Don’t Bleed on the Floor // One Quirk Later #7

Just so you know, I’m posting this at all because I dared myself to and you can’t back down from a dare.

If it doesn’t make sense, sorry. The idea is that it’s an audio transcript. (And the recording mic seems to have been way closer to not-Andre than to Andre.)

We can also blame Jem for this little monstrosity of a short story…thing?, because she has once again posted one of her One Quirk Later flash fiction prompts…which inspired me so much that I immediately sat down and dashed this off instead of studying for that statics exam that I probably just failed. (I hope you’re happy, Jem.) Here’s a link to the post with all the info!

And, uh, I hope any of you who decide to read it enjoy the story! I will not be mad if you don’t, though. You’re probably a much more sane and balanced and healthy person than I am (or than these poor brothers are), so yeah.

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Don’t Bleed on the Floor

~an audio transcript, acquired under dubious circumstances~

She is an odd girl. You know the sort, I imagine – you’re so much more experienced than me. (That, Andre, was what they call a double-entendre.) She is an odd girl, though. She asks questions not out of politeness but out of barely-bridled curiosity. She wears all sorts of styles – whatever she feels like on a particular day – sky-blue dress with a skirt made for swing-dancing – black skinny jeans, Converse hi-tops, ratty T-shirt, old baseball cap she probably got from a rummage sale. We were in a flea market, and she was staring at this set of old flower-painted porcelain dishes for four and a half minutes (I counted). I offered to buy them for her. She said thank you (she says that a lot, always in this surprised way), but she wouldn’t ever use them really. She asked if I knew what she meant that, sometimes, something is so pretty you have to look at it for a while. And then longer than a while, because a while isn’t long enough after all. That was how I felt about her (remember how much more experienced you are than me, Andre, and don’t laugh), but I suggested sunsets. “Yes!” she said. “Like that.” She was pleased.  She never talked about herself, actually. Do you realize how much more you learn about someone when she doesn’t talk about herself? I found out – not because she said so, of course – she thinks she’s boring. You know the type, I’m sure.

[indistinct]

But you get it, don’t you? I thought so. I wasn’t calling her when they dragged me out of the phone booth, by the way. I was calling her mother. I saw your guys before they got there; that’s why I hung up. You might have dragged her into it too, for all I know. I’m laughing because it was the exact same words. You’ll be amused too when I tell you. No, I know you will. You like irony, don’t you? I was chopping the salad for her mother. Cut my finger. And she said, “Don’t bleed on my floor!” Like that. And wrapped it all up for me, washed it and everything. Don’t bleed on my floor. It is funny.

[indistinct]

All right. Isn’t this floor yours too, though? I’m so sorry; I do appear to have gotten blood on it. Quite a lot of blood, actually. Well, it’s my floor too, I guess. I admit, the bloodstains wouldn’t go with the rest of the kitchen décor. It might go with the broken window pane, but that’s all behind us now, isn’t it? Your tie’s crooked. Yeah, that’s better. You shouldn’t do these things yourself, you know; it’s messy. All the great backstabbers and crime bosses have people to do their dirty work for them. That’s why their ties are so straight.

[indistinct]

Right, the girl. Well, she would have appreciated it – you’re so boring when you’re angry, Andre. “Don’t bleed on my floor” – in that voice you do so well. You look like – oh, a frat boy, the hair and the teeth and the sculpted jaw. Only a frat boy can’t be really intimidating, and you are. Truly intimidating, I mean. It isn’t one of those B-movie villain affairs – you sneer but you don’t snarl, and you don’t overdo it. And there’s just a hint – I could just suspect –

[silence]

Well, I knew it, didn’t I? Or I wouldn’t have –

[coughing]

[indistinct]

Right, the girl. Right. You know, I’m not really planning to tell you anything useful. I just like this part, where I do less unmanly shrieking and you get to practice your budding skill of patience. It’s coming along nicely, by the way. That tic in your right jaw, I can barely see it. Of course, I can barely see anything at the moment, I think I’m – I think – going to –

[coughing]

[indistinct]

I protest. I can’t talk about true love when I feel like I’m going to puke my guts out. It’s indecent.

[indistinct]

Okay, okay, okay. I can try. Let’s see. She is an odd girl. I don’t think she’d be surprised if she walked in that door – over there – there’s a door over there, isn’t there? I can’t see it. She – she won’t walk through it, because – because why the hell else are we here, like this? – but if she did she wouldn’t be surprised. Did I tell you how she always said “thank you”? Like she was so surprised. I told her about you – no, not like that. Not like that. I mean I told her about growing up. Baseball and things. Mr. Kramer’s window. So she thinks you’re a bleeding saint of a big brother. But she still wouldn’t be surprised, that’s what I mean. I was surprised. And I was an idiot, too. I’ve known you all my life, and – and I was an idiot. It wouldn’t have changed anything, probably – oh, and sentiment, sure, auld lang syne – but I’m supposed to be smart, aren’t I?

[indistinct]

Yeah. Yeah, you’re never going to find her, are you? You’re never going to find her.

[indistinct]

Don’t do that, Andre. There’s not any point. I know it doesn’t feel good to be beaten by your little brother, but consider – it doesn’t feel good to be beaten by your older brother either. (Another double-entendre. That was a pretty good one, wasn’t it?)

[indistinct]

You think I’d rather be in your place?

[coughing]

[indistinct]

No, no, I’m fine, I was just – I was just laughing – because –

[coughing]

Mr. Kramer’s window – I told her about Mr. Kramer’s window. Did I tell you that? That’s what I mean. Maybe I’d have turned into…into…well, I haven’t, though, have I? You’d face Mr. Kramer’s wrath for your little brother, but not Ferlinghetti’s. Well, maybe you would have back then. But I got her away from all of you. All of you. You won’t be able to find her, and Ferlinghetti won’t be able to find her, and you – well, you still have Ferlinghetti’s good opinion, at least, right? He has probably has a better opinion of you than ever. Business first, then family. What’s left of it.

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THE END

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Well. Glad that’s over with. Now I can go read everybody else’s stories, which I’ve been wild to do! (Didn’t want to before, because that usually drains me of all inspiration, and would definitely have drained me of the courage to actually post this…which I’m still not 100% sure I’m going to do…)

Oh, and this is the prompt:

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It is a very cool prompt. The blood, the phone. I like.