It's So Easy (Short Story)

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Songlines 4 - Short stories inspired from songs.
Previous stories in the series:

1. When the Levee Breaks
2. Crossroads
3. Heart's a Mess

This story is inspired by the Guns N' Roses song It's So Easy, off the Appetite For Destruction album.

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IT'S SO EASY

New body. Where am I? Vision is returning. Seems like the inside of a car. Am I driving? No, I am parked. Wait, we are parked. Beside me, passenger seat – hello lovely lady, who are you? You smell heavenly. Rose, jasmine. Subtle, yet sweet. And why do you look at me like that? Such confusion in your eyes.

What's my name? Something I do need to know. I could just ask her. Give the game away. But then she'll work out something isn't right eventually.

“Peter, what's wrong?”

Peter? Peter? That's my name, really? Boring. Don't like it. It has to go.

“Zeus. Call me Zeus.”

“Don't be silly Peter. I'm not calling you Zeus.”

Such a beautiful woman, so alluring. Look at you there, staring at me with such bewilderment. So Peter has never told you how things work, I see. Well Peter is a pussy. And I'm not Peter.

I lean forward to where she sits, my right hand behind her head guides her towards me, towards my lips. I kiss her, our lips lock in an embrace I have mastered over the years. Over the centuries more like it. There is struggle in her. Subdued, but it is there. A fighter, I see. I like it. Lips lock with more intensity. Her struggle is diminishing. She likes it. Peter, have you never kissed her like this? Well she's not yours any more Peter. You've lost your chance.

That look on her face. I've seen that look before. In the eyes of many women. She has no idea what is happening. Oh the mystery.

“What's gotten into you Peter?” Her hand is trembling. She wants more, the body language is speaking to me. Her enlarged pupils, her shallow breathing, and the way she teasingly tucks her hair behind her ear. Can't hide it from me my dear.

“I'm not Peter. I'm Zeus. Peter had to leave. And I haven't gotten your name yet.”

“Peter, you know my name.” Look at her eyes dancing around like two confused sparrows. Unable to fly away. Unable to find that missing piece of information that will explain it all to her. It doesn't exist. This is Peter's body, but you're not looking at Peter any more. You'll get used to it. Or not. They don't always.

“Humour me.”

“Sally.” Peter and Sally, what a cute couple you must have made, with your cute couple names. A match made in heaven really. Sorry to ruin the party for you.

“So where are we going, Sally?” I'm dressed in a suit, no tie. Dinner date? She looks the part. She smells the part. And I know she tastes the part.

“Lombard's Restaurant, remember?”

“I can't access Peter's memories, sorry Sally.” But then she liked that kiss, so she ought to be happy I can't access his memories. That was one of my own specials. And given her reaction it was a new experience for her. One that I can see she liked.

“Are you going to be okay to drive?” Look at that split inside her growing into a chasm. A pit of confusion. It's a joy to watch. Half of her is screaming to get out of the car and get as far from me as possible. Sensible move. For a sensible Sally. But will she do it? Will she subdue her urge to comprehend this full scale mystery staring her in the face right now? Or will the other half win the day? How badly does she want to feel more of that electricity that's rushing through her right now?

It was just a look. A cheeky wink, an invite for more. Enough for her to plunge at me, coming back for seconds. How long have you been starved for affection, Sally? A long time, I gather. She has my head in both hands, in control, yet completely out of control. She will have to come up for air eventually.

Are we even going to make it to the restaurant? She straightens herself up, using the car's mirror to fix her make up. Respectable Sally has made an appearance. To the restaurant it is then.

“So, where is this place then?”

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The delightful smell of burning rubber. Traffic noises. Horns blaring away. I love it. Feel that adrenaline flowing. This is what it is to feel alive. And then there's Sally. Poor innocent Sally. The confusion is melting from her face. Those blank eyes have gone bye bye. Look at her there, holding on for dear life. You'll break a nail if you're not careful. Perhaps she should try blinking, those puppy dog eyes will dry out otherwise.

Let's see now, how fast does this car go? Faster than everyone else, I bet.

40. 50. 60.

Boring. Every one else is doing that speed. Lets go faster.

70. 80. 90.

That's right, out of the way slow people. I got me some living to do.

“Slow down Peter.” She speaks in waves of despair now. Sounds like a squawking parrot beside me.

“I'm Zeus.”

“You're going to get us killed.”

“I hope not. That would be a bummer. We've got a reservation to attend. Dinner for two. How delightful.” I've seen that colour before. Sally looks so ghostly right now. Perhaps it was those three cars I ran off the road? And I did just go through a red light. Red lights are the most fun. “We're almost there now Sally.”

Another red light, here we go.

100.

Screeching tyres. Metal on metal. Is that people I can hear screaming? Well we're fine. So what commotion am I missing right now?

I slam on the breaks and spin the car around to face the lights I just raced through. What a mess. How many is that? Let's see, I count five cars all mangled. Not a scratch on me. Not a scratch on Sally. I exit the car and proceed towards the accident scene. Billowing smoke, broken metal, shards of glass everywhere. Smell that destruction. That heartache and fear, swimming through the air. I could get drunk on that right now.

I'm standing on the roof of one of the damaged vehicles. I think I see a bleeding body below me. He'll get his own white outline soon enough. People everywhere. Spectators one and all. Come witness the spectacle. Come glory in the misery of others. Come watch the conductor do his thing.

“What are you doing?” There's Sally, looking up at me. At least she didn't call me Peter. This is Zeus' handy work my dear.

Are those tears? For these people? She doesn't even know these people.

“I'm celebrating.” I jump down onto the bonnet. The car's front end is damaged. It tried to mate with the back end of a pick up. No winners in that scenario, I'm afraid. Standing on the street, I walk over to Sally. Poor frightened little Sally. Cheer up. I did this for you. I did this for us. You haven't lived until you've faced death. And right now we're bathing in it. Together, you and me.

“What are we going to do?” I wipe a bead of sweat from her brow. Sniff it, taste it. Shock. No other explanation. People say the darnedest things when they go into shock. I mean – what are we going to do? I know exactly what we are going to do.

I grab Sally by the hand and walk over to the footpath. There is a bar just down the road. Saw it clearly from my vantage point just a moment ago. Sally follows, like a little puppy dog. People look, their stares follow us. Dead people's eyeballs gravitate towards the only signs of life around. Because that is what people are – dead. I offer you life. Seize it.

I own you. Every single one of you. This is all too easy.

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People are standing outside the bar, they've watched us as we've walked towards the place. One guy steps in front of me. Big guy. It's time for some fun.

“You can't come in here.”

“We've called the cops.” The big guy has a lady friend. People are funny, the way they pair themselves off.

“I look forward to their arrival,” I tell her. I pick the large man up by his shirt and throw him to the side. I gather from the bewildered silence that greets me that he has never had that happen before. I take Sally's hand once more and walk into the bar.

“A bottle of your finest whiskey for me. What would you like my dear?” Sally hasn't spoken since we left the accident scene. She needs a drink, get the blood flowing again.

“I'm not thirsty.” She sounds like a little kitten; uncertainty reigns.

“This is not about thirst, this is about life. About fun. Aren't you having fun?”

She doesn't answer. Not with her mouth anyway. Her eyes are speaking volumes to me right now.

I feel a sharp pain across my head. There's blood. This looks good. I turn and face behind me. Someone has smashed a bottle over my head. Over Zeus' head. This guy knows how to live.

I grab his wrist and punch his face hard with my right fist. Crunching sound. Eye socket damage. I shake the broken bottle loose from his grip, crushing it under my foot. I give him a kiss on the lips, terror washing over his face, pouring out his eyes, his hopes retreating to the back of the room.

I twist his head and hear the snap of his neck. All too easy. People scurry away from me. Furniture is overturned. What's wrong? I just want to have some fun.

Sirens blaring, getting closer. All those eyes peering back at me, peering out of those clogged up thought machines. So much fear. So much disease.

“Do you want to die?” I shout out to the crowd of cowering bodies. No answers. I walk over to the closest one. “Do you want to die?” I'm not touching him. I actually want to hear his answer.

“No.” I think that's what he says, through all the tears and slobbering.

“Are you afraid to die?” He doesn't answer. I don't force the issue.

“You all seem too scared to live, yet are afraid of dying. People are an oddity I have yet to understand.”

“Freeze,” I hear the order barked out through stifled apprehension and paranoia. I turn to face a cop pointing a gun at me. I step forward, reducing the distance between us. “I said freeze.”

“I heard you just fine.” I reduce the distance some more. The whites of his eyes are like two frightened souls begging for answers. Looking straight through me, as if trying to erase my existence all together. I take one more step towards him.

A loud bang. Searing pain. Blood. My blood, everywhere. Screams, fading screams. Fading light.

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Vision returns. I look down and see my hands. I'm holding a gun. It's warm. My hands are shaking. My muscles are trembling. There's a body lying on the ground. A woman screams, running over to it.

“Peter.” She is hysterical. Spitting her words in ever direction. “You killed Peter.”

I know that name. I know that woman. That sobbing mess of a woman.

“Sally, is that you?”

“How do you know my name?”

“It's me, Zeus.”

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All images used with permission, and sourced from Unsplash.com.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you liked it then please like, comment, and follow

@naquoya

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Short Fiction:

Bang Bang You're Dead
I Have No Name and I Must Scream
The Last Book Store
The Judge
The Man In The Mirror
The End of the World [Part 1] [Part 2]
The Locked Room
The Gods of Love and War [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
Crossroads
Heart's a Mess
Blasphemous
Jonathan and the Dance of the Leaves