Pineapples

     Reese loved pineapples. He liked everything about them. The color of
the shell, the leaves whose sharp ridges would cut deeply when passed
quickly over someone's wrist, even the smell excited Reese. Every
morning when Reese rose from bed and put on his Hello Kitty bath robe
and fuzzy slippers he would pour himself a bowl of cereal in the
kitchen, pull a large, wet butcher knife from the wooden holder, and
chop himself a slice of pineapple. Not the end slice, which had been
sitting exposed in the refrigerator all night long since his last slice
the previous morning and was thus a little dry. He cut that slice off
and fed it to his pet Gila Monster.
    Jill, who worked at the grocery store, used to fuck Reese. Back in high
school when they used to have both feelings and convictions they were
neither best friends nor even acquaintances. But Jill would watch the
back of Reese's well proportioned head and sigh inside. She wondered if
Johnny DeMarko would ever quit boning his girlfriend (it turns out that
they didn't actually have sex, who knew?) and finally introduce her to
the quiet kid with the nice haircut, slim fit jeans, who smelled
amazing and always remembered to turn in his homework. And who-rumor
had it-liked her.
    Truth is, Reese didn't even know Jill's name, but he would never admit
that later when they started dating. Even after Jill's parents kicked
him out of the house and forbade him to ever return, and Jill took him
to the the parking lot just outside the local water park and made love
to him again just to get back at her parents. Even after Jill sobbingly
apologized to him for sleeping with Johnny DeMarko while she was on
ecstacy. Even after he wrestled with taking her back prom night, and
instead got drunk and high and wrapped his car around a tree and killed
his best friend Johnny. Even after, by a scheduling coincidence at the
hospital, he wound up delivering her baby ten and a half years later (he
later found out it was her third baby with her second husband). After
all that, Reese never told her that he hadn't known her name until she
whispered in between sloppy, inexperienced kisses.
    Now Reese simply enjoyed his fresh cut slice of pineapple. There was
nothing in the world quite like the wet refreshing taste of a good
slice of pineapple. Just like there was nothing in the world like the
feeling of pushing nine milimeter bullets into the clip of a handgun,
grasping the rubberized grip, and sliding the magazine home.
    Because Reese was going to kill someone later today.