"My son is
innocent. He is a very good boy. God have mercy on him if he ever did something
wrong. He even saved a kitten from a dog the other day. He is an angel. He
couldn't have shot 31 people. On a broad daylight you say? He never could have.
Poor child, he even killed himself! Please, leave me alone. Don't make a
murderer out of my son. Leave me alone!"
An hour earlier.
He was sitting in my
Porsche. Oh the weather! The weather was so serene, calm. "Father said a
calm weather precedes a storm". Puffing a cigarette, he was wondering,
"What would happen if Hannibal Lecter
were here, in this piazza? He would shop for human livers, but wouldn't find
any. Such a pity. I'd be glad to offer
him my liver!". He never liked human flesh. He tried once. It was
disgusting. But Hannibal, he adored Hannibal and even contacted Thomas Harris
for help. Thomas Harris wrote the infamous Hannibal Series inspired by a
Mexican doctor. He wanted Thomas to give him the name. Thomas did give him the
name, but alas! The real Hannibal died of hunger, hunger for human livers.
Today was the
doctor's 1st death anniversary. He thought of celebrating it grand. He had no
friends, only fiends. Here he was -- in his Porsche, champagne in hand, and
Beethoven's sixth symphony in his ears. "I can't rip people. It's just too
dirty. Plus, my shoes would get spoilt", he was arguing with the mirror.
The voice from the mirror said, "Then why don't you honor the doctor by
shooting? You even have a shotgun!". Yes, the Browning Auto-5. "My
father gifted me this for my 18th birthday. How can I forget that?", he
grinned.
An auto-loader
shotgun whose production was stopped in 1998, it was a personal favorite of the
buck hunters. Patented by John Browning in 1900, it was a beautiful machine. He
loved the long nozzle, and was amazed by the high rear end. He named it 'Humpy'.
His father used it in Vietnam War, and passed it down to him saying "This
girl saved my ass from those Asians. Keep this with you. Now that you're
18!".
The piazza was
bustling with people and hawkers. Fruits, meat, loaves, candies -- you name it!
A small child was screaming, "I want one more!". The mother was
reluctant. Touched, the hawker presented the little girl with another candy.
She smiled. He beamed. On a corner-ledge, a sweet young couple were gazing at
the clouds. Both were listening to some soft music on their headphones. Her
head rested on his shoulder, and his head rested on her head. A kodak moment.
The weather was
calm, and calm weather preceded a storm.
He had his
skullcandy covering his ears. "Beethoven!", he shouted internally.
His legs were swaying, and his entire body followed. He was waving his hands in
mid-air, as if he were guiding the orchestra. It looked as if he was unmindful
of the piazza and the people. He was lost in the music. Every good music has an
end, lest it should become noise. Once Beethoven's Pathétique was over, his
swaying hands reached the window of his car and pulled out his Browning A-5.
The people were
unmindful of the dancing man. They chose to ignore him. With one quick swing,
the shotgun was held between his fist and his right shoulder. Before anyone
could realize what was happening, he shot the hawker. Eyes wide open, his mouth
agape -- anticipating the scream which never made its way out. The mother
quickly lifted her daughter and started running. "Not so fast grande dame!
Your daughter even got an extra candy, right?", he was shouting as he
aimed and shot the mother. The bullet pierced through her rib cage and bored
through the daughter's skull. The crowd was running haphazardly.
"Chaos", he murmured. He slowly walked towards the couple, whistling
his favorite song "My Way" by Frank Sinatra. He blew his head in a
thousand pieces with a bullet. She was aghast. He came closer. She forgot to
breathe. He came closer, kissed her cheek and murmured "I love you, and
want you to come with me". She hastily nodded her head, hoping he won't
kill her. He took out his cellphone, took a selfie with her. He pushed her off
the ledge, and shot her mid-air. "See? I knew I'm a good shooter!",
he congratulated himself. He had a pristine bullet in his pocket. He loaded it,
and aimed it at his chest. "Hannibal! This is my anniversary gift to you.
6 human livers! And yes, I don't rip. So, I'm giving you the trouble of ripping
and cooking", he shot himself. The impact of the shot threw him off the
short ledge, and he fell in the abyss of darkness. All this took 13 seconds. 6
universes were shattered in 13 seconds.
His father came to
know about it from his secretary. "What? That son of a bitch! What will
happen of my reputation?!! Get me the media guy on the phone now!".
"Now listen you creep! My son did not kill them intentionally. All this
was due to his illness. Invent some disease which can explain it all. This case
should not f*cking go to the court. Call the families, and stuff these dollars
in their dirty mouths!", he shouted.
"Good
afternoon. In a tragic turn of events, Mr. James Trevor, the son of famed
Hollywood Director Jonathan Trevor killed 5 and himself in a killing
spree"
"BREAKING NEWS!
Hollywood director's son kill 5 and shoots himself"
"HEADLINES!
Beloved James Trevor dead. James Trevor was suffering from Asperger's Syndrome.
Family mourns "
"NEWS NOW!
James Trevor suffering from Asperger's Syndrome killed 5 people and killed
himself. Jonathan Trevor to sue the doctor who was treating James"
"Ok. Do one
more thing. Get our boys on facebook, twitter, reddit, and every other media
forum and make them sing praises about my boy. Here, some happy photographs of
his". "Yes sir, I'll get on it now". "And call the media
near my house. They should not know that I called them"
"Oh! Please let
me go. Please give me some privacy. I lost my son, and you're worried about
interviews. You'll get the full report from me tomorrow morning. Please let me
go.", the media found the legendary Jonathan Trevor sobbing incessantly.
"Sir! Social
media is saying that James has Asperger's. Is this some ploy to get him off the
hook?", an audacious reporter asked. "What?! Oh, Jesus! Save me! I am
a law abiding citizen and all are equal before the law. My son had Asperger's.
It is true. But he couldn't have killed so many. Please. Leave me alone",
he sobbed and sobbed.
"Money can buy
everything. It can buy you shotguns, it can buy you sympathy, it can buy you
insanity, it can buy you grief, and it can buy you bliss", Jonathan
thought. He was content that his step-son was dead. "How appropriate? The
girl who saved my ass busted his ass!", he laughed as he took a sip of
Scotch.
By V.k. Dadhich
Disclaimer:
The characters named
above are fictional, and any resemblance with real-life people is purely
co-incidental. Brand names like "SkullCandy" (a brand of headphones),
"Brrowning A-5" (a type of shotgun), Porsche (a brand of car) are
solely used for the story and not for publicity/defamation. The artist's names
(Beethoven, Frank Sinatra) have been used incidentally, so has the social media
website's names (facebook, reddit, twitter). Hannibal Lecter is a fictional
character of the novels written by Thomas Harris, which was inspired by a
Mexican Doctor. In the fiction, Hannibal is a cannibal. The name of Thomas
Harris is used in this short-story to avoid the allegations of plagiarism of
his character, apart from his unwarranted role in this short-story.
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