Meat Under Spatula

Get a load of this. Some shmuck just standing there, minding his own business, right? He checks his watch. "Hm! About time for my annual pet rescue centre visit!"
So he starts walking, so far so good, then, out of nowhere, SPLAT! Giant spatula splats the guy into red paint on the sidewalk, brains and guts splattering like jelly.
That's how it is in ol' Louieville, but it wasn't always like that. See, giant spatula and all, there's some mook running the show. There he is now, coming over to the splatter. "Aaaand for my next trick..."
Some magician, all dressed in those black suits magicians wear. "I'll do two grandmas at the same time!"
I'm forced to meet his wicked grim with a polite smile. It's my job, see? I'm a photographer. Used to be a freelancer, until he came along. Now I take pictures of each one of his twisted "tricks"
It's a living. But things are gonna change.

The new mayor was elected just a few months ago, and we're planning to give that magician fella the talk. I'm going to see him now.
Before that, I take a leak at the public restroom. "Hey, you da fotografer man...?" I hear someone say. I turn my head over to see an old hobo, who's got no legs.
"Dat magic guy... He come here a year ago... Sez he got a trick. Well, I sez to him, 'I got a trick too, man, but you gotta pay me first', thought it waz funny, but dat magic man, he no funny man, he sez 'You WILL see my trick!' an' I was pissing myself, man, an' things got dark like I wuz under a tree or somethin' and I looks up, an' da spatula wuz above me, went flat on my legs. Now I got no legs, man, no legs..."
I stand there for a while. "I'm... I'm sorry" I stammer. "S'alright, man, you got a coin?" He says. "No, I'm sorry, pal" I manage to say. Time to get going.
"S'alright, man... Just remember me, yes? Name's Louie, I'm ol' Louieville, man, remember it!" He says to me. As I walk out of the place, I hear his echoing, weak laughter.
"Nah, man, I'm just fucking around..." I hear him say.

I arrive at the mayor's. I cross the road, some asshole speeds past me. "Why don't you just run over everybody on this damn road!" I shout at the car. Pointless, I know. Then, I hear it. Damn!
Car gets flattened by the spatula. I feel like crap on the sidewalk. What I hate most about that spatula is that it makes me feel bad for pieces of trash like that.
I quit staring, and head into the mayor's place. Not much I can do now.
The place is one of those kooky office places, but it's under renovation, and you got all kinds of suits and slickers moving to and fro, a frantic dance under the music of ringing telephones.
I enter the mayor’s office. I see him sitting there, smoking his tobacco. He's an older fat guy, with a balding head. "Why, hello, old sport, what brings you over?" He says using a cigar-stranggled voice.
I got no time for words. I throw over my pictures over his table.
"Good Lord, old sport, the hell are you showing me?"
"First one's from back in February. I guess you can't tell but all that cranberry belonged to five children" I say, harsher than I expected. "Second one's from just a couple weeks ago," I continue "Two grandmas. You heard what he said earlier, didn't you? Bastard's reusing tricks now"
He shakes his head. "Wanna know about the others?" I ask. There were a couple more pictures, far too many for my liking. "No more, son, no more!"
"Good," I say as I make for the door, content in getting my message across. "Wait!" I hear him exclaim. I turn around.
"Hold on just a moment, son", he starts to say. "You seem to be getting the wrong idea here. I said we'll talk to the fella, yes, but I don't like where your plans are at, boy"
I can't help but grimace "Which part?" I ask. "All of it! You're asking me to go all willy-nilly with that maniac and expect it to work!" His breath heaves as he says that. "What's stopping you?" I say. "Well..." He answers. I wait for it. "Well, it's because you know damn well what happens to me if that comes through! You simply can't do things like that, son!"
I don't hear more of it. I turn around. The good thing is, he doesn't try to stop me from leaving. Why would he?

I spend most of my time at home now, whenever I'm not doing my job. I watch TV sometimes.
I once saw on the news that city counsel has "intervened" with the magician. Gave him a permit. Shook hands with smiling mayor. Less killings, but during the specified time frame? Kill away, magic man! Just don't spill guts over our property, it's a real bitch to clean. Nevermind the janitors that do the job, who you've flattened.
That's just what happens with the little guy in Louieville, they get flattened. I switch channels. Some cooking show on channel six. Guy slinging burgers on the grill, smiling and all. He presses the meat down with the spatula.
I look out my window. I see people walking by, now that there's a permit for the killings. They all walk by, like cattle.
"Yeah, smash those burgers down" the guy on the show says. I spot a guy from the other side of the curb. I remember someone being splattered on that spot.
"Gee whiz, folks, I sure do love smashing meat!" The guy on the show continues. I see the man checking his watch.
"Smashing meat," the TV continues "like meat is supposed to be smashed" the man just stands there, before crossing the road.
"Meat"

I'm starting to lose my hair, and each picture I take eats away at me. I have been ate at so much that there's very little of me left to dwindle down, and I'm afraid that whatever I do next, I won't be held accountable. After all, there isn't much of me left to accuse. That makes sense, doesn't it?
It's 4:13 AM as I walk across the street. There's a faint wind blowing across my face, and then the smell of rotten viscera. It's a good day for a walk. Empty streets, no sound of cars.
A kid looks out from a window and sees me. Better get used to doing that, kiddo. Unless, what I plan to do works.
I go on to today's scene, a splatter mark like all the others. This time, I don't quite care who it belonged to. I take pictures like always.
"Things are getting stale, are they not?" The magician says. "This one's my work for today, but there's no pizzazz to it. My, I fear that your city's becoming boring to me!" 
He flies away, accompanied by the giant spatula. "Hey!" I shout over to him. I suppose he's surprised, I never once talked to him before unless I had to. He looks down at the ground to me.
"Take care, bucko" I say, waving him off.
"Why?" He asks.
"Just for the trail" I say, as I walk off.

It's 8 PM now, and all I've had is a cup of coffee. I'm watching over a window. I invited the magician over, said I wanted to talk business. I've never done this before so I suppose he'll believe me.
Hell, I need another cup. I go down the stairs, into the open. I walk into a convenience store, buy myself a pack.
"Damn," the guy on the counter says "You look like the living dead"
I pay no mind to the comment as I walk out. I bump into our old friend, Louie the hobo.
He was sitting there in some alley and I had to take a piss, so I figured that place was as good as any. It wasn't his night, I'll tell you that.
"Shit, man!" I heard him say from the darkness. I didn't even think to apologize. I would have, but it was too damn funny.
"You gotta give me a coin for that at least, man!" He says, angry, I suppose. I decided to throw the guy a bone, I reached for my pocket. "Hold on" I say.
I guess the effort ruffled my clothes up or something, and a shining glint came to dazzle his eyes for a moment.
"Damn, man..." He says. I halt in place. "Dat's a fine piece, man. What kind?"
"Oh, .22 LR" I say.
"Shit, cheap but shoots lak hell, I know" there is silence between us before a curious smile forms in his dirty lips. "I know what you gon' do, man" he starts laughing that same weak laugh from earlier. "You gon' become lak me too, man, you become lak Louie, you Louieville now too!" He says.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" I ask, confused, but there was no answer. Instead, he just continues to laugh, and I start walking away.
"Oh!" I hear him shout from the distance. "My name ain't Louie, man, it's..." But I don't hear the rest, I was too far off then.

So here I am walking back up the stairs. I come up to the same room to see him already there, the magician. He's drinking what's left of my own damn cup of coffee.
"You came over quick" I say to him, my voice somewhat shaky. He just smiles at me.
"This is some terrible coffee"
"It keeps a guy going," was my response "sit down, why don't you?" He does, and starts resting his head back.
"Where's the spatula?"
"Oh, I put it down…. I'm thinking about retiring" What are the odds?
"Yeah?" I say, pacing a bit. He doesn't answer, continuing to rest his head. He's loafing. It takes an effort for me to stop pacing. I put my hand on the gun. I hesitate. I put my hand away, I don't know why.
They're trembling. "You know..." he suddenly says. I almost jump, sweat dragging across my temple onto my cheek.
"I look back on my career..." he starts to speak wistfully, still resting his head, eyes closed beneath his hand. "And after all is said and done, I'm just some guy," he sighs "It doesn't take much for a guy..."
I put my hand on the gun again. "For him to be like m-" there were four or five thundering noises. I blinked the whole time, I didn't expect it to be so frightening, even on the other side.
I open my eyes, my heart pounding away. He looks shocked, looking at me.
I stand there, my hands still trembling. I drop the gun. I didn't notice how heavy I was breathing.

I killed him at 8:32 PM. He sits there, with holes all over his torso. His face is of complete shock, the indignant kind. It’s like he couldn’t believe the audacity of his own murder.
9:00 PM… I remember how he jerked when I fired at him. I had my eyes closed but I saw a violent glimpse of it. It’s like he hit a bump or something on the road. I can't help but jerk too.
9:13 PM… I can’t stop my hands from shaking, and so does my jaw. I can’t stand, my knees feel weak. I threw up a couple minutes ago, and I can't feel my head. He’s looking at me still.
9:20 PM, I'm crying. I killed a man. I don’t dare go out.
9:31 PM, I hear police sirens outside. Somebody must have heard gunshots, called the cops.
I start laughing. It's too damn funny. I just realized why hobo Louie said I'll be "lak" him now. I put the gun in my mouth. Any second, I'll be part of Louieville.
The sirens go on and on. I remember my Ma. Once, when I was a kid, I broke a vase and my mom was outside. I ended up locking the door so she wouldn't come in. She kept calling onto me, and I was sure that she'd kill me if I opened the door.
I did open it, and she didn't kill me, but I remember thinking that she did. I was a dumb kid. Well, I won't let them get me this time around. I'm not going to open the door. Hand on the trigger.
I remember my Ma.