Latest Flash

It's All On You

Even in The Gutter, sometimes a guy needs a favor.

It's important to be careful who you ask.

It's All On You by Shane Simmons

What did you do?
No, don’t answer that. It’s pretty obvious what you did. And I’m sure you had your reasons. Jealousy, spite, temporary insanity, whatever. It’s not important, and I don’t really care.
What’s important is all this mess and how to deal with it. That’s why you called me. That and for moral support, maybe. But we both know people who are better at the touchy-feely stuff. Me, I just get dirty jobs done.
You know what you’re asking me, right? You’re asking me to be an accessory after the fact. That’s a twenty-year stretch in a cell right next to yours if we’re caught. It’s okay, I don’t mind you asking. That’s what friends are for. But if I’m going to do this thing for you, I need to know you’re not going to go soft on me. No offense, but you’re kinda soft. You can’t be soft now. Not now, not ever. You can’t start feeling guilty and call the cops to confess your sins. You can’t go and confide in your pals, your buddies, or whoever lands in bed next to you. You’ll feel better for a little while, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, but it won’t last. Twenty years in the can will pile that weight right back on, and you’ll spend it all wondering why you ever said anything to anyone after I got you off scot-free.
That’s right. I’m going to get you off scot-free, so long as you do what you’re told and keep your mouth shut.

You probably weren’t thinking straight at the time, but nice work. If you’re going to murder someone, doing it near a bathroom is a good idea. Help me drag the body in there and get it in the tub.
You might not want to watch this next part. Hand me the razor. I’m going to open up the neck, ear to ear like so. Now let it drain. Once the blood is out, the body will be much lighter to move, and a lot less likely to splash DNA evidence all over the place.
Don’t puke. Do not puke.
Take a breather and start mopping. The bloody soap and water can go down the drain next.
Don’t try to put this on me. I know what I said to you. I remember the quote exactly. I told you that if anyone ever talked to me like that, I’d shut them up permanently. That wasn’t advice. That was just me saying what I’d do if I were in your shoes. But you’re not me. Do you think I’d ever be this sloppy? No, I’d plan my every move carefully. I wouldn’t leave a trace. I certainly wouldn’t have to call anyone to help clean up my mess.
Nice job with the floor. It’s spotless, perfect. You’d never know what happened. So you’re done, right? Think again. Look up. See those speckles on the ceiling? You didn’t notice those, did you? That’s more blood. Spatter from when you caved your pal’s skull in. It happens when you keep bashing away. What was it, four, five times? You must have been so angry. Get a step ladder and scrub that down too. I don’t care if you ruin the paint. You can slap another coat on once you’re sure there’s nothing to see and nothing to scrape into an evidence bag.
The body goes with me, along with the murder weapon. It’s your own fault for using that pretty sandstone sculpture to do the deed. Expensive was it? Well it’s landfill now. Everything gets wrapped up tight in the shower curtain with duct tape so there are no leaks. Wash out the tub thoroughly, pour some bleach down the drain. And get a new shower curtain. If anybody comes by, they’ll wonder what happened to it.
That’s right. You’re staying here. Receiving guests, acting normal, being the neighbourly sort as always. And shrugging your shoulders like an ignorant idiot whenever someone asks after whatshisface. You don’t know where he is. And that’ll be the truth because I’ll never tell you.
What, you think you can’t live under the same roof with what you’ve done? Tough. Suck it up. You move away right after a disappearance like this, people will have questions. They’ll come looking. And they won’t need a warrant if you’re selling the house. All they’ll need is a real estate agent, and they’re a dime a dozen.
Just remember, we’re in this together now. Don’t say anything, don’t think of saying anything. Because you know what’ll have to happen if I suspect you’re getting loose with your lips, going soft, getting blabby.
You disappear next.

An award-winning screenwriter and comic-book artist, Shane Simmons is also the author of the darkly humorous crime novels, Filmography and Sex Tape. His work has appeared in international film festivals, museums and lectures about design and structure. Shane lives in Montreal with his wife and too many cats. Visit him at, or follow him on his Amazon author page, Facebook and Twitter @Shane_Eyestrain.