The Man With Too Many Names

Two days later, Karl received a phone call.

         “That little episode with your tires backfired on me,” the voice said.  “I never suspected you would have a pump, asshole.  I’ll have to do more research next time.”

          Shit, it’s him again.  Karl recognized the voice as belonging to
the man whose life he had saved.

         “Now what do you want?”  Karl asked irritated to hear from the man again.

         “I want you to know, asshole, that I have a special purpose in harassing you,” he said, his voice steady and the words cropped.  “First of all, you may call me Ishmael.  It means outcast, and thanks to you and your meddling, that’s what I am now.”

         “Outcast . . . You?”  Karl said, surprised that he even considered talking at length to this guy now that he realized he probably would become a big pain in the ass.

         “We need to complete the process started the other day up on the side of that building.  Better get yourself ready, asshole; I’ll have little patience with you after several more days.”

         “Oh . . .?”  Karl said.  “Are you planning to hurt me in some way?”

         “No, no, asshole,” Ishmael said, with a harsh malicious voice.  “You have it all wrong.  I’m not going to do anything to physically hurt you.  You’re the one who will do the hurting.  You see, since I can no longer get up the nerve to kill myself, you’re going to do the job for me.”

         It took a moment for the ill-omened implication of those spoken words to register in Karl’s mind.  The despicable sonufabitch, what kind of bullshit is this?  Aloud he said, “You’re insane.”

“Don’t be so sure.”  The man’s voice, still full of vengeance, continued.  “I am a lot of things, and serious is one of them, but I’m not insane.  I want to die and you’re going to help me.  I had the perfect plan all set up to kill myself, and your Boy Scout deed, asshole, interrupted my plans.  You will finish what I started.  Too bad your lovely wife and child aren’t still here asshole, I’d really have something to pick at to get you outraged enough to kill me.  ‘Bye.”

         The phone smashed into the wall, pieces flying everywhere, as Karl tried to force control of his wild breathing.  Frightened, Fritz hid under the couch.

The idiot had been serious!  What’s next?