"Everybody's A Critic"A Story by Cody Williams Being a critic is one thing, but when Alan Brooks began messing with the wrong guy, his criticism turned into a nightmare.
“Everybody’s A Critic” By Cody Williams
Alan
Brooks turned on the light switch and walked into his condo. He threw the dress
coat that was hanging on one of his shoulders on the sofa next to the door. He
turned to the right and walked down to the end of the hallway turning left to
his office door. He began reaching in his right pocket looking for the right
key ring that had the key to the office on it. “Goddamn
it!” Brooks said as he continued searching for the key. Several moments went by
until he finally pulled the key out of his pocket and dropped it on the hard
wood floor. “S**t!” He shouted. He bent down ripping a big hole the seat of his
size 46 kaki dress pants revealing his tightly whitey underwear. “S**t! Mother
f****r!” He shouted out in anger as he stood back up and held the ends of the
hole together. He bent back down and picked up the key ring. He found the right
key and placed it into the keyhole. He turned the key to the left and the door
swung open. Brooks flipped the light switch on and walked into his office while
slamming the white wooden door behind him. First
thing he noticed when he walked he got inside of the office was the red
blinking numeral 29 on his answering machine. He began looking around at the
picture frames on the walls in his office. All containing pink colored rejection
slips from short stories he has written. Alan
used to write short stories for a living…or at least try. He began writing them
in college as a creative writing major. When he began submitting to magazines
that’s when the rejections began. And they haven’t stopped. To
be quite honest, it killed him. He couldn’t stand the fact that he was a
failure at what he once loved so much but have now become bitter about it. He
kept the rejection slips framed in his office for the inspiration of what he
does now. Since he couldn’t become a writer, he did what only people who
couldn’t make as writers do…he became a critic. Not
a day went by when some pissed off b***h called him bitching about the reviews
he gave and honestly, he liked that way. He enjoyed running careers before they
even began just as the editors of magazines have ruined his. It made him sick
at the pit of his stomach that people everyday are being published and he
wasn’t. He was a bitter b*****d to say the least. He walked to his large
president like desk and sat down in the large leather computer chair. Only
a few things made him feel better about him. One was propping his feet up on
his desk and smoking that box of Cubin cigars he had hidden in the back of the
top drawer of his desk. Another was the typical Jack Daniels bottle he had
sitting on the floor beside his computer chair. The other one was writing
horrible reviews about other peoples work and laughing about it. You see, the
truth is, he didn’t hate all of the stories he read. In fact, some of them he
loved. He just wrote them in hopes he can sway the opinions of the public and
cost that author all of the tings that in his mind he feels he deserved. So
that’s what he did. He lifted his feet and placed them on the desk while simultaneously
picking up the Jack Daniels bottle, a Cuban cigar, and pressing the PLAY button
on the answering machine. He
also pulled out a cigarette lighter and light the cigar while also taking a sip
of the whiskey He exhaled the cigar smoke putting an unusual smile on his face. “Mr.
Brooks, my name is Fran Shelley. I just wanted to call and tell you what a no
good b*****d you are! Your cold-hearted review ruined my career before it could
even get off the ground. You’re just a stupid son of a b***h and I hope to God
that you rot in hell like the good vermin you are!” A woman’s voice said while
crying. The sound of desperation put a sick grin on Brooks face. “You’re
right sweet heart! I am a son of a b***h! That’s the only thing I have left to
live for!” Alan said as he took another drink of whiskey. There was nothing he
loved more than being hated just like he loved hating people. In fact, he gets
off on it. I think it’s safe to say he gets off on the hate. The next message
was unusual. It was a man who didn’t seem too upset. “Howdy
partner! The name is Ronnie Miller. I think you know who I am. I’m the SOB you
gave that horrible review to. You know the book I’m talking about don’t you? I
went by the name of Murderer’s Mind.
If my memory recalls, you loved it.” The man said. He had a deep voice. He
sounded like your average antagonist from a western horror movie. Alan dropped
the whiskey bottle to the floor and sat up in his chair. ‘How
could he have known that? I trashed that damn book! I shitted all over it in my
review! How the hell does he know I loved it?’ Alan thought to himself as he
leaned in towards the answering machine to hear the rest of the message. “You
see Alan, I’m not a good guy! I don’t pretend to be! In fact, I would rather
have your balls for breakfast than sit down with scum like you and even pretended
to have a nice conversation. When I read your review, to tell you the truth, I
wasn’t too heart broken over it. I was kind of amused actually. The reason I
didn’t care too much about it was because I know what you know. That you can’t
even call yourself a has been. You were a f*****g never was. And you know that.
That’s why you write these horrible reviews. So I’ll tell you what Alan. I’m
coming over and taking care of you once and for all…believe me, I’ll be doing
you a favor.” Ronnie said as he abruptly hung up the phone and the line went
dead. This message wasn’t like the ones he gets all the time. This guy, whoever
he was, was serious. He meant business. Alan
reached over and pushed the STOP button on the answering machine and stood up.
He and his spaghetti legs walked over to the door of his office. Sweat began
rolling down his head. He opened the door and walked out of the office. His heart
was racing. It was as if he had drank 20 cans of Red Bull and his heart was
going to blow out of his chest. He
heard a car door slam from the driveway. Alan ran across the room and peaked
out of the shades that were hanging in front of the window. In the driveway sat
a rather large big Ford truck with the headlights shining at the house. The
driver side door opened up and a man jumped out of it. Alan quickly backed away
from the window and he ran towards down the hall towards his office. He ran
inside it and shut the door behind it. He turned back to face it locking it.
Alan quickly ran over to his desk and opened the top drawer dumping everything
out of it. He
ran his hands searching through the Cuban Cigars before finally grabbing his
emergency pistol. That’s when he heard the front door swing open. It was enough
to gar him. Alan heard the sound to cowboy boots clatter against the hardwood
floor. He heard the walk grow closer and closer to his office until he finally
saw the shadow of a man appear from under the door. The
man began to twist the doorknob back and forth but it wouldn’t budge. That’s
when Alan figured out how he got. He slipped a credit card between the door and
the latch and the door swung open. The man was wearing a long black leather
jacket, black jeans, a black button u shirt, cowboy boots, and a black cowboy
hat. The man was holding mouthing but a long machete in his right hand. He
walked in the office and closed the door behind him. Alan was trembling with
fear. “Who
are you? How did you know where I lived? What the hell do you want with me you
stupid f**k?” Alan shouted. Ronnie slowly began walking around looking at the framed
rejection slips that were hanging on the wall. “I
already told you what my name was Mr. Brooks. It’s Ronnie Miller! I know you
don’t know who I am Mr. Brooks. What is important is that I know who you are.”
Ronnie told him. Alan slowly began to pull out the pistol that was hidden
behind his back. “And
what is it that you want to do with me?” Ronnie asked him as he began pointing
the gun at him. “I
wouldn’t if I were you! The damn thing’s not loaded anyway.” Ronnie told him
calmly. “You know what I want Mr. Brooks. It’s what many writers in the world
want. We want you out of the way. And I’m the only one who has the balls to do
anything about it.” Ronnie informed him. Alan pulled the trigger but Ronnie was
right. It didn’t fire. It just clicked. Ronnie turned to him with a wicked
pissed expression. “I
told you not to even think about it! I even told you that it wasn’t even
f*****g loaded? You just dug yourself into a deeper hole than you already were
in!” Ronnie shouted. He raised the machete and took charge at Alan. Alan threw
the no good pistol at him and ran towards the door. He opened the door and ran out
of it. Alan
ran down the hallway tripping over a small stool landing on his knee. The knee
he had already three knee replacements on. Alan screamed in pain and attempted
to crawl across the floor to the front door. He almost reached it when he saw
the two cowboy boots of Ronnie cut him off at the door. Ronnie knelt down
beside him and rolled him over. “Look
Alan, let’s just get this over with. It doesn’t matter who I am or how I know
everything about you, but I’ll tell you anyway. I’ve actually been looking into
for a long time Mr. Books. I know a guy who can get me anything I need. He’s my
editor. That’s what we do. We look up no good scum who nobody will miss.
Someone who everyone secretly wants to see dead anyway, and my editor gives me
all the information about them and it is my job hunt them down, kill them, and
write it down. Why the hell do you think people love my stories? Because they
love seeing no good varmints like you get what they deserve.” Ronnie told him.
Alan began to sob. “Please!
Please! Let me live!” Alan said begging for his life. Ronnie grinned with
amusement and then looked back down at Alan. “No,
I can’t do that! You see, it’s all about the ending. And this one Mr. Brooks,
it is perfect!” Ronnie Miller said proudly. He raised the machete and Alan
screamed with fear. Copyright 2013 by Cody Williams Courtesy of TRUE TERROR PUBLICATIONS A division of TTP Entertainment
20EC-9RAI-CTOK-NNO4" width="150" height="40" src="http://static.copyrighted.com/images/seal.gif" /> © 2014 Cody WilliamsAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
1088 Views
18 Reviews  Last Updated on January 1, 2014 Tags: horror, fear, fiction, Cody Williams Author
Cody WilliamsElizabethton, TNAboutI am in my second year at Carson-Newman University in Jefferson City, Tennessee were I major in instrumental music education and minor in English. My passions include playing the trombone/euphonium an.. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
first
prev
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
