Jimmy Ryan leaned against the hood of his pickup and watched Patty Keibler walking toward him, his heart beating a bit faster with every hip-snapping step that she took. He loved her tough exterior and permanent sneer, and he especially liked the way her boots exaggerated her swagger.

Patty smiled at Jimmy, leaned up against the pickup next to him and asked, “Hey, watcha’ doin’?”

Feigning indifference, Jimmy took a drag on his cigarette, flipped it to the ground, and mumbled, “I’m waitin’ on Bobby Ray. Me and him is goin’ out on our bikes.”

“I got news for ya’,” Patty laughed. “I just seen Bobby ridin’ his Harley down 281 with Romona on the back.”

“What?” Jimmy exclaimed. “Why that...”

“Hey,” Patty whispered. “Didja’ hear …show more content…
“You should ask-what are we? We’re the English language, and we’re tired of you massacring us. I’m Pronouns, and every time you say something stupid like Me and him, it feels like a whip has crossed my back.”

“And I’m Tense,” another figure said. “When you say I seen instead of I saw it feels like I’ve been stuck with a knife.”

“And I’m Prepositions,” a third figure said. “I’m sick of hearing I’m waiting on. “It’s I’m waiting for you idiots.”

Jimmy, shaking with fear, whimpered. “What...what do you want?”

The figures raised their machetes. “What do you think,” Pronouns laughed.

“Wait,” Patty shouted. “I know how to speak correctly. I only spoke the way I did earlier because...because...because I like Jimmy and...”

“No excuse,” Tense snarled.

“Pretending to be ignorant,” Prepositions said, “is worse than actually being ignorant.”

“Please,” Patty begged. “Let me go. I’ll never…muh…muh…massacre the language again.”

“Ah, what the heck,” Prepositions sighed. “Young lady – leave here and never tell anyone what you saw.”

“Yes,” Patty sobbed. “Thank you.” She jumped up, ran towards the door, and …show more content…
She ran so fast that she left a wake of dust in her path.

“That jerk Jimmy’s gonna get his someday,” Smithers muttered. When he heard the screams coming from inside the trailer, he smiled. “I guess today is someday,” he laughed.

He waited a few minutes until the screaming died down, finished his Dr. Pepper, and then dialed 911. No sense in rushing to save Jimmy, he figured.

****

An hour later, Bobby Joe Cliff, a reporter for a local TV station, stood next to Mary Ellen Ruiz-Chang, his cameraperson. He loved her Irish-Cuban-Chinese name, and he loved her – period. He loved everything about her, including the way her cigarette bobbed up and down in her lips as she spoke and how it sent flecks of ash into the air. He loved the smell of her breath after she had drunk a couple of beers – how the smell of cigarette and booze mixed with her perfume. He found that essence irresistible. Someday, he told himself, he would make his move.

“What a mess,” Bobby Joe muttered.

“Totally,” Mary Ellen laughed. “I mean, there was blood everywhere but, whoever did this took the time to write letters on the walls. Strange.”

“And that poor guy,” Bobby Joe said. “Chopped up like