Takers Keepers

Short story with magical elements that takes place in New Orleans.

It was just another job.  The neighbors were outta town, You could tell cause their mail was building up.  We waited until the maintenance guy went on his afternoon pot break which he wouldn’t come back from till the next morning and snuck around the back.  The back door had glass panes so all we needed was a rock and we were in.  The place was a townhouse and looked real good.  We took our time with Kenny staying downstairs once he found the toolbox.  Tools are always good.  Easy to sell.  I went into the bedroom upstairs. The chick who lived there had some nice jewelry.  A bunch of silver though, hardly any gold.  Cheap s***s.  There was one of those exercycle things but it was way too big to move.  

Kenny came up and met me and said to hurry up so we went into the next room.  This was an old fashioned library type a room.  It was kind of cool but made me uncomfortable. Reminded me too much of school.  There was a computer but Kenny said it was so old we couldn’t get much for it.  There was a cabinet at the end of the room.  It looked old, really old with dark wood like something you see at the Jefferson Flea Market or Royal street.  It was locked.  Like Kenny always said if it’s locked there something good inside so he grabbed a big screwdriver from the toolbox they were nice enough to leave and pried it open.

The inside smelled like church only not so clean.  There was a couple of knives sitting in there and a bunch of candles.  There was also a picture of a skeleton with decorations on it.  I started getting freaked out.  This was some voodoo s**t.  I’d lived in Louisiana long enough to know not to mess with it but Kenny, he didn’t care.  There was a silver plate with a star on it and those knives looked awfully pretty with all the engraving and s**t.  We packed everything up and made it clean to the house next door.  That was the easiest score Kenny and I ever had.

Things were quiet for the next few days.  The cops came but they’re all fools.  One of the old guys cut himself trying to take prints off the back door.  Kenny sold the tools off fast and I kept the bracelet.  The silver plates and knives though nobody wanted to touch.  It was like they were cursed.  Regular fences that wouldn’t turn up their noses at a kidney in a cooler wouldn’t touch em.  We just left em in the bedroom and moved on.  Life went back to normal.

About a week later things started getting weird.  First all the dope dried up.  It was getting harder and harder to get a hit. We had to go all the way to the west side to score with people we hardly knew.  We scored at a bar that was right next to this bookstore that had the same kinda s**t we got from the townhouse.  The guy running the place was the fattest man I’d ever seen and that’s saying a bit in NOLA.  He was always sweating and looked like he might not object to doing a little business.  Kenny said we had some stuff to sell and he said he was interested.  We set up a meet for the next day.

Kenny and I got good and high that night on some West Bank hash.  It was weird cause I never have bad trips but this time both of us went down the snakehole.  Everything seemed to glow red and I kept thinking I’d been buried alive with scorpions and s**t like that.  The next day neither of us was in too good a shape but we went on to the shop on the West Bank with the stuff.

When we got there it was all cool until we unwrapped the stuff.  The old fat guy reached for his chest and let out one hell of a fart.  Then he started yelling at us.

“Don’t you know what you’ve got there you stupid s***s.  No I guess you don’t or you wouldn’t be here.  Get out and don’t come back and take that s**t with you.  Best get to prayin cause you done for.”

Kenny tried to argue but then the fat man pulled out a shotgun.  We scrammed.  After that things just got worse.  The water heater busted and flooded everything.  We couldn’t afford a plumber and the damn landlord didn’t care.  Kenny didn’t have a car cause of the DUIs but can you believe his bicycle broke.  The damn chain just fell off.  Then the rash started.  I remember sitting outside looking at the stars so bright cause there was no moon and then just starting to itch.  Kenny got it real bad but we couldn’t afford a doctor.  We put a lot of calamine lotion on it figuring it would get better.

Around that time a friend from the bayou stopped by.  This was good cause no one seemed to be talkin to us.  He was an old friend who knew his voodoo and hoodoo so we showed him the score.  Man it was like he’d been burned.

“Aw you damn fools why’d you have to go and steal that.  Just give it back before it gets any worse.”

And he just left.  Didn’t even want to get high.  We did though.  I’d scored some good weed laced with LSD.  We lit up and that was all she wrote for the evening.  I got into a really bad high and couldn’t help but just bundle up and cry.  Next thing I know there are cops everywhere looking for Kenny on an old warrant.  I was trying to make sense of what was goin on but Kenny had disappeared.  Meanwhile the whole neighborhood was up and was starin at the police cars and sirens at 3 in the morning.  

Things finally started quieting down when all of a sudden we hear this howling.  It was spooky like a werewolf or something.  We all looked up and there was Kenny on the roof of the house howlin at the moon even though there was no moon out to howl at.  At that point the neighbors got out the lawn chairs and popcorn.  The fire department came and tried to talk Kenny down but he wouldn’t go until his old mama showed up and climbed the ladder in her nightie and slippers and made him come down.

They arrested Kenny that night and I had had it.  I figured the only way to fix this was to return the s**t we stole.  I couldn’t get back the tools but I put the plate and knives into a bag along with the bracelet and returned it to the neighbors porch that night. I went to bed easier that night knowing things would be alright.

From the Time-Picayune:

A prisoner named Kenny Dumont was murdered in prison last night in what authorities suspect is a gang related killing.  The mutilation of the body was so ferocious dental records had to be used to identify the prisoner.  In a related incident Mr. Dumont’s wife Lashanda Dumont died in a tragic house fire at around the same time.  Apparently a gas leak from a badly maintained water heater was the culprit.

Copyright @ 2013 Edward Iglesias  All Rights Reserved

Reviews

[Kitty Davies]

This is a brilliant story from the point of view of a man who remembers his past to protect his future. Kenny seems to be a mirror of what his life could have been if he did take the cursed items. It was chilling but a fitting ending to the story with Kenny's death.