THE CHOP SHOP aka THE TOURIST TRAP
TGREAPER 2009
“Mary, I’m telling you, the smart money’s on Bakerfield.” I watched my Mom roll her eyes at my Dad’s statement before burying myself back in the new issue of Inside Kung Fu.
“John, we’re vacationing, not buying stocks. Turkey Ville is right up the highway. Small community, craft shows, the best turkey dinner in ....Michigan.....” Mom stopped when she realized Dad wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. He took a big bite of his omelet and chased it with a cup of steaming decaf. That’s my Dad for you, Holier than thou. His way or the highway, even if his way was on a dead end street. Mom looked at me, shrugged, and then went back to eating her oatmeal.
Dad waved his empty cup to the waitress, who looked like she could’ve been in my grade in high school. Dad’s eyes danced across her body freely, making her noticeably uncomfortable. I looked over at Mom, who was doing her best to ignore him.
“So,” Dad said in his seductive voice. “Ever been to Bakerfield?”
“You’re going to Bakerfield? Awesome! They’ll love you there.” The waitress brushed back her blonde hair, exposing her big blue eyes, which were suddenly full of life. She ripped the check off her pad and left in on the table as she left. I watched Dad watch her ass, the whole time convincing myself that if he slapped hers like he did to the waitress in Leslie last night I was going to seriously kick him in the scrotum in the parking lot. Mom looked relieved that he kept his hands to himself for a change. I started reading about balisongs when Dad slapped the table.
“Wake up Karate boy! Time to head out.” He sat back, waiting for my reaction. His being an ass was pretty much a daily ritual. First, he belittles Mom, then pisses me off, then goes to work, just to come home at night to start the fun all over again. He wasn’t physically abusive, even though at times I wish he was so I could claim self defense. No, he was the lowest of all scum; he attacked your dreams and your heart.
“What’s your problem Miyagi?” Dad had that dickhead sneer on his face.
“Besides the fact that you made two Japanese references and I study Chinese martial arts? Nothing I can think of.”
“Time to go smart ass,” He said. Mom and I climbed into the mini van as he flirted with the waitress some more.
“Think she will give him her phone number?” Mom asked.
“She’s my age. That’s sick.” I replied.
Dad walked out, stuffing a piece of paper in his shirt pocket and smiling ear to ear. He climbed in and started the van without saying a word. I wish the whole trip was that silent. We got onto the Highway and I got to listen to how I was wasting my life “doing that chop sockey crap” instead of working full time and chasing skirts around. Then came the usual questions about my sexual preferences, because if I wasn’t womanizing, I must be queer. I used to argue his point by telling him I respect women, but I figured Mom was tired of hearing him say that women were only tools, good for sex and cleaning and nothing more. If you treated them any better than that, they would start believing that their opinions mattered. So I buried my head back in my magazine and let him crow on in all his stupid glory.
We took the off ramp and followed the signs down an old gravel road until we found a sign that said WELCOME TO BAKERFIELD. It was one road. I never saw a smaller town. One road ran past the length of the town, with rickety old buildings lined up on both sides. The first building on the left was a gas station, and it looked like a city of old cars parked behind it. Across from that was a grocery store, then a hardware store across from that. The last two buildings on the left were the butcher shop and hotel, and on the right was a bar and what might at one time have been a restaurant. Now it was just an empty building. Dad looked disappointed.
“Don’t worry John,” Mom said. “I’m sure they’re plenty of tools working at the hotel.” The look he gave her was priceless. He said nothing as we unloaded and filed into the hotel.
Two hours later I was lying on the bed in my room reading my magazine. Dad talked the hottie at the front desk to give me my own room so he wouldn’t watch me wasting my time doing my chop sockey stuff. I could hear them across the hallway, arguing over the young women Dad humiliated today. I heard him tell her he was going to the bar just before the door opened and slammed. I put my ipod in my ears to block out my Mom’s crying. I stood up and started stretching.
It was about twelve thirty in the morning and I still couldn’t sleep. Dad hadn’t come home yet, and I didn’t like the idea of Mom being left all alone. I got up and started to head over there when I decided to arm myself. I pulled my throwing stars from my bag and shoved them into my sweats pocket. I really had no reason to arm myself; I just figured it was the magazines I read. I put my hand on the door knob when I heard the door across the hall way open and close. Ah, the great one finally returns, I thought. I walked over to the window, which overlooked the butcher shop. There was a small group of locals gathered outside, looking around nervously. A minute later, two men walked outside from the hotel, carrying something wrapped in a sheet. It looked like a body. I ran across the hall to Mom’s room. It was empty, and the sheets were missing from the bed.
“What the hell?” I said out loud. I ran back to the door and opened it just in time to see two guys walk into my room, closing the door behind them. I slipped quietly into the hallway, and put my ear up to the door.
“He was supposed to be here,” one of the men were saying.
“You reckon he saw us outside?”
“I reckon so.”
“Think he’ll go to the sheriff?”
“If he does, Sheriff Hodges will just bring him to us anyway.”
“Pa says the loud mouth will make a great stew.”
“I love stew.”
Dad. It had to be. I slipped back into Mom’s room and waited for them to leave. When they did I went back and grabbed my bag. Inside was a set of throwing darts and a retractable tai chi sword. I strapped my darts to my wrist and slipped into my kung fu uniform. I knew I looked out of place, but if I was going to fight, I was going to fight as a kung fu warrior. I slid my sword into a case that was strapped to my back and I eased over to the window. Three guys were standing down there staring back up at me. Not a good start. I waved to them, and they waved back, just before running inside. I could hear them on the steps charging in my direction. They kicked in the door and filled the room, crouched and ready to pounce on me. I reached behind me and pulled my tai chi sword. A quick flick of the wrist snapped it into its full extension.
“Well, lookie here,” one of the men said. He rushed me and my body went into motion. It was like a dance. I didn’t realize he had a machete until it whizzed above my head as I ducked and thrust the point of my blade into his stomach. I pulled it out and swung it deep into another man’s ribs. He turned away violently, snapping the blade off and into his body. The third man took a swing at me and I deflected it easily with my left hand, while striking his face with a palm heel from my right. Instinct was running the show as my arms grabbed his attacking arm and shoved him down to the floor.
Where are they boy?” I heard myself shout. He was down on three limbs, his fourth one being held by me. When he didn’t respond I stomped on his heel, driving his toes into the floor. I heard them crack.
“Ow Damn!” He shouted.
“I asked you a question. Where are they?”
“Butcher shop. Back room at the butcher shop.” He was fighting back tears. I didn’t want to have him showing up and warning the others while I was trying to save my family, so I stomped his other heel. Hard. I could hear the tiny bones shatter. He screamed out in pain and I worried they would hear him. As a final measure I locked out the arm I was holding, and then rammed my knee into it. His arm turned in the wrong direction. I left him sobbing in a pile and slipped outside.
The back door was unlocked and unguarded. I saw a total of ten guys outside and I wondered if that was all of them. If it was, I only had seven left to go. I crept down the dark hallway, being careful not to make the wooden floor creak. At the far end, two men were standing next to a door talking to each other. I pulled my darts out of the case and hugged the wall, hoping to get close enough to get a good shot. I got a few steps closer before one of them noticed me.
“Come here boy,” He said, walking towards me. I hurled the dart at him, expecting to get him in the arm or leg. My aim was off a little. The point impaled his throat, the impact knocking him backwards and into the other guy, knocking them both down.
He saw the dart protruding from his neck and scrambled to his feet. He started to charge me, and again I hurled a dart. This one struck him in the center of his left eye. I quickly ran up and punched his throat before he could scream out.
He was still wiggling on the floor as I opened the door and slipped inside. Mom was sitting in the corner, her hands and feet tied, a gag shoved into her mouth. The room was small, with a single light hanging from the ceiling. I untied Mom and pulled the gag.
“They’re going to kill us,” she whispered. “They’re going to kill us, and eat us.”
“What the hell?” I said. Mom reached up and slapped me with a weak hand.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked. Her face turned sour.
“That bastard gave us to the people to save his own ass. He walked out with them.”
I wanted to say what the hell again, but I didn’t want her to slap me. Mom looked like she was about out of it. I crouched down in front of her.
“Mom, I’ve taken out five of them so far. Do you know how many there are all together?”
“No. Not too many I don’t think. I heard one of them say more were coming tomorrow for the feast.”
“Okay, I’m going to get Dad, you wait here. Lock the door after I leave.”
“Are you nuts?! You’re all I got in this world now. You are not going anywhere young man!”
“Mom, you can ground me later. Right now I have to find Dad.”
Reluctantly, she let me go. I slipped back into the hallway and continued moving forward. There was another door at the far end that opened with a slight creak. Inside was Dad. Or what was left of him. His head was on a shelf, along with his left hand. His legs from the knees down were leaned against the wall in the back corner. His torso and other arm was missing. I wanted to vomit.
“What you doing here boy?” A voice said behind me. I turned to see five men crowding the hallway, armed with cleavers and machetes. A fat man in the center was wearing a bloody tee shirt that read KISS THE COOK on it.
“You’re Pa I take,” I said. The man smiled and nodded.
“Well, that’s my Pa in there,” I said, pointing at the door. “You took away my ....Pa.....”
“Shut up boy,” one of the other men said. “Your Pa is going to taste good.”
“You’re going to make a good dessert boy,” another added.
I was unarmed, except for one remaining dart. Without warning, the men charged me. Once again, my body took over. I dodged a cleaver that bit into the man behind me, nearly removing his head. I took the dead man’s machete and slammed the blade into the first attacker. I pulled it out and swung it wide, striking the other two men, hitting them both in the throat. The fat man turned to run and I hurled the machete at him, spearing him in the back. I started taking deep breaths as he slumped onto the floor. I went back to the back room and found my Mom, who was lying in the corner with a cleaver sticking out of her chest. That was it. Something in me snapped like a twig. I grabbed the cleaver and walked back out to the hallway.
By the time the rest of the town arrived in the morning, I had tons of meat chopped up and boiled for them. At first they were shocked to see me, which I understood, since they were used to the fat guy being their ....Pa..... It didn’t take long for them to warm up to me, and soon we were all enjoying the meal. And I had to agree with them, Dad did taste good in the stew.