Ask any shrink or probation officer, “What is the most troubling kind of client?” You will hear the same answer every time: stalkers. Not the run-of-the-mill stalker—the jilted boyfriend type—but the schizo who obeys no authority save the voice inside his head. Lecture him, he will not listen. Warn him, he will not be impressed. Put him in jail and when he gets out he is likely to stalk you.
“You nearly beat me that time William.”
“You’re very good Sir.”
“Sir…I like that…Tell me why you’re here?”
“I’m not sure Sir. I love this place. It’s just that, after you came to my house that night, I knew that I wanted to be with you. And I thought that you felt the same way.”
“Hello cat! Balancing your arse on the window sill again. You need to lose weight…Pot and kettle…I know!!”
What are you chirping at? Ah, I see, the birds, how ironic!” Someone should have heard that, it was mildly amusing.
“You don’t need to puff up you idiot, I see him. What do you think? Breakdown or directions?”
Continue reading “To Kill John Morgan by Hugh Cron – Adult Content”
I came of age in a time of no heroes. Or, rather, in a time when, because seemingly everyone was a hero, no one was. At least that was how Mariska explained it to me. She said that we Americans were so desperate to be saved from terrors both real and imagined that we’d pin a medal on just about anything that moved.
Click here to read Author (Part 1)
The next morning I arrive at Judge Fong’s office at 7:30 am as ordered. I’m suffering a headache hangover. I’m mildly irritated to see the Judge’s Clerk beaming with excitement. “What’s up Bob? You look remarkably bright this morning.”
Robert “Bob” Mitchell gives me a classic shit-eating grin. “Tecumseh, your ass is grass. The Judge’s mad as hell at you for letting your client get killed. What the hell was that all about? That’s all everybody’s talking about is the Mayhew mess. The word is he was practicing voodoo–”
James Frost leaned back in the recliner, adjusting his body into the soft confines of the old chair. It was leather, shiny with age, comfortable as a slipper. It was the only piece of furniture he had brought with him from home when he moved into Garden Court last year. Hell, at ninety-two it was time that he treat himself to a little comfort. He was tired of cooking, tired of housework, tired of watching his late wife’s garden wilt and deteriorate into patches of dirt, only memories remaining of the gladioli, daisies, and Lily of The Valley that Millie loved.
I meet my celebrity client, Edmond C. Mayhew, IV in the City Jail Interview Room Seven. Mr. Mayhew has the rugged, handsome look of an athlete/movie star even in his baggy prison orange. He appears confident, a little tense and a bit annoyed to find himself in his current predicament.
“Mr. Mayhew, I’m—”
“I know who you are, Tecumseh H. Douglass, the legal magician who swoops in and brings the bright glory of victory to the most dismal and darkest moments of despair. It’s truly my pleasure to meet you, especially under these circumstances.”
“Isn’t this place just perfect?”
Jan was talking to herself as she wandered around her new home. He hadn’t moved from the lounge.
No! It isn’t. It’s fucking yours! Your house! Your money bought the fucking house! Yours!! Everything is yours!! It will always be yours! God!! I FUCKING HATE THIS!!!
His thought induced tantrum died down. He took a breath and thought of puppies. Eddie liked puppies.
“… There’s a little green frog swimming in the water a little green frog doing what he ought-a … Alright all you gladers… there are 15 species of frogs and snakes in this here swamp and the most deadly of all is Captain Dwayne’s trouser-snake responsible for breaking hearts and busting up trailer parks on both sides of the Okeefenokee. This here’s injun land compadres. You’re on an Indian Reservation and the spirit of the hawk and the water dragon oversees these waterways. Now you calls em gators but we calls em draaaaagons… and if you let old captain Dwayne rev up this here rusty metal wildebeest to 150 miles per hour we’ll just see if we can rustle up some draaaagons for ya … ” [vrooooom!]
“Paula! Come in! Sit down beside your old Granny Lizzie… I want to tell you some things.”
“Another one of your stories gran? Are you not too tired?”
“Tired? Not now. I’ll be dead soon, so even if I wanted to sleep, I’ve not got the time. You need to hear this.”
literally stories 