Violins, Horses, and Party Hats: A Short Story
You’re out for a night on the town with your girlfriend. After a romantic dinner and soiree at a cozy european eatery, you decide to slip into the pub around the corner to grab her favorite red wine (a soft, medium bodied Merlot with a hint of sweet currant) and two wine glasses; to go. You walk arm in arm on this cold fall night; she’s now sporting your dinner jacket over her sexy small black dress. Left with only your dark turtleneck and scarf, you glance down at her rosie cheeks and are content with your temporary discomfort, becuase she is warm.
As you make your way to the park on the outskirts of downtown, you spill over the unique table side entertainment that was experienced at dinner.
How the funny old man and his little violin serenade brought you out of your conversational trance and made you aware of your surroundings. You note with a wisper the irony of the situation, in that, “Aren’t these sort of things supposed to be romatic? “. She snickers into her cloth napkin and trys desperatly to ‘shush’ you.
“Don’t make me laugh!”, she communicates with her eyes.
As she watches amusingly at the old man, with his grin, swaying back and forth to the melody of his own veranda, you secretly watch her. The candle light casting shadows below her soft cheek bone, outlining her jaw and accenting the the side of her nose. You follow the features of her face, from her beautiful red lips, to her elegant chin, to the cute dimple she only has on her right cheek, and then up to her bright, green eyes. You feel the corner of your lips spread upward as you exhale and take in the atmosphere. This is a good night.
Nearing the park you can still hear the distant buzz of the city, the bright lights now reduced to a soft glow. As you make your way down the cobblestone street, you see a street vendor selling roses at an outrageous price. The old woman catches sight of you and boasts, “A pretty rose for your sweetheart?” You smile and ask your girlfriend if it would be terribly cliche to buy her one, who then replies with a shy nod “no” into your shoulder.
You’re at the entrance to the park now. Your girlfriend smells her rose and notes the ‘Park Curfew’ sign. You playfully sneak into the park being careful to stay out of the lamp posts range. You make your way to a tree that overlooks a small pond. The water glistens against the moon. All the ducks and ducklings are nowhere to be found, tucked away on this cold fall night. You sit down beneath the tree that shelters you from the wind, taking her into your lap so she won’t get dirty on the ground. Both wine glasses are full now and you propose a toast. Trying not to sound too cheesy, you grin and softly say, “To us.”
Just as your glasses are about to chime in agreement, a light flashes from your back rightside. It catches you in it’s beam and you hear a voice. “Freeze!”
In the blink of an eye, you are both to your feet. The origin of the voice comes into view and you realize it’s a mounted police officer. His horse let’s out a firm nostrel breath as he walks toward you. As you turn back to your girlfriend, to your utter suprise, she is gone.
“Damnit, that bitch bailed on me!”, you curse under your breathe. I can’t go back to jail, her words echo in your mind. You take the wine bottle by the neck and heave it into the shadow of the horse cop. Turning to run, you hear the shattering of the bottle, but to your amazment, followed by a playful grunt and “I love the thrill of the hunt.”
“WTF?!”, you scream inside. Your legs pumping faster and faster across the grassy bank of the pond. “Wait a second, he’s on horseback, he can’t follow me into the dense brush! A sudden left takes you up the slight hill and into a collection of trees and brush. You look back to see the horse cop come to a stop at the perimeter. It looks like he may turn around. A swell of confidence and calmness comes over you.
All of a sudden, they charge your cover, dodging trees, weaving between bushes. You scramble to find a weapon of some sort before he sees you. Discovering a large log, you lift it to your shoulder and crouch behind a cut down tree. It’s trunk is not wide enough to conceal you and your log, so you hoist it to the right side of the tree and freeze it in the air, trying to make it seem like it’s attached. The horse cop comes to a halt where you just were, sensing your presense. The horses brain computes the image of the interesting tree trunk as the cop scans the brush. “That’s not a fucking tree”, the horse realizes.
Just as they approach your newfound cover, you spring into action, swinging the log like you were Barry Bonds (except without the steriods) and his head was a fast ball coming straight down the pipe. You connect and the startled horse bucks the officer from his saddle.
Recognizing the opportunity, you rush the fallen officer and stomp his face and balls interchangeably. With the officer down for the count, you seize his mystical batman-esk utility belt and take in hand his mace. As the horse turns to face you, you give him a taste of the burning liquid. You notice something you hadn’t before: The horse is wearing a protective shield over his face.
FUCK. Clasping the fallen officers belt around your waist, you unholster his 9mm semi automatic pistol and empty the clip into the horses protective face shield. As you stand over the horse cop, the bottom half of the duo let’s out a final “nay”, and slips into eternity.
All of a sudden, the park lights are brought to life and people with funny looking hats come out from the brush with blank expressions. Party hats, you consider. With a mono tone voice, one of the people say’s “Happy Anniversary”, followed by a few others. You see your girlfriend now, with a look of shock on her face. She runs to the side of the fallen horse cop screaming, “Paul!”
Doesn’t she have a brother named Paul?
The world spins around you as you hear the crowd murmer things like, “Asshole.” and “What a douche.” Feeling your surroundings closing in on you, you silently reload the gun. Sensing your mental anguish, someone yells, “He’s gonna kill himself!” As they run to stop you, you cock the gun and take aim, pulling the trigger once.
Your girlfriend falls to the ground limp, with a small hole in her forhead and you shriek, “Bitch, noone plays me for a fool!”
The End
