The Cabarini Shot

Prologue
“Tomorrow was the day the earth stood still. And I fear yesterday will never come.”
Those words were spoken by a woman who doesn’t exist. To you, anyway. So many people in this world just plain don’t exist. How can they exist to you if you don’t know who they are and they don’t know who you are? They can’t. Not to you. Every person is their own universe. Why? Because you see from your point of view and everybody else from theirs. You have widespread outside communication, this much is surely true. But you will never be able to look into another person’s heart or read another person’s mind, or see things their way. And I think I am right in saying that many people would be almost insulted if you said that you could.


Rachael Cabarini does not exist, however, in a much more real sense of the phrase. Of course, even if I told you she did exist, why would it matter to you? You would never have spoken to her. You would never have kissed her, seen her face in the sun, or known so much as the color of her hair. I am not trying to hint that Rachael was not a real person, but she doesn’t exist because she is never talked about. No one knows Rachael Cabarini. But, she was alive and breathed the air as greedily as you and I. I happen to believe she was one of the most pitiful souls ever to see God’s Church on earth, however.


I cannot say that everything expressed here is with good intention, but I can promise you that it’s all true. I regret stating this. For why should you care? You only came to hear a story.


Chapter One

What fascinates me about people is how damn important they think they are. Their music, their cultures, their very existence seems to me to express just how pompous they are. Dinosaurs, for example, may have died out millions of years ago, but they’ve lasted longer than humans so far by far. Not to mention insects and reptiles. But people think they’re superior. The classic argument is intellect over instinct. Granted, humans have instinct, but it’s to a much lesser degree than most animals who have, in all fairness, outlived us. We are, we believe, the first species on earth to have intelligence to this extent. But the big question remains: Does this make us better than those ‘dumber’ than us? We know what separates us from the ‘animals’. But are humans so brainwashed from bible stories and philosophy that they cannot look around them? Where other animals help the earth, we have begun systematically destroying it. Perhaps, God or no God, we are the earth’s doomsday device.




“Only two things are infinite; The universe, and human stupidity, and I’m not even sure about the former.”
- Albert Einstein




Rachael rolled on the floor in her new wedding dress. Her mother bought it for it her yesterday. She was just...breaking it in. That’s what she would tell her mother when she came back, anyway. She hoped she wasn’t too mad. Rachael didn’t want to have to skip dessert again. She liked ice cream, and knew that her dad was bringing it because it was Tuesday and he always brings ice cream on Tuesday. Daddy worked at the lumber factory and mommy taught every Monday and Wednesday. Funny how Wednesday is spelled. Like ‘wedding day’.

Rachael did not do well in school. Her only formal education, in fact, had been her mother. That was before High School. In High School, Rachael made C’s and D’s, but it was better than most girls. They made F’s or just failed. When you were sixteen, a girl, and had failed school, you went to teach. Not school. Only men were teachers. They taught other women how to be good housewives. When you were male, sixteen, and had failed, you went to work in the lumber factory. Like Rachael’s dad. If you passed anything, you taught that subject. If you were a woman, and you were smart, you didn’t pass; because when you passed, you had to go outside of the community. Outside of the community, men waited to rape you and take you away and lock you up for the rest of your life!
Rachael was raised on these principles. And, to a disgusting degree, they were true.


It was nine O’clock on a Saturday evening and Rachael was excited. Her mother was at a meeting and her father was...not there! It was the perfect time to get out of the house and do something interesting in this deadbeat town. Rachael had known these circumstances would make themselves reality, so she and her best friend, Violet Videl, had planned a secret meeting at the corner store. It was not the most exciting of places, but it had cheap hamburgers and a clean appearance. Doing things she wasn’t supposed to do always excited Rachael.

She glanced at the clock: it was 8:32. She had three whole minutes before she had to leave for her secret meeting. Rachael lay sprawled on the green carpet of the living room, staring romantically at the ceiling. She fancied it was the blue sky of a beautiful farm in Montana or other exciting places. Not just that dull, white ceiling that desperately needed repainting. ‘The world needs repainting’ thought Rachael. She glanced at the clock. It was 8:30.


Rachael put on high, white pumps and fishnet stockings in addition to her pure, white wedding dress. She decided that the empire cut dress was far too conservative, and cut it down the front to partially reveal her small, young breasts. In the mirror, she looked beautiful. Rachael’s thin form flipped her brown hair, and she set out into the night, daring anyone to look at her. Daring anyone to desire such dangerous prey.


The walk was not far, and Rachael felt absolutely superb in her high, white heels. She was very pretty like this, and she knew it. She loved it. It was dress up from her younger years carried over to the present day. Except now, she didn’t have the overbearing pressure of her parents. She was free.

Rachael saw the corner store and walked through the doors with a ‘ding!’. The light was fantastically yellow and dim. It was beautiful, but it made it hard for the two girls to find each other for these secret meetings. Soon, however, Violet found her friend. Violet was a voluptuous, brown girl with black hair and a mean face. She was shorter than Rachael, but to Violet, this only meant higher pumps.

The amazing thing about Violet is, that her parents actually let her go. Or they might would, if she would just ask them. She didn’t ask. Rachael didn’t understand why not. Violet had larger breasts by far than Rachael, and this made her jealous. Violet wanted the small, perfect breasts of her younger friend. But she wouldn’t ever tell her this.


The two beautiful young women received many stares from handsome and ugly men alike, all of them accepted. The dim, yellow light was not flattering, but that did not hinder the men’s eyes.

Rachael and Violet agreed that something was different about tonight. There was music about drinking and sad songs. And, as both of the girls went to get cokes and hamburgers, they both noticed the grown man in front of them. He had black hair and was dressed in the stated color from head to boot-concealed foot. He didn’t order anything. He just stood there, talking to the salesman.

“You say you want to be a punk, George.” They locked eyes. “But I don’t see you working for it, George.” The man wiped his forehead exaggeratedly and stomped his foot. “BY God! There’s not a person in here who could do the job.” With that, he sauntered off into the jungle of the rest of the store, where he watched Rachael from a distance, taking in her clumsy, teenage movements.

They got their refreshments and walked triumphantly back to their table.

“I’m so happy,”commented Rachael. And she smiled broadly.
“I’m glad,” said Violet. They both laughed. They were both very happy.

Brain was not happy, as he watched the two teenagers from across the room. He was angry. He didn’t understand life and tonight had been particularly frustrating for the twenty three year old. He was in love with the one with the brown hair and sparkling eyes. He had no idea why. She came here almost every Saturday, with that black haired girl, Violet. He had overheard her name one evening. He had never caught the brown haired girl’s. He wanted to touch her more than anything right now. But there was only one reason he was here tonight: The punks had put him on a mission to kill poor George. George wasn’t doing so well. And soon he would be dead for it. Betrayal was not taken lightly among Brian’s crowd. The penalty was death or something worse, depending. He had no intention of being unfaithful, however, as he reached for the pistol at his side.

Not a single, distracted soul saw as he cocked the weapon. Brian began humming joyfully. He didn’t know why, but doing the dirty work was always fun for him.

Brian aimed the gun and fired. He frowned, as he had made more noise than he’d wanted. Glass shattered behind the salesman as he fell to a bloody heap on the floor.


Few people screamed. Fellow punks of Brian’s went to receive a few refreshments. Though there were few screams, one woman screeched loudly, and the whole crowd slid towards the door, agitated and unnerved. Brian smiled and got onto a table, standing.


“The O’Keith shot!” He yelled, and got down off the table. Some of the punks were laughing at him. He smiled back, and grabbed at the free refreshments.


Rachael and Violet screamed. Violet screamed the loudest, because after her scream, people shuffled toward the door. They did not stay to see Brian’s display, however, and bolted toward the crowded door. Rachael felt the pumps and dress hindering her run, and for the first time in her life, she wished she hadn’t worn it. She wasn’t thinking straight. She knew it happened all the time, she just never believed that it would happen to her. Nothing ever happened to her, she thought, nothing but the bad stuff.

Outside, people began yelling and screaming from excitement. Some of them were even happy and giddy. Rachael had to dodge a bare chested woman who had jumped in to her boyfriends arms, smiling. At least I have better breasts than her, thought Rachael. But it was a fleeting thought, as she jumped up into mid air and landed back onto the ground with an adrenoline influenced thud. She bolted into a run that was faster than before. A fleeting thought of Violet-but the thought was discarded as she heard footsteps with equal or greater intensity falling into step with her own.

Until she tripped. A parking meter had tripped her. That meant she was in an alley. The footsteps behind her slowed and then stopped. Rachael didn’t move.

Brian looked at the girl. The expression on her face was priceless, but quite unattractive. He had to have her. He stood, towering over her.

“What’s your name?” He asked simply.

“Rachael” She responded honestly. A poor mistake that let Brian know exactly how she compared with him.

He nodded and walked away, slowly. Rachael didn’t begin breathing normally again until she no longer heard his heels clicking the ground. But she still didn’t want to get up.

Rachael heard fresh footsteps approaching and she knew-with horror-it was her mother.

Rachael wasn’t thinking anymore. Her cheeks burned from blushing.
Her mother was going to beat her.

Rachael’s mother was a fifty year old woman with permanent lines on her face from frowning at her children. Only Rachael, actually, for she had no other children to frown at. Given the opportunity, however, Rachael’s mother would snarl and frown at the neighbor’s children, Matt and Mark. They were always getting into trouble, thought Rachael’s mother.

Rachael’s face was still on fire, and her feet felt like they weighed a ton. Her mind, on the other hand, was a million miles away. Anything but thinking-even thinking about thinking- about the incident at the corner store. When she could stand it no more, and a guilt like a waterfall rushed over her thirsty denial, she saw his face. The man who had asked her name. He was cute, thought Rachael. But scary. Because guys over thirteen or fourteen are not cute. And that’s just a law of life. But despite herself, Rachael typically found herself attracted to older men-seventeen or eighteen. She was glad, now that she thought about it, that the man hadn’t stolen her away from her mother.

But Rachael did not wonder about the shots or Brian’s comment, though, in all fairness, she had not been there to hear it. She did not wonder about the oddities noticed her she and her companion that night. The fact that the store had been playing Billy Joel, very odd. Though only Violet would have recognized the singer.


If you so much as knew that all could possibly be attained, then you would search for nothing. The idea of uncertainty has driven people insane with the desire to find. Curiosity is a knife the pierces every human. For example, a four year old girl may think and fantasize about sex for the mere reason that she knows nothing about it. As she grows older, she will learn more, and the curiosity will die with the fantasies, and they will not return to her until she has the actual hormone boost. In fact, in general, the less you know about something that people deem important, the more likely you are to want to know about it.

Chapter Two