good friends
Tune out: to go away
Vacant: uncertain
What’s buzzin , cuzzin: what’s new?
Wig chop: a haircut
Yoot: a youngster




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback