Page 28 of Hello, Listener
“How does it feel to be one of God’s favorites?” He laughs, finally picking his movie, the third movie in the Friday the 13th franchise.
“Why this one?” I ask, stuffing more food into my mouth.
“It’s a classic. He hides in the woods like a fucking shadow.” His explanation is almost funny as he grabs a handful of sour candy.
New Material
Three, two, one.Lee’s hand gestures towards me. Signaling me to enter this week’s episode introduction. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” I start. “Hello, you sick fucks,” Lee adds, and I can’t help but laugh. His additions always get me. I never know what he is going to say next.
“If you’ve never tuned in, this is the Manhattan Murders Podcast. Another beautiful day to talk about the murders in the city that never sleeps.” I continue with the usual theme of my introduction.
“Yeah, we’ve all heard it before, Alan.”
“Well, you never know, Lee. We may have somenewlisteners with us this week.”
“Oh, some new sick fucks out there tuning in?” His voice turns up at the question.
“You never know, my friend.” I shrug my shoulders for our viewing audience and turn my head in Lee’s direction.
“On that note, what can you tell us about today’s episode?” He takes a drink from the clear glass sitting in front of him. This time it’s full of the bourbon he brought with him. The ice cubes hit the sides of the glass as he tilts it up to his lips.
“Today, we’re talking about a story that’s a bit more recent than our last few episodes.” I lift my black coffee mug to my lips, and his eyes widen at my answer as if to act surprised. It’s all for show, of course, more or less for the viewing audience.
“Really? How recent are we talkin’?”
“We’re talking about the early nineties, my friend.”
“Shit, times were so different then.”
“Hell yeah, they were. Full of landlines, none of this social media bullshit of taking pictures of what drink you got from Starbucks or what fucking sandwich you’re eating.” We both laugh into the microphone.
“Times were fucking simpler then. All we needed were our fucking Game Boys and our bikes.” Lee takes another drink of his bourbon.
“Well, Alan. Can you tell us what sick fuck was working his way through Manhattan in the nineties?”
“That, my friend, was none other than—”
“Holy shit!” Lee shouts. I look up from my mic. He stares at his phone, clicking off the record option soon after.
“What’s up?” I set my coffee mug next to my mic.
“Did you fucking see what happened?” His eyes are still scanning over his phone screen.
“No, asshole. I’ve been recording with you. Not looking at my phone…”
“Pick up your fucking phone, dipshit.” His eyes look down at my phone, signaling for me to pick it up. My first instinct is to check TikTok. These days, that’s where they show the news that people aren’t afraid to hide. I stop at the first livevideo.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” A loud woman yells. Her heavy accent comes in through the speakers. Her phone zooms to an alley between two brick buildings barricaded by caution tape. Her voice echoes on the other side of the studio, coming in from Lee’s phone speakers.
“A fucking body?!” Her friend’s voice chimes in after hers. His intonation is just as thick. “What do you mean a fucking body?! Well, who the fuck is it?!” Her phone now zooms out and pans over to two officers. They’re trying their best to calm the two bystanders down, but are failing miserably.
“We can’t tell you that.” The male officer answers. His calm tone has a hint of irritation. The crease between his dark brows deepens. You can tell he had been at the scene for what may have been hours.
“Well, why the fuck not?!” The woman asks. Her voice cracks, and her eyes start to glisten. I almost feel sorry for her.Almost.I continue to scan around her as much as the camera in the phone allows.
“I can’t tell you until everyone is notified, ma’am,” he persists in trying to keep his voice calm, but you can hear the annoyance in his voice. A scream echoes in the distance, and the phone pans over to a woman with long black hair and pale skin. Her body is facing what looks like a dark green dumpster. The phone camera shakes as it zooms in on the poor thing standing behind the caution tape. She holds her tear-covered face in her small hands.
“Turn off the phone, please. Show some respect.” The other officer commands. The live video ends abruptly.
