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Peter Jessop

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Books by Peter Jessop
Sammy Scarlatti
By Peter Jessop
Posted: Thursday, September 13, 2012
Last edited: Thursday, September 13, 2012
This short story is rated "PG13" by the Author.
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Recent stories by Peter Jessop
· Fractured Fairy Tales Part 8 - The Brute Squad part 1
· Fractured Fairy Tales Part 7 - Prince Charming part 2
· Fractured Fairy Tales Part 6 - Prince Charming part 1
· Fractured Fairy Tales Part 5 -Humpty Dumpty
· Fractured Fairy Tales part 4 - the Three Little Pigs
· Fractured Fairy Tales Part 3 - The Big Bad Wolf
· Fractured Fairy Tales Part 2 - Hansel & Gretel
           >> View all 37
The fate of the world rests in the hands of an unlikely individual.

 

 

 

 

The world wasn’t enough for Sammy Scarlatti.  He had already made the FBI’s most wanted list, coming in at number eight with a bullet.  He vowed to himself that before the week was up he would be number one. The boy from Bakersfield done good.  Not bad for the student voted most likely to be a bum.

“Screw em’ all!” He shouts into the wind as he drives the stolen Coup de Ville across the Mojave Desert. “I’ll show em’…I’ll show the doubters whose number one. Sammy bloody Scarlatti that’s who.”

His crime spree began in Vegas when he knocked over a 7 Eleven after the cashier refused to let him have his gas for free. Sammy thought it was a reasonable request, but the stupid old fart behind the register thought otherwise.  A bullet between the eyes from his Smith & Wesson settled the argument.  This of course wasn’t Sammy’s first robbery, he’s been in and out of prison for the past ten years for  armed robbery and assault of one kind or another, but this was his first killing.  He always wondered what it would be like taking someone else’s life, now that he knew…he liked the feeling.

Blowing Vegas he hit two more connivance stores, a truck stop and Ma and Pa’s Roadside Diner.  He can still remember the stupefied look on Ma’s face as he blew Pa away.  The same dumb look that his neighbor’s cat Ramjet gave him when he tied firecrackers to his collar, on the 4th of July, when he was eight.  He copped a whooping from his dad for that one, the bruises stayed on his body for two weeks. He got a lot of pleasure out of killing Pa and Ma, though, as he imagined them as his own folks.

All the head shrinks stated categorically that Sammy’s problems stemmed from his abusive childhood. The state of California had made the men in white carry out all sorts of tests on him; CAT-scans, x-rays, ink blots, word  association, hell, they even attached electrodes to his head to conduct biofeedback tests, trying to ascertain if there was anything abnormal about his brain.  One neuro-surgeon actually wanted to take some brain tissue samples to test.  Sammy’s court appointed lawyer soon put a stop to that.  Sammy liked his lawyer, Janet Kinar, a real go getter, young, vibrant and vivacious, and damn hot in her immaculate black and grey pant suits.  Sammy really fancied her, although when he made advances she promptly dropped him like a hot potato and filed a sexual abuse claim against him.

Saying Sammy had a rough childhood is an understatement.  Both his parents were junkies and alcoholics.  They were abusive, neglectful and agnostic, although they spoke the lord’s name often enough…in vain.  It’s no wonder that Sammy became a “rotten egg” as his

grandpa would call him.

With the death of Ma and Pa that brought Sammy’s body count to five.  The other three including the cashier; were a young hitchhiker he picked up outside of Vegas, whose dead carcass he left by the side of the road; a toiletry salesman, whose Coup de Ville he was now driving.  A vehicle that was loaded up with stolen money, guns, ammo and hygienic toiletry products. As far as Sammy Scarlatti was concerned the party was just getting started.

What tipped Sammy over the edge, what was the trigger within his subconscious, within his warped and mentally unstable mind that sent him on this rampage of

wanton destruction, only Sammy could tell?  One moment he is a winner at the casinos, who was looking later on to getting some horizontal action, the best money could buy; the next he is Charles Manson.  Whatever the case may be, Sammy Scarlatti was having the time of his life.

“Fuckin’ oaf,” he tells himself, “I’ll show all the fuckers of this world what happens when they mess with me.”

Sammy lets out a shout of defiance into the night as he turns up the volume on the radio – the song “Big Yellow Taxi” blares out into the desert night air. It was a black night, no moon and no stars; it was as if they had been switched off.  The only light visible were the headlights of the Coup de Ville snaking across the landscape,

following the white line of the bitumen.  And yet no too far above was another shape, another vehicle, tailing the unsuspecting Sammy Scarlatti.

The first time that Sammy became aware of this presence was when he heard static on the car radio before it died, followed quickly by the engine stalling and the headlights  switching off as the Coup de Ville came to a slow stop.

“Ya kiddin’ me.”

Sammy shifts the car into neutral and turns the key – but there is no response from the engine.  It was dead. No matter how many times he turned the ignition or thumped

the steering wheel, it wasn’t coming back to life.

“What a piece of junk!” He yells and begins smashing the dashboard.  Suddenly a bright blinding white light floods the car from above.  Sammy instantly thinks it’s the cops and that the light is coming from a police chopper.  He fumbles for his pistol.  But within the streaming light there is a soft humming noise, barely above a whisper, like a fly buzzing in your ear, but it penetrates deep into Sammy’s body and mind, immobilizing him.  Within seconds he can’t move, it’s as if he is stuck to the car seat like a squashed bug on the windshield.

Sammy panics.  He begins to feel real fear.  All the more so when he sees strange misshapen shapes within the light around the outside of his car.  He tries to scream but he has no voice.  He tries to fight but he has no movement. He tries to close his eyes but he can’t even blink.  All he can do is to look on wide eyed as he is lifted by some invisible force up, out of the car and into the air towards the hovering disc shaped vehicle above.  The UFO is the last thing he sees before blacking out.

The world wasn’t enough for Sammy Scarlatti, it was too small, he always wanted more, a bigger slice of the pie, a larger piece of the action, and never content with what he had; which wasn’t much to be sure.  But now the fate of the entire world was about to rest in the hands of a killer and madman.

When Sammy finally woke up he felt torpid and drowsy, as if he had been asleep a long time.  He found himself on the floor of a dark and circular chamber.  Disorientated and confused he gets unsteadily to his feet.  He tries to pierce the blackness of the room but he might as well be blind for all the good it does.

“Hello!” He tentatively calls out.

His answer is a row of lights flicking on one by one around the outer edge of the chamber and beneath each source of illumination is an alien from a different race.  Sammy goes stone cold at such a sight.  He prays that he is dreaming but knows all too well that he doesn’t have the imagination to conjure up such a dream.  There are ten beings from outer space surrounding him, each different from the other; there is an Insectoid; Reptilian; Pleiadian; Gray;Anunnaki;Blonde;Zeta Reticulum; Orion;Sirian; and a Lyran. Sammy can barely comprehend what he is seeing let alone what they look like.  All he knows is the cold fingers of fear running down his spine.  Then he hears a voice in his head – spoken in English – no doubt emanating telepathically from one of the aliens around him.

You have been brought here to be judged.” The melodious voice states. “We are members of the “Galactic Council”, an interplanetary body consisting of hundreds of races in the universe. Your planet has been selected for possible membership and that is why you have been brought here.

“Me?” Sammy asks with a dumb expression on his face.

Our rules are simple” the voice continues, “when it is time for a planet to join our brotherhood we abduct, at random, a being from that world and then adjudicate whether that world is worthy or not of membership based solely on the character traits of the person that has been summoned…in this case, you.

“Huh?” Is Sammy’s stupefied reply.

This is no frivolous matter human. If you are accepted into the council you shall receive all the benefits associated with it; the end of disease, poverty, war, and your species will enjoy a golden age the likes of which you have never known. However, if you do not meet our standards for entry, then your planet will be destroyed.  The council has been doing this for centuries and it has served the universe well. Simple, efficient and uncomplicated.

Sammy was speechless, dumbstruck; his day wasn’t turning out the way he planned. He couldn’t fathom the ludicrous idea that the fate of the Earth and that of the human race now rested on his shoulders.

“Are you nuts?” He yells, finally finding his voice. “Is this a joke? Am I on fuckin’ TV…where’s the fuckin’ cameras!”

But there is no answer. The voice in his head has gone silent. Then the lights above his hosts go out one by one plunging Sammy Scarlatti once more into darkness.

We shall begin.”

Sammy once more found himself immobile, only this time he was strapped into a body fitting chair that hovered a couple of feet off the chamber floor. The trial was more of an interrogation.  There weren’t any questions asked or opinions solicited.  Instead, the “Galactic Council” reached into Sammy’s mind and virtually yanked his memories out of him, forcing him to go through a life review while the aliens observed in silent reflection.

From Sammy’s point of view he was required to re-live his miserable life including the ocean of emotions and feelings that accompanied it.  He loathed every minute of it as he watched the images play out before his very eyes like a horror movie being projected onto the silver screen. But this wasn’t make believe – it was real and hardcore; the killings, the murders, the violence, the cruelty, the pain and the abuse.  It was all laid bare for all to see.

Of all the billions of people walking on the planet Earth the aliens had to choose Sammy Scarlatti. There was nothing good in his life; no love, no joy, just anger and hatred.  Sammy was just one of those people who were bad with no redeeming qualities. It seemed that the Earth was doomed.

The process went on for hours.  The council looked for any sign, no matter how minuscule, that would enable them to give a favorable verdict…but they couldn’t find any. In their judgment the Earth and all its inhabitants should be destroyed.

Sammy always wanted to be famous and he was about to achieve that goal, only  problem was that there would be no one around to see it.  Yet as the “Galactic Council” handed down their decision Sammy suddenly recalls a name from his childhood, a name that he had long forgotten, a name buried deep in his subconscious and now brought to the surface by the events that had unfolded…Cheeky.  One simple name that

had so much significance attached to it.

Cheeky was the name of Sammy’s first pet, a dog, a pup that was giving to him by his mother when he was seven.  The animal was nothing special; it was a mutt, a cross between a terrier and some other, unknown breed.  But Sammy loved it, thinking that it was the greatest gift he had ever been given, a little life to look after, something that was his own that would love him unconditionally. He doted on the animal, feeding it, grooming it, playing and teaching it tricks. The pup was only twelve weeks old but very intelligent and the bond that was quickly cemented between boy and dog seemed to be unbreakable.

But it didn’t last.

At this time Sammy was having trouble at school with bullies and was constantly playing hickey, pretending to go to school but not.  His parents found out and actually tried to reason with him.  But in the end his old man resorted to threats; telling his son that if he didn’t go to school he would take Cheeky away.  Sammy didn’t believe that his father would do something that cruel, but he did, while Sammy was hiding so he wouldn’t have to go to school, Henry Scarlatti took his son’s pup and gave it away.  A part of Sammy died that day and was replaced by something evil.  A dark shadow that grew into the abhorrent and violent person he became.  All due to loss of the one thing he ever loved…a stupid mutt.

Sammy cries. He breaks down like a baby, bawling his eyes out.  The tears flowed unabated and with them came regret and sorrow, emotions that Sammy Scarlatti had locked up deep within him, long ago, and thrown away the key.

            The “Galactic Council” of interplanetary worlds saw these tears and hesitated.  They had found something within this human, a spark of goodness, proving that no matter how bleak something may appear there is always light, even if it is only a slither.

And so the Council reversed its earlier decision. The events that followed were monumental.  First contact was made and the human race was allowed admittance into the “Galactic Council” heralding the beginning of a golden age for humanity of peace and prosperity, as the human race finally took their rightful place amongst the stars with their fellow alien brethren.

As for Sammy Scarlatti, on his return to Earth he was arrested, tried for his crimes and sentence to death.  But he didn’t care for he had finally done something good, a thing

that he will always be remembered for…savior of the human race, and whose name, in time, would become legend.

“I showed em’…I showed 'em all.” Were the last words Sammy spoke as the lethal injection, from the executioner, was shot into his bloodstream. Sammy Scarlatti had finally found the fame he was always looking for.

 

 

Copyright © 2011 by Peter Jessop


 


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