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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Crime/Gangster · #1222275
It’s not the heat that kills… it’s the bullets.
THE BIG KILL
Written By: P.B. Tedrow

It’s not the heat that kills… it’s the bullets. It was early morning and the temperature was rising faster then the French Imperialists in Vietnam. Two special men happened to be in one place – Dallas, the biggest day in Texas history. The independence of Texas didn’t matter, the Spanish-American War that had stained the undies of Texas red, didn’t matter. The biggest calendar event was yet to come.

“Ya, hello. Clear line? Of course this is a clear line. I am the best there is, when things come dangling into my street, I don’t wait; I force it and take it. Isn’t it a beautiful morning? The sun is out; the air is hot as hell. Nothing could be better than the weather in Texas. Oh yeah, yes I do… I got them in the bag.”

A man, tan, built like a sack of shit lay dressed to kill in the midst of the Texas heat. Preparation. Preparation takes hours, day, weeks sometimes months. Preparation can take the time it needs. The job. The job takes seconds. Seconds of precision. Once the job is done, the preparation means nothing. Preparation always means nothing. It’s the performance of the man on the job, and if the task is completed or not.

“Oh yes, lock and cocked. Beauties. You ought to be real proud, real proud. Nine months worth waiting for these babes, and these babes can’t wait to come. Make a little noise. Noise and thrills.”

The man lay waiting for the time to come, waiting as the time passes. The time passed as did the cars down below in the streets. The hands on the clock made their revolutions as the man made his resolutions. The sun arose from the eastern states. The eastern states and westerns states would receive a big surprise. A surprise to 179,999,998 Americans. The only reason accountable for it not happening is time itself. It was like a kid on Christmas eve. The kid waiting for tomorrow to come but tomorrow never comes. Would it come?

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll like the noise and thrills. Yes the beginning to something new here in our ole country. What? No need to be uptight. They’re ready. Probably ready more than you or me. These babes want a kick start. Alright, alright. Getting’ dirty and down to business, yes sir.”

The thick air went in and out. The thick air choked throats on this day. This day breathing and shock would do the same, choke the throat up a bit. It’s surprising but you know it’s coming. Not even at high noon and the man felt gritty enough to take another shower. The air stuck to the man’s clothes like glue on paper… the only way to get it off, was to tear it off.

“Meeting him down in the streets it’s too dangerous. I surveyed the area. The best place to do it is up from the air. Far away-  enough to be safer then a n----- in the south. I know what time, nothing will happen to my clocks, I know the time, the schedule of everything you thought of doing before you did. I know the schedule I know the times. This really will commemorate you.”

The clock struck one and the time was coming. The time would come and go like a solar eclipse. A solar eclipse would be one way to put the upcoming events. On this day the heat was like the heat was like cotton. The wool was stretched over the eyes of everyone. The man laying down on the bed sat up. The thought of heat passed. The thought of it even being hot didn’t pass. In the final hour of waiting the man grew cold. The cold had made him stiff.  Being stiff had become natural to the man. No more heat. The only thing that had to be hot was his mark.

“A new life will begin. A new life will emerge from your old sheltered self. As I arrived here I thought of it more as a reformation then a change. It is reform I think we all need. I know, I know. We all feel this way. Yeah. No need to worry of what you had but what you will have now. Whether you’ll know it or not you’ll have it, sir.”

The time grew nearer as did the man to the window. The cars swarmed around in the heat. Then the cars suddenly stopped passing by. The streets were empty, empty for only a few minutes as they would be full in no time, yet again. The man was growing tired of the waiting game. Only a matter of time before certain events began to happen. The tall buildings reflected the light off one another. The light illuminated Dallas but in a matter of minutes Dallas would be nothing close to it. The time was coming. The heat arose as did the shadows in the city streets.

“Alright, yeah… whoa, whoa. You never said anything about this. This is new to me. What? No, no, no it’s supposed to be nothing like this! What? Yes, I’ll calm down. I’m calm enough you prick. Well how else do you expect to act when you screw me as bad as I did the Dallas cheerleaders?! Yes, yes, I’m fine I can do the job. I can handle it. I can handle it. No problem- this just got deeper didn’t it? Of course. I know you got to go. I know, I got the schedule. Right on time, if not, don’t pay the n----- a dime, as my grandmother use to say.”

The man took out a cigar. He then took out a match. The man put the cigar and match on a neat little napkin on a table near the window. He  took out a sniper rifle and full metal’s to kill. The man opened the window. The crowd grew on the streets like the fungus of the big toe of a man.

“Kill him? Kill him if he gets caught? Well, that’s one way of swimming through the shit you took. Haha! Damn straight, damn straight!”

The man peered through the scope. The presidential car came cruising into the scope. He waved and winked as the President waved to the crowd as well. One shot. He was confused and had yet to pull the trigger. The man still not knowing what was going on tapped the trigger twice. Two shots. The Presidential car stopped. The President flopped out bleeding into the heart of Dallas.

“Yes sir, I got the order. This surely will be a day to remember. One to be remembered. Yes sir, it has been all my pleasure…you will be missed but remembered – One shot, one kill. I hope it’s quick… nice doing business, President Kennedy. Bye-bye.”
© Copyright 2007 P.B. Tedrow (shakedownking at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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