Poor Visibility
“You see, this never would’ve happened if that damn weatherman had been right. It was supposed to be cloudy and cool, but instead, the sun was glaring down on me and making good visibility near ‘bout impossible. That’s why that pregnant lady ended up dead. I didn’t bring my shades because I thought I wouldn’t need ‘em.
“‘Bout two years ago, the tool and die plant in my hometown got closed. Downsizing. We blamed the manager for not going to bat for us, he blamed upper management for pissing away our 401K, and management blamed the economy. Personally, I blame the Democrats as far as the government goes. It’s getting so that a man can’t earn a decent living in this country, but he can get one for free if he’ll prance his fancy ass down to the welfare office once a month. Anyway, I lost my job, and so did most everyone else. Soon enough whole packs of people were moving away. Just up and leaving their homes and everything.
“I’d been out of work for a while when my old woman really started riding me. I couldn’t sit down without her jumping all over me to get up and do something. That’s what she was always saying, ‘Get off your sorry ass! I ain’t got but one good bra to my name!’ or, ‘There ain’t nothing to eat! No bread, no chips, no nothing!’ So one day I go out for a beer, and when I get home, she’s gone. Took my dog and my truck. A woman that’ll take your dog’ll cut you.
“Wasn’t long before I lost the trailer, too. Just built a red wood deck on the back. A couple of men in ties came and told me to get out. Where the hell was I supposed to go, huh? I had to move back in with my mama. I fought in Fu Bi, for Christ’s sake.
“I was feeling ‘bout as low as a snail in a salt factory. Didn’t even feel like getting up to go to bed most nights, so I just slept in the Lazy Boy. Didn’t even go outside for days at the time. And then one day I was watching the evening news because I just didn’t wanna get up and change the channel, and who do you think I saw? Q. Percieval Geldenfather, owner of Geldenfather Tool and Die. He and a bunch of others were standing around in suits just a smiling, shaking hands and having their pictures took with their pretty blonde wives. Old Percy was gonna start up an indoor football league. Now I ain’t got nothing against indoor football, but I was wondering how come he had enough money to do that, and didn’t have enough money to let me keep my trailer?
“That’s when I started cleaning my rifle a lot and listening to Johnny Cash.
“A month or so went by, and then I heard that Percy was gonna be given some award by a hospital over in Lummox. I didn’t really think about that when I bought that telescopic sight for old Blinky, though. I just kind of did it. I suppose I just kind of bought that ski mask, too.
“Well, Percy’s big day came and I walked into the hospital that morning with Blinky disassembled in a duffel bag along with the ski mask and the yellow rubber gloves Mama uses to wash dishes. I didn’t have a speck of trouble. Everyone was getting ready for the speech and everything. I went up to the roof, sat down and had a sandwich, then got ready.
“I was in the perfect spot, too. With that scope I could pop him right in the chest with one shot. I practiced aiming at the stage and the microphone, but just as the whole thing started, the sun came out, and since I didn’t have my shades, there was an awful glare. It was getting hot, too. They had to do it at noon, I reckon. Couldn’t have done it in the morning or later in the day. They all just had to have lunch together. That mask was sticking to my face something fierce, and I could hear my hands getting squeaky in them gloves. I hadn’t thought they’d be so small. That weatherman was full a shit.
“Some old man made a big speech about what a great person Percy was, and how he’d helped the hospital get all this new equipment, and then Percy got up to talk. I’d never seen him in person before. He sure was a little man. Wore big black glasses and was kind of going bald. Funny thing is, he kind of looked like me; he would a without them glasses, anyways. But I could tell by his voice that he was a real nervous kind of fella, the kind what got men killed back in the jungle.
“I planted my cross hairs square on his chest. ‘You miserable little sumbitch, I got you now.’ I said. But just as I pulled the trigger, a big one-legged crow landed right on the barrel and I missed Percy by a mile. Caught that poor old fella that talked first in the ear, though.
“That big black bird lighted on me and started pecking and clawing at my face. You can still see where if you look real hard. You’d think he’d have flown off after the shot. He was so close I could see his little nub just a kicking. You ever heard of a thing like that? I ain’t.
“I hissed at him ‘Get off me, buzzard! I ain’t dead yet!’ but I reckon there wasn’t any need to whisper. Everybody down there was screaming and trampling each other like a bunch of cattle. I knocked that bird off me and aimed again. The sun was really in my eyes by this time.
“Then somebody screamed, ‘He’s on the roof!’ and Percy looked right up at me.
He’d dropped those big coke bottle bottoms of his, so I don’t know how he saw me, but in all that noise I could hear him screaming in a high-pitched yankee voice, ‘Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus!’ again and again. He reached over and hauled some big woman out in front of him just as I pulled the trigger. Lord, he was a nervous-actin’ fella. The bullet went through both of ‘em anyway, so I don’t know why he bothered. They both dropped, and I heard a man, I guess it was the woman’s husband, scream, ‘Becky!’ as loud and as long as he could.
“I dropped Blinky and stood up. I could feel my face going plumb white. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘time to go.’ and I was off like a shot. I yanked off my mask, leaving it and Blinky up on the roof, figuring since no one had seen me, I might not get caught. All I could think as I flew down the stairs was, ‘Lord, I hope that woman was just fat.’ But of course she wasn’t. She was pregnant. Never a break, I tell you. Never a break.
“Well, I made it all the way to the first floor before the fuzz got me. Must have been ten of ‘em. They rushed me and I decided to just go limp and scream ‘Don’t hit me! Don’t hit me!’ but it didn’t work. They clubbed me up pretty good. Knocked out three teeth and cut my gums up pretty bad.
“I’d forgot to take the gloves off, and they were black with gun oil, so I guess that’s what gave me away. It was either that or that my face was bleeding. Later they were able to pin it all on me ‘cause I’d forgotten to file the serial number off Blinky. I swear I thought I’d done that.”
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Nicholas Bowden is a graduate of South Mississippi’s Center for Writers where he studied with Frederick and Steven Barthelme. He now teaches at Campbell University and lives with his wife, son and daughter in North Carolina. His first novel, A World Worth Burning, is forthcoming.
