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Johnny

P. Keith Boran

III

    “I know I have to, Johnny,” JoJo said, “I really do.” Sitting in his car, he listened to the rain beat down on the hood. He was bored, for no one visits a rest stop at 4:43 am. He looked to the passenger seat. “You’ve done this before, right,” he asked. “Sure,” Johnny replied, “bunches of times.” JoJo nodded. “How does it feel?” Johnny smiled. “Well, it’s like cutting fruit ripe and firm,” he replied, “and you just listen to ‘em beg and beg.” JoJo nodded as he rocked back and forth. “And the more they beg,” Johnny whispered, “the slower you cut.”
    Their conversation was interrupted by approaching headlights. “This could be it, kid,” Johnny said, “this could be the one.” The car pulled in and parked; it ran idly for a moment before it sputtered to a stop. A young woman emerged. She didn’t notice a car parked behind her. She sprinted to the bathroom, hoping not to get soaked in the rain. “You ready,” Johnny asked. “I think so,” JoJo replied. “This won’t be no day at the races, kiddo,” Johnny said, “but it needs doing.” JoJo rubbed purell on his hands as he looked at the knife lying in his lap. “Are you sure,” he whispered. “You don’t get it,” Johnny replied quietly, “and you won’t until you’ve gone in there with that there blade.”
    JoJo opened his car door and stepped out. He stood in the pouring rain for a moment, clutching his knife. “Do you want to be a man,” Johnny asked, “do ya?” He looked back to Johnny. “Go on,” Johnny yelled, “get on with it!” And JoJo reluctantly obeyed.

II

    “I’s gots to go,” she said softly to the music loud and thumping. She had just left a routine get-together with her friends, a tradition long standing and admired, for they loved to discuss matters irrelevant to the living. She lacked another twenty miles or so until she’d be home, leaving her the rest stop or the interstate’s shoulder to pee. And since she was a lady, she went with the former. “Besides,” she thought to herself, “it’s not like anyone’s there to hear.” She parked her car, taking a moment to put out a cigarette. With everything settled, she opened the door and ran. When she opened the bathroom door, she nearly vomited. “Somebody’s been here,” she said softly, “and they had a real good time.” She walked along the stalls, surveying each one to find the cleanest. “I see we are not particularly fond of flushing,” she whispered, “kids these days, geez.” She finally chose a commode to squat over, pulled her panties down, and went to work. She had just started urinating when the door abuptly opened.

III

    JoJo could see her feet and calves beneath the third stall. She didn’t look to be sitting, but squatting instead. He clutched the knife tightly in his hand, waiting for her to finish. When she did, she punctuated the act with a long flush, one that sucked down anything one might think to put inside it. She didn’t notice him until she opened the door. “You do know this is the lady’s room,” she said unpleasantly. JoJo didn’t say anything; he just stood there. Then, she noticed the knife, and her eyes went wide.
    “I have to do this,” he said softly, “Johnny told me to.” She began to back away, slowly unzipping her dress. “He said I’d like it,” JoJo continued, “he said you’d beg for your life.” He started towards her just after she dropped her dress. A bulge developed quickly; it was just below his belt.
    “And just where do you think you’re going with that,” she asked. JoJo stopped and looked down. “It’d be an awful shame to waste it,” she said softly, nodded towards his bulge, her hands were folded neatly behind her back. He walked towards her, a look of anticipation flush on his face. He dropped the knife, and with his hands outstretched, he gestured for an embrace. JoJo didn’t feel it until his arms were tight around her. She slipped it into his belly and twisted it.
    JoJo stammered to the floor. She bent over him and smiled. “You men,” she said, “are all alike.” She dangled a silver object back and forth in her hand. “Butterfly knives are so handy,” she whispered in his ear, “petite and small, but mighty and sharp as well.” She giggled as she hacked at him with his knife. JoJo screamed and screamed. “Go on,” she said softly, “no one can hear you.” And when JoJo’s throat became hoarse, he started begging. “Please stop,” he pleaded, “please.” She smiled. “Again,” she said, “ask again.” And so he did, until everything began to fade. He looked at her one last time. “Johnny,” he whispered, “is that you?” She laughed. “Help,” JoJo whispered, “Johnny please.” “Shhh,” she whispered, “there is no Johnny here.”

IV

    It was several days before someone noticed the abandoned car in the parking. And when the police were summoned, they searched it. “What’s that pinned to the seat,” one policeman asked another. “A photo,” he replied, “a photo of Johnny Cash.”

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