An indentation that was the same size and shape of an orthopedic shoe heel.
"Fuck me with a chainsaw," Junior said, as sadly as a man can say 'fuck me with a chainsaw.'
The sound of locks tumbling snapped us both back to attention. We heard the front door open.
"Ralphie? I'm home. They were out of Devil Dogs, but I got you some Ring Dings."
Junior and I just stood there looking at one another, as frozen and silent as Ralphie.
"Ralphie?" she called again. I could hear tears in her voice. "I'm sorry, honey. Please talk to me. I'm sorry I hit you." The tears turned into guilt-ridden wails. "We'll get the money somehow. Please, Ralphie. You gotta stop gambling." Deep, wracking sobs echoed up the stairwell at us. "Ralphie, please talk to me…"
My heart broke on her every word. Junior bit his lower lip and shook his head. We'd heard enough. I unlocked the deadbolt on Ralphie's door and opened it. "Mrs. O'Malley?" I yelled.
"Who is that?" Fear overtook her sorrow for the moment.
"It's Boo and Junior, ma'am. You have to call a doctor. I think Ralphie's really hurt."
Junior punched me on the arm. "What are you saying to her, Boo? He ain't hurt, he's fuckin' dead."
"You want to tell her?" I hissed.
He bit his lip again.
"What's wrong with Ralphie?" Panic edged her voice.
"Mrs. O'Malley?" I said, as I descended the stairs. She stood shaking in the foyer, looking very small and very cold. "He needs an ambulance," was all I could say.
We sat with her and held her hand until the police arrived.
Acknowledgements, Thank-Yous and a Bunch of Bullshit That Nobody Really Reads Except For People Trying to Find Their Own Name
First of all, thanks to the magazines and anthologies that have published my fiction over the years. You would be: Plots With Guns, Needle Magazine, Shotgun Honey, Strange, Weird, and Wonderful, Out of the Gutter, Pulp Pusher, Grift, Demolition Magazine and CrimeFactory. You guys have great taste.
Then there's my agent, Stacia Decker. She's the agent we all hope to get someday when we type our first words onto paper. You kill it, even though I haven't earned you a red goddamn cent yet. Soon. I promise (wink).
To my family. I love you, but you have no one to blame but yourselves. You made me this way.
My wife and son; Allison? Sam? You guys are why I do it all.
And in case you enjoyed the stories here, follow me on Twitter @bigdaddythug for insane ramblings, new short story updates and my opinions an all kinds of bullshit.
Till next time…Todd Robinson 04/23/2012
Todd Robinson
TODD ROBINSON is the creator and Chief Editor of the multi-award winning crime fiction magazine THUGLIT. His writing has appeared in Blood & Tacos, Plots With Guns, Needle Magazine, Shotgun Honey, Strange, Weird, and Wonderful, Out of the Gutter, Pulp Pusher, Grift, Demolition Magazine, CrimeFactory, All Due Respect, and several anthologies. He has been nominated three times for the Derringer Award, thrice shortlisted for Best American Mystery Stories, selected for Writers Digest's Year's Best Writing.
