L.A. Fisher - Make Yourself at HomeChapter 15
The day finally arrived.
Kendra, Marcus, Vissili and I got there early in the morning and waited for the house to be empty before we parked the BMW across the street and I pulled the Veyron onto the driveway. Vissili went around back and broke into the house as if he was a character in a Tom Clancy novel. He let the rest of us in through the front door.
In all of our research we never did find out who lived in the house. He was just a face on his own wall, the pictures we collected and threw in the swimming pool. We took dishes and the home stereo system, throwing everything we could into the water. Vissili turned off the alarm system and then smashed out a window leading to one of the bedrooms. He ransacked the room, giving even more evidence that we broke into the house. Only the front hallway, the living room, and the kitchen looked untouched. Everything else was either turned over or destroyed.
The backyard, which ha
L.A. Fisher - Best of the BestChapter 14
“You’re a twisted finger searching for the corrupt entity it’s a part of!”
Vissili’s words held a new meaning. I was once again in the BMW, this time with my brother. When I told him about the big con he had just nodded in agreement. Something in this place had stripped him of his desires. He was Bebop. He was Rocksteady. He was silent and alone and lost. I wondered if his silence had to do with our old friends.
Talk to me, Marcus.
What’s going on?
“Are you going to actually talk when the time comes and we need you to?”
Marcus’s eyes were bloodshot orbs floating above two sagging bags of flesh. Lack of sleep wasn’t the main factor in his crazed appearance so much as it was lack of life. He looked drained of life. Gollum had looked healthier than my brother did. Younger. Stronger. My brother’s lips were chapped and his f
L.A. Fisher - Know a Guy that Knows a GuyChapter 13
I dropped Vissili off by his apartment near the Hollywood Hills. Uncharacteristically, I drove in silence, the stereo muted, left alone with my thoughts. There wasn’t exactly a decent plan for me to follow. I had a con to do on top of a con, a theft that was going to be looked at as worse than all of the other things in my life I had done. A kidnapper can’t exactly say, “Do a paternity test! I swear to Christ the kids are mine!”
Is that what I was going to be?
I was fucked!
I only had one lead and that was the sports bar where I had ran into them. If luck was with me, Will would be sitting in one of the booths and I could follow him home; decide what I was going to do from there. Luck wouldn’t be with me, though. Even if Will frequented that bar every day he wouldn’t likely go back after having seen me there. That’s what I worried, anyway. My plans hardly
Eat'em: Chapter 5Chapter 5
Mass Murderer’s Imaginary Menagerie! That’s the headline that accompanies my reveal of the Grotesque Infection during my trial. The catchy title does a good job of making me out to look like a lunatic. The article itself is farce. The journalist, David House, wrote it as if I am suggesting a microbial alien invasion of fungus people landed in my backyard. It reads like a smug movie review. He even compares my defense to an M. Night Shyamalan film.
The jury is expected to remain impartial and not be swayed the media. But the week after “Mass Murderer’s Imaginary Menagerie!” made the front page of the Star Telegram the prosecution compares my every word to various movies.
“I never said anything about trees exacting revenge!” Standing trial sucks. It’s long and pointless and entirely unfair. I didn’t get to go home and rest between court hearings. Which would make sense since I’m allegedly innocent until pr
Eat'em: Chapter 4Chapter 4
The palpability of the Texas sun covered my skin like burning oil. Nothing prepared me for the dramatic change in climate when we arrived to the state by train two months prior. Even still, my body refused to adjust to the summer heat.
I sat in the back of Val’s ’04 mint green Mustang to make room for our neighbor, a short guy named Isaac. Overdressed, Isaac climbed into the car, parting a suit jacket as he sank into the front seat. He always wore a vest and scarves, even in the hundred-degree heat. His dark hair swooped to the side with a cavernous part about an inch over his right ear. He looked a few years older than my uncle and myself, and in spite of his flamboyant appearance, seemed worldlier than someone our age typically does.
“I loathe this one, Jacob,” Eat’em plugged his nose and pointed to Isaac with his tail. He crossed over the dash, hopped onto the center console, and leapt onto my lap in the back seat. He climbed my shoulde