Flash Fiction by Jason M. Tucker
I’m not a criminal.
Well, maybe a little if you judge me by the literal definition of one. Or when you look at some twisted things I’ve done. It’s not that I’m sick. The world’s sick. And I need to visit violence on people before I can sleep. Clean shit up a bit. At least in this little corner.
Don’t look at me like that. What’s churning in your little brain? Don’t even think the words serial or killer. I hate that shit. I’m not one of those crazy fucks. I don’t get off on the blood. It’s not about power or control. It sure as hell ain’t about sex.
My reason is simple enough. Some people don’t deserve breath in their lungs. You gotta realize that, right? But ain’t any motherfucker other than me willing to do anything.
Sit up. I said sit the fuck up. You see that fucker over there? Look at him. I fucking said look at him. Your eyes ain’t too swollen.
The greasy little round bitch with the pink flamingo shirt popped open is Don Laurino. Basketball gut and graying chest hair sprouting. You can almost smell the cigarettes and Southern Comfort from here.
Check out all those bracelets, chains, and rings. Wannabe Mr. Miami slumming it in Kentucky. Who the fuck wears so much gold and lives in this place? The cash-flashing King of this fucking trailer park with his doublewide and new Range Rover sitting in the gravel driveway, that’s who. He’s got money, so you gotta ask yourself why he’s still in Conestoga Mobile Estates.
Simple. This is where he makes his ends.
I hear he’s selling poison blues. You don’t know blues? Butter, lollipop…toe tag dope. Fentanyl, dumbass. Shit, you’re a teacher and you don’t know a fucking thing. But that ain’t all he slings.
I know how you know him, but I want you to tell me. Oh, damn, you’re gagged and I took out all your teeth. I almost forgot. But you understand why you’re here, don’t you?
Nod if you know.
Yeah, because of the other shit he offers. So, I figured two birds one stone tonight.
You bought some of those pictures and vids he sells on the web. You chose Katie, right? The kid lives five trailers down. She’s one of your students. My niece.
Oh, look at you squirming and getting watery now. Tears won’t save shit.
All the kids around here are hillbilly poor and Don has money. Parents don’t pay attention to what their kids are doing or where they’re going as long as they’re out of the way. Most of ’em are blitzed out of their minds on something half the time anyhow. Makes the little ones easy prey for a guy like Don. The parents’ zombie brains will work in my favor tonight. They won’t hear a goddamn thing.
Look at Don taking in the night air, surveying his wicked kingdom. He’s the “nice guy”. Always has treats for the kids, video games, and buys groceries for parents sometimes. Nothing wrong with Don. No, he’s a good old boy. You can trust Don. Hell of a babysitter.
Why are you breathing so fast? Calm down. You can’t die yet. There’s a lot more to come tonight.
Oh, and I made sure your family will find those videos. They need to see the monster you were. No one mourns a monster. They’ll get an email from you, well, from me, in the morning. Cops will find you here, dead along with Don. And I’ll make it look like you offed one another. Lazy ass backwoods cops here won’t bother to look into it.
Now, let me grab my gloves and tools. I’m gonna go take care of him then it’s your turn.
Stop crying.
I told you. I’m not a criminal. I’m bleach.
Bio: Jason M. Tucker is a writer in Southern California working mainly on crime
and horror fiction. He’s had numerous short stories published in
anthologies, print magazines, and online over the years including work
in *Shotgun Honey*, *Retreats from Oblivion: The Journal of NoirCon*, *Guilty*,
and the *Dark Era RPG*. His horror collection, *Meat City*, was published by Black Bed
Sheet Books, and his story “Coventry Greens” was recently filmed as a short
called *The Greenies*.
He can be found on Twitter (X) at @rollforgeek and
on Facebook.
Checkout his Horror Collection through the affiliate button below.
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