Bad Games

27



Maury and Lois Blocker lay next to one another in bed. Lois wept silently. Maury’s pale complexion was now a sickly white. The couple was too scared too even hold on to one another.

“You need to get off the fence here, bro,” Jim said to Arty. “We’re wasting time.”

Arty stood at the foot of the bed. He held an aluminum baseball bat along the length of his leg. Jim was to the right of the bed, a pistol pointed at the couple.

“I’m still thinking,” Arty said.

“What’s to think about?”

“Leaving too big a mess is what. You feel like cleaning up?”

“No, but our choices were pretty f*cking limited from the start. Either someone was home or they weren’t.”

Maury Blocker cleared his throat. “Please,” he said. “If it’s money—”

“Shut up,” Arty said. He spoke to the couple as if they repulsed him. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Tick tock, bro,” Jim said.

Arty nodded. “I’m just thinking about efficiency. The less mess, the sooner we can get started.”

Jim shrugged. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Well we gotta get rid of their car, right?”

Jim nodded.

Arty tapped the bat against Lois Blocker’s foot. “How tall are you?”

Her fear meshed with a confused frown. “What?”

“How tall?”

“I don’t…five-two?”

Arty tapped the bat on Maury’s foot. “You?”

“About five-seven, I guess.”

Arty brought the aluminum bat down onto Maury Blocker’s head once, then twice. Lois Blocker screamed after the second hit, immediately prompting her turn. Arty crushed her skull with the first swing.

Panting, Arty turned to his brother, bat in both hands. “Sometimes you just get up to the line of scrimmage and need to call an audible, James my boy.”

Jim started laughing. “The f*ck are you talking about?”

Arty threw the bat into the corner where it landed with a distinctive twang. “They’re short little f*ckers. We can stuff ’em in the trunk before we ditch the car. I really didn’t feel like digging any holes this weekend.” He tapped the side of his forehead. “Efficiency.”

“I’ve got the smartest big brother in the whole wide world.”

Arty held out a fist. “Rock, scissor, paper to see who strips the sheets?”