Karl in All His Creepiness
I grab my car keys and head for the door. We’re going to Jimmy’s, I say to Nata.
What? Why? she says.
I tell her that I’m pretty sure Karl’s over there right now. I don’t tell her that I’m also pretty sure that Jimmy’s tied to his bed with nylon ropes and that he has a racquetball in his mouth and is probably crying while Karl talks to him in an eerily calm voice about how he doesn’t want to hurt him.
When we get there, Jimmy’s door is locked. I look under his doormat for the key, but it’s not there. Motherfucker, I say. I punch the door, which hurts a little, but then Nata reminds me that I have a key.
Before I can stick the key in the lock, the door opens and Karl’s standing there. He’s eating a bowl of cereal. Where’s Jimmy? I say. But he’s just put a spoonful in his mouth, so he can’t answer me. He goes and sits on the couch. Where is he? I shout.
He swallows and says, his body’s in the bedroom. He takes another spoonful of cereal. Nata screams and runs into the bedroom, leaving me facing Karl.
I should have run you over when I was popping your fuckin clutch, I say.
Karl sets his cereal bowl on the coffee table slowly and deliberately, like a serial killer, and looks at me. Was that, uh, sexual? he says.
And I say, what?
He says, what you just said about popping my clutch, kinda sounded sexual.
What? No, it wasn’t sexual! I say.
Just then, Jimmy appears around the corner.
Jimmy! I say.
And he says, hey, man.
Are you alright? I ask.
Yeah, I’m fine, he says.
And then I look at Karl, who shrugs and says, just fuckin with ya.