“Friggin’ glass!” I deserve everything I get, stepping on what’s left of my television. How juvenile, picking it up and slamming it on the floor. And how juvenile was it slicing Anderson’s tires and gouging the side of his nice old classic? But when I went right past that policeman again and to the front door, the try keys wouldn’t work. I needed to get inside once more. The last time was just too much fun, watching him sleep. Knowing I could take him any time I wished. I’d been thinking of that all day, anticipating. Short of my head exploding and waking the cop sleeping in his car, I had to do something to bleed the anger off. But vandalize a car? And on a full moon, when the cop could have awakened and seen me. It’s not like when I planned the killings on a full moon to give the cops something to ponder. Send them in a different direction. Tonight the policeman could have spotted me. Tonight luck favored the foolish. Again.
I take off my shoes and wrap them in a plastic bag before hiding them above my loose ceiling tile. I’ve read some people have a favorite weapon they use. Some a ritual they go through before heading out to hunt. My superstition is my shoes—they’ve been good to me all these times, and will continue to be in the future. Because they have a future with me.
Tonight. Tomorrow at the latest. With Johnny surviving and coming out of his coma immanently, I can’t chance that he’ll remember me walking up to him in his driveway. I can’t chance he’ll remember me thrusting out my hand to shake his, clutching my small auto.
I’ll have to pay him another visit. And I’ll wear my lucky shoes when I do.