Oh shit!
The people under the shelter were muttering and then a big lady slid out her cell phone, to call the police, Jay Jay supposed. The man was already sliding to the pavement, easing right off the 14 inch flathead screwdriver.
“No calling,” he heard himself scream as he ran out of his flip-flops into the shelter and slashed the lady’s hand with the screwdriver, causing her to drop the smart phone and curl up in a fetal position screaming.
A big fat black man grabbed him and growled, “It’s on, chump!”
He pumped the screwdriver into that big belly again and again and again and again until he was screaming in ecstasy!
The man fell away with the screwdriver twisted up inside of him. People were scattering about, except the old hag who continued to smoke her mechanical cigarette and glare at him like he was insane.
“No smoking!” he yelled, as her head flattened out from the blow of his claw hammer.
“Stop right there!” came the voice behind him.
It was a hospital security guy unlimbering a tazer. Jay Jay went ‘ape shit’ as his brother used to call it when they had crabapple battles out back and Jay Jay would rampage about after taking a head shot from the older boys.
The claw end was not a real good idea. It got caught in the side of the man’s head, and when he fell out and lurched to his back—like his own bossy ass had been tazed—the hammer came loose from Jay Jay’s hand. Jay Jay had no time to take inventory and they were scattering like mice when the cat came.
The old man on crutches was still smoking his cigarette as he hobbled away calling for help. Jay Jay grabbed his tack hammer and leaped at the man, smacking him in the ear and dropping him with one shot, but at the cost of his tack hammer, the handle of which broke.
He noticed the fat woman in the powered chair, her cigarette smoldering in her mouth as she tried to speed off and call the police on her track phone. Jay Jay charged her and slammed into the side of her cart, bruising himself and jarring his already throbbing head, but tilting her into the gutter where she belonged. She squealed for help from under her scooter but her track phone had gone skidding into the street.
He saw a smart phone flash behind him and turned to make sure that person did not call, the last person close enough for him to stop.
Damn, and I thought I hated cigarettes!
You have no idea how sick they make me.
I was having hallucinations of killing smokers, and was driven to write this to purge the urge.
My father and his friend would go to the auction once a month to buy cattle, pigs, and other livestock, I would ride along knowing I was getting breakfast at the diner. Then they started smoking those putrid red dot cigars in the truck with the windows rolled up, I tried to eat my ham and eggs but lost it in the bathroom 5 minutes later, it took me years to eat ham again. Ishmael.