This week we had a holiday (Martin Luther King, Jr. Day) after which the temperatures plummeted into the teens and, this being a city that ten years ago made national news for mishandling a late-breaking snow storm, school districts immediately shut down and remained closed through Thursday. This meant that my wife and I were housebound with our two children while also expected to work full-time. My university, its benevolent wisdome no doubt influenced by the surplus of CoVid-era IT hires desperate to continue justifying their employment, opted for the truly cursed phenomena of our modern age - the pivot to online instruction. This meant completely redesigning in-person course materials for online modality at the last minute snap of a finger, while also completing a rigorous and painstaking annual review that ballooned to 24 pages by the time it was done. And on top of ALL of this, we all cycled through staggered bouts of a brief but nasty viral infection over the course of the last 10 days. And that’s to say nothing of the nasty viral infection that took hold of our nation this past Monday and will not have run its course for another four years.
If we survive.
All of which is to say that this week was something of a loss; it was pure survival mode, with cabin fever settling in fairly early and still lingering even today. I am tired and have had little to no time to think, let alone collect any of the thoughts that may manage to float to the surface if I had. I have a more-or-less full piece pre-written, almost ready to go, but I don’t even have the energy to look it over.
So what I’m doing instead is re-posting an older, but new-to-this-space, piece before I’m able to re-group over the next week.
Enjoy until then.
HANK and EMMA, a young couple, sit on a blanket by a tree in an isolated section of a public park. Hank is rounding second with his eyes on home.
Emma: I think maybe we should take it easy.
Hank: Why?
He begins to slip a hand up her skirt.
Emma: Oh, god…
Hank: Is that okay?
Emma: Mmmm…(Looks around) But I don’t think this is the place for…
Hank: Who cares if anybody sees us?
He unbuttons his pants, begins to lift her shirt over her head.
Emma: I just think we should be caref—...oh shit, what was that?
She springs up.
Hank: What?
Emma: There's somebody over there.
Hank: Where?
Emma: Behind that tree.
Hank: Hey! Come on out, asshole, the show's over!
Emma: Hank...
Hank: Hey, asshole!
Emma: Hank, I think he's wearing a mask. Is that...oh, god...
A tall figure clothed entirely in black - head to toe, including mask and gloves - approaches them, a pistol at the end of his outstretched hand. On his chest, a cross in rifle sights in bold red.
Masked Man: Quiet, sinner!
Hank: Oh Jesus, you're...
Emma: It's the Corinthian Killer!
She goes to grab her shirt.
Masked Man: Leave it there, filth. Let yourself arrive upon our god in a manner as disgusting and shameful as you leave his precious earth.
Hank: Please, you don't have to do this.
Emma: Oh my god, oh my god...I don't want to die...
Hank (to Emma): Shh, it's going to be okay, honey. (to the Killer) At least let her go.
Masked Man: So that she can continue her fornicating ways in the sweaty folds of another?
Hank: Hey, watch it!
Emma: Hank, what are you doing?
Hank: Are you trying to imply she's a whore?!
Masked Man: You can't protect her anymore. Her sin is apparent in the eyes of our righteous creator.
Emma: Wait a minute...
Hank: What?
Emma: Why is that what you took from what he said?
Hank: This isn't the time...
Emma: We’ve only been seeing each other for five months.
Hank: So what?
Masked Man: Enough…
Emma: So I think I have the right to move on when you die.
Hank: “When…?”
Masked Man: Silence! Prepare to look upon the judging face of a vengeful, punishing g-oh my god, it's you.
Another man dressed entirely in black, also holding a gun, has stepped out of the bushes. On his chest, also in red, is a crown of thorns that has been modified into a rifle sight.
Second Killer: What's going on here?
Masked Man: You're the Corinthian killer! Oh my god, I'm such a big fan of your work.
Hank: Hold on, I thought you were the--
Masked Man: Seriously, I cannot tell you what an influence you've been on me, both personally and professionally.
Second Killer: Wait a minute, I know you. You're that asshole that's been going around copycatting me!
Masked Man: Oh my goodness - you know my work?
Second Killer: Of course I do - you've been running around dressed like me for the last month and a half. Kind of hard not to notice.
Masked Man: I'm so flattered. I mean, I've been a fan of yours since the beginning. I've studied all of your murders. I've always had this desire, this need to kill, you know? I just didn't really know how to fulfill it. I knew I had something valuable to say about our relationship with the divine creator through the destruction of human life, I just never had a voice with which to express it. But then you came along, and it was like someone had reached into my brain, scooped out these violent urges, and enacted them a thousand times more effectively than I ever could. At first I hated you, but then I realized the truth - that you had been put here to guide me. To give me someone whose footsteps I could follow in until I finally started to find my own way.
Second Killer: You killed that old married couple in the Appalachians last August, didn't you?
Masked Man: That was me.
Second Killer: You know they blamed that on me?
Masked Man: That was the greatest moment of my life. I can only hope that you felt some of the same pride, knowing that your good work was carrying on.
Second Killer: Pride? I've never felt so ashamed in my whole life!
Masked Man: I don't understand...is it because I fulfilled your mission so much more successfully than you ever had?
Second Killer: Fulfilled my mission? See, that's my point - you killed an old married couple, don't you understand?
Masked Man: I sprang upon them as they committed the sin of physical love, just like you would have done.
Second Killer: Married, Marr-ied. M-A-R-R-I-E-D! It's not a sin if they're fucking married. I mean, look at your symbol.
Masked Man: What about it?
Second Killer: A cross in the cross hairs?
Masked Man: Cross hairs. I thought it was clever.
Second Killer: But it represents the opposite of what I'm going for! You would get that if you actually understood my work.
Hank: Maybe we should go...
They start to sneak away.
Second Killer: Down, sinners!
Masked Man: (to Hank and Emma) Don’t listen to him. (To Second Killer) These are my victims - I found them first. (To Hank and Emma) Down, sinners!
Hank: Look, I'm sorry, but if we're going to be killed, do you think he can do it?
He points to Killer 2.
Masked Man: Him? Why?
Emma: We'd rather be killed by the real guy.
Masked Man: Right...the real guy...
Second Killer: Look, there's no point in embarrassing yourself further. Just leave now, and let's forget this ever hap--
Masked Man raises his gun and shoots Second Killer three times in the chest. Emma screams.
Hank: Jesus Christ!
The Masked Man takes a step towards the body, looks down sadly at it, and then shoots him one more time. He takes a moment, then looks over at Hank.
Masked Man: I had to do that, right?
Hank: What?
Masked Man: He needed to go so that I could fully come into my own, yes?
Hank: Uh, sure...
Emma: Yes, yes of course he did...
Masked Man: You're not just saying that because you're afraid of me?
Hank: No.
Masked Man: Because you're not afraid of me...
Hank: No, that's not what I meant.
Emma: Of course we are.
Masked Man: Do you mean it?
Emma: Yes!
But he knows that they don't.
Police sirens in the distance.
- cs