John Patrick Robbins

Bait & Switch

Knotts Island Cemetery, August 16th

Even near sundown, it was sweltering as usual on the godforsaken island. Rob hated coming here, but heaven forbid he have a life or his parents pull themselves from their continual watered-down shared miseries to put fresh flowers on Sally’s grave.

Honestly, he could have given two fucks about honoring her memory, let alone this morbid act of placing flowers upon her grave in some weird ass way of, he guessed, celebrating her death date.

He was only seven when Sally offed herself; she was constantly fucking miserable, from what Rob could remember. But, then again, who wouldn’t be ready to kill themselves living with Rob’s parents? Their love was a mutual hatred for one another; they both were drunks of their own rights.

Of course, Rob’s father had the excuse that his star quarterback son had fumbled the ball at the championship game, killing the head coach and perpetual drama queen of a sad excuse for a father’s hopes of living vicariously off the farts of his son.

The truth is, Rob Gibbons hated the game and fumbled that ball on purpose to stick it to the never was dipshit; he loved seeing the brokenness in his father’s eyes. His entire team knew it and hated him almost as much as his father.

So he was shunned by everyone, but the folks of Knotts Island, North Carolina, could genuinely give a fuck less. They hated everything and everyone, including themselves, and for that, Rob truly loved them in that respect.

His family wasn’t local, so they referred to them as Arabs. It was a local term for anyone whose family tree forked, but no matter their backward opinions, Rob didn’t give a shit. He was bound for nothing but drinking his ass to oblivion to spite those shitbags who brought him into this world.

So, as he dropped the roses at his sister’s grave, he decided to honor her uniquely as he dropped the empty tall boy of Budweiser with her flowers, unzipped his pants, and began to relieve himself.

It was about the most enjoyable part of his soon-to-be-forgotten evening as suddenly a voice broke his moment of bladder-reliving zen.

“Wow, aren’t you a class act, killer?”

“Fuck, what the hell!” Rob blurted out, trying to hide the fact whoever snuck up behind him had just about caused him to piss all over himself. Rob turned to be met by a statuesque woman who resembled some Gothic vampire.

“Hey, look, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, I believe it is, but don’t sweat it, sweetie. I mean, these folks get walked on already, so who gives a shit? Well, I mean besides their loved ones. So, what brings you here besides a pit stop, sparky?” The odd woman said, laughing.

“What’s it to you, Vampira? And besides, what are you doing sneaking up on me like some freak hiding out in this backwoods cemetery?”

“Oh, so aggressive for a dumbass that can’t even hold a football in the hopes of gaining the attention of the big colleges so you can slap your fellow Neanderthal’s asses.”

“Hey, fuck you bitch!”

Rob didn’t know who this cunt was, but he was losing his patience; he didn’t give a shit if she was a woman or not; he was about to knock her on her ass if she didn’t leave him alone and return to her crypt. 

“Hey, look, I didn’t mean to come off as a bitch, okay. I just could give a fuck less about football, but do you have another beer?”

“Yeah, for me, weirdo,” Rob said as he began to walk away and get as far as he could from this weird ass woman who seemed more suited for an old horror movie than real life or some Halloween carnival.

“It’s funny you’re the one using your sister’s headstone as a urinal, and you consider me weird. Of course, it’s strange she killed herself in this very cemetery so many years back.”

“Yeah, and why do you give a shit? She didn’t care about anyone but herself, or are you like one of her three former friends? I thought all those freaks got the hell out of dodge as soon as they could.”

The woman just shook her head. “It must be a burden, having to maintain the facade of a hard ass twenty-four seven. Look, I don’t give a crap about your sob story, but I would enjoy a beer. I mean, I will exchange a sip of this.” The woman said, pulling a pint of Jim Beam from her purse.

Rob didn’t know if this bitch was crazy. He honestly didn’t care, but he did entertain the thought of getting more fucked up and possibly getting some of her dark lipstick on his dipstick. He thought if she was indeed that much of a freak, who cares? Getting off while getting drunk was always one of Rob’s favorite pastimes.

So, as he walked with his new unwanted companion to his car, he pulled a cold one from his cooler, tossing it to her.

“So, you got a name, freak show?”

“Lenore, and wow, you throw way better than you catch. I’m surprised; well, I guess everyone has an off day, huh, tiger?”

“Fuck you bitch, what you know about football, let alone high-school football? What, you got cable in your crypt?”

“No satellite, and it’s a five fucking mile island, dipshit; word gets around fast.”

“Yeah, people here have no fucking life; they just have gossip and their failures to count, so I guess. Now, what about that bottle?”

Lenore passed the bottle as they stood there drinking. As odd companions on an ever-approaching suffocating hot night, the conversation lightened as they shared a few more drinks, and the barbs became less awkward.

“So, how did you know my sister?”

Lenore went silent, looking off into the distance.

“I didn’t know her well; I just knew she loved this place. I saw her a few times. I didn’t go to school with her, but we spoke on occasion; she was honestly a nice person but sad. Then again, who isn’t masking something right?”

“Yeah, she was a stranger to me, then she became someone who existed in photos and was talked about as if she hadn’t stolen my dad’s pistol and blown her brains out. How very Rockwell of her. Fuck it! I’m out of here. See ya!”

Rob said, hurling the beer can into the cemetery as he went to hop in his car.

“Wait, look, why don’t you hang with me at my place? I got more booze. I won’t be such a bitch. I just am alone too much as is, so let’s have a few more drinks; what do you say?”

Rob didn’t know why, but he honestly had no desire to hang with this odd woman anymore. There was something about her. She was attractive, yet something just unnerved him about her. She was like his sister to some degree, broken in some way he had no desire to understand, yet he also didn’t want to be at home. His father nagged him to death, and his cunt of a mother just spewed hatred for the fact Sally was gone, and all she was left with was her lousy ass husband and her loser son.

“So, where’s home?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“The Collins property.”

“Damn, that place is fucking huge, and I know for a fact that old man doesn’t like guests, so I’ll pass.”

“That old man is my father, and what are you scared of? We’re not going to hang out with my family, just have some more drinks and listen to music. I mean, whatever floats your boat.”

Rob’s curiosity was sparked; the Collins property was huge, and the old man was loaded, yet nobody seemingly knew what he fucking did to be so rich, and Rob was almost out of beers, so why not drink on this loon’s dime.

“Alright, goth Barbie, get in.” Soon, they were driving on the creepy-ass property that was just a tiny part of the 7000 acres old man Collins owned.

Rob was stunned at just how eerie the place looked. Lenore had unlocked the first gate onto the property as she had him stop at what he assumed to be a caretaker’s house.

She led him to an old gazebo in the backyard that sat on the edge of the woods. Rob took a seat as she went to mix them some drinks.

“Damn, this place looks like something out of some old horror movie. Are you sure nobody gives a shit we are here?”

“Nobody lives here, well, besides me. My father gave it to me as a present. I can’t be around my brothers for too long; they drive me nuts. Well, that goes for my entire family, my father included.”

“I can sympathize with that. Of course, if my old man gave me my own house, I might hate his guts a little less.” Rob said, laughing as he watched Lenore walk to the house, her hips swaying with the breeze as the honeysuckle left its sweetened perfume upon the air.

Rob sat there looking up at the Spanish moss that gently moved with the barely existing summer night breeze as, at last, Lenore returned with two cocktails on a fancy tray with a filled crystal decanter.

“Can’t hide money, huh, baby?” Rob said.

Lenore smiled. 

“Why the hell should we? Decadence is the beauty of this life, and I hate to tell you, stud, but life is too goddamn short to live like a ragamuffin; this place is what you make of it, much like life, so enjoy yourself while you can.”

“Whatever you say, girl,” Rob said, kicking back his drink that tasted like pure fire. One thing about it: this rich bitch wasn’t stingy with her booze. Although weird as fuck at least she was a good host.

The drinks were more frequent, and the flirting was what it was. Rob was loaded and thirsted for something different.

“Look, I appreciate the drinks, but let’s cut the shit. You want to fuck? And if not, then I am going to bounce. This place is weird. I get you love it living on some open hunting grounds, but…”

“I like to think of it more as an open zoo or maybe more so a place where the lunatics run the asylum,” Lenore said as she suddenly straddled Rob, kissing him deeply as she just as quickly bit into his lip, causing searing pain. Blood burst into his mouth as he pushed her to the floor of the gazebo.

“What the fuck, you crazy bitch! I’m going to kill your ass for that, you fucking cunt!”

Lenore smiled like a lunatic. 

“You got to catch me first, asshole!” She shouted, half in hysterics, as she threw the decanter at him and struck his head with a sickening thud. Just as quickly, she bolted for the woods.

Rob jumped up and was quickly in pursuit.

“Come here, you crazy ass bitch!” He yelled as her laughter only intensified as she vanished into the woods.

Rob was too enraged to think as he entered the clearing. His legs burned from all the booze and the fact this bitch was like some odd human gazelle; he could not see shit, but the trail was pretty well kept aside from the occasional thorn branch that reached out clawing at his face as Lenore’s laughter echoed through the woods and was seemingly everywhere.

He was running blind when suddenly his head exploded in pain from being struck from behind by what felt like a baseball bat. Rob crashed face-first into the ground and was almost knocked unconscious.

As he struggled to get to his feet, he was met with a barrage of kicks. He felt his ribs being broken as his air went out of him like a balloon while he struggled to breathe, and the group of people stood there watching him like a broken animal.

One started filming his ordeal as the camera light blinded him as Lenore knelt beside him.

“You know, sweetie, this is one game you cannot fowl up.”

Rob spit blood in Lenore’s face as she only continued to smile, not even bothering to wipe it away.

“So tough, yet so weak within.”

Rob felt his throat being cut as he quickly began choking. He viewed this group of strangers as unbeknownst to him; these same strangers helped him to his feet as he could see the edge of the woods where, through the clearing, was the old church, and it seemed someone was standing waiting for him.

He staggered towards whomever it was. Soon, a familiar voice radiated from the darkness.

“It’s going to be alright, son. I promise you just had to be taught a lesson, that is all.”

Rob collapsed into his father’s arms, barely able to stand as the blood flowed from his throat being slit. 

“You know, son, all this could have been avoided had you not been such a greedy little bastard; you just had to spite me, didn’t you?”

“Dad, please, I…”

“No, shut up, you selfish little prick! Why did you have to humiliate the way you did!”

Rob’s father let him collapse to the ground, enraged and in tears, as the Collin’s filth laughed. His son convulsed as he faded at his feet.

Terry looked as the smallest in the group pointed his goddamn camera in his face. Terry pushed the weird little bastard away from his son.

“Get the fuck away from him, you sick fuck; this wasn’t part of the goddammed deal!”

“The deal changed, asshole!” The one they called Bishop spoke, staring at Terry. He was cold as a winter’s night, and Terry knew his payment did not ensure his safety; the judge had tried to talk him out of being part of this, but he had to witness this. He hated what Rob had done.

Terry knew his logic was twisted, but he had to be here, unlike Sally, his beautiful Sally. She had also smited Terry, and her final act of leaving him alone was to damage her perfect face.

Terry knew he had to get away from these people. They were sick beyond words. He was nothing like them.

“Look, this can’t be for your collectors. I will pay whatever price; just please let me talk to your father, and I will make him understand.”

The entire group busted up laughing, even the mountain they called Tex, as the one they called Lenore stepped closer to Terry.

“Sweetie, don’t you get this is not negotiable, baby?”

Terry abruptly pushed Lenore back. “Look, freak! I pay, so it’s my goddamned rules, and I say turn the fucking camera off! It’s a wrap. Cut the shit and clean up the mess. I paid you, you’re working for me now, you cocksuckers!”

The group quickly surrounded Terry. Bishop looked at Terry, void of any emotion.

“Yeah, well, sorry to burst your bubble there, coach, but your beloved wife paid more, so the show has only just begun.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, you..” Terry was cut off mid-sentence as he looked down to see the knife buried to the hilt in his abdomen. Lenore smiled wickedly at him as he felt another enter his side.

As the pack smelt proverbial blood in the water, Terry soon was on the ground looking into the dead eyes of his son.

Terry’s body was but a target for the endless barrage of stabbings as, at last, the one called Tex landed the fatal blow, cracking Terry’s skull with childish glee as the skull fractured and burst like a pinata.

Days later, a woman sat upon the water, watching the men running a line of crab pots; she poured one of many endless drinks. She was snapped into reality as the cheap cell Harvey gave her rang.

“Hello, Miss Gibbons. I just wanted to see if you are alright. I do hope you save a bushel of those crabs when they most certainly come in.”

Karen nervously laughed. “They’re all yours if you want, and I do hope everything is good with you as well, Harvey. I take it our business is done?”

The conversation was awkward as it was intended to be, as she knew it was also very much a warning as the crab line was a reminder that it could just easily be her own flesh; those vile creatures could be feasting off of much like that worthless bastard of a husband they were eating off of now.

Karen felt not an ounce of remorse for Terry, just like he felt nothing for her when he chose to violate their daughter Sally. She knew she was no saint, but at least it wasn’t her time yet, and as for her son, he would have ended up like her prick of a husband.

Karen had died long ago on that day Sally had departed from this godforsaken island. 

Karen had died when she had read the note Sally had left her.

She had kept it in, but the fire had burned hidden until the moment did arise. She watched that bastard as he was gutted as he so deserved.

Karen Gibbon’s day would come eventually, but until then, she would enjoy the silence with her drinks as only revenge was served upon the dinner table this evening.

And that dish was served as cold as those dark waters just outside her window’s view.

Karen had seemingly lost her appetite for good.