as quoting Whizzer Brown, " did the good ol' smiley"
Whizzer Brown sighed as he stared at the body bleeding out onto his new wooden floors, that’s why he never killed anyone other than in plain sight, the clean-up and disposing of the body was god awful. He hopped over the dead body to the telephone attached to his wall dialling quickly, “I need you- now.” He said, not elaborating, “black tie.” and then stripped down to his underwear, sighing as he dragged the heavy body to the tiny bathroom in the flat.
This was most definitely not how Whizzer Brown had planned on spending his night.
He started with the bleach, letting it soak into the snail trail of blood and almost fell over as he lugged the heavy body into the bath tub. He fetched a combat knife from the tool box hidden beneath his bed and got into the tub with the body, so it was laying on top of him. He sighed as he turned on the tap, the freezing cold water chilling him to the bone and rushing over the body. Whizzer traced the sharp point of the knife along his neck until he reached the soft spot just below where the man’s jawbone curved up.
Whizzer sighed again and angled the cutting edge of the knife out away from the ventral surface.
He got a little squeamish when disposing of bodies.
He thrust the knife through the man’s neck, guiding the blunt edge against the neck chords, the hard tissue and cartilage easy to trace. Blood dribbled slowly from the knife entry point and he angled the head down, so It flowed into the bathtub. He kept pushing the knife and suddenly it broke the soft skin on the other side, he slowed his breathing, this was where it got nasty. He tested the waters, putting a little pressure onto the sharp edge of the knife, and suddenly slashed outwards, freeing the knife from his neck. A splash of blood painted the tiles and he groaned, getting out from beneath the body. He turned it so it was on its front, turning the tap higher until the blood was running down the drain as a pretty shade of pink he wouldn’t mind owning as a shirt.
He knelt on the back of his neck, forcing his hand down until he could feel the inside of the man’s throat. killing a man didn’t bother whizzer brown, dismembering them was a whole different game. He snapped the man’s neck, it was now clinging on by a single thin strip of skin, blood was rushing dangerously fast down the drain and with a single slash, he was holding a severed head in his hands.
He reached out of the bathtub, feeling for a pair of pliers, and began plucking his teeth out one at a time, cringing at each tooth pulled, trying not to establish eye contact with the corpse. He put them into a small glass ready with ammonia, they would hopefully dissolve. He left the head in the bath as he moved on to the body, hoping the blood would drain by the time they’d get there.
He broke the man’s arms and legs with considerable force by propping them up and jumping onto them, the shattering and splintering sounds going straight to his stomach where a nauseous edge was beginning to lurch up. He cut the arms and legs clean off, leaving them to drain in the bath tub and got out, letting his feet rinse under the tap. He got out of the tub, and went back to his bed, searching underneath for his blow torch.
Rule one. No finger prints or identifying features.
He went back to the bathroom, using the blow torch to individually burn off each of the man’s finger prints and the tattoo on the back of his neck , the scent of burning flesh caused him to cover his mouth and nose with a cloth as he gagged.
He left the pieces in the bathtub and left as he heard the dull thump of a fist on the door. He closed the door to the bathroom, pulling on a silk robe over his bloodstained body and hid his body behind the door as he opened it.
“why hullo, don’t you look gorgeous-“ he exclaimed as he let the two impeccably dressed women in to the apartment, “I wouldn’t have chosen white though.” He said as he looked at the drop dead gorgeous black woman in a tight white dress, and then to the bloodstained floor.
Both women followed his gaze to the trail of blood leading to the closed bathroom, “what the fuck have you got yourself into this time Whizzer?” she asked quietly, following him into the room. “and why are we dressed up?”
“I invited you to a lavish dinner party two weeks ago, you will find the handwritten invitations on your doorsteps, please fill in today’s date.” He said, dropping the robe off again as he went back to the bathroom.
“whizzer!” this time it was the second woman with the shoulder length blonde permed hair who spoke sharply.
Whizzer ignored her, “Charlotte, you still work at the mortuary right?”
“yes but—”
“a body will come in, and you need to do the autopsy, make sure my fingerprints aren’t on it, label him a john doe.” He suddenly turned to look at her, his eyes softening, “please Charlotte, I really need this.”
Charlotte raised a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes, “it starts like this Whizz, then it escalates—”
“please.” He pleaded, smiling gently. “I will either be executed by the mob or the government.” He took her hands in his, and charlotte recoiled as she felt the wet blood sticking to her fingers.
“why didn’t you call it fucking self-defence.” She exclaimed, dropping her hands.
Whizzer froze, looking at the chair the man had sat, then followed the trail of blood.
“I’m a fucking idiot.” He said quietly. Suddenly Whizzer’s eyebrows raised, and he laughed maniacally, “why didn’t I fucking call it self-defence!? I have a headless torso in there where I had to pluck out the god forsaken teeth and mutilate it beyond recognition when I could’ve just fucking called the cops and explained I came home to a man robbing my apartment.”
“you’re a fucking idiot.” The blonde woman said.
He nodded in agreement, “I’m a fucking idiot. Please make yourself at home, why don’t you cook something Delia, I’m still expecting two more.”
“again, why the fancy outfits?” Delia asked
Whizzer laughed but didn’t reply, instead he went back into the bathroom. He picked up the head, dropping it into a large bucket filled with ‘a janitors cocktail’ a concoction of bleach and salts so acidic they were capable of dissolving bone. He took the arms, breaking them at the elbow and then wrapped them up in plastic bags followed by brown ‘meat’ paper. He tied them into sweet sized parcels using brown twine and stacked them on the floor. He repeated with the legs, snapping them in half at the knee caps, sawing them with a saw, the sound making him almost ready to throw up as the bone sounded suspiciously like wood.
He pushed the eight packages to the side and lugged the torso out of the bath, “why didn’t I ask the person whose job it is to literally cut open dead bodies to do this?” he asked himself. He got out the saw again, feeling for just below the ribs where the diaphragm was, the soft fleshier part of his body. He shivered as he began to saw, blood splattering up onto his face and he closed his mouth into a gruesome pout as the large intestines began to spew out of his stomach. Whizzer gagged, bolting to the toilet and threw up, trying to keep his bloody hands away from his face as he spat out the vomit.
It took him much longer to do the torso as he kept taking vomit breaks, and eventually packaged it up just like he did the other limbs. He took a quick shower and cleaned the floor and bathtub with bleach, scrubbing to get the blood out from the grout on hands and knees. He changed into a slick tuxedo, stepping over the packages filled with body parts to tie his bow tie in the mirror.
He joined Charlotte and Delia in his kitchen, watching from the doorway a moment as they danced together, swaying from side to side as he could hear Charlotte singing a frank Sinatra song under her breath. It was a sweet moment filled between forbidden lovers, one he wished he could share with someone. The pair jumped apart as they heard another knock at the door, and Whizzer got it.
He smiled brightly as he saw the woman in front of him, “thought you were dead.” He said, the smile blossoming and suddenly he hugged her.
“he believes it?” She asked, hugging him back.
“yep, he was a wreck.” He replied. They broke apart, “come in Trina darling, come in bitch boy.” From behind the gracious woman, the small man with tight black curly hair and a scruffy suit grunted darkly. “Delia’s cooking-“ Whizzer announced, and they followed him through the house.
“well look who’s here!” Charlotte said smoothly, pouring herself a glass of wine, “thought the mayors wife killed herself last night.”
Trina smiled toothily, “still here aren’t I darling.”
“how’d you manage it?” Delia asked, kissing her cheek .
“mainly Whizzer’s idea—” Trina started, getting her own glass and handing it to charlotte as she poured.
“entirely Whizzer’s idea thank you.” Whizzer interrupted, “I bumped into a guy on the street a week ago who looked exactly like her son, poor boy had to die for everything I need. He was homeless bless his soul, I promised him a meal and to put him out of his misery and he all but jumped in front of the bullet.”
“how didn’t the mayor notice it wasn’t his son?” Charlotte asked, confused.
“my husband hadn’t seen him since he was a child.” Trina explained, “my son came out as gay in the seventies when he was in his early teens, Marvin threatened to kill him, so he went off to a ‘boarding school for wayward children’ and hasn’t come back since. It’s been over 10 years since Marv had last seen him.”
Whizzer laughed suddenly, everybody turning to him. He smiled knowingly and took a long gulp of wine.
“are you sure this is all going to work?” the small man with the irritating glasses asked, unconvinced.
Whizzer sighed, irritated “no bitch boy this is the fucking mafia, of course I’m not sure about anything.”
“hold your fire Whizzer, I’m here to help, and I’m not a bitch boy.”
“could’ve fooled me.” Whizzer dead panned. Suddenly his voice became vulnerable, “we needed the mayor to lose someone for him to change the system. anyway-“ he continued, “-how did the pills work?”
“like a treat.” Trina explained, “Whizzer hooked me up with a netting vest, I tied a noose, and it was attached to my neck, but the vest took most of the weight. Took the pills and they slowed my pulse down enough just so that I seemed dead.”
“you gonna tell Mister Mayor?” whizzer asked.
Trina smiled, “only after everything’s sorted out.” She said, a wicked look in her eye “now why are we here?”
Whizzer opened his mouth to speak but Charlotte put a hand over his face before he had a chance to let out a response, “the idiot over here needs us to dispose of a body.”
He pried her fingers up, “don’t worry, nothing dire—”
“he’s been chopping it up in the bathtub.” Cordelia added before snorting loudly, “god Trina, if only your husband knew what was going on.”
“he doesn’t even think I can hold a gun-“ Trina said, laughing, “wait until he finds out my body count’s in the fifties.”
“fuck, this guy was my fortieth.”
“you count?” Charlotte asked, her eyebrows raised.
“yes darling-“ Cordelia replied, kissing her on the cheek, “mines twenty-seven-“
Charlotte turned to the short man, “and what’s yours… ‘bitch boy’? I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”
“Mendel.” Mendel said, sulkily, “and I don’t have one either.”
“who said anything about ‘either’” Charlotte suddenly asked sassily, “I’ve killed I just don’t count.”
“see. You’re a Bitch boy.” Whizzer stated without a care in the world. “now when you leave, you’ll each have several packages. I’ve written down the address of which dumpsters you need to drop them off at. “he began to pass out the small slips of paper with the addresses, “don’t worry there ain’t any surveillance.”
Mendel’s face looked as though there was a funny smell, “excuse me, why the need to drop them at so many different locations?”
Whizzer smiled brightly, “so they’ll look like a smiley face!” he exclaimed.
Not a single person spoke as they looked at him as though he were a psychopath.
-
Whizzer hid in his booth, seeming all too interested in his dark brown ‘old fashioned’ as he snuck seemingly inauspicious glances at Fat Tony’s table.
He recognised the man sat across from Fat Tony, but then again, so did everyone in the mob. Tony Ducks, boss of the Lucchese family. He hunched over as though he had a bullet wound to the stomach, frantically speaking in a low voice as Fat Tony beckoned lazily for one of the cigar girls to refill his drink. The fedora balanced precariously on the top of his balding head, and a cigar hung out of the corner of his mouth, a single yellowing strip of cloud like hair above as the smoke discoloured it from its platinum neighbours.
Tony Ducks voice raised just loud enough for Whizzer to hear at his booth, “listen tony, if it wasn’t for me there wouldn’t be no mob left. I made all the guys.”
“Tony, one thing. get rid of them, shoot them, kill them. you can’t go on. It’s disgusting.” Fat Tony slapped the cigar girls ass as she handed them each a glass of the gentleman’s club finest scotch. “well here’s to your health and fuck everything.”
Their glasses sang out as they met in the centre of the table, and ‘Salut’ was muttered coarsely as they each brought the glass to their lips with unwavering gazes
“there’s a fucking dispute over fucking money. What do you want to do?” Tony ducks asked as he put down his glass, nursing it between his swollen fingers.
“I gotta make a decision I hate to make.” Fat tony replied.
“there’s fightin’ in the family- the Chicago area“
“tell them if they keep fighting it’ll come from the commission. Tell him it’s the commission from New York. Tell him he’s dealing with the big boys now. If they want to make him the boss, make him the fucking boss, as far as the commission, they don’t want him.” Fat tony responded.
Tony ducks suddenly froze as he followed Whizzer’s gaze to the pair of them, “we got a listener.” He jerked his head to the side and suddenly two men came up behind Whizzer, dragging him, kicking and screaming, out of the booth.
Tony Ducks watched as one of his men pulled a knife on Whizzer, “who do you work for you motherfucking cocksucker!?” He all but yelled. Whizzer kept his mouth shut, the knife beginning to make a nick on his neck.
“it’s okay Tony, leave him, he’s here for me.” Fat tony said, gesturing to Tony Ducks now empty chair, “take a seat Whizzer.”
“whizzer?” Tony Ducks scoffed in disbelief.
“nickname, ducks.” Whizzer spat. He sat cautiously across from fat tony and put a single finger up at the cigar girl, who cut the top off of a cigar and handed it to him along with a struck match.
He held it between his teeth like the man opposite him, holding his cards close to his chest.
Fat tony sat forward, “you killed my wise guy.”
“he came for me.” Whizzer’s eyebrow raised, “you knew I’d kill him. What? you told him to fucking wait in the dark in a trained trigger boys apartment? He was sloppy.”
Fat tony threw his hands up, “because you didn’t finish my fucking job.” He took a long draw from the cigar, “you got the wrong guy. And you’re right. He was a loose end.”
Whizzer took a quick look across the room to Tony ducks leaving, “the Mayor promised me he could get 2 points and an extra 1 for today. What else was I meant to say?”
“Say nothing, instead shoot him in the back of the head. You’re slipping Whizzer.”
“I- “ Whizzer suddenly began to stutter in a very un-whizzer way, “-there’s a slight complication. I’m—”
Fat tony laughed to himself, taking the fedora off of his head, “don’t tell me you’re a ‘homo bitch in love with the mayor of New York city’” He looked up as he was met with dead silence. “kill him.”
“but—”
“kill him, or you won’t be walking anytime soon.”
Whizzer sighed, “I killed Carmine Galante, you need me.”
Fat Tony grunted, “there’s another trigger boy waiting just outside, do as you’re told. You’re lucky you’re my fucking favourite.”
“no I’m lucky I’m your illegitimate son.”
Fat tony rolled his eyes, “how’d you dispose of the body?” he asked quietly.
“you’d be proud pops-“ Whizzer teased, “did the good ol’ smiley.”