Lying dead on Barrington’s floor buys some time to think. Think about my sure march up to this pitiful death, my life like the only path taken by a row of falling dominoes. Think about that life, the things in it I didn’t choose ’cause I couldn’t. Think about the smoking hole in my third best tie, the dark-blue/light-blue check skinny Sherie gave me so she didn’t have to give me nothing else — think about that hole and the hole to match beneath it, the wet one in my chest staining my shirt an unfashionable shade of pink. Think about spreading Barrington’s nose all over his face with a left jab. All that thinking while my body goes cold and stiff.
Not the first time, not the last. Barrington is this downtown hardcase with uptown swagger — plays the fool more times than is strictly accidental but gets away with it, gets punched around too, but can take it. Gets the girl, usually. I’ve known a dozen like him, guys lucky like they don’t know what, knowing they’re their own heroes but not knowing just why. Me, I know all about it, my eyes are open even when they’re staring cool and dead up from the floor of some cheap motel off Highway 80. Be a goon long enough in this world of ours — a button man, a bruno, a dropper, a plug — play that game long enough and you get wise. Die enough times and you start to see through the cracks.
Heroes, now — those bastards never die.
The pain is real, and so’s the time if you get pinched and sent to the hoosegow. Better a swift shot in the heart, ’cause the sooner that ticker stops its ticking the sooner you can get up and get on with something new. Long as those gumshoes play the hero, triggermen and muscle like me will always be part of the scene. And like I say, you do this flop act for long enough and you get wise to what’s really going on. Learn things you can’t talk about, can’t hardly think about except in the spaces between one fake life and the next.
Up the Piente Reservoir, if you look out over the dead ground they have on the other side of the fence you just might see it. In the basement of Laumann’s you get a glimpse sometimes, like you were somehow looking between the bricks. Bully Blake’s Carpet Company has a spot on the roof the same way, and between midnight and one out on Highway 80 you’ll occasionally spy a snatch if you look straight up in the sky and see things fade and twist and mist back clear again. This world of ours ain’t real, and these damn gumshoe heroes with their expensive jackets and cheap shoes are somebody’s idea of a good time. They’re entertainment.
But whose? Who’s wise to all this, who plays this game? The clients? The tails? The bosses honing strategy with an endless game of defensive chess? Or is it just a watcher from outside? Whenever I think I know the answer I see something that changes my mind, or else a bullet in the gut changes even more than that. And things you wouldn’t believe I remember seeing, though seen like they were through a dirty pane at dead of night — I’ve been killed by beams of light and worked for things that weren’t any kind of human, and there’s one place in my dreams that’s all stars all around as far as you can see — up, down, and every which way, and me walking through it all like in a tunnel of perfect glass.
I think Barrington was there, too, or someone just like him.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll get up from dying one day and run a job for the English King hunting Joan of Arc. Or maybe look up from tailing a mark and see the dark shape of the pyramids beneath the setting sun. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve already done those things — me, Sharky Deaver, triggerman, torpedo, tough guy. Mug.
’Cause that’s the real story, ladies and gents — guys like me ain’t nothing but scenery, a bump in the road for every flatfoot dick to step over. But at least this goon knows the score. At least I get to wake up tomorrow and do it all again — and maybe, just maybe, this next time it’ll be me that gets to walk away with a broad on my arm and a smoking gun in my pocket.
Bill Ward’s fiction has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies, and he has also written background material and serial shorts for science fiction and fantasy tabletop game publications. He maintains a blog at www.billwardwriter.com.
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20 Responses to “THE GOON ETERNAL • by Bill Ward”
Comments
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August 24th, 2009 at 12:37 am
“They’re entertainment. But whose? Who’s wise to all this, who plays this game? The clients? The tails? The bosses honing strategy with an endless game of defensive chess? Or is it just a watcher from outside?”
Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s entertainment for the readers – us.
August 24th, 2009 at 3:15 am
Bit like the cat with nine lives or the Phoenix – with aspirations. Hope this goon comes good ‘cos he’s a nice guy, but suspect he’s in a rut. A great read.
August 24th, 2009 at 3:33 am
Very entertaining. I enjoyed that one.
August 24th, 2009 at 5:17 am
Really liked “Barrington is this downtown hardcase with uptown swagger” – nicely turned phrase. I liked the whole thing; it could have used a little tightening up in the middle portions where you’re setting the tone, but the originality of the conceit and the protagonist’s self-awareness more than compensate. A really fun read, nicely executed.
August 24th, 2009 at 5:22 am
Interesting, but I’m not sure I understand what this is really about.
August 24th, 2009 at 7:40 am
I liked it too, but I’m also not sure I understand it. Is he a character in a virtual reality or computer game?
August 24th, 2009 at 7:48 am
The writing is wonderful and it’s fantasy because this guy is fighting battle after battle and living to tell the tale. I did have a bit of confusion myself, but love the voice, the diction, the feeling of the whole piece. I guess what I want from this is more of this milieu and of this character. I pretty much felt exactly like I felt watching The Matrix–not sure of my footing but loving it.
August 24th, 2009 at 7:58 am
[...] at EDF today I’ve got a quickie that poses just that, The Goon Eternal. So put on your good shoes and third best suit — and stick a Raymond Chandler novel in the [...]
August 24th, 2009 at 8:23 am
This guy’s awfully talkative for a dead man. I love the concept and it had a great voice, but I got frustrated about halfway through listening to this guy drone on… I wanted something to happen. I wanted him to DO something, not just talk about it.
August 24th, 2009 at 10:22 am
Nice one, Bill. I can smell the gritty sidewalk. Five stars.
August 24th, 2009 at 10:39 am
Huh? Made little or no sense to me. I truly don’t understand what was going on. Maybe it was fantasy, but I like my fantasy to have some logic to it, and this one didn’t. Or maybe it was something else … what, I couldn’t say. Maybe there is some definition for “Goon” that I don’t know, but if I did it would clear things up …
August 24th, 2009 at 1:37 pm
I enjoyed this a lot, but don’t think it makes for very good flash. It was excellent storytelling, but I want more.
It is interesting to me how differently people see things. I’ve had similar problems with my own work. The “goon” isn’t hard for me to visualize and understand, but not everyone’s mind works the same way. Wouldn’t that be boring?
The crime aspect of this, the vagueness of the criminal class (if you want to go there) is interesting too. The idea that there is a repetitive nature to the criminal and of the crime that makes him eternal… Oh hell, now I sound like my American Lit teacher.
August 24th, 2009 at 7:53 pm
great voice!
August 25th, 2009 at 2:09 am
Bill, I loved it. Definitely had the wry swagger of a Chandler tale. Reminded me of a moment in one of his when the heroine opens the door to a roughed-up Marlowe and screeches: “You look like Hamlet’s ghost!”
Five stars from me – excellent job well done!
August 25th, 2009 at 6:23 am
Loved this and the gritty monologue.
August 25th, 2009 at 7:35 am
Thanks for the great comments, everybody — even if it did work for every reader any and all comments are always appreciated.
August 25th, 2009 at 10:21 am
Nice – another arrestingly ou-of-the-blue original concept! Your brain works funny.
August 25th, 2009 at 10:23 am
I just had the chance to read this one. Nice voice, which, combined with the overall concept, made this an interesting read.
August 27th, 2009 at 1:04 am
* * * * *
September 3rd, 2009 at 9:27 am
I love the voice in this one. I love the concept too. I’m glad the goon knows what’s going on, and I hope he gets to be a hero some day (even though I know, and you know, and even he knows, it won’t ever happen)