Last Day of Work


Billy Crenshaw was confused and hurt. Just after helping an old man start his car, he’d had a taser gun used on him. He’d been hogtied with two sets of handcuffs, left hand to left ankle, right hand to right ankle. Then they’d cut his clothes off his body with a set of shears. They’d taken his wallet and his car keys. He couldn’t yell for help because they’d gagged him with a cloth or rag. There he was, with his hands cuffed to his ankles, naked, crouched down on the ground.

The old man with the cane was there. He was the guy who tasered him, the same guy who asked for help to start his Cadillac. The old lady who’d been sitting in the back seat of the Caddy stood there shaking her head. Another old guy was there, a real tall guy, muscular. He must have yanked Billy out of the car after Billy was tased.

“Did you get his keys?” said another old male voice behind him.

“Got ’em right here,” said the tall guy.

“Take his car to the other side of town. You know where.”

“Will do. See ya later.” The tall guy got into Billy’s car and drove off.

“We’re stealing your car, Billy,” said the guy behind him, “because you’ve been robbing the guy you’ve been hired to take care of. We’re gonna take your car to a Walmart across town. If you want it, you can find it.”

Billy grunted and moaned through the cloth they’d gagged him with. He tried to stand and pull away, but couldn’t.

The old lady got closer to Billy. She said, “We’ll let you go. Pretty soon. But you better have a listen.” She grabbed his ear. “Your patient, our buddy, Mike, put in cameras, tiny ones, all over his place when you nursing people started taking care of him after his stroke. That’s when Mike started watching movies of you trying to rob him blind. We all saw you trying to get to his papers and copying his charge card information from his bills. Nursing people like you get to rule the roost pretty good. And everybody, our kids, your bosses, the doctors, thinks we’re nuts if we complain. That’s why we started our geezer gang. So Billy, we want you out of here now. I don’t think you’ll want to ever come back.”

“Keep that taser pointed at him. I’ll unlock one side of his handcuffs,” said the guy behind him. Billy saw an old set of hands unlock the right cuffs. His left hand was still locked to left ankle.

“Here, kid, you unlock your left side. Just remember, any funny moves out of you and you’re gonna feel it.” The old man put a key in his right hand and pushed Billy down from a squatting to sitting position. Billy, still gagged, looked up at old buzzard. The guy with the cane and the taser gun stood next to this old guy. He was still pointing it at Billy.

Billy unlocked the left handcuff with the key. He put his feet under his naked body and looked at his cut up clothes that these people had sheared off his body.

“Get up, you little turd,” the old guy with the gun said. “Run. Run away. You’re on your own.” He shot the taser near Billy, missing him by a few feet.

Billy got up, held his hand over his crotch and ran. Now he had nothing, no clothes, no ID, no car, no money. He ran fifty yards to a dumpster, lifted the lid to look for something to cover himself with. He heard another condo’s window slide open. He ducked and fled along the side of dumpster, then tripped against the curb and fell. He rubbed the side of his leg and felt the cool gravel dig into his thighs.

He got up and ran to find a place to hide out. He had to figure his next move.

~ fin ~

E. John Fuhr resides in Albuquerque, NM. He used to be a computer programmer. Now that he's gray, he hides out in the arroyos and high desert near Route 66. On productive days, he hangs out at the retirement center for a new perspective of crime and malfeasance.  He will be updating his blog at: