Sawbones: a Novella
“says Brian as we pull up outside the hospital in Morton, about as far away from where we’re going next as possible. He looks a little better since killing that State Trooper. Like he’s got a bit of spark left in him.
“Yeah,” I say, “we’ll find her.”
He nods, then sits there, like he’s thinking about something. “Mr Jones – will you ask him to send . . . you know, my things. Will you ask him to send them here?”
“Brian, I – ”
“He said he’d keep them in the freezer – they could stitch them back on .... . .” He looks at me with those desperate, puppy-dog eyes, wanting me to tell him that some surgeon can sew his dick back on after it’s been in the Joneses’ freezer for a couple of days. He’s not kidding anyone but himself.
“Yeah. I’ll ask him.”
I pop the door and Brian clambers out, wincing and groaning. He stops, then looks back into the car. “You find the bastard who grabbed her, OK? You find him and then you call me. I want to know that he’s dead.”MoreLess
“Yeah,” I say, “we’ll find her.”
He nods, then sits there, like he’s thinking about something. “Mr Jones – will you ask him to send . . . you know, my things. Will you ask him to send them here?”
“Brian, I – ”
“He said he’d keep them in the freezer – they could stitch them back on .... . .” He looks at me with those desperate, puppy-dog eyes, wanting me to tell him that some surgeon can sew his dick back on after it’s been in the Joneses’ freezer for a couple of days. He’s not kidding anyone but himself.
“Yeah. I’ll ask him.”
I pop the door and Brian clambers out, wincing and groaning. He stops, then looks back into the car. “You find the bastard who grabbed her, OK? You find him and then you call me. I want to know that he’s dead.”MoreLess
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