THE EDUCATION OF MAX CARVER - CHRISTOPHER GRANT
February 3, 2010
Max Carver is seventeen. He’s still a virgin in so many ways.
Sexually, for one thing.
He’s never been with a girl or a woman or even a guy, though that ain’t his thing.
Mentally, for another.
He sees the world in black and white and doesn’t notice the nuances and the wonders never cease. I mean, for Christ’s sake, he’s seventeen. You’d think he’d be at least a little cynical.
Physically, he’s not much. His arms look like buggy whips, his legs look like pretzel sticks. He is the epitome of the pencil-necked geek.
I see the possibilities immediately.
He reminds me a lot of Jeremy, the last guy I made better. Damn shame about Jeremy. But Max could be Jeremy reincarnated. Same naive thoughts, same one track mind. Everyone thinks of geeks as smart people. Jeremy wasn’t. Remember?
They also assume geeks don’t think about sex. Bullshit. Jeremy and I were doing it all the time and when we weren’t, we were working.
I don’t know anything about Max yet. But he’s got potential. We’ll see.
February 8, 2010
I button up my jeans and pull on my shirt.
Max is a ‘man’ now.
His face is priceless, a combination of excitement and confusion. Excitement for what we just did and the possibility that there will be more. Confusion because what he knows of sex is that the girl is supposed to be the one that wants to cuddle and all that shit.
I ain’t that kind of girl.
He says, “I love you.” This after one fuck.
“Will you still love me tomorrow?” I ask him.
He laughs. I might be asking a musical question but I ain’t joking. I really do wonder, especially after what I’m about to have him do.
February 9, 2010
I’m proud of Max. He did exactly what I told him to do; walk into the gas station, put the gun in the clerk’s face and make him empty the drawer and the safe. The old man didn’t even bother trying to trigger the police alarm.
Of course, now that he can identify Max, we have to get out of town.
February 10, 2010
$600. I know, what can you expect from a one-horse shithole like Max’s town? But I was thinking at least $1000.
Besides, Max is so happy, so excited to do something like this and get away with it, he doesn’t even care about having to leave town or his family and his friends behind.
He tells me that he wrote a letter to them, explaining everything to them.
Max is so happy he can’t wait to pull the next job. It’s all he talks about when we’re between the sheets.
February 12, 2010
Honestly, if you’re going to do the job, do it right.
Max is still a virgin at this shit even though we got his cherry popped two towns ago.
It’s just like what happened with Jeremy.
This gas station attendant didn’t think we posed any kind of threat so I told Max to stick the gun in the guy’s face, show him that he had bullets in every chamber of the pistol. He did it but the guy still wouldn’t budge.
“Shoot him,” I said.
Take your fucking eye off the ball, Max, and you pay.
The guy reached for something and I shot him in the head.
All that trouble was worth twenty dollars.
February 14, 2010
It’s Valentine’s Day!
Max has been sick all week. He says that he’s having nightmares about the guy that we killed, the guy that I shot. Max says that they’re going to catch up with us, that it’s only a matter of time, that we’re all over the cameras in the gas stations and we’re dead when they do get us.
I ask him if he wants any of my fries.
BIO: Christopher Grant is the editor and publisher of A Twist Of Noir. This story took over a year to get exactly how he wanted it.
Regarding "Stop begging for Diversity"
7 hours ago