Short Story - 1st Attempt

Steve couldn’t believe the mess he had gotten himself into. Rather, the mess his goddamn brother had gotten him into. His brother had always had a quick temper. That was Eddy. Always quick to spout off a "fuck you" to everyone and anyone, deserved or not. Quick even to physically lash out at people although he rarely connected. Not so long ago one schmuck thought he was funny with his "Steve and Edie" reference. Steve and Eddy, Steve and Edie. Get it? Duh! As if only his mensa-level intelligence could possibly come up with such a witticism. Dickhead. "Yeah, genius! Only heard that only about eighty times in my life thank you very much!" Eddy yelled as he swung and missed. An "angry child" their other brother Robert had said on more than one occasion. Steve agreed and while the whole "Steve and Edie" thing was pretty lame he never felt compelled to strike out about it. Then, Eddy was constantly mad at the world. It wasn’t all unwarranted. He had reasons. Plenty of reasons. But the objects of his fury were usually more or less innocent bystanders. Displaced anger at stupid and not-so-stupid people.

"The mere fact that these two brothers are extremely close and have a special bond does not justify my client’s incarceration!" Steve zoned back in to hear his attorney implore the jury in the middle of his closing argument.

Steve chuckled a bit to himself at "extremely close". Yeah, they were at times. Since birth really. Too close. Of course, there were other times when Steve couldn’t stand Eddy. Hated him even. He said numerous times to anyone that would listen, "One is stuck with family though, aren’t they? One can’t choose family. You’re born into it." It was meant as a pseudo-joke in the same manner people roll their eyes about the characteristics of a loved one. It didn’t seem too funny now and Steve marveled at how he and Robert could be born and raised in nearly the same manner as Eddy but neither had Eddy’s hostile demeanor. Especially Steve, as Robert was a few years younger and hadn’t been through everything the two of them had. Normally, though, Eddy would just spout off an impressive repertoire of insults to his perceived attacker. This time, though, he did more.

More is an understatement. It was bad. Real bad. They were looking at prison time. Significant prison time, possibly. Murder. Given the evidence, Steve certainly saw how a jury could convict him of a crime he didn't do. To Steve, it seemed painfully clear. If only his attorney could convince a jury of that.

That fateful day in the restaurant, Steve could sense Eddy’s rising anger as he always could. He could feel the temper mount inside him perhaps as a wife's heart rate climbs when her husband throws a tantrum because he hammered his thumb. But with Steve it ran deeper. That comes with being a brother and being close and going through so much together over the years. At the same time, however, Steve could do nothing to prevent Eddy from erupting. Particularly this time.

A fork to the neck. Damn! One doesn’t die very fast from a fork to the neck. Not fast at all. The blood never stopped. Well, it did eventually but it seemed to take forever to Steve. It ran through poor Roger Stavinsky’s hands as he clutched his neck. Poured down like a garden hose left running on a driveway. This wasn’t the movies, though, it was real life. Roger didn’t look at Steve and Eddy inquisitively as if to ask, "why did you do this?" and lose consciousness. He looked down at his shirt, his opened hands to see the blood and meandered around the restaurant as if to implore for help that wasn’t to be. The blood was just everywhere. Although it didn’t shoot out like in some gladiator movie it was nonetheless impressive in its sheer volume as it covered his nice suit. Stavinsky asked why though with his eyes and his weakening voice. He asked about 50 times as he stood and later lay dying in which would eventually take perhaps ten or twelve minutes. Steve was sure Stavinsky never understood in the end. He never got the answer to his query but it didn’t really matter anyway. What was done was done. Yes, this was bad.

Stavinsky was a snake for sure but he didn’t deserve this fate. Making promises to Steve and Eddy he couldn’t keep didn’t justify murder. Steve always knew Roger would look out for Roger in the end, yet, he went along with the idea so they could all make "tons of money". Nobody ever quantified "tons" to Steve but any money was better than none. Finally, it came as no surprise when Roger didn’t deliver. Roger bailed out just like Steve had warned Eddy he might. "Don’t get your hopes up, Eddy. Let’s see how this plays out." Eddy was just too excited though. He listened to Steve but didn’t hear. As was his want, Eddy was always thinking next idea would make them rich or at least richer. That next idea would get them out of their crummy machine shop assembly jobs. A book, an invention, an investment or anything to get away from the oil, the heat and the noise of that shop. Eddy hatched most of the ideas and Steve went along. Steve’s philosophy was "why not, right? You never know." This one wasn’t Eddy’s idea and certainly had potential which Steve saw so he went along albeit cautiously. Stavinsky wasn’t the first one to offer to sell their life story, but it was looking like he might be the last.

"….and I implore you ladies and gentleman of the jury, if you must find my client guilty of these charges, please find it in your heart to punish him with no more than house arrest" his attorney continued.

House arrest. Steve could live with that. He practically did anyway. It sure as shit was better than Stavinsky got. Fucking Eddy! If only Steve could have stopped him, but it was so quick. A fork! To the neck! Fuck that must have hurt.

No sooner was Stavinsky done saying "I did everything I could, guys, but I’m sorry, they’re not willing to buy into the screenplay and I’m not inclined to pitch it any more" did Eddy strike. Across the table, over the beef tips and garlic mashed potatoes, which soon turned a gooey crimson. In the trial, Steve learned it was the carotid artery. When it happened, he immediately thought "the jugular, fuck he hit the jugular". Steve’s thoughts wandered to some horror movie or Discovery Health program in which he might have gotten the idea. It didn’t matter thought. What sort of mattered was Steve knew it was coming. He felt the hostility building. Eddy’s impulse. He felt it to the core. If only he acted sooner. But it was done now.

When Stavinsky finished staggering wide-eyed around, Steve’s mind raced. Run was his first impulse. He couldn’t really run. Anyway, how many witnesses saw it? Would they remember us? Could they pick us out of a lineup? Of course they could. How could they not? The place was probably seventy percent full. They hadn’t even driven their own car for Christ’s sake. How far could they get by running? The restaurant was awash in screaming women and calls of men to dial 911 as others scrambled for safety. In any event the police were there in a matter of minutes. Maybe as quickly as three or four minutes. Even before the EMTs arrived Steve and Eddy were in cuffs..

Steve phased back into the now to hear his attorney say, "…merely because they share a liver? Or because they share the same arms and legs? They are two separate people ladies and gentleman." We’re Dicephalus Steve thought to himself, almost with a chuckle. The lawyer continued, "How could Stephen possibly prevent his brother from committing this crime? How could he know what Edward was about to do?" But Steve knew. Just as the two of them could swing a baseball bat in unison or run together on their shared appendages. He knew. But it was too late by the time knew enough to do something about it.

"You may well be convicting an innocent man, ladies and gentleman of the jury. His body had a part in committing this crime, but not his mind. I implore you again, fine people, to find my client innocent of this charge. Thank you for your time."

"Fuck" Steve thought to himself. "What a mess."