Didn't even get as far as getting to a title from this one. Judging by the content I think I was influenced by Get Carter and David Mamet at the time.

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Untitled Noir Something I Guess

Date of original writing: Nov 10th, 2013

CHAPTER 1

It was only 6 o’clock but the sky was already as dark as the coffee in Norman’s cup. He was the only one in the diner other than the waitress/cashier sitting behind the counter going over her textbook and the cook in the kitchen making himself his fifth grilled cheese sandwich.

Norman took a bite of his own sandwich, a BLT that was more T than anything else but still kept his stomach from arguing too much. He glanced out of the large windows at the street and was glad to be the one waiting inside.

Around this time in November it started getting cold. Cold that always won no matter how much you fought it. Norman sipped his coffee and thought warm thoughts. At least the snow wasn’t here yet.

Behind him the door opened, the telltale chime ringing out. Norman didn’t turn to see who it was.

The newcomer nodded at the waitress who smiled and nodded back, holding up a finger to indicate that she would be with him in just a minute.

“Take your time. No rush.”, the newcomer said.

Norman looked up as the newcomer took off his coat and slid into the booth across from him.

“How’ve you been?”, Norman sipped.

The newcomer removed his gloves and ran his hands through his short, greying hair, “I won’t complain.”

“But you could.” Norman exhaled a chuff of laughter.

The waitress walked up to the table and smiled at the newcomer once more, “Hey there. What are you in the mood for you tonight?”

The newcomer cracked his knuckles in a single swift motion, “Cocoa and a slice of pecan pie.”

“A la mode?”

“What else is there?”

“Is that everything?”, the waitress jotted it down on her pad while glancing up and down at the newcomer.

“Yes, thank you.”, he winked playfully at her.

“Sure! Be right back.”, colour rose in her ears as she caught her own excitement.

She turned and headed back to the kitchen slowly. Lingering at the counter, leaning over it to adjust something that didn’t require adjusting.

Norman and the other man watched her go.

Norman sighed wistfully, “If I was twenty years and eighty pounds younger.” Norman gave his friend a once over, “What’s your secret?”

The other man shook his head, “Just be yourself.”

Norman shrugged, “If you say so.” He reached beside him to the bag that rested on the seat but hesitated. “Are you sure you’ll need all this?”

The other man gave his own shrug, “No. Not really, but I’d rather have my equipment before playing ball.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Norman hefted the brown leather bag onto the table and pushed it towards his friend.

The other man took the bag, set it down on the seat beside him and inspected the contents.

“Good. Very good.”, he took out an envelope and pushed it towards Norman.

Norman took the envelope reluctantly but placed it in his inner coat pocket.

“I came outta retirement just for tonight. Just for you. I promised I’d never go back. Had to get some of that stuff from some very confused people.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Norman made a “What’re-you-gonna-do?” smacking sound with the side of his mouth, “Just good to know that you’re still alive. Shame I had to find out like this though.”

“Yeah.”

“How long are you gonna be in town?”

“As long as it takes.”

“If you’re still breathing when it’s over, whatever it is, we should have dinner again. You can meet the wife.”

The other man smiled, genuinely pleased for his friend, “I’d like that.”

The waitress returned with the cocoa and pie. Norman and his old friend talked about old times. Norman left. The man stayed a while, looking out the window at the blowing snow outside. He paid for his meal, gave the waitress a look that said “Another time, another place.” and walked out the door with the brown leather bag. He had work to do.

CHAPTER 2

“What is the worst thing that you can think of?”

The question was asked out loud to no one. Kenny was rambling. Something that he usually did on the toilet. Made worse by the fact that it was two in the morning and he had just been woken up by his own insides. Maybe the extra four slices of pizza weren’t such a good idea. At least, he thought to himself, he didn’t have to work the next day.

So he sat there in the dim light of the nightlight with his pyjama pants around his ankles speaking the thoughts as they came without order or reason.

“Maybe it’s a plague? Maybe it’s the danger of misapplied carbon dating? What if you just took something off the shelf and tried to find out how old it was but in the process made it as old as you needed it to be?”

It was this kind of thing that while he was aware of doing it made him think that he wasn’t as normal as he thought he should be. Normal people don’t ramble on and on about nonsense while shitting do they? And if they did they usually found a way to turn that rambling into a million dollar invention or something. Clearly he wasn’t doing this right.

Kenny finished up, washed his hands and felt along the hallway toward the bedroom. As he was about to slide into bed he noticed that something was off about the silhouette on his wife’s side of the bed. He paused to look, his eyes still adjusting, even the dim light of the nightlight had thrown his vision slightly off. The dark illuminated somewhat and he saw that his wife was no longer-

The lights came on with a violent sharpness, sending Kenny staggering back a few steps. His hands went to his eyes to block out the sudden brightness. When Kenny’s eyes and the light came to an agreement, Kenny withdrew his hands and that’s when he noticed-

“Callaway!”

The man stood at the bedroom door with his hands folded loosely across his chest. The brown leather bag was on the floor beside him.

Kenny turned towards the nightstand and opened the drawer taking out from within a small revolver. Kenny aimed and fired.

Callaway let him pull the trigger until the harsh, metallic clicks slowed and then stopped.

“I checked there. Took the batteries out of your toy. I know how you sometimes play too rough. You just can’t help yourself.”

Kenny held onto the gun despite its uselessness, “Where is she? Where’s Lisa?”

“She’s fine. She’s sleeping on the floor in the living room. I didn’t think she needed to be here for this.”

“For what?”

Callaway pointed to the foot of the bed, “Have a seat, Ken.”

Kenny didn’t want to but he did it anyways.

Callaway moved into the room, stood in front of Kenny. “Three days ago someone send me a message. They said that a good friend of mine would be dead soon. They said that it would be my fault. That good friend died yesterday. Looks like I didn’t get here in time.”

Kenny’s eyes grew wide, “I wasn’t there. I don’t know anything.”

“I know.”

“You know!? Then why are you here?”

Callaway took a step towards Kenny forcing him to look up as though Callaway was a teacher giving an especially important lesson.

“I want you to tell anyone who will listen that if I am not given answers, I’ll take them. Do you understand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, man. I got it. You’re the tax man. Sure. Sure thing.”

“Good. Now give me your hand.”

“What?”

Callaway reached out and grabbed Kenny’s right hand with his own, “Gimme your fucking hand.”

Callaway wrenched the revolver free of Kenny’s grip and tossed it on the bed. Callaway took Kenny’s hand and held it like a baseball bat, then he squeezed, twisted until the bones began to snap. Then he kept going. Kenny just screamed.

CHAPTER 3 would have started here...