The Sin Bin

The Sin Bin by Tony Black Read Free Book Online

Book: The Sin Bin by Tony Black Read Free Book Online
Authors: Tony Black
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Short Stories
message went quiet but the little
clock still ticked off the seconds; he started again:
    ' No,
scrub that last bit ... I ' m putting it out with the trash! You know, you ' d still have a job if you didn ' t take that shit! It ' s fucked with your mind, I mean what
did Mr Hernandez say to make you fly at him like that! He was your boss, you
can ' t go round hitting
your boss and keep your job. Oh, Christ, like you care, go screw yourself,
Francis ... go fucking screw yourself! '
    I threw the cell at the wall and it
bounced right back, smacking me upside the head. It hurt like a bitch and I
jumped right up and stamped it into the floor.
    My heart was pumping black blood to my
head. I was past the break-point now. Adrenaline raced in my veins so much that
I could see red tinges in the corner of my vision. I couldn't hold myself back
anymore — I turned to the nearest target.
    The carpet to the door of Mike ' s room felt thick under my sandals and made
a swish-swish noise that annoyed the fuck out of me. I ripped the sandals off
and tore them apart in my bare hands as I strode, steps like explosions, all
the way to the end of the line.
    I thought about knocking, but the door
looked flimsy enough to need only a couple of shoulder barges. I was wrong; it
took only one.
    The hookers screamed as I ran in. I
grabbed one by the wrist and yelled at her, ' Get the fuck out of here, now! ' The other raised her hands to her face and screamed louder, I
slapped her and she dropped like a stone. Her buddy wasted no time on help
though, turned tail and shot out that door like a scalded cat.
    Mike lay naked on the bed, save a white
towel round his waist, the bottle of pink champagne still in his hand. His
mouth was a wide `O' but there was not a sound coming from him as I grabbed his
hair and turned him over on his front.
    ' What was that
you called me? ' I yelled at
    ' What ? ' his voice was a
pathetic whimper.
    ' What was that
you called out to me? '
    ' I-I-I don ' t ... '
    ' Yes, you
Goddamn do! Think, what was that shit you said? '
    ' I-I-I- ' Every time he spoke I felt my rage pitch
up a notch. He was riding me. Just like he always had.
    ' You fucking
well know what you said, you fucking well know ... say it, say it, you fuck,
say what you said to me. '
    ' I didn ' t say ... when? '
    ' When? When? ... Eighth Grade you motherfucker! '
    I reached down for the towel around his
waist and pulled it clear of his butt-cheeks.
    ' You know what
it is with guys like you, don ' t
you? '
    He twisted his head to see what I
planned to do He was crying now, full on tears like a baby. ' What are you going to do to me? What
are you going to do to me? '
    ' I said, do you
know what they say about guys like you ... always attacking us, calling us
queer! You know what they say? '
    ' No. No, ' he yelled out, ' I don ' t know,
please, please I have a family. '
    ' They say you ' re the queers! It ' s suppressed in you ... '
    ' No, please,
please, ' he whimpered.
    I pushed his face into the pillow and
grabbed up the phallic looking pink champagne bottle.
    There was still plenty of fizz left in
the bottle, as I pressed it into his ass it sprayed about like a power-hose.
    I could listen to those screams all
day, I thought, they sounded like, no, they fucking told me, the world was mine
    They must have stopped for a time
before I noticed the bed had turned black and damp and the bottle was no more
than a shard of glass in my hand.
    The last I remember was the hooker
scrambling for her purse and the sound her .45 made as she pumped a round into
me. I don ' t recall feeling a
thing, but then, a 55-inch chest carries plenty padding.

The Long Drop
    Sometimes it was the thing to do.
    There was no keeping the needle under seventy; eighty
was a trial, but the lights went out when the grille clipped the dumpster.
These dark country roads called for careful driving; stick in the dirt from the
slips and the wet — and the fact that this was the
night luck ran

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