MicroHorror

“All right, Johnny, lay them bags over there,” Ronnie said in a gruff voice.

Johnny had only been doing this job for about a month when he was finally partnered up. He had been looking forward to bigger jobs, as sweeping the floors and polishing knobs was too lonely for a guy like him.

“I’m gonna chop ‘em up. You bag ‘em,” Ronnie said as he pulled the hacksaw out from under a long metal table.

“What? I gotta touch that? It’s all slimy!” Johnny protested.

“So? We gotta do it,” Ronnie exclaimed as he shot a sideways glance at Johnny while resting the edge of the saw against one of the lifeless, gray limbs.

“I got my new shoes on!” Johnny protested once again, but he knew Ronnie was right.

With a heavy sigh, Johnny laid out the plastic bags in perfect unison along the warehouse floor. It was cold in the flimsy tin building, a cold he just noticed while standing around. Usually, pushing a broom and working with his arms kept him warm, but today, it was at least ten degrees colder then usual.

Times had been tough for Johnny. He recently lost his job as a car salesman after the dealership closed. There was nothing out there. No one was buying luxury items and he had to find something to support his wife and three kids. Desperation took him to the house of his cousin Lorenzo, who gave him the hook-up with that side of the family’s business. It was grunt work, but at least it paid with some fringe benefits of cash in hand. He could put groceries on the table again.

The hacksaw ripped back and forth, back and forth, until bone was hit. The grinding sound of metal on bone sent a shiver down Johnny’s spine.

“Hey! Ya know what? We could be Ronnie and Johnny. We sound like one of them morning shows on the radio.” Ronnie laughed, but Johnny did not.

“Pretend like we’re in the fish market. Heads up!” Ronnie declared as he tossed the gangling stump towards Johnny.

Johnny stumbled as he reached out for the limb, nearly slipping on one of the plastic bags as he caught it in his arms. It left a handsome, gooey mess on his jacket, splattering excess on those new shoes.

“Aw, geez, I was gonna wear this jacket for another job hunt,” Johnny lamented as he laid the arm down, starting the tight wrap in the plastic wrap.

“You know, you get used it after a while. And next time, wear jeans. You weren’t meant to wear a suit.” Ronnie shook his head, going back to his work of hacksaw against flesh. “Besides, this is the last job you’ll ever need.”

Johnny felt himself sicken as he wrapped up the limb like a wet fish, rolling and sealing it tightly. One down, three more to go, and a head. And the torso. This was going to be a long night.

Ronnie spoke again, throwing back a larger, heavier limb.

“Yeah, I know what yer thinkin’. The mob ain’t what it used to be.”