TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF MY HUSBAND OR I’LL SHOOT! was a popular board game in the ‘40’s and ‘50’s. Malks walked past the store window displaying the game and its explicit (for its time) pieces, and headed instead to the massage parlor next door. Lying on the massage table he turned back to see if the girl was coming (she was taking her sweet time) and he saw a roach on the wall, burying its head in a crack, in apparent shame.

When the massage was over Malks was back out in the park feeding pigeons. They weren’t very hungry today though and he made himself get up and head to the movies: a black and white matinee titled, Thsyst Makneerz Knockorem which turned out to be a kind of erotic puppet show involving peasant girls with heaving wooden bosoms.

Walking back to his car Malks stopped. There was a beautiful girl, wearing nothing more than a yellow raincoat, galoshes, and a yellow rain hat, sitting on the hood of his car. You need to wax this thing, she said. It’s a little matte. Malks stared at her. They both got into the car and soon were kissing at a stoplight. You better start going, she said. The light just changed.

He accelerated, but didn’t get very far before they were kissing again. When the rain picked up they were out in it, leaving the car behind in a ditch. An alarm went off on Malk’s phone but he didn’t heed its important vibrations. He was too busy.

The sun set and it was still raining on their embrace.

When the moon rose they were still necking.

Finally at sunrise they got back in the car and drove to a place where they could sleep it off. Turned out to be her place. Quilts and macramé. But a welcome cup of hot tea. Malks relaxed. For the first time since the stock market crash. Which hadn’t affected him other than making him a little tense.

The girl stripped off her rain gear. Morning sun made her look exceedingly three dimensional. They shared a wry smile. They made love then went back outside. Where it was raining again.

Malk’s wife appeared with a gun, which made him remember the board game in the window display. She opened fire but they were too fast for her and took off into the night.

She came back later though and got them. She couldn’t really tell if she was happier after all the screaming and gunfire. She wiped her bloody hand on the plastic seat in the back of the cab. Central Park went by out the window. All kinds of people from all different backgrounds coming and going. She had the cab stop and went out into the throng in a better mood but still not “happy”.

By then most had already crossed the border so it was considered safe. Take a half canister of water, add CH85 and make a bomb. Drop this into a homemade cannon. Get into the cannon yourself. And you’re off.

As always, the trick was landing. You had to reposition yourself in the air and keep your eyes wide open for debris. I saw one guy get his arm impaled. And he became an easy target.

Looking back, there were a lot of dangers with these cannons- one of them being the possibility of getting lodged in there too tight and having the bomb go off. Or having it go off before you’re ready.

General Wacomb was smartly dressed, fully armed, ready to get blown out into the field to start fighting. But there was a malfunction and the thing blew up with him lodged in there. Really bad. No one had the guts to go check the cannon afterwards. We just stopped using that one.

After helping so many cadets get shot out into battle it was finally my turn. I armed myself fully- strapped as many scimitars to my body as I could, and dropped the plastic gallon milk jug bomb down the cannon tube. I then slid in, feet first until I could feel the plastic under my heels. With a swift kick back the thing detonated and shot me a good two hundred feet into the air. I was surprised at how many corpses I saw from that height- I thought a lot more of our guys had made it through.

Several slobbering four-headed strays anticipated my arrival, all running to where they knew I would hit the ground. When I tumbled on the bloody grass they set upon me immediately, biting off my straps and outer armor. But I was focused and carried out the sequence I’d rehearsed a thousand times back at camp. First I blew the silent whistle, then danced the whirling dervish jig, hopping on one foot and twirling my fingers through the air. It worked like magic. Then I had exactly 23 seconds to open one of the manhole covers and drop down into the warm slime-pit below. I took 22 seconds and after that I was home free.

Sam was always a barber, wore a red plaid shirt, smoked a pipe on Sundays, and had a horse he was betting on in this week’s race. The horse was ugly. Sam shrugged. Drank the rest of his coffee. Headed over to Millie’s swap meet to buy some new shears. He met some farmers at the swap meet and they all ended up in the bar across the street. Who you bettin’ on, Sam? Marty asked after they had polished off their first drinks and ordered seconds. Lil’ Never Late, Sam said. Marty and his twin brother Sven hollered and whistled.

Why you always pick the ugly ones, Sam? Why you always do that? The twins couldn’t stop laughing. Sam pushed off the bar stool and walked slowly toward the exit. Wait, you still got a drink comin’! Sam didn’t stop. He pushed through the front door into the blinding midday sun.

Outside a girl with her Western shirt knotted above her bellybutton leaned against a post and sucked on a piece of hay. C’mon Sam, you ready? And the two headed for the track across a large dusty lot. How come you always stick by me, Laurie? Sam asked.

Cuz you’re lucky, Sam.

What do you mean? None of these horses I pick ever win anything. He looked down at the cloud of dust they kicked up as they crossed the grounds. Laurie just grinned like she had a secret.

After all the betting and a couple of sandwiches at the track Sam and Laurie relaxed at a nearby motel. Laurie lay on her stomach on the bed flipping channels while Sam slicked back his hair at the big mirror with a comb made to look like a switchblade knife. Then Sam came over and sat on the edge of the bed. Wait, I liked that one, he said. We ain’t watchin no reruns, Sam, Laurie said and continued clicking through. Then there was a knock at the door. Sam looked at Laurie. She stared at the TV and kept pressing the button. But when Sam got up she watched him go to the door.

He’d gotten it halfway open when gunshots exploded through the gap. They peppered his right shoulder, nearly blowing his right arm clean off. Laurie jumped out of bed and fired back with a gun from her purse, killing the three attackers instantly.

Laurie turned back to Sam. You ain’t never usin’ that arm again. He held onto it, holding it close to his side. Laurie went out and stood over the bodies. In death their faces looked vacuous like dopey cartoon ghosts.

When the police arrived Sam had lost a lot of blood. One of the motel beds was completely soaked. Laurie was back to flipping channels and refused to look up when the officer asked her questions. Sam was on the other bed, on the soggy bedspread, staring straight up. Profession? one of the cops asked. Barber, he wanted to say but his mouth didn’t move. He looked over at Laurie without turning his head. She had the hay-stalk back in her mouth and was giving only one-word answers. Laurie, he thought, making the thought as loud in his own head as he could. Laurie! Finally she looked over. She smiled at him. Smiled as the police put her hands behind her back and cuffed her. Smiled as they led her out of the room. She was mouthing a message to him but he couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Then he was alone in the room. The cops were busy outside with something. He felt himself sinking into the bed. It was getting darker and he started to wonder if the cops were just going to leave him there, a key witness in the multiple homicide. But no one came back in. He didn’t hear anything either.

Nothing happened for hours.

Then a white fluffy dog came through the door, fluffy like an unshorn sheep. It came in, sniffing around. Then it went out and the room was completely silent again. Sam listened to his own heart beating until finally he couldn’t hear it anymore.

He was in the barbershop, securing a cape around a customer’s neck. When he looked up to the mirror he saw it was Laurie. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, Don’t worry Laurie, he said. I’m lucky.