Harold Jaffe's docufiction

by Harold Jaffe

cover image of 15 Serial Killersfrom 15 Serial Killers
(Raw Dog Screaming Press, 2003)

     Pack up a suitcase, babe.

     How come?

     Go for a ride.

     Where to?

     Go to New York. The Big Apple.

     I don't want to go to New York.

     Kalifornia, then. San Francisco. Flower Power.

     What do we do for wheels? Money?

     Snuff your hokey dad. Take his Chrysler and his money. Take his Rolex.

     His IBM clone powerbook?

     I got my own powerbook, babe. Got my own palm-pilot.

     What about my mom?

     Snuff her. Take her nightie and shit.

     Wear it when we sex?


     What about my dog? Muffin?

     Take Muffin with us.

     She don't like to ride in Chryslers.

     So we leave her. Drop her at Josie's.

     I'll miss her.



     We'll be back.


     When we're done.

     Done . . .

     Joy riding. Snuffin' hokeys. Having some fun.

     How about sex?

     That too. In your hokey mom's nightie.

     Me on top?

     Maybe. Depends how many we snuff.

     What if they nail us?

     Remember that last scene in Bonnie and Clyde?

     Shot to shit in slow-mo.


     Ton of bullets.

     Mo' the better. You gotta go, go real fast.

     Not me. I wanna savor. A single 9 mm round to the fat of the thigh. Bleed to death sweet and slow.

     Your thighs are firm not fat, babe.

     When do I get to wrap them around your neck?

     Soon's we snuff us some hokeys. Get that old blood squirting.

     How many we plan on doing like that?

     Got to be double figures.

     How come?

     Get our ass on TV, the Internet. Wouldn't you like to see your sweet ass on the Internet?

     Yeah. Let's do 16.

     16, 19. Who knows? We could do 23.

     I like 16. My favorite number is 8. Times 2.


     When do we leave?

     Sooner the better. Tonight.

     I thought we gonna sex tonight.

     We'll sex in the Chrysler. On the way to Kalifornia. After we snuff your hokey folks.

     If we sex while we drive you won't be able to wear my mom's nightie.

     Sure I will. Look at what's stuck in my jeans.

     Smith 357.

     Got me 3 more.

     All Smiths?

     Hell no. Got me a Glock and 2 Sigs. 9 mm.

     I bet you stole them.

     [Starkweather grins]

     Charlie Starkweather! You stole them, didn't you?

     Forgit it. It's a guy thing. You ain't a guy.

     I'm glad you noticed. Sometimes I wonder.

     What you wonderin' about, little darlin'?

     If you like me. If you even like girls.

     I like gals when I'm snuffin' hokeys. When I ain't I could care less.

     That's what we're gonna do, right? Snuff hokeys?

     Fuck yeah. All the way to Kaliforn-I-A.

     I'm expectin' some real hot sexin' from you, Chuck.

     You got it, babe.

     You in my mom's bloody nightie and padded bra.

     You in your dad's Rolex and Texas boots.

    The boots he wears to line dance with?

     Those exact ones. What time you got?

     Ten till.

     Your hokey dad must be home from his job in the korporation.

     They're eating dinner.

     What they eatin'?

     Today's Wednesday? London broil.

     Does your hokey dad remove his korporate nametag when he eats his London broil?

     Sometimes yes, sometimes no.

     Let's go snuff us some hokeys.

     Should I pack a suitcase first or after?

     First. So we split real quick. I copped the Glock for you. Lightweight stocks. Easy to handle. Want to snuff your mom or your dad?


     Why did I have a feeling you'd say that?

     What about Muffin?

     Drop Muffin off at Josie's on the way to the superhighway.

     Josie don't live near the superhighway.

     So we drop the dog and double back. No biggie.



     What, darlin'?

     What if I don't like Kalifornia?

     Then we go on to Utah. Idaho, where all them white-is-beautiful folks is at. It's a big damn country.

     Can't we just stay in Jersey?

     Jersey sucks, babe. You know that. Ain't you curious about the rest of this humongous fingerfuckin' country of ours?

     Not really.

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