The Id Saga (part 1)

The Strange Tale of Liam Fitzgerald
1
“Where am I?” The thought clangs loudly in my mind. Too much whiskey has the habit of turning simple thoughts into the reverberate sound of a blacksmiths hammer. My surroundings are vaguely familiar as I scan the area with bloodshot eyes. Home. I’m Home. When did I get here? Last I remember I was in the Rusty Spoon, a bar down the road. The thought that standing shouldn’t be this hard crosses my mind as I fall, face first, into the wall. Clumsily, I attempt to catch myself on the nearby dresser, knocking many of the items that were scattered messily atop,
to the floor with me. As I lay there with my face smashed against the carpet he light from the bathroom invades my peripheral vision giving the impression that a path to heaven has opened and the brilliant holy aura is making the darkness flee in fear. It’s a beautiful sight but the film slowly recedes from my newly opened eyes and the world becomes reality. I lift myself off the floor to make my way to the bathroom door but that proves to be more difficult than expected. Stepping on my keys that had been flung from the dresser left me off balance once again as I stumble forward toward the brilliant light coming from the portal of the porcelain god. I sloppily enter and fall to worship, giving my sacrifice of what smells like chicken and bourbon with a twist of depravity. For some strange reason a vivid thought comes to me as I dry heave the rest of yesterdays vices into the stagnant piss water. The image of a beautiful young girl flashes into my mind. Black hair. Green eyes. I see her clearly; youthful, vibrant. My penis, now straining against my boxers, begins twitching with each convulsion of my body. The last of the ordeal comes and I stand looking at myself in the mirror.
“Jesus, you’re a sick fuck.” I turn on my faucet and splash my face with some cold water. As I dry my face with a stale towel that smells like mildew I catch a fleeting glimpse of a new face in the mirror where mine used to be. A man in a black suit and a black fedora. The hat covered most of his face; all that was visible was a long twisted black beard and a crooked grin that looks like the smile that a psychopath must have when he’s slicing some poor schlub’s stomach open and watching the guts spill to the floor. The vision hit me hard; I stumble back and fall onto the dirty shit-brown carpet of my apartment. It hits a nerve in my body and I break out into a cold sweat. Fear. Absolute Fear. Not the kind of fear you feel when you watch a scary movie or the kind of anxious fear you have when you walk down a dark alley alone. No. This feeling was different. I’m not even sure if fear is the correct word. Mustering what strength is left in my debilitated body I lift myself off my floor once again and walk back to the mirror. I study it, but all I see is the face of a man who has clearly spent the last night, maybe two, drinking heavily. I shake my head at my foolishness. “Fucking dumbass.” I look down. “ Scared the stiffy right out of me. Fuck it, I need to get to work.” Without giving it another thought I take a shower. I think about jerking off but I don’t have the time. I change into some grey khakis, a white shirt with a few mustard stains from the hotdog I had last week, and a stupid tie that I got from a fat co-worker with a lousy sense of humor. It was a depiction of the hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil monkeys but the monkeys are wearing tutus. Like I said a stupid tie. Grabbing my keys from the floor I make for the door and leave with an uneasy feeling that I choose to ignore.


2
There he is that fat fuck; Standing in the doorway blocking the way to my cubicle. He looks at me with some shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He’s the dick that got me this fucking tie.
“Nice tie, Liam.”
“Go fuck yourself, Bob.” Did I just say that? I must have, judging by the shocked, sweaty face of my gelatinous co-worker. I’m sure I’ll catch some shit from that but I just squeeze by and make my way to my desk. A short man with a scrunched up red face that looks like he’s in the constant state of trying to shit and glasses to big for his head stands by my chair. He’s been waiting for me.
“You’re late, Liam. This is the forth time in the last three weeks. I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Do you at least have an excuse?”
I stare into his bulbous brown eyes searching for an excuse through the cluttered vaults of my mind. I couldn’t find any. I hate this job. I hate the people here. I hate the flickering fluorescent bulbs that the janitor has yet to replace. I hate the yellow-white tinge they force on reality. It makes you feel like you’re in some terrible nightmare that you hope to wake up from but you never do.
“Sorry boss, I tried to get here but I just couldn’t seem to get you’re wife’s mouth off my cock.” What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m going to get fired. The face of my boss now changed from red to a strange maroon color with a hint of purple. The veins in his forehead start to swell and all I can think about is how great it would be if his head exploded, spraying the office with his brains.
“Mr. Fitzgerald, I’d like to see you in my office in ten minutes.” He leaves stomping like an enraged rhino. I sit down putting my face in my hands wondering what the hell I think I’m doing. The phone rings. My mind tells me to ignore it but after 10 years of answering this phone my instinct gets the better of me.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. Fitzgerald, How are you today. Strange would be my guess. I do hope you don’t want to back out of our little arrangement. It was, after all, your suggestion.”
“Who the fuck is this? Steve? Are you fucking with me Steve? If you are I swear to fucking God I’ll tear your fucking head off! I’m in no mood for this shit.”
“No, Mr. Fitzgerald, this is not your friend Steve Robinson from accounting. Don’t you remember? We met at the bar the other night.” Great. I can’t remember anything that happened these last few days. What kind of weirdo did I run into? “Perhaps if you looked at your computer screen things will become apparent.” I look at my computer screen but all I see is the report that I was working on. The screen begins to shake and twitch like a TV set that hasn’t been tuned right. The face of the man in black appears suddenly in my computer screen. The sight strikes me like a brick to the face and I fall backwards with my chair. I hit my head on the edge of the makeshift wall that’s directly behind me. Nobody even notices. “Stand up, Mr. Fitzgerald, before you bring attention to yourself.” The image of the man shrinks. His whole body is now on the screen. He stands there looking like some cross between a killer and a vulture. A destroyer and consumer. This time I see his face clearly. A long sharp nose prevalently protrudes from a pale, skinny, sickly, sunken face. His eyes were deep set like a man with a terminal disease. There’s no whites, solid black. I couldn’t even tell if he had pupils. His hands are thin and wiry like some witch from a fairytale. He has them interlocked and close. His venomous voice burns into my ears like drops of sulfuric acid.
“Who are you? What do you want with me? How the fuck are you in my computer?”
“Now, Now, Mr. Fitzgerald, calm yourself. I thought that your mind was strong enough to handle the metamorphosis but it seems I was wrong. Don’t worry, you will understand soon enough.”
“What the fuck are you talking about. I want some…”
“Who are you talking to, Liam? Are you ok?” It was Bob.
“Oh, uhh, I was… talking…?” The computer wasn’t even turned on and the phone was still on the hook. Did I just imagine all of that. No. It was too real. I rub the top of my head where I hit it. The pain was still there but there was no wound. “Uhhh…I’m sorry, Bob, I’m just not feeling too good today.”
“I understand, you were close to her weren’t you?”
“Who?”
“Haven’t you heard? Sally has been missing for the last couple of days. Nobody knows where she is, not her friends, her parents, anybody.” I begin to get a strange sick feeling in my stomach. Strange. Almost as if I’m guilty of something but I haven’t a clue what it could be. “I heard what you said to Gordon. What were you thinking; he’s going to fire your ass for sure.” Shit. So that part was real. “Well, get to feeling better, I’ll see you around I hope.” He waves as he waddles away. I need a drink. The phone rings. Slowly I pick it up.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Fitzgerald, please come to my office…now.”
“Yes, sir.”
3
This coffee is terrible. The waitress comes over as I sit the mug down on the teal blue table that had the words Bill’s a fag carved on the surface. I wonder if Bill knows.
“Can ah get you anything else, sweety?” Yeah, you can learn to make a decent cup of fucking coffee.
“No….thank you.”
“Well, if you need anything just get ma attention.” I stare at her ass as she walks away. You could tell that she used to be quite the looker but years of hard living and working in a shit hole like this just sapped her body of youth. 23 going on 40. I can’t believe I got fired. What am I going to do? Why the fuck did I have to say that shit to the boss. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What’s the matter Mr. Fitzgerald? Hard day at work?” Oh god, not that voice.
“Leave me the fuck alone. You’re not real.”
“Oh, how hurtful Mr. Fitzgerald or may I call you Liam?” I look up to see the strange man in black reflecting out of the chrome napkin holder. I must be going crazy.
“Look, I’m not going to sit here and have a conversation with a napkin holder. The fucking waitress is already looking at me funny.”
“Fine, Fine, Have it your way.” He walks right towards the window, disappears as he passes the edge of the napkin holder, then reappears in the window. A small reflection of a man walking across the café. I wonder if anyone else can see him. He makes it to the door then disappears. Just as I was hoping that my delusions had left me the front entrance flings open to the reveal the man in black walking slowly in. His very existence seemed to devour the light that surrounded him causing a strange tunnel vision effect. My eyes are wide, my mouth open. No one else acknowledges his existence which makes me wonder if I really have gone off the deep end. He walks over and sits in the booth with me. His murderous grin gives me chills.
“I swear, Liam, you humans and your surprised expressions.”
“You’re not really here. I’m not talking to you.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake Liam. Miss. Oh Miss.” His boney fingers points to the air trying to gain the attention of the waitress. I shake my head thinking that this won’t prove anything to me but perhaps prove to him that he is not real. That’s right Liam. Your imaginary friend has the problem not you. Fucking dumbass.
“What can I get for ya?” She actually came over.
“Are you the one that made this coffee?”
“Yesir, I sure did.”
“Wonderful. You see my friend here had told me that this was the absolute worst coffee that he’s ever tasted. What was you said it tasted like, ah yes a ‘rotten breakfast burrito wrapped in a homeless man’s shit stained underwear’. Now, I personally find that to be a hard pill to swallow and I was wondering if you would be a dear and bring me a cup so that I might prove this fellow wrong.” The waitress’s shocked face turns to me. I’m pretty sure she’s going to smack the fuck out of me.
“I…I….I never said that.” I don’t know what to say. She leaves with a huff to get the man in black’s coffee. “What the fuck? You asshole. Why the fuck did you do that?”
“I had to prove to you that I was real, did I not? Well? Do you think me a delusion now?” I hate his smile. It never goes away.
“Ok, you’re real I guess. So what the fuck do you want with me?”
“In due time, Liam, in due time.”
“So what do I call you?
“My name is Id. You can call me Id.”
“Your name is Id? That’s a weird fucking name.”
“Why, because it doesn’t fit into your perfect little scheme of how the world should be? What little you know, Mr. Fitzgerald, and I think its time to show you a little truth.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The man named Id snaps his claw like fingers. The sound bounces through my head growing louder and louder. I clasp my hands against my ears and close my eyes in pain. The sound disappears as fast as it comes. Opening my eyes I quickly realize that I’m no longer in the café but I’m somehow back in my boss’s office. I rub my face, trying desperately to get a grasp on the situation. What is this? I feel a strange smelling, sticky liquid on my hands and face. Blood. I’m covered in blood. I look down to see my boss’s bloated body split from groin to sternum. His intestines are tossed haphazardly around the room. What the fuck is going on? I turn and run out the door as fast as I possibly can.
4
My car won’t start. I’m stuck, at the fucking scene of the crime and I’m stuck. I wonder how long till the cops show up. I can still hear screaming. Why didn’t I take this piece of shit to the mechanic when I had the chance. I just kept putting it off and now look. I guess I never thought that I would have to flee from a murder scene. I still can’t believe I did that. I glance up into my rear view mirror just waiting to see red and blue lights swarming up but instead I see the putrid, grinning face of Id.
“Hello, Mr. Fitzgerald, how are you feeling? Surprised? A bit nauseous perhaps?”
“You motherfucker, you did this didn’t you. This is all your fault.”
“Now, now, Liam, you don’t see blood on my hands do you? No, this was all your doing. You still don’t remember our agreement.” As he prattles on about god knows what I reach into my glove compartment where I keep a Saturday Night Special fully loaded for just such an occasion. “I don’t understand this lack of cognizance. Perhaps…” I spin around, point the gun at his face, and pull the trigger. His nose explodes out of the back of his head along with the rest of his face and brains. The back window shatters and shards of glass rain down as three squad cars pull up alarms blaring and lights spinning.
“Don’t move, mother fucker, let me see your hands!” I knew the cops would not be sympathetic with the body, minus the head, of Id bleeding out the back of my car. There’s only one thing left to do. I put the barrel of the gun in my mouth and pull the trigger.