music by Instant Ambient (a side project of The Secret Life)
Jars line shelves like delicacies in a shop.
Hands clutch brown water.
Eyes and ears and tongues bob lazily in their containers.
Testicles lie shriveled against cold glass.
I have seen these things many times in many ways.
I swallowed. I didn’t want this to happen. I knew the game. Bag Man always called the cops and gave them a code. He gave that same code to the victim. Even after two years of killings, the fucking cranks were still calling 9-1-1, claiming the Bag Man had called them and that they needed protection. His codes solved that problem. He was a damn courteous kid.
Thing was, the codes became more of a warning to the cops than a way to separate out the sick, attention-starved loonies. The cops wanted to confirm Bag Man’s targets — not so they could stop him, but so they could stay the hell out of his way.