I held my breath and waited. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears. After an eternity Fuck Me Eddy lowered his pistol and eased the hammer down. He didn’t say a word. I thought about making a run for the fence but realized my legs might not work. So we waited.
After another lifetime car headlights appeared moving parallel to the fence across the field. I’d been right. There was another dirt road where I’d imagined one. The car eased to a stop opposite us. The lights went out and the engine died. I could hear it ticking as the metal cooled in the night air.
Eddy walked over to the fence. A guy got out of the car and took the box from Fuck Me Eddy. They didn’t exchange any words. The guy got back in the car and started the engine. He made a U turn and drove back the way he’d come.
Fuck Me Eddy walked back toward me and I realized I’d missed my chance to run. What a dumb ass. When he reached me he kept on walking.
We walked back to the car. Well Fuck Me Eddy walked. I lurched on Jell-O legs. We climbed back through the fence and crossed the ditch to my car.
“Gimme,” he ordered, holding his hand in the air. I tossed him my keys and we got in the car. We drove back to Junior’s in complete silence.
Eddy pulled up to Junior’s house and parked the car. He jumped out leaving the engine running. I crawled over the center console into the driver’s seat and put the car in reverse ready to get the fuck out of there.
“Wait,” Fuck Me Eddy snapped.
I put my foot on the brake as he leaned in the window.
“Never, ever ask what’s in the fucking box. Understand, fucknuts?”
“Never ask what’s in the box,” I repeated.
“Or I’ll show you,” he threatened.
I stared straight ahead not wanting to look into his eyes.
“Get the fuck out of here.”
Years later I saw a movie, Barton Fink. It had a box in it, too. The contents of the box are never revealed in the movie but I know exactly what it contained, bad fucking dreams.
I decided to put this on paper because I heard Fuck Me Eddy was dead. I waited two months just to make sure he didn’t crawl back out of the grave.
Where do guys like Fuck Me Eddy go when they’re done here? I mean he’d think Hell was Disneyland, fun times with cotton candy and clowns.
Wherever he is I know he’s got a box. I know he’s got a box because he sometimes comes to me in my nightmares and shows it to me before he asks…
“You want to know what’s in the box, fucknuts?”
I can’t speak but I shake my head in an emphatic NO! Eddy pulls open the lid and shows me anyway. And every time what’s inside is worse.
Categories: Short Stories
Tags: short stories