It's hard to move forward when you are tied to the past.
In the Gutter, brother, they slip that noose just for fun, and pull you back twice as fast....
In the Gutter, brother, they slip that noose just for fun, and pull you back twice as fast....
Scream by George Beck
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“Have you ever seen a cat swing from an overpass into
oncoming traffic?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Charlie said.
“A cat,” Arthur replied. “It screams, but when it hits the
windshield its scream is snuffed out with the crash.”
“You mean it instantly stops screaming?”
“If you died, wouldn’t you?”
“Why would you do that? Pass me a beer and shut the fuck
up.”
Arthur gave Charlie a cold Yuengling. Arthur’s apartment was
the size of a mock studio at Ikea. 750-square feet of crammed boxes and
junk he had collected over the years. Arthur had a habit of buying late-night
infomercials products. He had it all: EZ Moves Furniture Sliders, Hercules
Hooks, Instabulbs, Pocket Chairs, and Sham-Wow Towels, all of which he opened
and never used. Behind the entryway, a large pile of laundry prevented the
door from opening fully. Gray shag carpet around the coffee table was
worn down to the plywood and two rectangular boxes contained a sizeable
collection of comic books. Dirty dishes in the kitchen sink were piled higher
than the faucet.
“It’s not that hard to do,” Arthur said. “All you do is tie
a rope to the bridge and the other end around the cat’s neck and swing it down
at a passing truck. After the truck hits, it swings back and forth like a
pendulum.”
“Why are you telling me this? Does it make you feel like
somebody important?”
“No.”
“Then why, man?” Charlie said. “Why tell me?”
“I wanna know if you got the balls to do something like
that.”
“I don’t want to do something like that.”
“If you tried it once, you’d do it again,” Arthur said.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“How do you know? You never tried it.”
“I don’t know why I still hang out with you,” Charlie said.
“You’ll never change.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Me?” He snarled. “You got to let
her go.”
“Let who go?’
“You know.”
Charlie shook his head. He pinched a Marlboro between his
lips and struck a match. He took a long drag and exhaled, filling the space with smoke. Like Charlie’s teeth, the lamp, phone, shades, and
television screen in Arthur’s apartment had yellowed a deep shade of mustard
from years of nicotine. Both Arthur and Charlie smoked over a pack a day since eleventh
grade, been friends since kindergarten. Charlie sat his beer on the coffee table and
then readjusted himself on the couch.
“It’s ruining your life,” Arthur said. “You’re so damn
depressed.”
“If you weren’t always acting like an asshole, maybe
she’d’ve stuck around a little longer.”
“You blame me for everything.”
“You should’ve never hooked up with her after we broke up.”
“I already told you,” Arthur said. “She asked me out and you said it was
okay.”
“I still don’t believe she asked you.
“Whatever, man,” Arthur waived a dismissive hand. “You need
to move on. Forget that bitch.”
“How about the time you got me arrested?” Charlie asked.
“I already apologized for that.”
“You almost landed me in prison.”
“Prison’s not what
you think, Charlie.” Arthur glanced at the black star tattooed on the webbing
of his left hand and the words HATE tattooed across his right knuckles. “After
a few days you get into a routine.”
“That easy, huh? I bet there are a lot of innocent men in
jail enjoying the routine.”
Arthur fell silent.
“You’re selfish,” Charlie quipped.
After a dozen beers at the apartment, Arthur talked
Charlie into picking up another dozen at Kelly’s Pub. To get there, they had to
use the bridge that crosses over the state highway.
The night was calm, tranquil. Patches of ice slicked the
sidewalk, leftover from melting snow piles. The bar had closed a half hour ago.
“At least we’ve got a place to buy beer this time of
night,” Charlie said as they walked in the blistering December cold. “Marty’s either
wiping down the bar or tying the garbage bags now. He’ll open for us.”
One block before the bridge, Charlie was hunched over and
holding himself up by gripping a No Parking street sign, dry
heaving.
Arthur slipped into Ms. Clemmons’ backyard and plucked one
of the many strays she fed daily, and stuffed it into his jacket. The town was
asleep; save for a bread truck that lumbered down Broad Avenue, dropping boxes
of bread at the restaurants, nothing moved. It was three hours before a pinkish
glow would warm in the east and the large oaks trees that skirted the highway
would welcome the morning sun. When Arthur came back, Charlie had vomited on
the sidewalk.
“I haven’t thrown up like that since high school,” Charlie
said.
“You still wanna go to the pub?”
“Sure.”
“Good. ’Cause, I got something I want to show you.”
Arthur raced ahead and pulled the rope from his jacket and
tied it to the bridge.
Approaching, Charlie saw him holding the cat. “You were
fucking serious?”
“It’ll only take a second and we’ll keep walking.”
“Let that cat go.”
“But we’re already here.” Arthur clamped a tight grip on the
cat’s scruff. It meowed and then began licking at its whiskers. It was a young
brown-and-orange cat, maybe a year old. “You gotta hear this thing scream.”
Charlie shook his head. “It ain’t worth it, man.”
Both men stood on the bridge against the thick concrete
railing, close to a cornerstone that read “1929.” They could feel vibrations through their
boots from the late-night truckers hustling below, the big rigs exhausting
fumes, heavy in the air.
Arthur quickly tied the hangman’s noose tight enough so the
cat wouldn’t slip out, its blood pumping and the tiny veins on his neck bulging from
the pressure.
A cool breeze blew in from the east.
“Let that damn cat go!”
A tractor-trailer came into view. “On the count of three.” Arthur grinned.
Charlie
pushed Arthur into the highway. He tumbled in the air, screaming loudly
before he hit the pavement and the tractor-trailer thundered over him. His body
rolled violently into the shoulder and then went slack, like a fishing line when
a fish escapes the hook.
“You’re right,” Charlie said to no one. “It’s time to move
on.”
He untied the cat and watched it scamper off into the darkness.
He untied the cat and watched it scamper off into the darkness.
