Imperfect S

Denny put the bullets in the gun and then carefully placed the gun into the waistband of his trousers. He looked at himself in the mirror, nodded and then took a deep breath. He hadn’t started the war, but he was sure as hell going to finish it. He was no stranger to murder, in fact he was more than just a casual acquaintance of it. Okay this time he was going to kill someone who had been his best friend, but that didn’t matter. Ernie knew Denny’s secrets and Ernie couldn’t be trusted so, Ernie had to die and Denny would have no qualms delivering the killer blow.

When you find your best friend in bed with your girl it hurts, it’s a double betrayal that stabs at your heart and mind. No matter what a tough guy you are, you can’t help but feeling the shame and the pain, the humiliation and the degradation. You can’t help smarting and brooding and plotting revenge.

Sandy had curves that could send a cubist insane; she had a Jessica Rabbit figure that slid from boobs to bum in a perfect S. She didn’t walk, she swayed; her body hypnotising the unsuspecting men in her path and when she took her clothes off she started fires of desires that could never be dowsed. Sandy was quite simply the most perfect thing Denny had ever owned. When he watched her slide out of her clothes in front of the baying crowds of men, his chest puffed out and his eyes burned with pride. They could all look, they could all fantasise, but he was the only one who could touch that milky skin, those curvy breasts and that wonderful pear of a bum. Sandy was his peach, his love, his everything.

Until that was he went back stage and saw her grinding herself into Ernie’s lap, his hands squeezing her breasts, contorting them, disfiguring them, turning pure beauty into gut wrenching, impure ugliness. He was distraught, destroyed, at the edge of despair. How could something so beautiful turn so ugly?

And friendship, did it count for nothing? Denny had idolised Ernie, had trusted him, confided in him and for what? The ultimate betrayal. As he drove hatred coursed through his veins.

Denny parked the car and rolled down the window, he lit a smoke, and puffed deeply. His hand was steady, his breathing normal. He looked at himself in the rear view mirror and nodded, the time was now.

He watched the bastard walking up the street as happy as Larry, he had that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth look that everyone fell for. And there she was, swaying along next to him her arse swing across two different postcodes. He hadn’t banked on her being there too. But this was perfect. Two bullets, two shots, two problems solved. He got out of the car and stood in front of them like a gunslinging, quick draw artist from days of yore. He pulled the gun. 
‘Denny don’t be…’ Ernie had no time to complete what he was going to say. Bang, bang, the shots rang out. Two crumpled bodies on the ground. He turned and got in the car and drove off. Time to start somewhere anew.