Our House
I opened the door to my home and heard the hiss of frying meat.
Jane doesn't cook, usually. It's only a few dishes and NOTHING she likes to cook is fried, but it tells me something when she does.
"Hey, hon what's for dinner?"
[SITREP Please]
"Oh, the usual. It's Tuesday." she said.
[There are at least two, maybe more, I sent Loretta to stay with friends]
"Oh, Tacos?! I love Tacos!" I said.
[So the kids are okay, and we can fuck them up?]
"Yeah, I made some pico di gallo, what kind of cheese did you want?"
[I can access to the hand guns, but I can't get to the SMGs, can you get something to cover?]
"Oh, you know me, just some regular cheddar is fine."
[I can get to the M-4 in the dining room before they know what happens and I have an extra magazine]
"Great, that will make this so much easier, and we're out of garlic!"
[*filler* count down from 5 and then move to take down]
"What, again? Alright, I'll go get some..."
So then I take my shoes off then open and close the front door.
Give them a moment to relax. I don't know which one of us they are here for. And I don't care. I'm at that level of angry where I'm very calm. Jane has been there. I wait a few seconds and move on the balls of my feet. I taped an M-4 under the TV table - what Myra calls our coffee table - I put my hand on it and I wait.
"Oh shit!" comes from the kitchen and there is a plate break making enough noise so that they don't hear the tape rip off and the magazine load up.
I hear them say "keep it together bitch!" and.... I'm mad... I don't know why... Jane has seen far worse things than I have.
Jane was shot twice in the chest with no armor once. It made her mad, she grabbed the guy by the collar, spit her lung blood in his face and emptied a magazine into him while cursing his family if four different languages. She was a medic at that time.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, okay! I don't cook a lot!" She's pretending like she doesn't know how to kill them.
God, she is good.
"You're a stupid bitch!" a voice says.
That. Is. It.
I throw my silver dollar against the wall. It's a very specific sound. Jane knows it. I know it. And they don't.
I come around the corner, M-4 up and there are two dead bodies in the kitchen.
I look at my wife. "All of them?" I gesture.
"Not sure" she responds with her non shooting hand.
"Wanna check?" I ask with my shoulder and chin.
"I want to sweep the whole house!" She says, with angry motion of both her shoulders and chin.
We clear the floor we're on first. They didn't pick the lock to the basement, thank God, so we go upstairs.
I take point because I have the rifle. "Wait one" I gesture and tape the extra magazine to one already in the rifle. Quick reverse. I have "quiet tape" aka plummer's tape. It's gooey and I have to clean the magazines after, but it's worth it. With my non-shooting hand, I slide my hand down to my hip and then back up to my weapon let Jane know I'm ready.
I love this house, but it's more nooks and crannies than an English Muffin.
Jane has her shoes off, too.
I try to imitate the voice of the man who called my wife a bitch.
"I think we're good, bro!" I say.
"Did you double tap!?" comes this voice.
"What, am I an amateur?" I say.
"Nah, you're good bro..." and he steps out, handgun dangling from his hand like it's some sort of trinket.
Jane and I both bring up our weapons and destroy his body with bullets.
We're both really sorry.
I kick his weapon away. I feel sorry for him.
I gesture to Jane. "You hear that?"
"I do" she gestures back, tapping her ear and giving me a thumbs up.
"Does it sound like..." I gesture "someone fucking?" I make the index finger and insert into an imaginary vagina that draw in the air.
Jane listens harder, "Sounds like masturbation" she gestures, tapping her ear and making the "jerk off" motion.
My hands are full, and I look at Jane, communicate with my body "You... yeah. Get the door. I'll kill this mother fucker..."
Jane looks back at me "He's in our daughters room!"
Fuck.
Fucking. Men.
Goddammit.
I gesture "Okay, you open the door, I'll look at it," and Jane nods.
The stairs creek, and I'm cool with that. We still hear him. And then we both hear him achieve orgasm... in our daughters room.
I look my wife dead in the eye and gesture "So...match you for it?"
She slaps me, hard, across the face and goes in.
She was right. I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable.
She drags him out. The little panda toy I brought back from Japan is stuck on his fading erection.
Jane looks at me and she has this guy in a Nelson hold. She gestures in this subtle way that tells me to take her other side arm and put it against his head. He is gasping for air and says "You don't know what you are doing, you're a faggot!"
With one hand a take the safety off right in front of him.
"It's cool man..." He starts pissing himself.
Jane deals with it. It's all over the floor.
"You wanna ask him?" I say, the first honest words I've said to my wife since I walked in the door to my house.
"I do..." Jane says.
"Have at it, hon." I said.
"Who sent you!?" Jane roared, in a way that would have made me piss myself.
"You're daughter is too smart, she knows too much..." he gurgles.
"You want to?" I ask my wife.
I watch his body shudder as she empties the magazine into his back, and I watch the slugs destroy his life, bouncing around in his body and killing him. The blood gets all over her and she hurls his body to the ground.
"Anything else?" I ask.
"If you would have let us have her... we would have stopped." He spits out his words.
Jane kicks him in the face and he dies.
I look down at him. He is ruined, blood is spilling from his mouth.
"Where's our daughter?" I ask with my voice.
"The Jackson's, they are on Cresmont avenue." she said.
"That's a tight area." I said.
"Yeah... you wanna get the band back together?" She asked. With this smile... that I can't so no to. That I could never say no to.
"How many are in Baltimore?" I asked.
"Just the right amount..." she said.
"Let's go get our daughter, then." I said.
She looked at me in this way, he eyes wide, wet and sexual. She pushes my rifle back and presses her mouth to mine. We haven't sex in a very long time. But her mouth on mine feels like sex. She inhales my breath...and I exhale with joy...then she disengages and inhales the air full of blood and cordite and then she puts herself to my mouth and exhales.
She forced her life into my lungs, like God in the Torah.
I have her anger and pain in my lungs. I fell to my knees. She sucked all the air out of my lungs.
"You feel better, baby?" She asked.
Saliva dripped from the side of my mouth.
"I feel better." I said. My speech was slurred. She had me feeling like she was rum.
"Get it together... if they know where we are... they know where our daughter is..." my wife said.
"Yes, Ma'am.."
Jane doesn't cook, usually. It's only a few dishes and NOTHING she likes to cook is fried, but it tells me something when she does.
"Hey, hon what's for dinner?"
[SITREP Please]
"Oh, the usual. It's Tuesday." she said.
[There are at least two, maybe more, I sent Loretta to stay with friends]
"Oh, Tacos?! I love Tacos!" I said.
[So the kids are okay, and we can fuck them up?]
"Yeah, I made some pico di gallo, what kind of cheese did you want?"
[I can access to the hand guns, but I can't get to the SMGs, can you get something to cover?]
"Oh, you know me, just some regular cheddar is fine."
[I can get to the M-4 in the dining room before they know what happens and I have an extra magazine]
"Great, that will make this so much easier, and we're out of garlic!"
[*filler* count down from 5 and then move to take down]
"What, again? Alright, I'll go get some..."
So then I take my shoes off then open and close the front door.
Give them a moment to relax. I don't know which one of us they are here for. And I don't care. I'm at that level of angry where I'm very calm. Jane has been there. I wait a few seconds and move on the balls of my feet. I taped an M-4 under the TV table - what Myra calls our coffee table - I put my hand on it and I wait.
"Oh shit!" comes from the kitchen and there is a plate break making enough noise so that they don't hear the tape rip off and the magazine load up.
I hear them say "keep it together bitch!" and.... I'm mad... I don't know why... Jane has seen far worse things than I have.
Jane was shot twice in the chest with no armor once. It made her mad, she grabbed the guy by the collar, spit her lung blood in his face and emptied a magazine into him while cursing his family if four different languages. She was a medic at that time.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, okay! I don't cook a lot!" She's pretending like she doesn't know how to kill them.
God, she is good.
"You're a stupid bitch!" a voice says.
That. Is. It.
I throw my silver dollar against the wall. It's a very specific sound. Jane knows it. I know it. And they don't.
I come around the corner, M-4 up and there are two dead bodies in the kitchen.
I look at my wife. "All of them?" I gesture.
"Not sure" she responds with her non shooting hand.
"Wanna check?" I ask with my shoulder and chin.
"I want to sweep the whole house!" She says, with angry motion of both her shoulders and chin.
We clear the floor we're on first. They didn't pick the lock to the basement, thank God, so we go upstairs.
I take point because I have the rifle. "Wait one" I gesture and tape the extra magazine to one already in the rifle. Quick reverse. I have "quiet tape" aka plummer's tape. It's gooey and I have to clean the magazines after, but it's worth it. With my non-shooting hand, I slide my hand down to my hip and then back up to my weapon let Jane know I'm ready.
I love this house, but it's more nooks and crannies than an English Muffin.
Jane has her shoes off, too.
I try to imitate the voice of the man who called my wife a bitch.
"I think we're good, bro!" I say.
"Did you double tap!?" comes this voice.
"What, am I an amateur?" I say.
"Nah, you're good bro..." and he steps out, handgun dangling from his hand like it's some sort of trinket.
Jane and I both bring up our weapons and destroy his body with bullets.
We're both really sorry.
I kick his weapon away. I feel sorry for him.
I gesture to Jane. "You hear that?"
"I do" she gestures back, tapping her ear and giving me a thumbs up.
"Does it sound like..." I gesture "someone fucking?" I make the index finger and insert into an imaginary vagina that draw in the air.
Jane listens harder, "Sounds like masturbation" she gestures, tapping her ear and making the "jerk off" motion.
My hands are full, and I look at Jane, communicate with my body "You... yeah. Get the door. I'll kill this mother fucker..."
Jane looks back at me "He's in our daughters room!"
Fuck.
Fucking. Men.
Goddammit.
I gesture "Okay, you open the door, I'll look at it," and Jane nods.
The stairs creek, and I'm cool with that. We still hear him. And then we both hear him achieve orgasm... in our daughters room.
I look my wife dead in the eye and gesture "So...match you for it?"
She slaps me, hard, across the face and goes in.
She was right. I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable.
She drags him out. The little panda toy I brought back from Japan is stuck on his fading erection.
Jane looks at me and she has this guy in a Nelson hold. She gestures in this subtle way that tells me to take her other side arm and put it against his head. He is gasping for air and says "You don't know what you are doing, you're a faggot!"
With one hand a take the safety off right in front of him.
"It's cool man..." He starts pissing himself.
Jane deals with it. It's all over the floor.
"You wanna ask him?" I say, the first honest words I've said to my wife since I walked in the door to my house.
"I do..." Jane says.
"Have at it, hon." I said.
"Who sent you!?" Jane roared, in a way that would have made me piss myself.
"You're daughter is too smart, she knows too much..." he gurgles.
"You want to?" I ask my wife.
I watch his body shudder as she empties the magazine into his back, and I watch the slugs destroy his life, bouncing around in his body and killing him. The blood gets all over her and she hurls his body to the ground.
"Anything else?" I ask.
"If you would have let us have her... we would have stopped." He spits out his words.
Jane kicks him in the face and he dies.
I look down at him. He is ruined, blood is spilling from his mouth.
"Where's our daughter?" I ask with my voice.
"The Jackson's, they are on Cresmont avenue." she said.
"That's a tight area." I said.
"Yeah... you wanna get the band back together?" She asked. With this smile... that I can't so no to. That I could never say no to.
"How many are in Baltimore?" I asked.
"Just the right amount..." she said.
"Let's go get our daughter, then." I said.
She looked at me in this way, he eyes wide, wet and sexual. She pushes my rifle back and presses her mouth to mine. We haven't sex in a very long time. But her mouth on mine feels like sex. She inhales my breath...and I exhale with joy...then she disengages and inhales the air full of blood and cordite and then she puts herself to my mouth and exhales.
She forced her life into my lungs, like God in the Torah.
I have her anger and pain in my lungs. I fell to my knees. She sucked all the air out of my lungs.
"You feel better, baby?" She asked.
Saliva dripped from the side of my mouth.
"I feel better." I said. My speech was slurred. She had me feeling like she was rum.
"Get it together... if they know where we are... they know where our daughter is..." my wife said.
"Yes, Ma'am.."
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