Read Online Sociopaths In Love by Andersen Prunty - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andersen Prunty
Tags: Satire, Romantic Comedy, Serial Killers, weird, Black humor, Ohio, transgressive, gone girl, dayton, chuck palahniuk, american psycho, bret easton ellis, grindhouse press, andersen prunty, sociopaths, tampa
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the wrapper was in one of the cup
holders between them and the string dangled from his mouth.
Noticing she was awake, he said, "These
things are terrible."
"Are you an idiot?" Maybe she was
cranky.
He slapped a hand down on her thigh and
squeezed until she whimpered.
"Hurting me," she gasped.
"Say you're sorry."
"I don't want to."
" I want you to."
She was determined not to
say it. She wondered what would happen. His fingers stabbed to the
bone and radiated bright tendrils of pain. Nearly at the point of
surrendering and issuing an apology she thought, He has one hand on my leg and one hand on the
wheel . Quickly, she punched her hand in
between his back and the seat and wrapped it around the gun she
hoped would be there.
"Let go of me." She aimed at his face, hands
shaking.
"You won't do it. Say you're sorry."
"The only way I'll say I'm sorry is after I
shoot you in the face. Let go."
He squeezed harder.
She pulled the trigger. The
driver-side window exploded and a car in the lane next to them went
screeching and sliding into the grassy median of the highway. Walt
let go, probably more out of surprise than anything. Now he had
both hands on the wheel. "Man, how the fuck did you miss? Well,
miss me , anyway.
Pretty sure you got whoever was in the car beside us."
Erica looked back. The car had come to a
stop in the median. No one got out and then they were too far away
for her to see it.
"I could try again."
"But you won't."
"So, when the playing field is leveled, it's
still the gun that's the real decision-maker, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
"Both of us can do what we want. You wanted
me to say I'm sorry. I wanted you to let go of me. How long would
that have gone on? Until I shot you? Until you shot me?"
"Or until you said you were sorry. That
would have been called a peaceful negotiation."
"But I would have never said I'm sorry."
"Then you would have probably passed out
from the pain and I would have taken my hand off and by the time
you came to I would have most likely forgotten about
everything."
He took the soggy tampon from his mouth and
tossed it out the window. Erica put the gun on the floorboard.
"We're gonna need a new car now."
"I think, before anything, I'm going to need
a shower."
Walt gripped the steering wheel tighter, his
top lip pulling back from his blocky white teeth.
"Unless you think I can just want myself
clean."
"When you can do anything you want, hygiene
is not an issue."
"What's that mean?"
"It means it doesn't matter if your pussy
stinks or not."
"Okay, well, I don't know if you plan on
being around me for a long time or not but here's at least the
first thing you should know about me: I like to be clean. I'm not a
freak or anything, but I'm probably going to require a shower at
least every couple of days or so. Given the . . .
festivities of last night, at least one of them involving you, your
friends, and a fuck ton of body fluids, I feel especially dirty
even though it hasn't been that long since my last shower."
"Can it wait until later? We can just get a
room somewhere and have a good night's sleep."
"And after we shower, you'll go down on
me?"
He smiled and held out his hand. "Deal."
She shook his hand. "Deal."
They continued along the highway, the wind
deafening through the busted window, well into Illinois, well into
dark.
"So what's this about Dayton, Ohio?"
"That's where we're going. Ever been?"
"No. I've never been anywhere."
"Seriously? No vacations or anything?"
"Nope." She waited for him to press it,
already half-knowing he wouldn't. "So why Dayton?"
"Why not Dayton?"
"Is that their city slogan? It sounds really
defeatist if it is."
"I'm not sure. I just got a feeling the last
time I was there. Like I'd be back or something. I think it'll be a
perfect place to start."
"Start what?"
"Our life together."
She didn't know if he was being romantic or
sarcastic. The singularity of that noun did not go unnoticed.
"Are you serious about wanting
holders between them and the string dangled from his mouth.
Noticing she was awake, he said, "These
things are terrible."
"Are you an idiot?" Maybe she was
cranky.
He slapped a hand down on her thigh and
squeezed until she whimpered.
"Hurting me," she gasped.
"Say you're sorry."
"I don't want to."
" I want you to."
She was determined not to
say it. She wondered what would happen. His fingers stabbed to the
bone and radiated bright tendrils of pain. Nearly at the point of
surrendering and issuing an apology she thought, He has one hand on my leg and one hand on the
wheel . Quickly, she punched her hand in
between his back and the seat and wrapped it around the gun she
hoped would be there.
"Let go of me." She aimed at his face, hands
shaking.
"You won't do it. Say you're sorry."
"The only way I'll say I'm sorry is after I
shoot you in the face. Let go."
He squeezed harder.
She pulled the trigger. The
driver-side window exploded and a car in the lane next to them went
screeching and sliding into the grassy median of the highway. Walt
let go, probably more out of surprise than anything. Now he had
both hands on the wheel. "Man, how the fuck did you miss? Well,
miss me , anyway.
Pretty sure you got whoever was in the car beside us."
Erica looked back. The car had come to a
stop in the median. No one got out and then they were too far away
for her to see it.
"I could try again."
"But you won't."
"So, when the playing field is leveled, it's
still the gun that's the real decision-maker, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
"Both of us can do what we want. You wanted
me to say I'm sorry. I wanted you to let go of me. How long would
that have gone on? Until I shot you? Until you shot me?"
"Or until you said you were sorry. That
would have been called a peaceful negotiation."
"But I would have never said I'm sorry."
"Then you would have probably passed out
from the pain and I would have taken my hand off and by the time
you came to I would have most likely forgotten about
everything."
He took the soggy tampon from his mouth and
tossed it out the window. Erica put the gun on the floorboard.
"We're gonna need a new car now."
"I think, before anything, I'm going to need
a shower."
Walt gripped the steering wheel tighter, his
top lip pulling back from his blocky white teeth.
"Unless you think I can just want myself
clean."
"When you can do anything you want, hygiene
is not an issue."
"What's that mean?"
"It means it doesn't matter if your pussy
stinks or not."
"Okay, well, I don't know if you plan on
being around me for a long time or not but here's at least the
first thing you should know about me: I like to be clean. I'm not a
freak or anything, but I'm probably going to require a shower at
least every couple of days or so. Given the . . .
festivities of last night, at least one of them involving you, your
friends, and a fuck ton of body fluids, I feel especially dirty
even though it hasn't been that long since my last shower."
"Can it wait until later? We can just get a
room somewhere and have a good night's sleep."
"And after we shower, you'll go down on
me?"
He smiled and held out his hand. "Deal."
She shook his hand. "Deal."
They continued along the highway, the wind
deafening through the busted window, well into Illinois, well into
dark.
"So what's this about Dayton, Ohio?"
"That's where we're going. Ever been?"
"No. I've never been anywhere."
"Seriously? No vacations or anything?"
"Nope." She waited for him to press it,
already half-knowing he wouldn't. "So why Dayton?"
"Why not Dayton?"
"Is that their city slogan? It sounds really
defeatist if it is."
"I'm not sure. I just got a feeling the last
time I was there. Like I'd be back or something. I think it'll be a
perfect place to start."
"Start what?"
"Our life together."
She didn't know if he was being romantic or
sarcastic. The singularity of that noun did not go unnoticed.
"Are you serious about wanting
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