Cranium Sandwiches: Part Uno

By: cody dicavalcante

This story may be quick and spoaradic but please bare with me. I am using a computer that is on the fritz. It might shut off before I know it which it has been doing recently. The fan inside stopped working so it gets overheated quickly, ten to twenty minutes and it says “Later on mitch” so this is a race ladies and gentlemen. A race against my laptop.

It was late in August. The trees were about to formulate a destructive mix of orange and tangerine flavored spices throughout the Mexican province of Chihuahua. My collegue, Joel Freisner, was shoving papers into his briefcase as fast as possible. “I can’t keep doing this. At this rate, I’ll never be able to become a lawyer at Chuck Chenington’s!” Joel screamed through a difibulator. I wasn’t in any kind of mood for tomfoolery. I lit up a cigar that I pickpocketed from a man charged with criminal assault in four differnt states and probably pushing daisies for the next 5 years then exhaled with the force of five broadway dancers. As I eyed the lunchbox on my desk, my eyes lowered. I was tired. Tired of my job, tired of my recreational drug addiction, tired of my wife’s same peanut and butter jelly sandwich she kept putting in my transformer’s lunchbox. Suddenly a knock came from the door. Joel instantly crouched down. “Those friggen policy makers! If they are at that door, I’m throwing a retractable figurine of Randy Newman right between the eyes!” Joel cried into his brown paper bag. Joel became panicky over the years. He started carrying around brown bags and high doses of Valium to take off the age. I couldn’t blame him. His job was tough and risky. Forfeiting the game of life was not his kind of deal and he could have easily done it in the beginning but he figured, who else is going to do it? He was a senior analyst for Subway. He had worked there for seven years now. He did all the accounting firings, the litigation processes for Michael D. Jerwick, the checkbook rollercoaster fundraiser, the works. It was only a matter of time before the CIA would find out what him and I were up to.

The pounding on the door became louder. I looked back at Joel one more time who was stroking his figurine and preparing for the worst. My knees were heavy and felt like padlocks to the center of earth. It took all my stregnth to get to the door. The pounding began to throw off my sight. I was beginning to get dizzy. I reached the door. The pounding would soon be over but the result might be even worse than those thunder-clod bangings. I reached for the golden knob while unlocking the door then swung it open. Joel let out a scream and jumped onto the table. “That’ll be…what the fuck?” It was the pizza delivery guy from Papa Smack’s. I turned around toward Joel. “Put the figurine down buddy, its only the best pizza in Greenwich Village!” Joel suddenly put on a smile and dropped the Randy Newman. “Alright, cha man! Can’t wait to chow down on some cheese and complex carbs! My football coach from high school woudl be proud! Joel shouted in a fit of aspiration. As the pizza guy handed over the pizza, I began to hear a click. I knew what about to happen. “Joel, the window!” I yelled toward the back of the room. Joel suddenly sprinted toward the window without even opening it and dove through. Joel didn’t take no for an answer. Even if taht answer was a glass window which could be the end of his days. Joel stood up, bloody as a steak off the farm. “Righteous!” Joel said nonchalantly. Then he leaped down the first flight of stairs connected to the side of the building. A grouping of footsteps could be heard from outside the door. I then ran toward the window, not taking the same approach as Joel, I grabbed a towel placed it over the window sill then cautiously stepped out into Nature’s playground. Out of the corner of my eye, I then saw the pizza guy get shoved out of the way by three men dressed in suits. Their glocks were more noticible than their unpolite aftershave. I needed to be fast or they’d catch me. Gunshots blurted out into the room. It was probably the first sound recognizable to the neighbors in all my 16 years of posting up in the damn place. The room was a fortress and words weren’t meant to be uttered at the volume of mortal ears.

Joel was already at the bottom by the time I had made it down the first flight. His pants were ripped and hung like tentacles. How they got that way, I have no idea. He started telling people to move out of the way. The whole alley was clear. Noone was in sight. It was 5 in the morning. No one was there but the ghost of Christmas past and he was about to collect. The men in sutis fired down into the chain of metal stairs, their shots bouncing off and chipping the brick. “Screw this!” I felt I was low enough to jump off the side stairs and onto the ground. I hurdled over the railing and felt gravity tickle my whole body. My privates mostly. They were jittering with the speed of light for I had no idea if I’d be able to move by the time I hit the ground. With a splash of luck, I managed to hit the ground and stand back on my feet. The men began to shout in rage. They knew we were home free. I rounded fourth base yet again. The men in suits no longer could rely on their feet but their guns. They shot out into the early morning air with its garbage flared ratios growing by the second. My breathing was close to supernatural. Joel was almost out of the alley way when he ran into a kid on a bicyle. “Its 5 in the morning kid! What are you on?” Joel said as he skimpered away with a bruised shin. I finally caught up just in time for my lungs to transform into knives. I saw my car. We made one more quick dash to the vehicle then sped off.

“We need to get out of town, fast!” Joel said while bandaging up his arms with medical gauze. I heard him loud and clear. This was getting out of control. The men in suits, known as the IGA, or the Informants for Generalizing America, were well aware of our plans. They knew our moves so well that it was like we were the computer game that you played so many times the storyline was more obvious than the back of a hand. We weren’t giving up though. We rode off with the windows down. Joel had fallen asleep. I wish I could have done the same. The city was breathing and this was the reason for alleys. Without them the city would die. The alleys allowed air into the tiny cracks of the metropolis so as to clean up the evil that lurked. We weren’t bad people. We were trying to save the world, not destroy it. One day, they will know. They’ll all know…


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