Until They Grow Fangs

The front door squeaks as I walk in and an old black and white western plays on the small flat screen in the den. The cover on the sofa reflects some of John Wayne’s greatest work in the sheen of all the plastic. The small townhouse is filled with the scent of mothballs and menthol. Several prescription bottles lay on the coffee table but there’s nothing worth taking. I invite myself in and make myself at home. My muddy boots leave a trail of every step I take; a noticeable contrast in the otherwise pristine living space. It’s probably best if I leave my boots by the door.

Family photos hang on the wall surrounding a cliche live-laugh-love sign showing off the glory days of yesteryear. Photos capture the smiles of a sweet old lady amongst friends and family. The pearls, gray hairs, and fake smiles it’s comical but there’s one photo in particular that catches my attention. She’s with a young girl with auburn red hair that smiles from the frame at my scruffy beard and unshaven face. This must be the girl the old buzzard was squawking about. “Please, please, my granddaughter will be here soon!” I say mimicking the old woman’s pleading words. The money for this better be worth it.

There’s a bowl of plastic fruit on the kitchen counter with several bottles of Ensure. The kitchen is so organized that it reminds me of one of those Home and Garden magazine photos. One of those photos where you know it’s impractical to live so neatly or at least expect it to stay that way.

A life alert sensor hangs on a magnet from Puerto Rico on the fridge. “Probably should have been wearing this…” I say tossing the device into the trash on top of some lottery tickets. “It ain’t gonna help ya now…” There are more pictures of the young girl on the fridge in various stages of her life. It’s a shame to cut a kid down so early in life but it is what it is. I never liked knocking off kids, but the more I think about it they are just sheep that haven’t turned into wolves yet. The poor redhead is just another sheep that won’t get to bare fangs.

The fridge is packed with vials with insulin, random boxes of take-out, a plated sandwich, and bottles of Boost. I snatch a bottle of the strawberry flavor and cling wrap covered sandwich plate and throw myself in the chair at the breakfast area. If there’s insulin, there’s gotta be needles around here, and I can’t exactly trash the place to find them until the granddaughter comes. Needles will fetch a good price on the streets with the junkies but I know this wrinkly bastard has to have some jewelry around here somewhere. My teeth rip into the sandwich, tossing it back onto the plate before beginning my assessment. Old ladies are notorious for hiding things in the kitchen. My grandma used to hide a wad of cash in an old coffee mug at the top of the pantry. We didn’t find it til months after she died. My eyes violate the small kitchen looking for anything out of place.

Bingo! There it is. I like cookies just as the next man but who has two cookie jars? I fondle the small red one and it yields nothing but Nilla Wafers. I nibble on a few of those while I assault the other white one. Now we’re getting somewhere! Inside I find a sock wrapped in two plastic bags and there’s at least a thousand dollars in there. Now onto the bedroom.

The bedroom looks like it belongs on the set of Leave It To Beaver. The large canopy bed is draped with hideous mustard floral print sheets. There’s wood paneling on the walls, and a rocking chair near the window. Bird seeds lay scattered about the windowsill, and sparrows and blue jays scatter at the sight of my presence. There’s a stockpile of adult diapers in the corner that will surely last well beyond this geezers lifespan but I guess it's better to be prepared. Never know the days you’re gonna shit yourself.

So far this is a pretty good haul but I’m sure there’s more. Oh God! That’s what I get for being greedy. Rummaging through the nightstand I nearly vomit after finding anal beads, a dildo, and condoms. Old people don’t do that kinda stuff no more, do they? The thought of someone banging out granny’s pooper shooter has me gagging. It’s probably best if I just accept what I have and stop snooping. ”Grandma!” Finally! Let’s get this over with. Blade unsheathed I wait for the unsuspecting teen behind the bedroom door. “Hey grandma it's me Robin! You home?” She yells. Doing my best to sound like a frail old woman I call back to her. “Yea uh Yes I’m here in the bedroom.” It’s a terrible attempt to sound like a woman but it's the best I got. “Oh grandma, what happened, why do you sound like that?”

“Just getting over a small cold baby. It’s nothing to worry about.” I say adding a small cough at the end.

“Hey grandma, whose boots are these? They are way too big for you.”

”No no honey, they’re mine I just get a lot of fluid on my legs and sometimes they’re the only ones that fit.” Come on kid knock it off.

”Dang Grandma! You took a big ole bite of this sandwich! What’d you do take your dentures out?” What the hell is this 20 questions? I see why the old lady wants me to kill her. “Oh I was mighty hungry. Do you think you can help me with something in the bedroom dear?” Seconds later a teenage woman wearing black riffed jeans and a red hoodie comes bouncing in the room. Before she can react, I pounce. Grabbing her over the face and muffling her screams as the blade chews through her skin again and again. The innocent little lamb falls at my feet gasping for life and sprawling across the floor. “It’s nothing personal kid, but in this land of sheep and wolves, be grateful that you’ll never become someone like the rest of us…” Life flees from her eyes and the deed is done.

Across town at a bus stop the old lady sits on a bench in a cool breeze. The pigeons scurry around her feet pecking and yapping at anything that seems somewhat edible. She’s doing a scratch off and even from this distance I can hear her yell out fuck from frustration. I shoo away the flying rats and sit beside her without making any eye contact at all. “It’s done, and I normally don’t do this, but I have to ask why.” I said. Without batting an eye she slides a thick brown envelope out of her purse. With a deep sigh she says “got into debt with a loan shark down on 42nd to cover my gambling habits. He threatened to take her as payment to cover what I didn’t have. Rather than put her through that kind of life I figured the life insurance money should be enough to cover what I owe and spare her from a life with that animal! But one of these is gonna hit soon, I just know it.” She places the blood money beside me and presses a coin to another scratch off. “Fuck!” She says again, shaking her fists in anger. I slither off back into the world of selfish desires and greed. “Fuck!” I hear her say a third time, it won’t be long until she calls me again.

-End