A character so cruel, so calculating that you'd think we'd find him
on Wall Street. No, he's here, bumping along in the Gutter.
on Wall Street. No, he's here, bumping along in the Gutter.
A Wild, Desolate Place by Benjamin Welton
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The McClung
house was an absolute shithole. That, of course, was to be expected. Morris
McClung was not the type of man to live in palatial splendor. He made his money
selling tax free cigarettes to his neighbors and cheating the government for
welfare. Famously, Morris’s wife Fay had taken their eight year-old daughter
out of a reading program because the kid was starting to show progress and was
thus putting some of their monthly money into jeopardy.
I didn’t care
about any of that. Of course it’s a shame when any white man sinks so low, but
every pig makes his own sty and Morris had made an exceptionally filthy one.
Still, I didn’t care one bit about Morris until he robbed one of my stores. The
little bastard and his cousin, Seth Campbell (now deceased), had the nerve to
just walk into one of my stores and clean the place of soda pop. They took
forty cases of all types, then just sped off thinking that their cross-county
haul made them the baddest bandits in all of Kentucky. They probably laughed to
themselves about how easy it had been and how this little job was going to make
them rich.
Well, they
never planned on me. In fact, after my little conversation with Seth, it was
revealed to me that the two backwoods bums didn’t even know that they had hit a
protected store, let alone a store protected by me. Idiocy is truly an enemy
you cannot shield yourself against.
After making
off with my property, Morris and Seth sold the cases to three different stores
in Owsley County - their home territory. It wasn’t hard to track down which
stores, especially since one of them - Cobb Myers’s gas station - hadn’t sold
any soda pop since the Vietnam War. I made sure old Cobb paid for his stupid
decision to change so drastically over night.
It was
through Cobb that I first found Seth. Seth lived in a double-wide near a creek.
He had a fat, ugly wife that I thoroughly I enjoyed kicking. I let her live
though, for God had already cursed her enough. Seth, on the other hand, got an
itch to fight back. I shot him in both knees. Then, while he was screaming out
his cousin’s name through all the pain, I took his own Black & Decker 12V
drill and smashed his head open for him. I kept the drill and told the crying
hippo to keep her jowls shut.
After
disposing of Seth, I went home and showered. I made sure to burn the clothes
that I had worn. I made myself a couple of eggs, kissed my wife, kissed my
daughter, and then took a two hour nap. I wanted to be plenty sharp for Morris.
Well, it
turns out that I didn’t need to be. After finding Morris’s shithole shanty, I
realized that no lights were on. Morris, I figured, was probably too poor for
electricity, so I grabbed the flashlight that I always keep in the glove
compartment. I turned it on and off twice to make sure it worked, then I
slipped it into my pocket.
I walked the
few steps to Morris’s front door in complete darkness. I couldn’t see the hand
that knocked on his door, and after waiting too long for a response, I
awkwardly shouldered my way past the flimsy door.
The darkness
inside of his place was even more devouring than Mother Nature’s. But, despite
the blackness, I could tell it was thinly furnished. I could also tell that
something was dead. I turned on my flashlight and started going room by room.
Fay McClung
had died in her daughter’s room. The little girl was dead too, and her small
body was curled up like a ball next to her mother’s much bigger spoon. A bottle
of bleach was on its side in the corner.
Morris
McClung had opted for a much more messy exit. I found him in the bathtub with
his brains thrown everywhere. The still hot shotgun rested on the linoleum like
an exhausted tiger. I picked it up and used it to pull back the shower curtain.
There he was with half his head missing and most of his teeth gone. It was a
tough scene to look at, especially since the blast had caused Morris’s eyes to
protrude with wide awake attention. Instead of looking defiant, Morris’s big
brown eyes looked like a garish parody of a Japanese cartoon.
I put the
curtain back and walked outside. For the longest time I didn’t know what my
next move was going to be. Obviously, Seth’s pig wife had squealed and told the
McClungs that death was coming for them. They could have left; they plenty of
time to do so. Maybe they weren’t the running kind, or maybe my legend had them
too scared to run. After all, no one can run forever, and Kentucky isn’t big
enough for hiding. This was to be their fate, no matter what.
After
thinking about it for a while, I decided to burn the place down. I got lighter
fluid from the cab and I got a book of matches from my own jeans. I doused the
curtains and the bed sheets, lit them, then walked outside to watch the show. I
only allowed myself five minutes or so after the flames got going really good,
then I made my way back home.
My wife and
daughter were both fast asleep when I got there, so I gave them both a kiss and
went to bed on the couch. Right before falling under, I thought about making
biscuits and sausage gravy in the morning.
