Verne pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket, and set it ablaze. Smoke overtook the moderate kitchen/dining room as Vern tilted his head back and, every time, blew the smoke high into the air. Fumbling the cards, Verne tried to steady them as he shuffled. Anger pulled back the glow of the tobacco. Frustration pulled back the glow of his face. He leaned closer to the deck fossiling in his hands. Deeper into the table lamp he leaned in hopes of suiting his concentration. Verne struck the deck on its side with force on the table. His thumb struggled to slide the top cards from the deck. He jumped from his seat and pain penetrated his lip. The glow of the butt became dim as it stuck and burned his lip. He slapped it off, and stomped it. “God damn it.” Leon stuttered, “I, I was goin’ to let ya’ know, but you were focused and I….”
“Here!” Vern slapped the deck next to Leon's hand and returned to a slump in his seat. He kept his eyes on his shaking hands gripped together. “I can’t handle like I used to. It’s these god damn hands! Some times I feel like cuttin’em off.” A small angry curl in his lip surfaced, but disappeared, as a dinging came close.
Eight fingers clung to a wooden crate weighted by bottles wrapped in a white label that read nothing but “O.B. White Lightening.” One finger hit a switch and the face of Zoey came into the light.
Verne sat up. “What are you doing? Turn the damn light off. You know I can’t stand that.”
She paused and a sharp glare cut Verne's edge. Verne shifted his look and spoke more directly. “What are ya’ lookin’ at me for? TURN IT OFF!”
She reversed and slapped the switch. Cool hit her face as she stood before the refrigerator filling its shelves with glass. A draft of cool air fell to the floor as the refrigerator door swung wide. It crept out slowly, over, and up across Verne and the table. Verne's shaking hand came around and hovered in her direction. A bottle hit his hand and soon his lips. The fire funneled his throat and an inferno engulfed his stomach. He twisted his neck up and right into satisfaction. “Goodbye,” he said sarcastically.
Zoey angled the doorway and disappeared. As she did, a sharp bright light struck the room. Verne’s fists balled and his teeth came tight. “Ya’ see what I mean Leon? She does it on purpose. That’s that type…..” His breath exited like steam. He rocketed across the room and killed the filament. His forehead glowed as hot as the bulb. He pulled his chair directly beneath the bulb, stood upon the wooden seat and pushed through the burn of the twist. The bulb left its socket and fell into the bowl he made in his shirt. The impact of the trash bottom sent it into pieces. “Let’s see her do that again” he said harshly. A ringing screamed within his skull. Vern crept to the fridge. “Do you want one while I’m up?” He pointed to his bottle.
Leon shrugged. “Hell, why not?”
Verne returned to his seat to find his set of cards in a pile. The cold glass wetted Leon's fingertips and the fire soon hit his throat the same. Leon nodded and protruded his lips. “This is damn good, Verne.”
Verne lit another roll of tobacco, unsurprised. “I know. It’s my brew. I brewed these up at least five years ago, I think around ‘26. I’ve saved’em. I see you can tell?”
Leon nodded again. “I’ve never had your stuff. No wonder you pay up so easy. You got good brew. Bet this really sells huh?”
There was a moment of silence, as they each looked at their cards. Verne struggled to even his collection in his hands.
Leon repeatedly took his eyes from his cards to Verne. “Have you ever hit her?”
Verne looked up unexpectedly. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and shook his head with a smirk. “No way.”
Leon raised his shoulders innocently. “I was just wonderin’, ‘cuz you got so damn aggressive.”
Verne’ voice became strict. “I’ve never done that. No way, I hate beasts that hit on their women. I really hate that bitch sometimes, but no matter how much that is, I‘ll never hit‘er!”
Leon leaned back in his seat, and Verne laid his arms on the table to lean forward. “Matter’a fact it’s been a long time since I hurt anybody.”
Leon released a minor laugh through his nose and tilted his head in question. “What ever made you decide to stop? I mean, you had somethin’ good goin’ for ya’.”
Verne pushed the smoke out of his lungs and collapsed the butt in the ash. A provoked tone took his voice and he spoke as if he had waited to speak. “I didn’t just decide. It was decided for me. You know what they said.” Verne paused, “You know, about how I was goin’ crazy. They used to call me Jekyll. Like the story, you remember?”
Leon shifted in his seat uncomfortably and nodded. Verne's eyes turned to his bottle. “I’ve never figured it out. Why’d they call me that?”
Leon elevated his head with an unexpected burden. “Well Verne. It’s hard to say. Sometimes you’d come around as fine as you could be. But other times… you’d be out of your mind. Almost… crazy.
Stiffness came to Verne’s index as he leaned forward and laid it in Leon’s sight. “Do not say that. That word lost me a lot. I will not hear it now, especially from you.”
Leon closed his eyes. “Alright Verne, calm down. It’s out of thought.”
Verne dropped his forehead onto his hand and shook his head. “Sorry Leo, I just get little steamed about the past stuff.”
Leon tossed a card down and drew another. Verne laid his cards face down and his lips emptied the bottle. Thoughts raced in his mind, made obvious by various altering expressions. He tensed his fists and neck. He circled his head in frustration and thumped his bottle bottom to the table. His breaths were deep and worked up, and rhythmic. He boiled as if he was delving into an unresolved irresistible issue. His eyes began to glaze and he began to speak with a tighter jaw.
“So many sounds in Chicago. I was just contributing. You know? Some days I was afraid I’d kiss the bedrock. But in deeper thought, I didn’t mind much. I shoveled so many noisemakers like me, now that I look at it, I can‘t believe it. Because I knew by eliminating them, left the good chances for me. Any frustration I had, any anger or distress, I could take out on them. With no consequences. It actually gave me satisfaction because I knew each time for damn sure I sent another deserving soul down to hell. Every time I stood over somebody, that was the only concept that spoke to my mind and the only image that brought a smirk to my lips. It was like an objective. Or a mission. That upon every aim, I drove another plunging into eternal burning, and by me, donated at the barrels burst. It’s a powerful feeling. It‘s a godlike feeling. To determine someone’s existence at the drop of a hammer. Nothing amounts. You know that.” Verne leaned back and exposed his shaky palms. “Does that make me crazy?”
Leon shook his head and absorbed a large breath as he prepared to speak. “No Verne. I‘ve had them thoughts the same…”
“Yeah Leo, but do you have’em every night. I say that stuff to myself probably once a night hoping some night I’d figure out how to justify myself. So far… that’s all I’ve come up with.”
Leon nodded his head. “I’ve come to realize, we are the infected of an infecting society. You can’t blame yourself for them things, Verne. You were just one more infection.
“See, that’s exactly it. When “Boss” told me I was through, I realized everything I had been living was nothing’ but a sideshow compared to him, the main attraction. Only thing is, now you have what he had and what I always wanted. Your at the top Leo.”