A Mother's Intuition

That night, Jason sat on a flimsy, white, plastic chair on the balcony of his second floor apartment. He drank jack and coke while listening to cars drive by on the large thoroughfare, back at the entrance of the apartment complex. The air smelled of bar-b-que and beer.

“Friday night. Ain’t it great,” he said.

Over in the next building, he saw a young woman with long, blond hair and a short skirt unlocking the door to her apartment. Once she was inside, he watched her from window to window. What a piece of ass, he thought. She was a stripper, and that was about all he knew about her. He watched her turn off the light in her bedroom and lay down.

“Nighty-night, my little princess. Sleep tight,” he said.

He raised his glass to her.

“To our future.”

And with that, he finished his drink and went inside.



Jason lay on the floor and rubbed his cat behind the ears. The room spun, courtesy of half a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Tigger, I’m having bad thoughts; real bad thoughts.” He looked at Tigger, who had four eyes, four ears and two little noses. Jason could hear his mother’s voice: In drunken men, evil finds a willing vessel. He got up and pulled a large knife out of the block on his kitchen counter. He felt the cold steel between his fingers.



Outside, the air had turned cool and Jason heard the rolling thunder of an approaching storm. The knife was in his pocket, sharp side down. He watched the stripper sleep peacefully, while he removed the screen from her bedroom window. The window had been left unlocked and open about a third of the way. Once inside, he pulled the knife out of his pocket and picked up a pillow. He watched her lay on her stomach, with her face tucked in the bend of her elbow. For a moment, Jason held the pillow over her head and listened to her light snore. He pressed the pillow down hard and threw all of his weight on top of her. She struggled with a strength that surprised Jason.

“I love the way you smell; like oranges and roses, and your hair is so soft and silky,” he said.

Her muted screams became quieter and quieter, and her fight became more manageable. When she was silent and motionless, Jason slowly lifted the pillow, turned her on her back and looked into her wide-open eyes. He caressed her warm and supple skin.

“Implants, huh,” Jason squeezed her breast with one hand and removed her thong with the other. His hardening penis pressed against the inside of his jeans as he removed the rest of her clothes and marveled at her fit, dancer’s body.

“So, you’re not a natural blond,” he said.

He had sex with the body twice; the first time only lasted a few seconds.



“Damn, this girl was loaded,” Jason rifled through the stripper’s purse and found a thick fold of twenty dollar bills. Her cell-phone rang, but he ignored it. With soap and water, Jason scrubbed her body from head to toe. He left the body submerged in the bathtub under warm water.

“Now this is a sandwich,” Jason found a well stocked refrigerator and a twelve-pack of beer in her kitchen. He sat in the living room and flipped between a basketball game and the local news. The knock at the door almost made him spill his beer.

“Hey, baby, I just want to talk to you about last night.”

Through the peep-hole, Jason saw a large man with close-cut, black hair in a well tailored, black suit.

“If you don’t let me in, I’m going to unlock the door myself,” the man said.

He walked in, took off his jacket and laid it on the couch.

“Baby, are you asleep?”

With no answer, the man loosened his tie and headed for the bedroom. Jason jumped out from behind a bookshelf and raked the long sharp knife across the man’s throat. Dark red blood splashed on the carpet as if poured from a bucket. The man stumbled to the floor and rolled on his back. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Blood and air hissed in and out of the man’s windpipe.

“Hell of a way to die, my friend; hell of a way to die,” Jason said.



The next day, Jason’s mother knocked at his front door. She could hear Jason’s drunken snore inside the apartment. After knocking once more, she let herself in.

“Jason?”

She sat some grocery bags on the kitchen counter, walked into his room, and turned the light on.

“Jason, wake up. I have something for you.”

Jason pulled the covers over his head. Feeling a hard poke to the ribs, he groaned, “Mom, what are you doing here?”

“Wake up, I’m making you breakfast.”

The smell of bacon and scrambled eggs pulled Jason out of bed. His mother had also straightened the apartment up a bit.

“Come, sit down. Do you want some jelly on your toast?”

Jason sat at the table and enjoyed an afternoon breakfast. His mother was a chipper woman. She tried to administer tough love with Jason, but her only son was all she had since her husband’s death. Tigger jumped on the table.

“Get down!”

Jason’s mother swatted at the cat and it jumped off the table. Jason tore a piece of bacon and threw it on the floor.

“So, what did you do last night?” his mother asked.

“I just hung out here at the apartment. I haven’t been feeling well, Mom.”

“Have you been drinking again?” she raised an eyebrow.

Jason wondered if her mother’s-intuition also told her he killed two people last night.

“No. I’ve had this headache, Mom. I can’t seem to shake it.”

Tigger was on the floor staring at Jason. There was only one small piece of bacon left. Jason threw it in the air and Tigger caught it in his mouth before it hit the ground. His mother shook her head.

“What am I going to do with you guys? Oh, I almost forgot. Diane, you know, my friend from work. Apparently, her daughter also lives here in this apartment complex.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. She’s a beautiful blond, a dancer and single.”

“Perfect, Mom. That’s all I need right now: A bleach blond stripper who can’t keep a man. No thanks.”

“Come on now. Her ex-boyfriend has been stalking her, but she put a restraining order on him. Apparently, he was a real tough-guy-club-owner. Her mother was afraid he might have been in the Mafia. Can you believe it? The Mafia?”

Jason watched his mother slice an orange with the same knife he’d used the night before. The knife didn’t have a spot of blood on it, and he knew he hadn’t cleaned it. He looked up at her face and noticed she was looking at him too, but with a cold smile.

“Jason, I’ve told you to stay away from alcohol. Remember what I always say to you: ‘In drunken men, evil finds a willing vessel’.”