Bourbon Billy

“I don’t figure you’re the type of asshole who wants my opinion…”

With a pull of the trigger, Tyler Wallace made those ‘Bourbon’ Billy Steven’s last words.

Six Months Later.

“What kind of stupid, cousin-fucking, short-bus-riding, idiot takes hostages during a gas station stick-up? Hell, what kind of stupid, cousin-fucking, short-bus-riding idiot robs a gas station in the first place? ”

The massive slab of beer, steroids, and bench press with the bat tattoo on his face wasn’t looking for an answer. Especially since Jimmy was providing an example of a stupid, cousin fucking, short-bus-riding kind of idiot as he lay on the cold cement floor of his jail cell, spitting out blood and teeth.

Jimmy didn’t think explaining it was Tyler Wallace’s idea would help. An idea birthed after an epic three-day meth, Marlboro, and Budweiser bender. Bat-Tattoo-Face and his two equally scary friends wouldn’t find this an acceptable excuse to stop beating him to death.

Bat-Tattoo-Face shook his head and wiped away a tear.“And then to kill a man like Bourbon Billy Stevens? Over what? The fifty dollars in the register?”

Jimmy didn’t add they were also taking a case of beer, a bottle of Fireball, several cartons of Marlboro Reds, and all the beef jerky they could stuff in their pockets, or taking hostages was less about what they were going to get and more about staying out of jail.

Jimmy didn’t point out he didn’t pull the trigger either. That was Tyler. In the eyes of the law, Jimmy was just as responsible. Unfortunately for Jimmy, this was the one thing the law and Bat-Face-Tattoo agreed on.

“Why Billy?”

Jimmy considered telling him of the three hostages, Bourbon Billy, being the only one without a nice rack was the best candidate, but decided Bat-Tattoo Face wouldn’t appreciate the logic.

“What a fucking waste. Why shoot him?”

Jimmy could have told him Tyler figured the Sheriff Deputies surrounding the Stop and Shop out of US Route 491 (formerly US Route 666) wouldn’t take him seriously unless he showed them how serious he was, but he didn’t.

He didn’t point out how Tyler didn’t consider without a live hostage to hide behind, there was nothing to stop the trigger-happy deputies from lighting him up.

Jimmy decided the best thing to do after watching his best friend end up a bullet-riddled pile of guts and blood on the Stop and Shop sidewalk was surrender. Like most of his decisions, he’d come to regret it. Getting shot thirty times was probably a better way to go than what Bat-Face-Tattoo and his buddies had in mind.

“Bourbon Billy was a fucking legend. Do you have any idea who you killed?”

Jimmy didn’t.

Bat-Tattoo-Face grabbed Jimmy by his hair and lifted his battered face so he had to look him in the eye.

“You think it’s been bad so far?”

Jimmy did.

“Say something, goddamnit.”

Jimmy managed a bloody smile, “I don’t figure you’re the type of asshole who wants my opinion…”

BIO: Todd Morr is a freelance writer and guitarist who has had books published by Fahrenheit Press, 10th Rule Books, Spanking Pulp Press, 280 Steps, and Snub Nose Press. He’s had work appear in several anthologies, including both Rock-N-Noirror volumes, Dark Yonder: Tales and Tabs, and Deadlines: A Tribute to William Wallace, and short fiction published in places such as Out of the Gutter, Horror, Sleaze, Trash, Spelk, and Shotgun Honey.

His latest novella, A Briefcase Full of the End of the World, is available from Fahrenheit Press.