Running Out of Plans: An Installment of The Plan by Kristen And Julie

TODAY’S BREW: Woodchuck hard cider

Another freakshow installment of The Plan by Kristen and Julie  Catch up on the earlier installments here.

THE PLAN: RUNNING OUT OF PLANS

“Fuck! My wallet is gone!”

“What? Your wallet?” Jeff was just a blank page of hangover, a mess all over. He registered not a word I said. He didn’t realize what the fuck this meant.

We could be found.

“Wake the fuck up, Jeff! We have to go back to the club. My wallet is at the fucking strip club!”

He rolled to one side, away from me, and I pulled him back to look at me. “Jeff. They will know who we killed.”

“We can’t go back, babe.  We’ll get arrested.  You killed that bouncer.”

“Well if you didn’t pay to fuck that stripper, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” I practically jumped up and down on the rumpsprung mattress.

“Relax, Kendall. It was twenty bucks.” Jeff pulled my pillow over his face. I fought the urge to smother him with it.

“Do you know how many things she has to stick in that raunchy pussy at twenty bucks a pop to actually pay her rent?” I pushed at him.  “What are we going to do, Jeff? We need to fix this.”

He sat up, a disaster, running his hands through his mess of hair, looking like he just started drinking or just finished. “Okay. Okay, so we go back and get it.”

I sat down next to him. “Think, Jeff.” I tapped him hard on the head. “Anyone who finds a wallet at a strip club is going to fucking use it. They may know who I am already.”

“Well, only one way to find out. “

We got dressed fast, and headed out. What else was there to do?

The strip club sat quietly between warehouses and bars in the early morning light.  Delivery trucks dotted the street, but not much other activity was happening when we arrived.

We’d kill anyone who questioned us. It was in their best interest to think we blended into the woodwork.

Jeff tried the front door. Of course it was locked.

“Maybe you should knock.” I leaned up against the outside of the building, arms crossed.

“Fuck you, Kendall.”

“If you had done that in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this mess. And we could have spent that twenty bucks on something important.  Like duct tape.”

“You’re the smart one. Of course. Killing the bouncer. Okay, let’s try the back door. Chances are that’s open for deliveries.”

I pushed the door open easily. The club was more surreal in day light than at night. Dust motes highlighted the filth that filled every inch, despite it being empty.  I went to looking under chairs and on tables, as clearly the place hadn’t been cleaned last night. Nothing.

“Fucking nothing!” Jeff yelled.

“Shit.”

“Looking for this?” I heard, and turned around slowly.

A oily, short man held my wallet up in the spotlight with his pudgy fingers.  He smiled, his teeth gnarled in his pockmarked face.

He thought he had us where he wanted us.

“I am.”  I took a step towards him, knowing better than to grab at my wallet. “Thank you for keeping it safe for me.”

“What are you going to do for it, little girl? I know why you left  in such a hurry.”

“Do you?” The killer came forward, not just me, but the person inside that loved this death. I was right in his face, close enough to smell last night’s whiskey. “Cause I could fucking show you exactly what I can do, friend.”

Jeff was close, watching, and I knew this would be so easy. He was easy. It would be funny.

“I can negotiate with you, since if I don’t give this to you, you’ll go to jail.”

“What do you want?” I braced myself, knowing exactly what he’d say.

The fat man approached me, grabbing at my chest roughly.  He grinned again. I wondered how long it had been since a woman liked it when he groped her.  I bent my arm in half, exposing my elbow. I whacked him in the face, connecting hard with his gin blossom nose.

“You little bitch!” He groaned after the bone finished cracking.  Both of his hands went up to his face. He dropped the wallet.  I kicked him in the groin.

I’m not sure the man ever even noticed Jeff.  I kicked the wallet as soon as it hit the floor over to him.

But I didn’t need Jeff to do anything more than pick up my wallet.

I punched the fool in the face, right in the nose, blood spurting everywhere. He still tried to grab at my boob as he fell to the floor, the persistent little pirck, but I kicked him on the way down, and straddled his back once he hit the floor.

“You whore!” he yelled to me over his shoulder.

I laughed. I laughed until I couldn’t breathe or think. I laughed until Jeff was a memory, until I was a memory. And I put my hands on his neck and twisted, snapping it like a chicken bone in my fingers. Like the nothing that he was. Jeff looked on, a vision of fear and admiration.

Plan C: This Is Our Perfect Crime

Today’s Brew:  10 percent alcohol pirate beer

Here is the latest installment of The Plan, quickies by Kristen and Julie.  For those of you are new to The Plan, Julie and I use our old fashioned, tried and true technique of passing a notebook back and forth to write monthly flash fiction about our pet serial killers. Catch up on Plan A and Plan B here.  Enjoy, loves.  This should get you in the mood for Stories To Strip By.

I could smell the cinnamon and vanilla a seat away.  Nipple tassels and a Walmart G string did nothing to cover her, and I almost slipped a couple of times as she wound herself around Jeff, grinding him like the whore she was.  I didn’t care if she was just trying to do her job.  Bitch, he belonged to me.

“You want more, baby?” Her voice was as sick and wet as the rest of her.  Jeff groaned into her ear and my own ears pounded full of blood.

Unbelievable.

I saw him slip her something that looked an awful lot like money. Really, Jeff? She smiled (at least she had all her teeth), arching her back as she slipped the new acquisition into her pleather thigh high boot.

If he thought he was going to fuck me after sticking himself inside that rancid pussy, he could think again.

His mouth slacked and his eyes glazed over as she unzipped his fly and jutted her breasts forward.  Jeff ripped off one of her pasties with his teeth, exposing her hard nipple, and spit the debris in my direction.  He went to work on her naked breast. I crossed my legs and looked away, trying not to slam both of their heads against the table.  I thought better of it, not wanting to spill the over priced strip club beer.

Anyway, I needed Jeff alive.  What other sick fuck could I find on such short notice?  I needed to do this like I needed to breathe now.

If I was going down, it wasn’t in the world’s seediest strip bar.  My feet stuck to the floor with God knows what kind of goo and my blood boiled, knowing his cum was about to join the stew.

I turned back towards him, glaring.  I hoped he at least thought to use a condom. He held the whore by the hips, guiding her up and down in a way that would bruise even a cheap slut such as herself.  She threw her head back, screaming, loving every second of it. I looked away again, wishing it was me screaming like that, and realized Jeff and the whore attracted a healthy sized group of admirers.

At least if he was going to fuck this filthy girl in public, he did it with enough panache to draw a crowd. My groin pulsed, betraying me, and I tried my best to keep my envy at bay.

I would have fucked him in a room full of people.  Who knew he was into that? All he had to do was say the word. He could have saved himself the inconvenience and the discomfort of the gonorrhea shot he had coming to him.

“Hey buddy! That’s not how you treat our ladies!” A burly, roid ragey looking bouncer tried to restore some decorum to this fine establishment. When Jeff just went on pounding the whore, the bouncer responded by pounding Jeff on the back of the head.

“What the fuck?!” I leaped to my feet, grabbed the behemoth by the shoulder, having at him.  He was too big for me to move.

The whore backed away like she hadn’t begged Jeff to fuck her in exchange for his money. “I don’t know what happened, Bruno, he just started doing it!”

I wanted to rip her trachea out with my bare fucking hands, pull her hair like Jeff did when he plunged inside her, and watch her bleed out all over the sex stained floor.

She just knew I’d kill her without a second thought.  Maybe she wasn’t so dumb after all.

I smashed my Heineken bottle on the table, sending the empty bottles flying, and twisted it around to look at it’s shattered neck as men swore and strippers screeched all around me. Jeff struggled to stuff his still hard dick back into his pants, rising to his feet to square off with the bouncer.

Before he had a chance to strike, I jumped on the monstrosity’s back and gouged his throat with the broken bottle, smiling as I heard the satisfying snap of his arteries.  His blood gurgled as it gushed all over his polo.

I looked directly at the whore, plunging the glass shard deeper into his neck.

“You’re next.” I mouthed to her. I couldn’t have wiped the shit eating grin off my face even if I wanted to.

She ran, naked body parts still attached.  I screamed at her to stop as I jumped off the oaf’s back.  He hit the floor with a thud, knocking over chairs and tables in his wake.

“Kendall! We gotta go!” Jeff grabbed my cheeks forcing me to look back at him. “I think I heard sirens.”

Damn, just when I was about to make good on my promise.

“Okay, baby.” We ran out a side door.  Some filthy guys chased after us, but most were too drunk to care.

We didn’t stop running for seven blocks.  Sweating and panting like  the whore I was sorry I didn’t get a chance to kill, we ducked into an alley.  We laughed until we fell on our asses.

“I don’t think we should go to another strip club for a while.” I said, fighting the giggles, as I tried to catch my breath. I was so happy to share this moment with him.

“I don’t know what you mean, Kendall.  Fucking strippers, killing bouncers. It felt pretty good to me.  Happy Valentine’s Day, Baby.”  He kissed me with bloody lips.  “This was our perfect crime.”

Plan B: The Best Christmas Ever by Kristen and Julie

TODAY’S BREW:  Mimosas! Merry Christmas everyone!

 

Here is the next segment of the short story, apparently series, that we started way back, called The Plan.  Thought we would use our good ol’ fashioned technique of passing a notebook back and forth and writing another one together.  Kristen did the opening, I did the end.  See if you can figure out who did what for the rest! Have fun! There is no prize.

Plan B:  The Best Christmas Ever

by Julie Hutchings and Kristen Strassel

I snapped off the TV.  I had enough of the over made up bitch on the news pretending to care about a string of victims, senseless violence, blah, blah, blah before switching back to her regularly scheduled goodwill to men.  I rolled on my side facing Jeff, who laid half awake on the scratchy hotel bedspread.  This place was disgusting.  He kissed me roughly, cupping my ass against his side.  The old fashioned Christmas lights flashed red and green onto his face.

He curled his finger into my hair the way he always did now, making me groan and lean into him.  He murmured into my ear while he sucked on my earlobe. “You know, we’re gonna get caught sooner or later if we don’t mix things up a little.”

“What makes you say that?  Because Muffy Newsreader is hot on our trail?”  I ran my finger down the middle of Jeff’s chest, my fingernail leaving a mark on its way down to his jeans.  “We’ve covered our tracks.  We’ve been creative.  They’ll never catch us.”  I kissed him again before he had time to protest.

“Baby, we are still amateurs.  We can still get caught.”

I pulled away from him, confused.  “Amateurs?”  I smiled, but my teeth were gritted.  “We have mutilated, maimed and killed six people, and always find new ways to make it fun.”  I was getting really hot now, but angry too.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t fun.  But it’s not like we’re CSI or anything.”

“We can kill them too, if they come too close.”  I pulled myself up on to Jeff, straddling him.  I leaned close to his face.  “They can’t catch us if they’re dead.”

He was getting hard, but looked a little scared.  “That’s an awful lot of people to kill, armed people, Kendall.”

I jumped off of him, running my fingers through my hair and pacing with the excitement of it.  “It is!  But we can’t get ahead of ourselves, not yet, we need to think about the present, not what could happen, not about the what ifs!  If we keep doing it new ways, keep offing these fuckers different, nobody will ever think it was the same murderer!  So we need new ideas, we gotta get creative!”  My toes dug into the nasty carpet to hold me still.

Jeff sighed.  “What do you have in mind, babe?”

“Lots of things!  I mean, we can strangle them, we can beat them with baseball bats.”  I pranced back over to the bed, leaning over to Jeff so he got an eyeful of cleavage hanging out of my party dress. “We can skin them alive.”

“You really took to this, didn’t you?”

“I learned from the best.  Amateur my ass.”

He jumped up and started pacing on his own, but he was nervous, scared like those girls, and it made me angry.  “We have been together on this every step of the way.”  He moved toward me, ready to plead with me.  I knew that look.  “Since we were kids, I have been with you every step of the way.  But you are getting out of control here.”  He held my arms.  I pulled away.

“You just can’t come up with any good ideas, and now you’re scared.  But I have more.”

Jeff started to breathe heavy, anger sending flames to his eyes, making him shake.  “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!  I can do this as well as you can!  We should burn the next one.  Burn her alive.”

“See, now you’re thinking!  We haven’t even scratched the surface.  There’s so much we can do with this, Jeff.  This is the best Christmas ever.  By the time we get to the next city, we will have those idiots so far off the trail, they’ll never be able to keep up with us.  Our biggest problem will be which one we should do first.”

He had a faraway look, his wheels were spinning.  “I want to kill the next one myself.  Lots of people kill themselves at Christmas, make it look like a suicide.  Maybe not burn this one, but something a little more subtle.”

“Subtle?! Why the fuck subtle?!”

“Because I want more time, and we can’t go big with every one, or it will bring the cops on us quicker, and it will take the punch away from the really good kills!”  He was pissed now, and happy about it.

“I want to make them all really good kills!  Flaying! The next one gets flayed!”

“Fuck, Kendall!  This one is mine, and I say we go subtle!”

“Subtle is for pussies.”

Jeff’s lips tightened like they always did when he was ready to explode.  He let out an aggravated growl as he spun to the girl on the floor.  I had forgotten she was there, crucified to the filthy maroon carpet with two railroad spikes through her hands, one through her left foot.  We through a little garland around her, just for Christmas spirit. My dagger pinned the other foot down, improv work when the bitch had tried to get away.   He knew she couldn’t talk through her smashed in teeth, but Jeff asked her anyway.

“Well, what do you think?”