Peachy Life (standard:drama, 1351 words)
Author: Ox	Added: Feb 09 2002	Views/Reads: 3272/2197	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Mayor Quincy Hatch comes to terms with his failing marriage

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Yes, the racking over of the guilt remained stable until that loser
Jessie Cunningham buckles under the FBI. For months, agents tailed 
Cunningham. He had a new shadow, and the shadow turned out to really 
piss Cunningham off. When he turned, he caught a pair of mystery men 
whispering about the Oat Flakes Cunningham had had for breakfast. On 
the night of his mothers’ birthday, Cunningham receives a happy 
eightieth birthday card from the FBI. “Real cute,” he murmurs. “I’ll 
teach them a lesson in due time.” 

He teaches harsh lessons so watch out! 

Cunningham loved the sensation of dominating man and woman; he loved the
control when all they do is scream and scratch until nothing is left in 
his soul. He can put them to rest, after the numbness arrives; he wants 
the numbness; it’s the rush you wait for. “That’s what my victims are 
shit sticking to my butt, nothing more.” His knuckles do the speaking. 
Many felt the serrated bone; none lived to describe the experience. 

There was Margaret Murmur, who in her last brief movements in real time
tried to salvage a prayer amongst all the problems – ah, she was to 
late! She felt coldness on the edge of the blade; she went quietly 
bleeding out to death. 

Margaret is not alone. Stacks, rows, columns of bodies network through
Cunningham’s mind: Jerry, Fiona, Hindi, Ashley, Mark, Brian, Becky, 
Sarah, and a few more lost over time. They learned pain and death from 
Cunningham, and in return, Cunningham learned if he stopped madness, if 
he ceased the fervent killings, it would mean nothing. Murder, death 
... shit prevails in the end. It always did. 

Cunningham really swatted the agency across the face; yeah Cunningham
ended his life after chugging the bleach dispersed across the house to 
find. He found a hole to jump through and escape life in the thick, 
thin blue, tasty bleach – happy days ahead. 

There is a furnace in Cunningham’s gut, and it died down that day. It
was as though his mother new suicide was coming and so, she planted the 
jugs of bleach all over the house for her son to feast on. 

Of course Jessie leaves a suicide note telling all the details of his
life. All his juicy details about the events he committed over the 
years and it is impossible to exclude the Mayor’s murder plot. That 
cancer growth found its place in the last words of a stark and barren 
hero. Oh, how the Mayor learned to hate the world after the note hit 
the public stream. Hatch convinces himself the conviction is a joke. In 
time the truth will surface. There is no way for him to pay for the 
murder of Hale. 

Hale has curves he grapples at dinner, because the smell of spices drove
him to her, pulling him to the gravity in her gut. Quincy Hatch just 
took his wife on the kitchen floor. Over the years he lives off 
pictures of the dome they built, a mass of two lovers sweating. Behind 
a string of bars, the sex act unfolds. The grappling, the sniffing, and 
the snatching of her sides is a rip in his side. Behind bars, there is 
time to dream. 

It ends up the mayor’s buddy, Jessie, had mistakenly killed an
additional couple engaging in a love affair at the same Day’s Inn Hale 
and John frequented. This couple engaged in a normal affair not the one 
Hatch knew so well. 

“What a life we live” Mayor Hatch would say to Ray Williams, a serial
rapist. “I have to mend the crime with constant guilt.” The funniest 
best part of the whole damn mess of the murder and of the town is that 
the Mayor is absolutely right ... what a mess we live in. 


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