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98
I Dare You,
Take His Bag
The bag is perched on my seat. I reach my hand in pulling out, a
broken baseball bat?
A leg.
A leg brittle and decomposing. Hands shuddering, I eased open
the zipper hoping to find any sports equipment, any at all. But none.
Unless Karson used his body for sports.
I cannot sleep tonight with him dead in Karson’s bag next to me.
‘Karson, you know my address?’
‘Marty, I followed you home. You took my bag, after all’
‘It was a dare’
‘I know’ He simpered.
‘…’
‘Do you want to keep it?’He gave him a perfunctory kick.
‘Not in particular’
‘Here’s the fun part. Congratulations on qualifying for the game.
You have two cards you can play: Assist me or live in the bag’ He
recited.
Except Karson you don’t understand, I don’t really get to ‘live’ in
the bag do I?
Karson swings open the vault.
‘Here’s my garden’
‘I’m sorry but I still don’t understand’A pretty dull garden if you
ask me, rows and rows of black bags.
‘It’s a game you see, people never pick strangers, always friends,
family, loved ones.’ Karson explained, nodding.
A game? Karson’s game is tossing bones not die, it’s sick, relying
on chance, hatred and love. But Karson’s my friend.
‘Do you know what happens to a human being when faced with
death’
‘They try to escape, to avoid the end’
‘Their hatred and love unravel, like flowers blooming in spring: a
truly beautiful sight. All their different coloured petals weaving a
garden, a sanctuary.’ he announced, arms spread, endearingly.’
He gently unzipped a black bag. I catch a glimpse of a shrivelled
up corpse.
I guess he doesn’t water them.
‘First, we need to do some pruning’
He yanks a corpse out from a bag, drags it by its armpits, then
hurls it into an antiquated Mazda.
10