Memories

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"Wait! Just wait!" El Paso coughed as he moved over a dead body and tried to prop himself against the wall. "I'll pay you. Whatever they are offering you, I'll double it."

Rick looked at the slightly obese man on the ground and looked away. He saw a tray of whiskey and glass mugs and went in that direction.

"You don't know why I'm doing this, do you?" Rock asked as he poured himself a cup.

"No, I don't. You simply come in here killing everyone, asking for the impossible." El Paso countered as he fumbled in his pocket.

Rick lifted the half filled mug, turned to El Paso and returned to the tray to pour another mug.

"I'll tell you a story. It's the only way you can understand. Si?" He asked as he handed the other glass to El Paso. He slumped into a chair and took a sip from the mug, savouring its taste.

"A little boy was living with his mother and his mother's ever changing boyfriends. The boys father died of something he couldn't remember. He barely remembers anything about his father." Rick took another sip.

"The only memories he holds are trips to the local pond. One day, this boy gets really lucky, you see. He captures this very tiny fish that isn't good for anything. But his father says he can keep it. So they find a disposed plastic bottle, cut it in half, fill it with pond water and put the fish in it."

Rick looked at the mug, as it was the plastic bottle. He shook it, watching the liquid swirl in a small whirlpool. For a second he thought he saw the fish in the glass. He looked at El Paso who didn't seem the least interested in the story. But he felt like telling it and so he continued.

"So this little boy now has an aquarium. It certainly wasn't like the standard ones but he liked it. It was the closest he had to a pet. One day his father didn't come back and the little fish was all he had."

"His mother began to experiment with drugs. Strange men began to spend the night in the house. His grades flunked. Everything was a mess in the house. Everything but the little fish in the bowl he always kept in his room." Rick sighed

"One day, one of his mother's boyfriend, the last he knew of, decided he needed to take a piss in the fish bowl. Now, for this boy, that fish bowl was all he had of his father, of a time he believed all was well. It was a goddamned stupid thing to do but he threatened to kill his mother's boyfriend if he touched it."

"The police probably have an opened case of a eight year old boy murderer. It didn't matter, he was free. Well, that boy managed to stay on his own, with that little fish for a couple of years. The fish died, it wasn't going to last long with the constant moving anyway. The boy, now a man, sun-dried it until it was crisp. He became something or a hitman. He lost his conscience, feelings, emotions... The only thing that made him feel human was that piece of sun-dried fish.

Rick yawned, stretched and finished the whiskey in the glass. He caught a movement from the corner of his eyes and scratched his head. He walked over to one of the dead men on the floor and squatted.

"El Paso, why do you think people always think other people are dumb?" He asked, with his back turned.

El Paso stood up, his bearing the image of a man who felt he had been humiliated for too long.

"Why don't you tell me? You come into my garage, killing all my men, asking for some lame dried fish. And then you force me to listen to your boring shot story. Thanks for the whiskey though." El Paso ended as he turned his back and whispered into the ears of the men that had just walked in. One of the men laughed.

"Looking for this?"

Rick turned to see his dried fish in the hands of a well built Mexican. The Mexican dropped the fish on the ground, spat on it and crushed it with his feet.

Twenty minutes later, responding police vans passed the lipping figure of a man badly injured cradling something in his hands. They arrived at the garage to see El Paso with a cork opener buried in his neck.