Mickey Sanders Formerly of the Living

                                            Mickey Sanders Formerly of the Living 



                                            By Kenan T Ozee











Finishing off his eighth beer, Mickey peered over the top of his glass at the pale figure 



underneath the old Zenith T.V mounted above the end of the bar.



He couldn’t get drunk, so why did he keep drinking? It wasn’t for the taste, food and



drink had no taste for him anymore. It was probably some need he had to stay connected



to the old Mickey, the alive Mickey.



“I’m a Vampire” he said casually. Not sure why he told this to a stranger.



“I know.”



“No, really”



“I know”



Okay, thought Mickey, tossing a couple of peanuts into his mouth.



“Wait. I don’t mean like some role playing Goth kid. I mean blood drinking undead.



Mickey was surprised at how hard he was trying to convince this guy, who seemed oddly



familiar.



“Yes, I know. Really.”



Mickey could only stare. I just told you that I’m an all powerful, well sort of powerful



supernatural being and all I get is a yeah I know.



The pale figure leaned in closer. “I saw you in the alley with the prostitute.”



“Prostitute?” Aw man I thought she seemed overly friendly.”



That was over two hours ago he thought. He guessed it was possible that this guy could



have been sitting in front of him for the past two hours and not notice. Mickey had



always been pretty self centered even before he died.



“So you saw me huh? And didn’t call the cops?”



“No.”



“Not a very good samaritan are we?”



Simulating a phone receiver with his thumb and pinky, “Hello police I just witnessed a



Vampire attack… hello..hello…”



“Yeah well you believe it.”



“I saw you.”



The pale figure was weighing his options from the laminated menu he pulled out from



between a napkin holder and a bottle of hot sauce.



“What is a screaming onion ball?”



“What were you doing in that alley anyway?”



“Waiting for you to finish.”



Mickey stared confused.



“I’m a reaper, of souls.” He said closely eyeing a peanut.



“What, so your death?”



Bringing the peanut up to his nose for closer inspection he chuckled “death is an event



not a person.” He inhaled the peanut into one of his nostrils. After clawing at his nose for



a few frenzied seconds he placed his thumb against his unblocked nostril and forced air



through the clogged orifice, propelling the peanut back into the wood bowl from which it



came.



Mickey wasn’t sure he believed the stranger, but he was intrigued by the fact that the guy



didn’t seem to pass judgment on his what, lifestyle? That didn’t sound right. “Wait are



you here to watch over me?”



“You’re thinking guardian angel. I don’t know if you qualify for that.”



“No I was there for the girl.”



“Oh so it was her time. Now I don’t feel so bad.” That was lie. Mickey still felt remorse



sometimes. If he had waited too long to feed and succumbed to the “urge” his victims



would be victims of opportunity. If on the other hand he started the hunt earlier he would



stalk prey that he deemed deserving of an untimely death. People that he perceived to be



a criminal or someone that had that look about them that said hey “I’m a perverted



degenerate, or some who resembled anyone on his high school football team. In the case



of the latter he would usually rummage through their pockets taking wallets or jewelry or



whatever.



Mickey had the ability to place his victims in a trance. He did this to spare them any kind



trauma before their death and also Mickey had a problem with confrontation.





“You see when a person dies their soul needs to be re-deposited into the ether, for lack



of a better word.” The stranger continued.



Mickey pulled out some bills and paid his tab.



“I’m headed out you want to come?”



“Sure.”



The two strolled down the street. Mickey had already fed so he didn’t have that anxious



need that usually forced him into town every couple of days, and the stranger just seemed



to go with the flow.



The stranger gave Mickey a kind of peaceful feeling. He didn’t give off that jittery vibe



most living people did.



Since he died Mickey became acutely aware of the fact that the living always seemed to



be fighting internal problems that pulled them in different directions. He had a hard time



empathizing with people’s day to day struggles. He came to realize the thing that



compelled most people to do what they did was a fear of death. Not just theirs but of



those that they loved.



If you asked most people what was most important to them they would list career, homes,



cars. More to the point they valued money. Money is a symbol of survival. What are



people trying to survive? Why death of course.



People often list suffering as their primary fear, but in reality many people fear death.



Once you’ve died your fear has died. So it becomes difficult to be around people that are



in a constant state of fear. Even if they don’t know that they are the vibe they give off is



unbearable to those that are hyper sensitive.



“So how old are you?”



“I’m not an age, I mean I wasn’t born. I don’t think, I’ve just always been.



“Well you look really young for someone who has always been.”



“This is my first time in physical form.”



“What are you normally?”



“Just energy.”



Mickey struggled with all this. “What made you decide to take physical form?”



“As I waited for the prostitute to die so I could assist her soul to make the transition, I



was struck by the uniqueness of your two souls mingling.



“Wait, two souls? I don’t have a soul.”



“Yes you do?



Mickey was startled by this. He hadn’t been startled by anything in a long time.



“I had never witnessed anything like it before. I was naturally curious about you and



wanted to observe you closer.” The Reaper continued to explain when he realized there



was no one there. He looked back to find Mickey a few yards behind him wide eyed



visibly rattled.



“I can’t have a … I mean, I’m…



“Dead?” the Reaper asked.



“I’m evil.”



“I don’t know what that means…”



“Evil? It means…”



“I know the definition. I’m just saying I can’t discern what’s good or evil.”



“What?!” Mickey shouted.



“Of all the shit that’s gone on over the years you don’t know what evil is?” Spittle flying



from his mouth he was now fully enraged.





The slightly crooked head lights of Becca’s Dodge Colt shone on the two figures arguing



on the side of the road.



“Oh my god!” screamed Maggie “It’s really him.”



“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”





The Reaper studied the headlights coming toward them as Mickey struggled with this



new revelation. He would have bet a gold nickel that he was a soulless minion of Lucifer



recruited to his unholy army of darkness, to bring Armageddon to the hapless mortals of



this world. “Oh god, listen to me.” He thought “I sound nuttier than those geeks at the



comic shop.”



“Hey, you guys need a ride?”





“I’m Becca and this is Maggie.” The chatty one said.



“Hi.” The Reaper said. “This is Mickey and I’m…,” looking at Mickey for any suggestions.



He hadn’t seen a need for a name up until this point.



“Oh, uh his name is …”



“We know who you are.” Giggled the front seat.



“You do?” Asked the back seat.



“Yeah, your Butch Cartman from Party Loft season 2”



“Aw man I thought you looked familiar. Mickey said.



“I just mimicked an image off a poster on the wall of the alley.”



“It was awesome the way you convinced Dakota that Skyler and Brent were conspiring



against her to vote Winston out and  then expose Skyler  as the  one who throw out Tag’s



insulin.” Maggie said.



“Yeah and then that bitch Maxine…”



“Hey girls the thing is he’s not this Butch guy.”



“No?” Asked Becca looking wide eyed in the rear mirror.



“No. His name is ah, Dalton.” One of the basic cable channels that Mickey got at the



motel played a movie about this guy Dalton all the time. So that was the first name that



came to mind.



“Dalton what?” asked Maggie suspiciously.



“Just … Dalton.”



“So where are you guys headed?” Becca asked as the Colt stopped at a red light in front



of McKinnley’s heavy equipment rental.



“No place in particular.” Mickey said. “Where you girls headed?”



“Well we were cruising the strip, but it was kind of dead. So we thought we’d get



something to eat. You guys hungry?”



Mickey could tell the girls believed that Dalton was Butch Cartman. He gave a look to



Dalton that said It’s cool with me if you want to.



“If you guys don’t mind the company.” Dalton said.



“Naw, you can come if you want .” said Maggie, trying to appear cool.





Inside the State Diner Dalton decided to have the country fried steak and fried green



tomatoes. The waitress made her seventh trip to their table to ask if there was anything



else Dalton needed. Maggie asked for “another diet Coke” venomously.



“I just wanted to say it was totally awesome the way you had your friend call Terry



pretending to be the police and telling him his mother, father and grandmother were on



their way to the veterinarian with his pet snake Tigger and where all killed in a fiery car



crash. So he would leave the show. You so totally played him. I mean it was just …”



“Awesome?” asked Mickey blankly staring out onto the dimly lit parking lot.



“Oh my god. Totally awesome.”



“So how’s the country fried steak?”



“Uh good?” Dalton said looking at the food. This was his first meal so he had nothing to



compare it to.



“Yeah it’s the best in the county.”



“Is there anything else I can get for you?” She was now leaning closer to him.



“A DIET COKE!” Maggie was screaming now.



“Diet Coke I guess.”



“Sure thing I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She spun around so quickly the end of her ponytail



grazed the tip of his nose.



Dalton caught Maggie glaring at him as he shoveled a heaping spoon of mashed potatoes



in his mouth.



After they ate the girls thought it would be a good idea to get a bottle and head over to the



motel Mickey was staying at “to party!”



It didn’t take Becca long to get into the spirit of things and make her move on Dalton.



Maggie was fuming. Margret Elaine Blakley decided a while back not to let people see



her upset. She wasn’t about to give that kind of power to anyone. She worked diligently



to cultivate an air of detachment. But when Becca straddled Dalton on the full size bed in



the middle of the room she thought she would drive her thumb nail through her palm. A



trick she used to help keep herself grounded in stressful situations.



“You want to go for a walk.” Maggie yelped more as a command than a question to



Mickey who was sitting at the table in the corner of the room absent mindedly spinning



an ashtray with a no smoking sticker on it’s under side.



“You don’t talk much.” Maggie said breaking the almost fifteen minute silence since they



left the room.



“I got stuff on my mind.” Mickey said kicking up gravel as they walked.



“Yeah, Like what?”



“You wouldn’t understand.”



After a couple of minutes Maggie tried again. “You know keeping stuff bottled up is



what causes things like testicular cancer.”



Mickey stopped and blinked exaggeratedly. ”Bullshit.” he laughed. And something



strange happened he began to laugh uncontrollably. He hadn’t laughed in almost a year





let alone in the last three months since he’d been turned.



“It’s not funny.” Maggie said sounding injured.



“Have you ever seen someone with testicular cancer?”



“No.” He said wiping the tears from his eyes.



“Well me either but it doesn’t sound like a good thing does it?” Arms folded, giving him



a look that said “Don’t you dare laugh again.”



“No.” He said composing himself.



“So.” She said “Tell me your story.”



“Well…” He began hesitantly.” It’s just that after thinking I was the unholy dead for the



last couple months, it turns out I have a soul.”



“Well that’s a good thing isn’t it?”



“Is it?” He asked knowing the answer.



“This way you’ll get into Heaven.”



“Yeah well I ain’t making any big plans or anything.”



“I didn’t mean now stupid.” She said punching him in the arm.



“No it’s just… you see …okay don’t freak out, but I’m a Vampire.” He could never quite



find the right tone to make that sound as ominous as it should. She stopped walking and



stared at him for a long second.



“That’s okay, my cousin in Boise is one too. She’s part of a Vampire coven or something.



The VFW near her house let’s them use one of their meeting rooms from time to time.



“She doesn’t get it.” He thought.



Ah screw it she’ll never believe it.



“So where are you from?”



“Canton .” He said.



“Why are you staying at that motel?”



“My mom met this guy and I guess they figured one mooch was enough.”



Mickey hadn’t realized that he had wandered on to the road until a car sped by blaring



its’ horn.



The driver came to a squealing stop. Throw the car into reverse and sped back towards



the two of them.



“Why don’t you watch where you’re walking moron? I don’t need to spend the next week



cleaning geek out of my grill.



Maggie noticed the passenger staring at her.



“You need a ride?” He asked her.



“Get lost jerk.”



The passenger laughed. After taking a long drag on his cigarette and a slow exhale of an



unbroken ribbon of smoke he asked “Who’s this, your little brother?” The driver



chuckled.



Maggie glared at him. “No. He’s my boyfriend.”



Mickey was still walking with his head down kicking up gravel. He was listening to the



conversation and when Maggie said boyfriend he glanced at her through his bangs. He



had seen this before. She was flirting with the passenger. Mickey had become a prop in



this little play. Oh she’d pretend to be upset at first, then they would banter back and



forth and then he would say something funny, to her anyway, and then Mickey would be



standing alone on the side of the road watching the three of them drive off into the night.



“He looks retarded.” The driver said.



“Is he? The passenger grinned. “Is your boyfriend retarded.



Maggie cocked her head. “No.” She was starting to worry. This cute guy was going to



think this spaz was really her boyfriend. She tried to think of something to keep the



passenger and his friend from driving off. “God he was cute.” She thought.



“Hey.” The cute guy was now talking to Mickey. “Are you retarded?” He flicked his



cigarette at Mickey.



Mickey stopped and locked eyes with the passenger. Up to this point he was indifferent to



what was going on between the two of them. But now he was going to kill this guy.



The passenger had spent most of his life making nerds lives miserable.



Starting with wedgies, then progressing on to swirlies and perfecting a somewhat homo-



erotic genital shaving and gluing of the pubic hairs to the face of the victim. But now he



was going to have to put a beat down on this Fag if he kept eye balling him.



He signaled to his buddy to stop the car. When he came out of the car he did it quick. He



expected his size to intimidate Mickey.



“You got a fucking problem retard?” His face was now inches from Mickey’s.



The driver positioned himself behind Mickey. Snacthing Mickey’s wallet from his back



pocket, he made a joke about the chain attached to it.



Mickey looked at Maggie he knew once it was over she would never look at him the



same again. He also knew if she freaked out he’d have to kill her too.



It happened so fast Maggie was only able to process the scene like a slide show. “Click”



the driver was on the ground dead his head turned backward. His neck resembled a towel



wrung tightly. “Click” Mickey now had the cute guy pinned against the Chevelle,



a mass of hair clutched in his fist and tearing at his throat with his teeth. The grotesque



sight of the flesh being ripped away from the neck and the gargling sound of blood



gushing from the wound was more than she could take. She knew she would never forget



the horrific death mask the cute guys face had become.



As the body fell to the ground she realized she was screaming. Mickey was now looking



at her. The lower half of his face was completely masked in bright red gore, with a



splattering of blood around his eyes and on his forehead. Was he going to kill her?



The once shy awkward geek was now the most horrific creature she had ever seen.



“You’re a …vampire!”



Rolling his eyes he said. “That’s what I was saying.”



Her breath was coming in spurts, she felt dizzy.



“Are you freaking out?” He hoped she wasn’t.



“Because if you are I’m gonna … I mean I might have to…”



“Gonna have to what?” She asked.



“Oh great. I stood up for you. And offered to listen to your problems and now



what…you’re gonna kill me?” Her voice went up an octave. With tears streaming down



her face she paced back and forth ranting about how unfair life was.



Mickey was now desperately trying to convince her that he was not going to kill her.



“Calm down, okay I’m not going to kill you, I promise.”



“Oh yeah right,” She croaked “Like I’m going to believe that. Now that I know you’re a



vampire you have to kill me. She started to sob heavily.



“I told you I was a vampire. It’s just that you were freaking out and…”



“I’m a little freaked, but I wasn’t freaking out.” Her voice had now reached such a high



pitch it was starting to crack.



After he managed to calm Maggie down, Mickey looked for a place to dump the bodies.



He found a drainage ditch about a hundred yards ahead that came out under the road. No



one would be able to see them just driving by.



Mickey went through their pockets before stripping them naked and positioning them to



appear as if they were having sex.



He made off with about fifty bucks and a cool Zippo lighter. Before heading back to



Maggie he scooped up some rain water and tried to wash off as much of the blood as he



could. He was glad he hadn’t killed her. Sure she was a brat but it was nice to have



someone to talk to.



When Mickey got back to the car he found Maggie in the drivers seat  flipping through



the radio stations.



“You okay?” He asked



“Yeah. You know I was thinking we should probably take the car. If the cops see it



abandoned they might start looking around and besides they’re not going to need it.”



He stopped her “Sounds like a good idea.”



After a couple of miles down the road Maggie asked “How did you become a vampire?”



Thinking how dopey it would have sounded had she not witnessed what had just



happened.



“Well” He began finding it easier to talk about than he thought it would be.



“After my folks split my mom who by then had clearly lost her mind, started dressing



like a twenty year old and hitting the clubs five nights a week. One morning I wake up



there’s this guy finishing off the last of the Crispy O’s. My mom tells me this is Charley



and that he was going to stay with us while his place was being painted. After six months



it became apparent that Charley wasn’t going anywhere.



Charley liked to refer to himself as an entrepreneur. Which as far as I could tell meant he



tried to sell something new every couple of months and then becoming either bored or



discouraged he would resume hogging all the peanut butter and tying up my game system



for twelve hours a day.



My mom was burning through the alimony she was getting from my dad funding



Charley’s little enterprises. Then that inevitable day came. Charley needs the basement



for his silk screening business. You need to find a new place to live. So she gives me



three hundred bucks. Sayonara Mickey. With no friends to impose on, I did the most



sensible thing I could think of. I found a bar and got shit faced.



After a while of throwing back a few, a very attractive older woman asked if she could



join me.



We started talking, well I did anyway. Now that I think about it she didn’t tell me



anything about herself. She sat through me talking about my folks, Charley, and



my band .”



“Wait your in a band?” Maggie asked



“I was we parted ways, musical differences.” That was a lie.They moved on and left him



behind.



He went on to tell her how the mysterious woman led him out behind the bar and that he



was certain his virginity was in peril, finally. Instead of making him a “man,” she killed



him.



“The last thing I remember was her hovering over me saying afterward I would be a



god.”



“So you’ve never?”



“Nope.” He was tearing a napkin he found on the dashboard into strips and rolled them



into little balls and flicking them at the glove compartment.



He died a virgin. Weird. She half considered giving him some pitty knookie, but she



couldn’t get the image of him killing the cute guy out of her head. Maybe she could get



Becca into doing it that is if she could pull the little slut of Butch long enough.



When they finally got back to the motel Butch was leaning against the second floor



railing outside of Mickey’s room.



Maggie shot him a dirty look as she bolted past him and went into the room. Mickey



stopped and leaned next to him. He was feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Maybe



all he needed was to unload on someone from time to time to make the best of this



situation.



“Did you guys do it?”



“Yes.”



“How was it?”



“Uh, good?” Said Butch



“Sounds about right.”



From inside they heard.” Oh my god he is?”



“Maggie knows I’m a vampire.”



After a minute the guys heard Maggie scream. “You did what?”



“Turns out the girls are bank robbers.” Butch said casually.



“Really?” Mickey was genuinely impressed. “Cool.”



Becca told Mickey what she had told Butch in the warm after glow that accompanies sex



with a B rated reality show personality.



Maggie and Becca had started to rob banks to fund their trip to Los Angeles. Where they



will promptly assume their careers as, an Oscar Award winning actress, and platinum



record selling pop diva. Maggie who has no real talent, but that’s okay they have all kinds



of effects and stuff that could make her sound good in the studio. The girls had already



robbed four banks and were planning their fifth.



“And the best part is that Butch said that he would help us. Isn’t that great?” She was all



giddy and stuff.



Maggie wasn’t sure it was great, but this could give her an opportunity to steal Butch



away from Becca so she was in, “totally.”



The girls had already staked out the bank they plan to rob and drew up the floor plan on



the back of a take out menu that the motel placed in every room for their guest.



In the other jobs it was just the two of them so they were only able to get away with



whatever the bank tellers had in their drawers. But with two extra bodies they would be



able to clean out the vault this time.



Maggie reasoned that the best time to hit the bank would be after lunch. There wouldn’t



be as many people and they could get in and out quickly.



“Okay here’s the plan.” Maggie said pointing at the crude drawing of the bank.



“Mickey you’ll go in first, wait, oh no you’re a vampire.



“So?” Mickey asked



“So,you can’t go out in sunlight dufus.”



“Yeah I can.”



“Really?” Becca asked. “You won’t burst into flames?”



“Haven’t yet.”



“Great. Alright so you’ll go in first. Pretend to fill out a deposit slip here.” She pointed to



a rectangle she drew to represent the check writing counter just in side the doorway.



“Then Becca you go in next.”



Maggie was happy to see was she was right. When they pulled up in front of the bank



there were only a couple of cars in the parking lot.



Becca insisted that they use the Chevelle that Mickey and Maggie had stolen the night



before. She didn’t want someone to write down her plate number. Her mom would kill



her.



“Hey, hey Mickey!” Why was Maggie shouting at him?



“Are you listening to me? Your up.”



Mickey dragged himself out of the back seat and clumsily navigated his way towards the



bank while Maggie parked the car.



While Mickey didn’t burst into flames as he assured them he wouldn’t, he had neglected



to tell them what affect the sunlight had on him. Not only did daylight greatly diminish



the perks of being undead like superior strength and speed but it also left him something



akin to a narcoleptic. The few times he had ventured out into the sunlit world he awoke at



dusk either face down in a gutter on in a morgue because he collapsed in front of an



omelet bar in an all you can eat buffet. After the EMT’s couldn’t find a pulse and failed



to resuscitate him.



Mickey startled the woman at the check writing counter with a loud exhalation at the end



of a deep yawn. He fumbled around with the pen that was attached to the counter by a



beaded chain.



Becca walked into the bank dressed like a beauty pageant winner, with slow deliberate



steps, dragging one leg into position before stepping off with the other. She swung her



arms in exaggerated movements forward as she stepped.



Mickey wasn’t sure if she were doing this on purpose or if this was a sun induced



hallucination. She gave him a wink that seemed to take a full minute to complete.



“Ladies and Gentlemen,” There were only women present. “It is my pleasure to introduce



to you the winner of Party Loft Season 2 Butch Cartman. Butch walked in not sure how



he was supposed to act. He waved at the four women in the bank. Maggie followed



throwing confettie she made from a fast food bag she found in the Chevelle.



As they passed Mickey, he pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket momentarily



forgetting he was holding a 9mm given by Maggie. He was supposed to be lookout,



keeping an eye on the front door. He placed the gun down on the counter as he steadied



himself leaning down to grab the pen that rolled off the glass surface and was now



dangling by its’ chain.



Mickey’s mind was intent on completing its’ original task of filling out the deposit slip he



started. Never mind he had no money or that he didn’t have an account with this bank.



The spinning of the pen started Mickey’s spiral into unconsciousness. First it spiraled



clockwise then counterclockwise. The last thing he remembered was the portly woman



with a tattoo on her lower back scream “Gun!”  It took about five seconds to register



through the molasses thick fog around his head.



He awoke to the sound of retreads running on asphalt and the cool night air blowing on



his face. He turned his head to find Butch driving Becca’s mom’s Dodge colt. He



managed to eek out a “Hey.”



“Hey. This driving is fun.”



“Where are the girls?”

“Back at the motel.” He said with a silly grin plastered to his face.



“They sent me to get you.”



“Where from?”



“The Morgue.” Butch told him what happened after he passed out.



Maggie pulled up her old prom dress to reveal a pump shotgun with a pistol grip,



strapped to her thigh with an old leather belt. Unhooking the buckle she brought the



shotgun up, pumped it and fired a shot into the ceiling in one smooth motion.



“This is a stick up.” She yelled. The portly woman screamed and dropped to the ground.



“That’s a good idea you three ladies come from out behind there.” Maggie motioned with



the shotgun. “And join this lady on the carpet here.”



Becca pulled three pillow cases out from under her gown and started to fill them with the



money from the tellers cash drawers.



As the tellers filed pass Butch the last one unbuttoned her blouse so that he could better



see her cleavage.



Butch was in charge of watching the hostages. The flirty teller “psst” at Butch to get his



attention “I’m your biggest fan. I loved the way you paid that little kid to tell the police



that Judd molested him so they would arrest him. I was so mad at the producers’ decision



to film his parts from prison so they could keep him on the show. Like seeing him get



beat by the other inmates on a weekly basis was going to make people feel sorry for him.



As if.”



“Hey,” Maggie said to the teller. “Shut up.”



When Maggie’s attention was turned away from them the teller reached up and grabbed a



deposit slip and uncapped the pen hanging around her neck. She scribbled something on



it and handed it to Butch. It was her phone number.



As this was going on the short stocky teller with the military styled haircut had been



scooching toward the check writing counter. Just as Butch took the tellers phone number



G I Jane jumped to her feet like a corpulent feline and grabbed the 9mm off the counter,



pointing it at Butch she pulled the trigger or she tried to.



When Maggie gave the 9mm to Mickey she made sure that the safety was on. And



Mickey, having no previous experience with hand guns didn’t know to release it before



he went into the bank. Once the teller realized this she released the safety just as she



tripped backward over Mickey’s unconscious body firing around over Butch’s head as



she fell.



Maggie ran over to the prostrate teller and kicked the hand gun out of her hand and



pumped the shot gun once and stuck the barrel in her face. Don’t move. Just then off in



the distance, sirens. “Let’s go.” Maggie yelled.



Becca had managed to fill two pillow cases and was agitated at not being able to fill the



third. As she ran out from behind the cashiers counter she grabbed Butch’s arm and



ushered him toward the door.



As the Chevelle screamed out of the parking lot, it headed in the opposite direction of the



motel so if anyone saw them leave they would believe they were heading east instead of



west.



“Oh my god.” Becca’s heart was pounding. “We’ve so got to do that again.”



Maggie was leaning in close to the stirring wheel and grinning “I know, right.”



They both squealed in unison.



“We left Mickey behind.” Butch said in that flat detached tone of his.



Maggie stomped the break causing the car to come to a screeching halt.



“Oh, no. What do we do?” Becca could tell that Maggie was thinking about going back



for him.



“We can’t go back. That place has got to be swarming with cops by now.”



“You think he’ll talk? No he won’t talk.” Maggie argued with herself.



She drove on another five miles, then turned and headed back to the motel.



Once we got back to the room we turned on the television to see if the news was



reporting the robbery. They were, but it was to soon to give any details. The only thing



the police would confirm was that one of the gunmen had died at the scene.



It was Becca that made the phone call. She pretended to be Mickey’s mother. She even



managed real tears as she told the woman at the police station of her fears that the dead



gunman was her poor deluded son. She almost had the jaded civil servant sobbing as



loudly as she was. In actuality she was a pretty good actress. The woman told Becca



where she could go to identify the body. “All that was left was to go and round you up.”



“So you just walked out with a cadaver?”



“It was surprisingly easy. I guess people don’t usually try to steal the bodies.”



The parking lot of the Cloud 9 motel was ablaze with the blue lights of a half a dozen or



so police cars. Two officers were walking the girls handcuffed down the stairs to an



awaiting police cruiser. The other guest of the Cloud 9 started to spill out of their rooms



when they realized the police were not there for them.



“I wonder how they found them.”





The Cloud 9 motel was left to Clyde Barrow by his mother. She was a shrewd business



woman in her day. She unfortunately did not pass on any of her business savvy to her



only son. Clyde’s idea of growing his business consisted of investing a large portion of



his weekly revenue in lottery tickets and scratch off cards. A financial strategy that did



not afford him the ability to offer his guest, most of which rented their rooms on a weekly



basis, any of the amenities that some of his competition did. He was unable to supply his



tenants with even the basics like maid service or even an on sight Laundromat. The only



service he provided was having the linens laundered through a company belonging to a



loan shark he was into for a hefty sum.



Clyde negotiated a deal that would keep his kneecaps intact. He required his tenants pay



extra for the service. If they didn’t, they were out of there.



To ensure he would not have to shell out money to replace new linens every so often due



to any mix ups in delivery. He stamped property of the Cloud 9 motel on every fitted



sheet, flat sheet and pillow case. This included the pillow case Becca left behind, empty



at the bank.



After they watched the police car containing the girls pass by, they decided it would be a



good idea to find a new place to stay.



After a couple of miles Mickey turned on the radio to disrupt up the silence that



permeated the Dodge. The station he settled on was playing a song his old band used to



cover. He accompanied the ending solo with his air guitar. He was performing double



note bends and exaggerated sustaining vibratos.



“You know, I was thinking of how I should introduce myself the next time we meet



girls.” Mickey said to Butch. “How about, Mickey the Damned?”



“Or I could say Mickey Sanders formerly of the living.”



“You should get cards made.” Butch added.



“We should start a band, Mickey was starting to get excited at the prospect. “Can you



play an instrument?”



“I don’t know.” Butch said



“I can teach you to play the bass”. He said. “It‘ll be great.”





The drive time Dee Jay came out of the commercial break with a news story about Party



Loft season 2, winner Butch Cartman. “Cartman was arrested today after punching a Los



Angeles police officer who was trying to question Mr. Cartman in his alleged



involvement in a bank robbery in Ohio this afternoon.



“You might want to think about changing your appearance.”



“Any suggestions?”



This is a golden opportunity, Mickey thought.



“You ever heard of Joey Ramone?”