I Can’t Believe It’s Not Kingdom Come (6)
Chapter 6 of the crime comedy from Chris Well. When the world fails to end on schedule, the mob is in no mood to discuss End-Times theology...
You can listen to the author commentary for this chapter here. (Don’t worry, no spoilers!)
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME will be serialized every Thursday and Saturday on Substack. Links emailed out once a week in our weekly Monster Complex™ newsletter!
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME
It’s not the end of the world—which could be a problem…
- 6 -
Following yet another semi-successful attempt to extort money, humiliated thug Ross Cleaver drove the car a few miles down Airline Drive. Fuming over what his associate had blurted this time.
During the brief drive, the dummy tried to make small talk. Like he had no idea what happened. “What do you think about monkeys that play musical instruments?” No rhyme, no reason, no connection to anything that had been said before.
Cleaver just growled, “Shut up.”
They reached the broken-down part of the neighborhood, past the row of gas stations and empty lots. Fuming, he parked the car in front of the now-closed Mister Bee’s Grocery. When they reached the empty parking lot, he hit the brakes, the car abruptly stopping and then jerking forward. Lamb let out a surprised shriek. A stack of magazines slid off the seat and onto the floor.
Cleaver unsnapped his belt. He grabbed his occult magazines off the floor and threw them into the back. Without looking at the other man, he jabbed a thumb toward the passenger door and grunted, “Get out.”
Lamb giggled nervously. “Whut?”
Cleaver jerked his thumb toward the passenger door more savagely. “Get out, get out, get out.” He shoved the driver door open, rocketing out of the car seat. Boot heels clacking on asphalt, he circled the car with quick, purposeful strides, ignoring the smell of fresh tire marks on asphalt.
He reached the other side of the car as Lamb dazedly exited his side. Cleaver clenched his fist and, white-knuckled, reared back and just popped Lamb right in the mouth.
The other man yelped and fell back, scraping palms on the parking lot. The dummy had a shocked look on his face, like he never saw it coming. Like they hadn’t just come from his worst display yet. The man struggled with words. “Whut’re you—”
“Git up.”
Lamb just sat there on the ground, staring with wide eyes. Struggled with a shaky voice. “Whut?”
Cleaver stood over the man, breathing in and out, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I said git up.” He stepped forward with three big strides, took aim with the point of his boot, and kicked the man in the side. “Git up, git up, git up.” Kick, kick, kick.
Lamb was scrambling backward, trying to get his balance, trying to get up. “Wait! ” The wail of a hurt child on the verge of tears.
Cleaver stood his ground. Breathing, gritting, clenching fists. Waiting. Waiting for the man to get a fraction of an ounce of a clue.
Lamb, one hand on his jaw where the bruise was forming, staggered to his feet. Inching backward, inching away. “Whut’s the cheese?”
“Why can’t you talk like a normal person? Huh?”
“Whut’re you—”
“I mean, ‘What’s the cheese?’ Who talks like that?”
“I got my own style.”
Cleaver angled forward in a menacing pose. “You best drop your ‘style’ and get with the program. Somehow you convinced the boss you’re connected, so he trusts you’re connected.”
Lamb, nursing the bruise, stepped back again. “I do got connections.”
Cleaver stepped up, stepped in, close. “I ain’t seen it.” Hot, angry breath in Lamb’s face. “All I seen is you spitting off a lot of dumb stuff, you stumbling over yourself, you tripping me up. You are the biggest dum-dum I ever seen.” He pointed his index finger up. “You screw up once more, I ain’t taking it.” He angled the finger forward, jabbed Lamb in the chest. “I ain’t taking any fall for you.” Jab, jab, jab.
Lamb, trembling, stepped back, back, and tripped on the edge of the parking lot. He landed in grass and mud. He worked his mouth, but nothing came out.
“We stop here again, it won’t be for another pep talk. You read me?” There was no answer, so Cleaver stepped forward and growled. “You read me?”
Lamb, still sitting in mud, nodded vehemently. “Y-yes.”
Cleaver whirled and headed for the car. He yelled without turning back: “You ain’t tracking that mud in my car.”
Cleaver got in the driver side. Snapped his belt without glancing into the rearview mirror. Punched the gas without looking out the window. Squealed away into the night.
As he swerved and joined traffic on Airline Drive, he imagined Bill Lamb alone in the Mister Bee’s parking lot. With his thoughts and his mud. And a long walk home.
Wondered what Lamb had told the boss to get this gig. Who vouched for this dummy?
And if things got touchy and Cleaver had to deal with the kid, who would gripe? Who cared whether the kid lived or died?
But maybe Lamb was the brother of somebody important. Maybe he was somebody’s nephew. Somebody’s illegitimate son. Whoever the secret benefactor was, Cleaver needed to make sure he did not make a false step. Did not do something to make the problem worse.
But this dummy, he was just an atom bomb waiting to go off—and take everybody with him. Whoever he was, he needed to be dealt with. Soon.
Cleaver thought back to the old man at the drugstore. Weird. With his bony finger and his unseen power. Like the man had some psychic connection or something.
He would have to figure that out too. Cleaver made a mental note to check his horoscope again when he got back to the apartment.
AUTHOR COMMENTARY:
Here’s a little behind-the-scenes fact: Where I grew up in Illinois, there was a local grocery store named Mister Bee's. Unfortunately, it went out of business—so, when I was a kid, there was this place near my home in the suburbs with a big, empty parking lot. Although the events in I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME take place far away from my boyhood home, I transported Mister Bee’s there for this scene. Come to think of it, I moved the whole neighborhood there; the drug store Zyke’s, mentioned in the earlier chapter, was also in that area. I think that also closed. Sigh.
There are 70 chapters for I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME. My plan is to post a chapter every Thursday and Saturday on Substack.
If you can’t wait to see how the book turns out, you can actually read the whole eBook (as TRIBULATION HOUSE: RELOADED) on Wattpad.
Find Chris Well online: