What happens when a fairly normal guy decides it's time to make things right--no matter what he has to do? From one unsuspecting "annoyance" to the next, this "good Samaritan" is on a mission to rid the world of its less desirable aspects. Is it really murder if they deserve it?
Excerpt:
I'm not a bad person. Not really. I pay my bills on time. Like, I'm a goddamn fanatic when it comes to paying bills. I mean, I'm not one of those dickheads who runs up a tab and then says "screw it, I got better things to do with my time and money than pay for something I already used". I don't do that shit. I pay my bills. My parents did. I do. It runs in the family, like almost a genetic thing…you owe money, you pay it off. And I'm a considerate driver. I mean, I don't take any shit when I'm driving. I mean, some asswipe cuts me off, I give him the finger. It's a woman…hey, I'm all for equal rights...I give her the finger too. But when I had my license, I stopped for pedestrians. I stopped and let people out at intersections, even if it meant that the prick behind me honked his horn and I had to give him the finger. Or her the finger. Makes no difference to me. I'm that fucking considerate.
I'm not some kind've sexual deviate. I haven't had it in a long time and, you know, like I've done some arm wrestling with the Big Snake, but I don't bop hard bellies…nineteen's my cutoff and no younger no matter how big their tits are. When a lady says back off, I back off. No's no in my book, same as hers. And I don't watch porno flicks or read those expensive hardcore magazines.
Playboy and Penthouse. That's my limit.
I don't cheat on my tax forms, even if I knew how to do that. I don't steal. I don't lie, at least unless I really have to and then it's okay because I really have to. You know…life's gray sometimes. I don't talk about my friends behind their backs. I don't do that ever, and I've smacked a couple of dicks in the head for doing that in the past. No excuse for backstabbing your friends. No excuse at all. I don't cut into lines if I see somebody I know near the front of the line. I hate it when people do that! I don't play my music loud. I figure my music is my choice and it might not be my neighbor's choice, so I keep it to myself. That's kind've a choice I make for everybody so, like, being considerate can even be empowering sometimes. I don't give the check-out people in grocery stores or department stores a hard time when their computerized cash machines fuck up or the bar thing on the merchandise isn't working and makes the computer fritz out. I don't give innocent people a hard time. Innocent people get a hard time from every direction…but not from me. I don't do that.
But there's one thing I do…and I gotta say that I really love doing it.
I kill assholes.
About one a month.
Professional Reviews
Barry Hunter in Baryon Magazine
Do you ever get ticked off at the inconsiderate person who will sit and talk on the cell phone and ignore the person they are with? How about the joker that sticks gum under the theatre seat? Or even the guy that hocks a luggie in the middle of the food court?
That’s what happens to the narrator of this short inexpensive download and he decides to do something about it. About once a month, he finds someone that ticks him off and he makes sure that they don’t do it again. But by the end of the book, he decides he needs some help and he needs to pass THE BATON.
Biff Mitchell has written another satisfying short tale that makes you look at life a little differently than you did before you started reading. There’s a touch of Joe Lansdale in this one and in his previous SMOKE BREAK. Give him a try, after all, a dollar won’t go far but it can buy you some entertainment.
Zoetrope Critique from Susan Passeratti
LOVED this story.
It's definitely very "in-your-face" kind of thing but I really really enjoyed it. It had some big swings in it, sometimes you had me laughing hard, and by the end it was utterly chilling. This is so much more than a "rant" piece. I liked the use of first person, thought it was very wise to keep the speaker somewhat of an enigma too. We never learn his name, and bits of information about him are dribbled out in such a way that it piques my interest all the more and yet I never ONCE stopped moving forward in the story to wish for more about him. Tiny, nearly throwaway lines strike hard, such as, "But what the fuck ... with my record, I was already fucked. No loss!"
Also, he's got a very distinctive voice here. It's repetitious at times, but not in a tiring way, more in a very conversational way. And the very first time that you used the unique contraction of "kind've" I stumbled a little because it's not exact proper grammar, but I don't know how ELSE you'd transcribe it and it works wonderfully.
It was very graphic, especially the feeding the guy his own spit thing. The violence was new and that was utterly gross, but it sure worked, it's not what I'd call "gratuitous" or anything, it was important.
The weirdest and most clever thing about this piece is how this guy can get me *almost* on his side with his humor and also because, let's face it, these people are assholes. Like, this simple line: My second asshole had a cell phone.
That pretty much says it all for me since I'm one of those people who really gets annoyed by cell phones. And then the way he mentions how they tend to pass the baton right along to the next asshole is funny, but you turn that around at the end and make it nearly terrifying.
The structure works extremely well, his quick thoughts in between interludes with the assholes, they set up the scenes and also give us deeper glimpses into his changing (decaying? Not really) psyche as this progresses.
The "uptight white guy goes ballistic and insane" genre is nearly a staple in films, with about one BIG one coming out per decade (Straw Dogs, Taxi Driver, Falling Down) but I've never read it much, and I also hesitate to just categorize this piece as such, because I don’t even know if this guy is an uptight white guy. But even if it does bear resemblance, those aren't bad company to be in, and this certainly distinguishes itself. Your writing itself, I'm almost tempted to compare it to Bukowski – yet I can't put my finger on WHY exactly. Maybe because of the seemingly utter naturalness of his prose which is still amazing at the same time because of his uncanny knack for plucking EXACTLY the right word at the right times. You're like that, (in this piece at least) – you're not SIMPLE by a long shot, but you're easily digestible and the lack of "purpleness" or, more importantly, the elegant directness of it is its strength. There may be more to that comparison though too. I hate to say Bukowski was "misanthropic" because he really wasn't – in his writings he just didn't suffer fools gladly, and this piece sure has that feeling to it too. And yet, the underlying once you go deeper isn't of misanthropy at all. Maybe it's the repeated use of the word "prick", I don't know. Maybe it was the repeated use of dingy, run-down settings. (which, btw, only added to the overall metaphor, I thought. I got the feeling this guy was seeing the decay in the buildings around him and relating it to the slipping courtesies and decay of people) Anyhow, I mean the Bukowski thing as a compliment, and in no way am I implying that you're just a knock-off of him either.
Anyhow, not only your style but also the story rocked. You pulled it all together and created this rare, fascinating work that pressed many buttons and took me all over the map with my reactions to it. Extremely visceral and intelligent too. Great work.
I caught a couple of typos, figured I'd past them here so you could polish this up for submission:
**Prick could take a beating ... but soon as he quieted, I jumped up and brought my foot down into his chest as hard as I could. I could hear bones snapping. Fucking ugly sound, but his prick needed it.
Fucking ugly sound, but this prick needed it.
**Like, the stores used to have big picture windows with lots of neat stuff right up close where you could grab them after smashing the window with a brick. Not anymore though ... like everything was barred up and some of the stores even had cahiers inside bulletproof cages with little slots all around where they could poke a shotgun out and like blow your head off.
...some of the stores even had cashiers inside....
**It went in smoothly and now here eyes were like pure terror with her mouth moving but nothing coming out. Her face started twisting really weird, like she suddenly
It went smoothly and now her eyes were like ...
Other than those extremely small things, I'm sorry but I don't have any suggestions for improvement or changes. I really think it's great as it is.
Zoetrope Critique from Anthony R. Farina
Holden Caufield on Steroids? I have to say, whether it was intentional or not, that was my first reaction. I think it was the voice that did it for me, that self absorbed person voice that we all identify with, and at times are. I didn't stop reading once, i had to run to keep up with you, which was perfect for the peice. I really like the idea here. How many times did you revise this? it feels like a spew like a release and that is great, i love that style of writing. I wasn't so sure of the plot here though, i mean I understand what is happening, but I don't really get whats goin on in his head. Am I supposed to, or is this just writing for writings sake. If that is the case then Bravo, if not, then Im a moron an have missed something. If i look for more, i see a man addicted and obsessed, he craves he needs, he searches and he creates villians for himself. He needs a nemisis, he needs not to kill, but to hunt, the want the drive and the desire, the "passing of the baton" is the issue. That was very cool, we all have our quirks I suppose. I found myself not hating him even though he is clearly fucked up. That was all you. You could easily made us hate me, be we don't, that is fantastic, thanks for sharing biff, tony
