COMPLICATIONS

FYI, my short story Complications is up over at Flashing in the Gutters.

Update: Since Flashing in the Gutters has flashed off into the sunset, I've decided to post the story here.

Complications by John DuMond

Marty Graham sighed and took another swig from the almost-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He had been sitting in the easy chair in his living room for what seemed like an eternity. Just sitting and thinking. And drinking. He hated having to deal with complicated problems. At that moment, he had the mother of all complicated problems waiting to be dealt with. Waiting for him to deal with it. He took another swig from the bottle.

Damn them anyway. Damn them for putting him in this situation. For making him have to confront this problem. Marty hated confrontations. Hated complications. And now he hated them. Them being Jerry, his back-stabbing best friend–with whom he shared an apartment–and Lynette, his two-timing girlfriend. Assholes.

Marty’s blood began to boil as he thought about them. About how he discovered them. Together. In bed. Assholes. Doing it right there in the apartment. Figuring he was so stupid he’d never find out. But he did find out. And now he had to deal with it.

It had started out like any other day. Up early and off to work. When Marty showed up at the construction site, the other workers were all just sitting there like they were waiting for something. Apparently there was a problem with the contract. Bragg, the foremen, told the guys to sit tight until he could find out what the deal was. The guys relayed the word to Marty, so he sat tight, too.

Just before noon, Bragg came out of the trailer he used as an office. He told the crew that the contract was canceled. The discount chain for which they were building a new store had gone bankrupt. They were closing down for good. That meant layoffs. The guys on the crew would be out of work until their services were needed on new contracts.

As Marty walked home from the site, he contemplated his future. He had planned on asking Lynette to marry him Friday night. He wondered whether that was a good idea, what with him being laid off. Hell, the credit card payments for the engagement ring he’d bought would’ve been tough to swing even if he hadn’t been laid off.

By the time he got home, Marty figured that he would find a way to get by. He could get some shitty job at Wal-Mart or something. He was going to propose to Lynette as planned. Layoff be damned.

When he walked into the apartment, Marty heard some noise coming from Jerry’s room. Jerry worked nights, so that wasn’t unusual. By the sound of things, Jerry’s mattress was getting a serious workout. And then he heard Lynette in the throes of passion. Cheating bitch. That’s when Marty went for the bottle of Jack. And his gun.

Marty drank the last mouthful of whiskey in the bottle. He tossed the bottle on the floor and picked up the .40 caliber Glock from the table next to him. He walked over to Jerry’s room and quietly opened the door about three inches. He looked in and saw them there on the bed. He felt the urge to shoot them with the Glock, but decided against it. No sense wasting the bullets on them. They weren’t going to get any more dead. But he was going to have to do something about the bodies. After two days, they were starting to get pretty ripe.