Forget About Carl

The worn door of the freeway motel clicked shut behind Carl as he laid down on the stained sheets of the bed, the springs in the bed creaking as his bruised body flopped down. Shit was fucked for real now. Bennett ain’t dead, Kay-Jay and Damien think he’s dead, that mexican, chinese, thai whatever-lady wants Bennett dead, and that fucking pro bono laywer is in the wind.
Carl closed his eyes, and tried to relax for a minute. It felt like years had gone by without any respite, any chance to take stock of the situation and think about things. This fucking after life had been one crazy shitshow after another.
How was Bennett still alive? I emptied the fucking clip into his smiling face, and still he was walking. What the fuck is up with this vampire shit? That girl though...it’s fucking strange, I clearly remember wanting her ass in the ground for what she did to me, but that was a total overreaction. She is actually kinda nice. I think she wants the best for me. But fucking Bennett. That nigga shoulda gone down with that amount of lead in him. Nothing could survive that, but that fucker did.
...and I did...that mexipino or whatever girl shot me in the head several times and I’m still standing. Can’t I be killed? Can any of us be killed?
Carl sat up. His body was still hurting like a mother fucker. The wounds had closed up, but his body felt torn to shreds still. He felt around on his forehead. Oh yeah, there were three soft spots in his head where the bullets had gone in, just newly reformed skin over holes in the skull...and 2 spots on the back of his head.
“What the fuck, one of the bullet’s still in my fucking brain!” Carl rose in a fury, turned around quickly and started pounding his hands into the creaking bed.
“Fuck! You! Fuck! You! Fuck! You! Fuck! You! Fuck! You!”. Each of his staccato yells mirrored by a fist hammered into the innocent bed linens. “Fuck…”, a last exclamation of rage, pain and helplessness toppled Carl down beside the bed. He wanted to cry, but no tears could come. No relief from this hell he had created.
There was no relief, no salvation, no hope. Here Carl sits, at the bottom of the grave he had dug himself.
The hours of the night passed, with Carl sitting motionless by the bed. With a snap he came to. The fucking sun! That much he had learned, the sun meant death. He looked at his clock. 5.30 am, about an hour til sunrise. “Shiet, I gotta make this place sun proof”.
As the sun rose over the cheap highway motel, Carl draped the dirty bed linens over his face in the bathtub.
“That girl owes me a god damned explanation of all this shit, and what I truly am. Forget about Carl and his worries, the time for Tyrone the badass fucking vampire will come”.
By Ingemar Skelander