Young Writers Society

July 19, 1987

Patsy was planning on sleeping in that Monday or running around the block later. But instead, she was greeted with a fierce knock on her front door and Chloe's presumptuous smile.

"We have to go to the club," Chloe informed. "Mr. Hamstring is waiting for us."

Patsy, half asleep with drowsy eyes, replied, "who's we? I'm staying home."

Chloe frowned, folding her arms across her chest. "Mr. Hamstring isn't going to li-"

"I don't care what he says or likes, Chloe!" Patsy snapped and almost closed the door, but Chloe pressed a firm hand against the wood. There was a glint of annoyance that swam around her hazel eyes, but her expression was a different story with a bright smile.

"Patsy, come on. Today is when you're initiated into the club!"

Patsy sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. A headache was starting to form behind her eyes -- the worst kind. Chloe was going to be more persistent until her way cut through a large amount of hesitation that Patsy was showing. Her drowsy spell quickly fell as she stopped rubbing the bridge and squinted at Chloe.

"Fine, we'll go," Patsy agreed. Chloe released her firm hand on the door and placed it together with her other hand, clapping the two together in a giddy fashion.

"Great! You have to get dressed first, though. You don't want to show up at an initiation in your pajamas," Chloe pointed out with her index finger. Patsy huffed and rolled her eyes, closing the door on her friend's face. She then hurried upstairs, cursing the amount of snarkiness that Chloe had with pointing out her decorative kitty pajamas. Patsy didn't care all that much for this initiation for a hokey pokey club that believed killing someone was good.

Patsy got dressed and fled down the steps. Chloe was still by the door, picking at the wood door beams. She then stopped picking as the front door opened up again and stood back on her heels. "You ready to go?"

"As ready as someone is going to meet a bunch of sociopaths," Patsy responded. Chloe laughed, patting her friend on the shoulder.

"Most of the people aren't sociopaths, Patsy."

---

The club building was well hidden among the other grey brick buildings that surrounded it. Chloe pulled the hatchback into the nearly empty parking lot and hopped out. Patsy followed after and inspected the outer walls, noticing a fading yellow and red logo. Chloe was ahead of Patsy, quickly walking along the sidewalk that led to the club. Patsy felt her gut twist as she followed after her friend. There was something darker about the building, but she couldn't place her finger on why.

Two metal red doors with a mailslot on one of them greeted the girls. Chloe knocked twice and the mailslot suddenly opened up.

"What's the password?" a deep and husky voice asked.

Chloe bent down and answered quietly, "the Hams are ready." She then stood up and smiled at Patsy, resting her hands behind her back. The doors creaked open and a man with brown stubble opened the door.

He smiled for a short moment and said, "Hello, Miss Roberston. Hamstring is waiting for you in his office."

"Thank you, Derek," Chloe said as she walked past. Patsy smiled at Derek, expecting a greeting of some kind but only got a deep frown. The girls walked down the dimly lit hallway to an opened room with several desks. There was a fan spinning slowly above the room and windows let in dusty sunlight. Patsy noticed that there were mostly men in this room, each talking to one another in silent tones. The smell of cigarettes was faint in the air and caused Patsy's stomach to sickeningly turn.

Chloe greeted a few of the men and continued on to Hamstring's office. She pushed open two grey doors that led down another dimly lit hallway. It was shorter than the one they had just entered through with windows that were covered by giant white garbage bags and most of the ceiling tiles were hanging on by loose strings. The dilapidated surroundings didn't settle with Patsy's already shot nerves and if she brought it up to Chloe, her friend would only push it aside.

With another set of doors opened, they entered a small room with an oak desk in the middle. Behind it sat a thick figured man with dark brown hair. He was bent over, scribbling on a piece of paper. Besides the man, more papers were stacked on each other and a coffee cup with a tea bag string hanging out.

"Mr. Hamstring," Chloe spoke up. He stopped scribbling and looked up. Patsy noticed a thin line of sweat along his hairline and bags under his eyes.

He smiled and said, "Hello Chloe. And is this Miss Storkhill?"

Chloe nodded, resting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "The one and only."

Mr. Hamstring pushed his chair back and stood up. His stomach stuck out a little bit when he did, making it seem like the suit he was wearing could snap out. That thought amused Patsy but then again, the buttons could harm an eye or two.

He walked around the table and to the two girls, bringing his hand out. "Mr. Edward Hamstring. It's a pleasure to meet you finally."

Patsy reached out and grabbed his hand. It was meaty, sweaty, and larger than hers. After shaking hands for a few moments, she quickly whipped the sweat on her clothes. Mr. Hamstring gestured to the two seats and asked, "Take a seat. We have much to discuss."

Patsy and Chloe sat down in the lush red seats while Mr. Hamstring went behind them to a coffee maker on a crowded bookcase. "Would either one of you like coffee?"

"Patsy and I had coffee before we came," Chloe lied. She then made a face at Patsy that gave the message of his-coffee-is-as-horrible-as-poison. Mr. Hamstring then went back to his desk and sat down, pulling his chair in.

He clasped his hands together and rested it on the desk. "So, how did it go?"

Patsy blinked, feeling an odd sense of deja vu. "The murder?"

"Yes, the murder. Was there a struggle? Did you do it in teams? Explain to me the process."

Chloe sat forward and began, "I just want to say that Patsy did most of the work. I thought it would be best if I just remain lookout for the time being. I kind of wanted Patsy to feel the waters without my help." She then sat back down and gestured to Patsy to continue on.

Her friend looked at Chloe with confusion but did as she said. "It was simple, actually. Mr. Marcos was face down in the kitchen when I found him. He appeared dead drunk so the stabbing wasn't that hard. The hardest part, I think-"

"I didn't ask how you felt after killing him. I just wanted to know the process and if there was a struggle, Miss Storkhill," Mr. Hamstring warned. He then unclasped his hands and rested them on the table. "My club, Miss Storkhill, is tricky business. I work with sneaky people that are usually people like you and me. They have lives to live and at night, they go to kill people. That's how this club works. Reverse vigilantes, if you will.

"Now, Chloe reminded me that this was your first time. And I am surprised that Benjamin was passed out when you arrived. I figured, at least, he would be in the party room by what the previous club owner said. That's an interesting aspect," Mr. Hamstring noted, leaning back in his chair.

Chloe cut in, "Do you think it is possible that Benjamin died before Patsy got there? Like, someone got to him first?"

Patsy reeled back and stared at her friend. Where did that idea come from?

Mr. Hamstring hummed and shrugged. "Probably. That seems like a reasonable option, but until then-" he then stood up again and went to a far wall. A sign was pressed against a corkboard. It read 'nothing says oops like accidental murder', which confused Patsy. There were a thousand questions that bounced around like bubbles stuck inside of a small room.

Mr. Hamstring picked up the sign and walked back to where the girls were sitting. "Here's this for your first attempt. Consider it to be a welcoming gift," he said as he handed it to Patsy. He then stepped back and gestured to the same door the girls walked through. "You girls also came at the right time as we are taking a club picture so if you could follow me."

Chloe bolted up while Patsy stared at the sign that Mr. Hamstring had given her. She frowned, running her index finger along the curves of the carved letters. Chloe noticed her friend's sad expression and paused. "Patsy, what's wrong?"

Patsy sighed and shook her head. "Nothing, nothing. Let's go take the picture."