Skip to main content

The Made Man

The Made Man




As the car barrelled down a grimy street more pothole than asphalt, Spill wondered how much bumping around the contents wedged into his trunk would feel. He also pondered about how breathable the burlap sack secured around said content's head was.

Spill half-squinted-half-winced and shook his head firmly, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts from his cerebral cortex. "No," he told himself, "I can't keep thinking this kinda shit. Gotta stay focussed - I'm so close." 

Paolo Salvatore Spillinghela was gifted his full name by his parents thirty-something year's prior, and the moniker "Spill" by the kids on the block he grew up on. The nickname had stuck and was a constant source of irritation to him. He tolerated it though, given that anyone who used it was generally a more advanced breed of aggressive Sicilian mafioso than he was. 

He had been trying to break through the Family's glass wall a long time, having been enamoured with the idea since absorbing crime flicks as a kid. So far all of his attempts to break in had fallen short. His brother Lorenzo (who had been connected for a few years now) kept putting in good words with the higher-ups, but there seemed to be some reluctance to give him a chance to prove himself. 

Not for long though - if Spill stayed on-track (and stopped wondering about whether burlap sack fibres could damage a person's lungs like asbestos could), he too would be a Made Man by the end of the week. 

Spill steered the car towards the outskirts of the city. Urban streets dissolved into highway then country roads as mid-morning crept past lunchtime and into the afternoon. 

The drive gave Spill the opportunity to rerun the events of that morning in his head. He had stopped by The Workshop (a panel shop where grease monkeys tinkered with vehicles in front, and greasy wiseguys smoked cigars, talked shit and counted stacks of cash in locked back rooms) to see Lorenzo - the brothers often boxed together at Al's Gym on Wednesdays, but Lorenzo had asked Spill to come in early today.

Spill had strolled past the old Buick (which had been propped up on a hoist since Lorenzo was in diapers) and pounded his fist on a door three times. He had expected Lorenzo, or some other button man to answer and did a slight double-take when the door eventually did swing open. 

Behind the door stood Umberto, the consigliere and close advisor to the Boss himself. Shorter than Spill, with a tight-fitting suit hugging his squat frame, Umberto had squinted with a cocked head, clearly trying to recognise the man before him. From his vantage, Spill noticed how shiny the hair oil had made Umberto's prominent bald spot. 

"Ah!" Umberto had uttered after an eternity. "Lorenzo's brother - I've been waiting for you. Come." 

Over the next few minutes, Spill learned that Lorenzo's advocacy efforts had either impressed or annoyed the consigliere enough to assign him a task. Spill was instructed to take the pistol and set of keys laid out for him, get into the black Lincoln Towncar from around back and drive to Blythe Canyon. Once there, he was to make the passenger in the trunk disappear. 

"If you do good, kid," Umberto had wheezed "I'll recommend to the Boss that you take the pledge and come into the fold."

Behind the wheel of the Lincoln, Spill cracked a smile. He sipped on the cold, stale diner cup of coffee that he had taken to The Workshop. It tasted more like styrofoam than ground bean juice. He threw the cup out of the window, then lit and dragged on a cigarette. I gotta stop smoking these, Spill told himself, from now on its just cigars. 

He only had a few smokes left and considered stopping at an upcoming gas station to pick up some more (he also needed to take a piss - he didn't want to risk splashing his new shoes while urinating on a tree later). He scowled at himself and violently dismissed this idea - the last thing he needed was for the trunk dweller (who had been strangely subdued thus far) to somehow draw the attention of some family in an RV on their way to the Lake.  

Instead, he mentally cycled through the checklist of what would need to happen when he arrived at his destination. He would have to rough-house the chump out of the trunk and up onto his feet, rip the sack off his head quickly and forcefully - stunning him with the brightness of the mid-afternoon sun, aim the piece at him (remember to take a step back in case the jackass pisses himself - his shoes cost $1,200), lead the man to the edge of the cliff and plug him between the eyes. Spill figured he could decide in the moment whether to watch the guy plummet to the floor of the ravine or not. 

Once this was all done, he would call it in to Lorenzo, who in turn would run it up the chain to the Boss. Spill allowed himself a half-smirk - he would be as good as Made on the spot. He spent the next few minutes fantasizing about the new life that was just ahead of him - he would have it all; the big house, the fancy wardrobe, the mistress (although, he would probably need to get married first). 

It was quiet on the country roads, and it dawned on Spill just how passive the guy in the trunk was. When Spill had checked the trunk back at The Workshop there were no panicked sobs, no pleas for mercy - this fella just lay on his side, hands secured behind his back, burlap sack in place, without so much as a whimper. If Spill hadn't seen the man's chest calmly rising and falling before slamming the trunk's lid down, he might have assumed that he was hauling a dead man. 

As Spill's second cigarette dissolved into its butt and fizzled out in a final gasp of black smoke he pulled the car up to a good spot, yanked the handbrake up and killed the engine. He paused for a moment, his instincts telling him that there wasn't likely to be any noise from the trunk. There wasn't.

Having arrived at the top of the cliff, in this secluded pocket of woodland, Spill was in no particular hurry to rush through the task at hand. As a boy, he would often catch a matinee film screening at the local cinema with his pals from the neighbourhood. While the other kids would laugh and roll their eyes at the villains of B-grade spy flicks for spending so long pontificating on and on (instead of say, just shooting the good guy in the head), Spill would relish their deliberating. There was a certain poetry to building anticipation and it suited Spill that he had the opportunity to linger uninterrupted like this. 

After one more cigarette (and zero knocks, bumps or yells from the trunk) Spill slowly and methodically opened the driver's door and ambled towards the rear of the car. He paused, flicked the dead cigarette butt and popped the trunk. 

The man inside did not appear to have moved since Spill had last seen him a few hours earlier. He must have been sedated, Spill figured. The guy was still breathing (apparently unperturbed by any burlap fibres) and had the calm disposition of a person out for a walk in the park, despite having spent at least half the day awkwardly wedged into a cramped space. Also strange was the orange jumpsuit that the guy was wearing - he looked like either a prisoner or a mechanic. 

Spill, who had laid his overcoat across the backseat before settling into the driver's seat, rolled his own sleeves up to his elbows, pocketing the cufflinks. He reached in and gripped the jumpsuit fabric, before lifting one foot up onto the bumper for leverage, and pulling the man across and outwards by the chest. 

The man was surprisingly light and carried none of the weight that Spill expected him to. Spill performed an awkward half-stumble and the man fell silently out of his grasp and face-first onto the gravel. Spill was glad that the only potential witness to this misstep still had a sack over his head and would soon have a bullet inside it. 

"We've arrived." said a muffled voice with flat affect. The question (or was it a statement?) threw Spill off his guard - it was the first sound he had heard from his passenger.

"Yeah," Spill replied, trying to inject his response with a sense of menace. "Get on your feet."

The man did so - effortlessly - and stood stiff and upright. He looked like an orange-clothed and burlap-masked impression of a Buckingham Palace guard. 

Spill sized the guy up. He was taller, Spill thought, than he had looked while folded up in the trunk. Spill wondered what this man had done to draw the ire of the family - been unable to repay a significant debt? Squealed to the authorities? Insulted someone who he really shouldn't have? Whatever it was, the guy standing before him was now Spill's ticket to becoming Made. 

Time to get down to business, Spill told himself and ignored the sporadic birdsong that filled the air around him. He reached up and with a brisk flourish ripped the burlap sack from off the man's head. 

The guy didn't even flinch. He stared straight ahead and monotoned the words "Yes. We are here." before blinking at about half the speed of a regular human blink. 

Spill felt a cold shudder dance up and down his spine but was determined not to let it show on his face or in his body language. He withdrew the pistol wedged in his waistband and barked "Walk" at the man. 

"Walk", the man repeated, slowly pivoting his head downwards to look at the brandished weapon. He shifted his body 180 degrees and took slow, purposeful steps in the direction Spill was pointing the gun.

Spill followed, his heart thumping loud enough to drown out the sparse chittering of birds. The blood pumping through his body produced a kind of low white noise in his ears as he focussed on the task at hand. Within a minute or so the job would be done - then what? Most likely some kind of celebration. Spill pictured the dark elegant room, the solemn omerta ceremony where he would pledge his loyalty to the Family, then drinks, cigars, maybe some girls. This time tomorrow he would have acquired two things; the privileges and protection of the family, and a pounding hangover. 

"Turn around," Spill growled, flicking the pistol's safety switch off. 

"I am turning around," the dull-voiced man responded, announcing his intention a second or two before the action itself. 

It was quiet now, as the man stared directly ahead. For a second Spill was struck by the man's bug-like eyes that blinked once more with the speed and intensity of dripping treacle. Then a grin cracked through the granite facade of Spill's face. He cocked the pistol, aimed at the man's forehead and said: "Congratulations pal, you're about to make me a Made Man."

The man's eyes shifted focus from the barrel of the gun in front of him and rose to a point above Spill's head. A grin spread on his own face to mirror the one on Spill's. 

"I have passed my test." the man intoned, his broadening smile adding some semblance of emotion to the sentence. 

Spill furrowed his brow, perplexed at the man's response, then noticed his bug-eyes pointing towards the sky. Spill had not realised that the birds were no longer chirping, or that a large shadow had crept over the landscape. With the gun still trained on the freak before him, Spill looked upwards. 

A sophisticated metallic-looking craft hovered in the overcast sky above both Spill and the man he was trying to execute. What looked like piping, hatches and mechanical components made up the undercarriage, with blinking lights of dull colours flickered on and off. In a Saturday matinee screening of a sci-fi movie, the characters would describe this kind of thing as a 'flying saucer'.

"What the fu--" Spill started, but was cut off by a brilliant white flash that engulfed both men and the surrounding terrain. 

"--ck?!" he thought - Spill could only conclude the expletive within the confines of his head. His mouth - in fact, his whole body - was instantly paralysed by the flash. He floated, suspended in a bright and undefined space. 

Gradually his inert eyes caught up to his racing mind and Spill started to make out some vague shapes moving in the white void ahead of him. 

As his eyes adjusted and recalibrated, the abstract shapes developed into fuzzy-edged silhouettes - one man-shaped one surrounded by a gaggle of taller, longer-limbed humanoid shapes that moved around the man in apparent jubilation. It looked... like the figures were... having a party?

"Motherfucker..." Spill thought to himself, shaking his head mentally instead of physically. "They're fuckin' celebrating..."


By Omnipoten
Selesai
  • Hanya Alien

    Hanya Alien Avani duduk di tepi tempat tidurnya, menatap ke luar jendela pod-nya. Sudah lewat waktu tidurnya, tapi siapa yang peduli? Dia meletakkan buku yang sedang dia baca di atas meja di sebelahnya, melepaskan kakinya dari selimut putihnya, dan menatap ke langit. Kerlipan cahaya terang ada di ma... Readmore

  • Anda akan membayar saya untuk pergi ?!

    Anda akan membayar saya untuk pergi ?! "Benarkah, Shelley?" Saya dengan setengah hati mencoba meredam ketidakpercayaan saya. "Kamu akan menyuapku?" Saya bertanya-tanya pada kewarasan teman saya. Dia dengan serius melambaikan uang seratus dolar kepada saya. Kami sudah saling kenal karena aeons, tapi ... Readmore

  • MAINAN FAVORIT ITU

    MAINAN FAVORIT ITU Cerita pendek ini berlatar di sebuah rumah sirkuit (bungalo gelap yang umumnya digunakan oleh pejabat senior pemerintah untuk kunjungan singkat). Terletak di Bundi, sebuah kota kecil di Rajasthan. Dua pengunjung, penulis Shankar dan teman masa kecilnya Jaidev telah datang untuk me... Readmore

  • Sebuah Mimpi

    Sebuah Mimpi Hal favorit Charlie di seluruh dunia, adalah lautan. Meskipun, pada usia sepuluh tahun, dia belum pernah ke lautan mana pun, itu tidak masalah bagi Charlie. Dia bermimpi melihatnya suatu hari nanti. Lautan tertentu tidak masalah, selama dia bisa merasakan pasir basah berhamburan di anta... Readmore

  • Permata Tersembunyi

    Permata Tersembunyi Siapa pun yang tahu bahwa sesuatu yang begitu kecil akan sangat berarti bagi saya? Saya adalah seorang gadis kecil yang tinggal di Dhaka, Bangladesh, mengisi hari-hari saya dengan rasa sakit yang tajam sementara ma berteriak di udara agar ayah kembali ke rumah. Kami tinggal di se... Readmore

  • Permainan imajinasi nenek

    Permainan imajinasi nenek Nenek ada di kamar bersama cucunya yang sakit. Dia ada di sana untuk menjaganya saat orang tuanya sedang bekerja. Saat dia melihat gadis kecil itu tidur, dia mulai memikirkan hidupnya.. Melihat semua mainan yang indah dan ruang bermain yang menarik ini dia kembali ke masa k... Readmore

  • Setengah lainnya

    Setengah lainnya Dahulu kala saya meninggalkan kampung halaman saya Caracas untuk tinggal di pedesaan dan sekarang saya telah kembali. Lebih dari empat puluh tahun berlalu dan, meskipun kota ini terlihat sama, banyak bangunan tua telah dihancurkan dan yang baru dibangun, yang lain baru saja direnova... Readmore

  • Bagian dari kehidupan

    Bagian dari kehidupan Ini dia, Siddharth meneruskan surat itu kepada bosnya. Bos membaca sekilas surat itu dan berkata, Oke, tidak masalah. Jaga ibumu sampai dia sembuh. Kami berdoa untuk kesehatannya. Terima kasih banyak, Pak, Siddharth mengakhiri sambil tersenyum. Dia sangat bahagia di dalam karen... Readmore

  • Ulang Tahun ke-12 Saya

    Ulang Tahun ke-12 Saya Saya berada di hari Sabtu, sekitar tiga puluh tahun lebih yang lalu. Saya berusia dua belas tahun dan kegembiraannya sangat tinggi. Dan ulang tahun Anda mengambil dimensi ekstra ketika jatuh pada akhir pekan ketika tidak ada yang memiliki alasan terkait pekerjaan untuk tidak m... Readmore

  • MAINAN PERAK

    MAINAN PERAK Undangan tertanggal sebulan sebelumnya, dikirim melalui email, berbunyi: "Teman dan kerabat, Anda diundang untuk bergabung dengan kumpul-kumpul yang diatur di Jubilee Hall pada pukul 10 pagi pada tanggal 14Oktober2020 untuk merayakan ulang tahun kelahiran Kupp ke-502 dan makan siang ses... Readmore

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Painting of Destiny

"Are you sure of this, Navan?" The old pirate stared at King Mannas' chief merchant. However, his bright emerald green eyes sparkled with laughter. "The information came from Daoud, one of my former crew members, when I was ravaging the coastal villages of Vyrone." Navan smiled at the expression crossing Gerrod's face, whose family had fled from one of these villages. The Iron Falcon was a legend and parents had always used the threat of its crew and its flaming-haired captain to scare naughty children into sleeping and behaving differently. Gerrod quickly recovered and smiled. "Then he must be a man to be trusted, indeed." "Ah!" cried Navan. "Daoud will take the coin from the mouth of a dead man while it is still warm. I trust him only because he knows the fate of him who lies to me." I may have made him captain when I decided to infiltrate King Mannas' court, but he still knows who is in charge. "We must tell ...

Good Morning America is a popular

Good Morning America is a popular morning news show that airs on ABC. It has been a staple in American households since its debut in 1975. The show covers a wide range of topics including news, entertainment, lifestyle, and pop culture. With its team of talented hosts and reporters, Good Morning America provides its viewers with the latest updates on current events and trending stories. One of the things that sets Good Morning America apart from other morning shows is its lively and energetic atmosphere. The hosts, including Robin Roberts, George Stephanopoulos, Michael Strahan, and Lara Spencer, bring a sense of fun and camaraderie to the show. They engage with their audience and each other in a way that feels genuine and relatable. In addition to its engaging hosts, Good Morning America also features a variety of segments that cater to a diverse audience. From cooking demos and fashion tips to celebrity interviews and human interest stories, the show offers something for everyone. Wh...

The liz hatton

The liz hatton is a unique piece of headwear that has been gaining popularity in recent years. This hat is characterized by its wide brim and low crown, which gives it a distinctive and fashionable look. The liz hatton is often made of materials such as wool, felt, or straw, making it a versatile accessory that can be worn in various seasons. One of the key features of the liz hatton is its versatility. This hat can be dressed up or down, making it suitable for a range of occasions. Whether you're going for a casual look or a more formal outfit, the liz hatton can easily complement your ensemble. Additionally, the wide brim of the hat provides excellent sun protection, making it ideal for outdoor activities such as picnics or garden parties. In terms of style, the liz hatton can be compared to other types of hats such as the fedora or the boater. While these hats may have similar silhouettes, the liz hatton stands out for its unique shape and design. The low crown and wide brim of ...
  • Jalan Hidup Sadarkan Aku

    Ku Telusuri jalan Jalan Di Sepanjang Hidupku Aku bagai Kereta uap Yang ingin Makan,ku Perlu Menguap ku ingin Minum,Ku perlu Uap Buat Jalan-jalan hidupku Terhentikan Karena Ku perlu menguap Menguapkan asap Dari mulutku Jadikan Tubuhku Bau uap Jalan cinta Aku Hentikan Demi ... Readmore

  • Kau Yang Pantas Ku ingat

    Kau Hujam Aku Dengan Ingatanku Kau Taburkan,Kau Tamankan Kembali  Benih-benih Ingatanku Yang lalu Kau Sirami Dan Kau pupuki Berulang-ulang kali Biar Ku ingat Biar ku ingat Kau Yang Tanam Dan Rawat Benih Cinta-cinta ini Agar Terulang Kembali  Tumbuh Di Taman Kasih Dan ... Readmore

  • Ku Rasa Aku Pencundangmu

    Kau awali biar yang kurasakan kau temanku Kau Datangiku Saat tiada lagi Teman Di sisi Kau Hampiri Di Saat Kesunyian Sepi Buat gembira Rasa Di hati kini  Kurasa Ku Harus mengakhiri Ku Sadar Jalan-Jalanmu bukan Jalanku ku Mengerti Ku Membuatmu Jemu Tak Asik Lagi Dan ku Tahu ... Readmore

  • Tak Seperti Dulu

    Aku Tak Tahu Hingga Aku Tak mengerti Apa Yang terjadi Dengan Aku Yang kini Di Saat Lalu Ku Rasakan,Ku Terkenang Asik Hingga Kau Dan Aku Saling Hampiri Sampai Ada Ganjalan Terasa Tak Lengkap Bila Hari-hari Tak Terisi Waktu Bersamamu Karena Bersamamu Aku Rasa hidup Bersamamu Lepa... Readmore

  • Sekali Lagi

    Kau Datang tuk Sekali Tuk Taburkan Cinta Di hati Cinta Yan Pertama Yang Kau tinggalkan Pergi Yang Sekali Pernah Melukai hati Dan kini Kau Datang Sekali lagi Dan Sekali Lagi Kau Pandangi Aku Lagi Dan Kiniku Sekali Lagi Merasakan Cinta Di hati Lagi Yang Datang tuk Sekali lagi ... Readmore

  • Mungkinkah Yang Lalu

    Apakah Yang kini yang akan Kembali lagi Apakah Yang Lalu Yang kini kan Kembali Karena Yang kini Adalah Yang Lalu Yang Berlalu Yang Datang Kembali Mengisi Hari-hari Ku lalui Hari Dengan Dia Yang telah lalu Berlalu-lalu Hari kinipun Semakin menjadi jadikan cinta kini tumbuh kembali ... Readmore

  • Bila Kau

    Bila kau Yang Menarik Akan lebih tertarik Hati ini Bila kau yang mengikat Akan lebih kuat ikatan hati ini Bila Kau yang mengulur Akan lebih Panjang cinta ini Bila Kau Yang Menyelam Lebih Dalam Cinta ini Bila Kau Yang Terbang Lebih Tinggi Aku Mencintai Bila Kau Yang Nya... Readmore

  • Aku Ingin Berlabuh

    Berlabuh Aku ingin Berlabuh Bersandar Aku ingin bersandar Obati lelah Terus Melangkah Melangkah Aku Melangkah Mencari-cari Dimana Pelabuhan Terakhirku Akhir Langkah Terus Mencari Dimana Hatikan Berlabuh Tanpa daya Aku kini Tetap Terus Mencari Sandaran Akhir Daya Akhir Yang Tero... Readmore

  • Ingatkan Waktu Kawan

    Ku Lalui massa-massa Ku Silih Berganti waktu Hanya Bersamamu Kawan Terbang Di Awan-awan Kian Kemari Terbang Bersamamu Kawan Ku Sakit,ku jatuh,ku bangun ku Suka  Bersama-sama Menari Di Atas Awan-awan Hay Kawan kita Selalu Bersama Maaf Kawan Kini Waktu Mengajari Aku Bu... Readmore

  • Kesendirianku

    Kesendirianku Aku Tetap melangkah Melangkahi Hari-hari tanpa ada yang di sisi Alampun Angkat Berbicara Aku akan Temani di sisi Coba Kau lihat Aku Ada Yang Tersembunyi Disini Menyembunyikan Diri Dengan Maksud Arti Sebuah Arti Untuk mengisi sepi Aku kan Temani Di Sisi Bila ... Readmore