Midnight Movie: A Novel (22 page)
Read Midnight Movie: A Novel Online
Authors: Tobe Hooper Alan Goldsher
Janine and I were watching
Slumdog Millionaire
when David Cranford broke down the door to her apartment with his bare hands. We found out later that one of Janine’s neighbors let him into the building. Sometimes southerners are too fucking polite for their own good.
It all happened fast, man. Janine was screaming before I even registered what had happened and who it was, but I guess if your old boyfriend almost kills you, you’re on pretty high alert.
There was a little wooden table by Janine’s front door, where she kept her keys, and wallet, and sunglasses. Cranford picked it up and threw it across the room at us. She was fine—she ducked—but I got nailed in the shoulder and the face. Gashed up my forehead pretty good.
Now, like I said, I’m not the least bit adept when it comes to fighting, but after Janine jumped behind the sofa and screamed bloody murder, instinct took over.
Cranford picked up a five-foot-high standing lamp, took two steps across the room, and took a baseball-bat swing at my head. I dropped to the ground and rolled toward his legs. I obviously surprised the shit out of him—I’m sure he took one look at me when he busted into the apartment and thought,
I can take this emo pussy
—so he lost his balance and fell over me, face-first on the sofa.
I managed to pull myself to my feet before he did, so I picked up the glass coffee table and dropped it on his head. It broke, and he screamed, and he was gashed up far worse than I was, but he managed to stand up and dive at my chest.
Again, I flopped onto the floor, and again, he missed me, and this time, he ended up face-first on the floor. I grabbed the lamp, reared back, and hit him as hard as I could on the back of his neck. The motherfucker barely even flinched, and stood up like it was nothing, and went after me. He got me in a headlock and
punched me in the nose, then threw me on the floor. I landed on my temple, and I passed the fuck out.
When I got out of the hospital, my parents insisted I stay at their place until I got healthy, but even though I love them, that was the last thing I wanted to do. Daddy was pissed about my decision, but he seemed to feel better about the whole thing after he lent me two of his handguns. He said, “Y’all keep one in your bedroom and one in the living room, darlin’, and don’t be afraid to use ’em.”
I wasn’t afraid at all. I shot David five times, and I killed him, and I don’t feel the least bit bad about it. For that matter, I wish somebody would reanimate him so I can kill him again.
Seriously, Janine is a superhero. She killed Cranford, she dealt with the police, and she got me to the hospital, all while I was out on my ass with a concussion.
Yeah, I don’t remember shit about what happened between the time that Cranford almost killed me and when I woke up in the hospital, feeling like I’d fallen off a cliff. I just know that I was damn glad the first thing I saw was Janine’s face.
THE MIAMI HERALD
6.25.2009
BROWNSVILLE FOUR-ALARM FIRE LEADS TO RIOT
BY MOIRA SOAMES
MIAMI—A four-alarm fire in the Brownsville section of Miami at 2:15
A.M
. escalated into a full-blown riot.
The fire, which originated on the 5300 block of 23rd Street, is not believed to be related to the rash of crystal methamphetamine fires that have swept through the southern United States.
As firemen, paramedics, and police arrived on the scene, two bystanders engaged in a verbal altercation that led to fisticuffs. Two men, believed to be members of the People Nation street gang, pulled guns and opened fire. Neighbors spilled from the houses and took to the streets, where the fighting became
NEBRASKA CITY NEWS PRESS
JUNE 25, 2009
VIOLENCE BREAKS OUT AT MINOR LEAGUE BASEBALL GAME
TEN DEAD, 29 HOSPITALIZED
BY LAURENCE SPARKES
OMAHA—Ten were killed and 29 more were injured at Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium during the seventh-inning stretch of the Omaha Royals/Oklahoma City Red-Hawks game last night.
Daniel Martin Brooks, 21, of Omaha assaulted his date, Claire Marie Melvin, 19, of Omaha with a baseball bat he had purchased at the concession area.
Bystanders subdued Brooks after he hit and knocked out Melvin. It was then that Dexter Joe Rayburn, 41, of Omaha removed the bat from Brooks’s hands and hit him across the windpipe.
Moments later, it became a full-scale melee. Security guards were unable to keep control, and the fight raged until Omaha police arrived on the scene.
The fight came to an end after over a dozen people were subdued with Tasers.
Brooks and Rayburn are among the deceased. The full list of casualities is available online at the Omaha
THE DETROIT NEWS
JUNE 25, 2009
SNIPER DEATH TOLL ON THE RISE
31 NOW AMONG THE DECEASED
BY NEIL OSWALD
DETROIT—The shooting spree that has terrorized the Warren section of Detroit continues.
Last night, another two murders were attributed to the man authorities now refer to as “the Warren Sniper.” The names of the victims will be released pending notification of their respective families.
Detroit police spokesman Ashley Arthur says the department has not ruled out the possibility that there is more than one assailant. “A copycat is not out of the question. The weapon used in all of the murders, a Glock 9 mm, model 26, is a relatively easily accessible gun. It could also be the work of an organized group.”
Arthur says police have no leads.
A hotline has been set up. Anybody with information leading to the capture of the assailants should call
EXCERPTED FROM THE PAPERS OF DR. AARON GILLESPIE,
RISK MANAGEMENT ANALYST FOR THE DEPARTMENT OF
HOMELAND SECURITY
June 26, 2009—I have tasted blood. I have tasted blood, and I like it. I have tasted blood, and I realize that tasting food was a waste of time. That law enforcement was a waste of time. That America was a waste of time. That music was a waste of time. That movies were a waste of time. That sex was a waste of time. That love was a waste of time. That family was a waste of time. That life was a waste of time.
The only thing that makes sense is the taste of blood, the taste of suffering, the taste of death. I do not know why I did not realize it sooner.
I despise the fact that I wasted so much of my time on earth. Though this might not seem logical, it is this sense of wasted days, months, and years that leads me to today’s farewell.
I am not going out quietly. I refuse to go out quietly. I refuse to go out alone. I will take hundreds with me. Quite possibly thousands.
Two hours ago, I loaded my van with gasoline, propane, fertilizer, nitroglycerine, frozen orange juice, and all of our remaining homemade pipe bombs. At 1:00, I will leave the house and drive to Wrigley Field. When I get to the corner of Addison and Sheffield, I will turn my car onto the sidewalk and put all of my weight on the gas pedal. I will burst through the turnstiles and drive the van as far into the stadium as I possibly can. If it all susses out correctly, I will be able to get close to the box seats. I will then light my single stick of dynamite and place it
on top of my pile of explosives. Then I will close my eyes and feel the magnificent heat. I will be incinerated, as will anybody within a 500-yard radius. As Wrigley Field is an older building, I am confident that the explosives will cause extensive structural damage. My ultimate hope is that the upper deck collapses onto the lower deck.
My only regret is that I will be directly on top of the blast, thus I will not be conscious for the aftermath.
http://andidaltrey.blogspot.com
Andi-Licious
The Useless Musings of Sophomoric
Sophomore Andrea Daltrey
JUNE 27, 2009
It hurts it hurts so bad it won’t go away I’m raw down there and it’s bleeding red and leaking blue and it’s coming out purple and it stings like pins but I need cock I have to have cock I can’t go two hours without cock but my magic kisses stopped working and nobody wants to fuck me anymore because I’m ugly and fat and my pussy leaks purple and all my friends hate me now because I stole all their boyfriends and girlfriends but I couldn’t help it they don’t understand what it’s like if they could feel it they’d know how awful and wonderful it is and they’d probably fuck me themselves thank god for janine she’s the only one who’ll see me and she’s with erick all the time but for some reason I don’t want erick even though he’s pretty cute wait that’s not true I wanted erick at one point but it stopped I mean if he said he wanted to fuck me I’d let him and he’d be fucked like he never was fucked before but maybe not because since my magic kisses went away and boys don’t like me and I don’t like me and I probably don’t fuck like I used to so maybe I’d be just another girl to him and the only thing that would make me different is that I’d get his cock covered in purple juice and I didn’t tell anybody and I can’t believe I’m writing this but I
blew my nose yesterday and the snot was blue and I looked really close at myself in the mirror and I swear that the whites of my eyes had a blue tint to them and that won’t do that won’t do that simply won’t do so I’m going to masturbate then take an ambien and go to sleep so I won’t have to think about sex or blue pussy juice oh my god I hate myself and I hate my life
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: re: the quake
DATE: June 28, 2009
Dee—
You probably won’t write me back, and that’s fine. You’re the only person who’s been there since the beginning, so I don’t have to explain everything. I don’t have the time. I need to do this NOW.
So a couple of weeks ago, I stopped feeling. It was like my skin was dead. Like when I showered, I couldn’t feel the wet. I stuck my head in the freezer, and I couldn’t feel the cold. I put my hand in the oven, and I couldn’t feel the hot.
I also don’t feel anything on the INSIDE. Nothing’s funny. Nothing’s sad. Nothing’s scary. Nothing’s weird. It’s all flat. And I don’t care that it’s flat. I don’t care about anything.
A few days ago, I took a piece of paper and gave myself a paper cut on my arm. It didn’t hurt at all. I went to the kitchen, and cut open a lemon, and rubbed it all over the cut, and there was nothing. I cut myself 19 more times, and I was still numb. I bled a little bit, and my blood was red.
You might be asking why I’d tell you that my blood was red. Well, because when I did my paper cuts this morning (I’ve been giving myself between 15 and 20 paper cuts each day when I wake up), I bled blue. It was the same blue that came from DOWN THERE, bright and almost aqua. It didn’t bother me, though. And it should have. I should have told somebody.
I should have gone to the hospital. I mean, wouldn’t you be bothered by BLUE GOO coming out of DOWN THERE? I’m not. And I should be. Which means I should be gone.
I’m going into the bathroom, and I’m stepping into the shower, and I’m bringing lots of paper and lots of lemons and a knife with me. I’m going to do it slowly, so maybe I can feel something on the way out. That might make the whole thing worth it.
One thing I should tell you. Up until the numbness started, I missed you a lot. Now I don’t really care.
Gwennie