With Good Criminal Hearts

New Years for Bill wasn't unusual, not before this evening it wasn't.

Leaving his apartment of his drunken acquaintances into the streets, he observed the town. The streets suffered an urban sprawl, the concrete and asphalt were drenched in vomit, shards of glass bottles, and those unfortunate enough to pass out in the mess.

The streets were littered with so much waste that there was no automobile to be found. Bill found tire tracks in the filth, but it looked as if it was pushed and slid away.

Trying not to get his shoes soaked in bile, he stumbled over to a garbage can, and found two small paper bags to put over his feet. The paper bags had the logo of the local liquor store, failing to surprise Bill.

Tipsy and speech impaired, Bill struggled to find the cross streets he lived on. He asked the local homeless men where to find the street he lived on. They told him: "Eh, Santah, a'll tell ya w-hair to fin' yerself a street if ya can giv' me a gif' en those nice bag shoos."

It took him a half hour to discover he had been walking the wrong direction, when he urinated on the city limit sign. He had wondered why the suburbs were so close to the highway.

He decided hitchhiking home would be in his best interest, but not a necessity.

Bill was unemployed. He spent his Christmas 'bonus' on ad space in the paper, advertising how well he could greet you at a local convenience store. The town thought it was a joke, he couldn't bring himself to laugh about it.

Bill used to be a stressed individual, who spent most of his days in the corner of his office while avoiding contact with the members of his cubicle farm. After he was tired of the loud phone calls, constant chewing, tapping of pens, and the boss's cat leaving hair in his goddamn lunch. He was fired. He didn't know why he was fired, but questioning it and asking for his dejected job back wasn't in his agenda.

His voyage back to the city was a failure. He tried to enjoy the stars, but the light pollution distracted his weary eyes.

It was 3 am, January 1st of the New Year.

Walking down the shopping district of his city, he heard a several glasses breaking. Each time he heard it, part of a street went dark, and was followed by a cheer of a crowd.

Bill was surprised. Never in the town's history had anyone cheered, not even in drunken stupor.

Excited about the commotion, and the opportunity to meet new people, he followed the cheering.

Since he had been employed, Bill did not at once feel the slightest bit of excitement.

When he turned a corner, he collided with another man, fell on his back, and tore the paper bags from his shoes.

The man he had collided with bent over, and put one vomit caked boot on his chest and said:
"Are you a cop?"
"No, I'm unemployed." Bill replied, shocked and scared.
"Good. What are you?"
"Well, I'm Bill." said Bill.

The man removed his boot, and stared Bill down firmly. The man said:
"If I hear you say one word to the authorities, I'll have your parakeet killed."

Bill was baffled, how did this man know about his pet bird?

As soon as he thought that, the man tossed him his wallet. Bill had an affinity with birds, and wasn't afraid to take Polaroids of his pet. He was concerned that one day he might live in a constant world of forget, a phobia that stemmed from watching Memento stoned.

He looked on into the crowd... and the crowd looked back into him.

The crowd consisted of many broad men and slender women. The crowd was dressed formerly, as if they organized their chaos as well as a funeral procession.

There were women in dresses climbing up streetlights and smashing them with their high heels and handbags.

"Ladies! Atchung!" yelled a man with a low voice. The women slid down the poles and scurried toward the crowd that surrounded the man.  "You! There! Bird boy! Tell us your name."

Bill apprehensively said his name.

"Bill! Are you, a detective?" asked the low voiced man.

"No! I'm unemployed!" Declared Bill with caution.

"Oh, I see." said the man. His words came out so smoothly and quickly from his mouth, every sentence sounded like an over-enunciated word. "My name is Tom! Tom Cat! Like the airplanes, but don't worry, I don't bomb."

Bill was approached by Tom, and Tom hastily shook his hand.

"My band of dissidents are reclaiming this town!" shouted Tom Cat.
"Why exactly do you want this town?" questioned Bill.
"Why wouldn't you? It's full of life!"
"No, you see, it's New Years, it's the only holiday the religious, non-believers, and homeless will celebrate together."

Tom looked at Bill with a skeptical glare. Cat then said:
"So you're telling me that this town isn't vibrant and stirred with the life of people of the party tribe?"
"No, not at all."
"The ground is soaked in vomit! Similar to my second wife's apartment."
"Second wife?"
"I'm a polygamist!"
"That's illegal."
"Not anymore, this is my town."
"Oh."
"My fourth wife said she wanted this town, she's the most demanding."

A woman kicked the heel of Tom. Tom twisted, glared, and scolded his fourth wife quietly, as if trying to save his image. Once more, Tom spoke out and pronounced:
"With good criminal hearts, and your permission, may we take over your town?"
"It doesn't belong to me." Bill pointed out.

Tom Cat's smile turned into a stern stare.

Cat looked around briefly, and periodically turned to see his crowd. He pulled out a list and started taking attendance.

"Cindy! Wife number one! And my favorite!"
"Here!"
"Jonathan! First mate!"
"Captain!"
"Don't call me that. Sarah! Wife number two!"
A burp emitted from the crowd.
"The rest?"
The crowd cheered.
"Well then, it sounds like we're all here! You know what that means?!"
The crowd cheered once more.
"The Orgy of Chaos shall begin! But before, we must take role call!"
Tom Cat pulled the list out. He observed it again. He then put it away.
"My mistake." Cat whispered.

Cat pulled out a whistle and blew into it with pleasure.

The crowd broke into each direction, with spray paint and stickers. They ascended fire escapes with banners and megaphones while making bizarre noises, to see if they could wake the passed out residents. No one woke up.

Cat smiled and started to hum to himself, while skipping off with a wife in his arms.

Bill stood, the world stopped for long moments as he strolled up and down the sidewalk. He had never seen people so happy to break so many things.

Bill watched, when we soon heard sirens. Since the lights of the streets were destroyed, it was easy to see where the flashing red and blue lights were approaching from.

The crowd ceased laughing.

Tom set down his wife and picked up a cracked megaphone, he blurted:
"Orgy of Chaos! Regroup! To the moving vans!"

The crowd descended the buildings and sprinted in the other direction. The dissidents frantically tried opening the vans, but none seemed to find their keys. The authorities approached.

Tom checked his pockets and found a large key ring, with all the vans' keys. He cursed to himself.

He threw the keys into the gutter.

Cat then screamed:
"It's bird boy! Bird boy Bill set us up!"

The mob turned to Bill.

The police cars had stopped. Through the car, an officer asked:
"All of you, freeze! Whose responsible for this?"

Tom Cat screeched in response:
"It was Bill! Bill's! Right there! The one closest to you!"
The crowd began to chase Bill. The police began to chase Bill.

The crowd had swore the police were life long enemies, and the police had never heard of the Orgy of Chaos. In conclusion, they were not working together.

Bill was running, not quite understanding why, but he didn't want to question this, either.

Bill had dodged slipping in vomit on multiple occasions. He did not allow himself to fall, whether it be the authorities or the chaos, he would not find himself in the hands of anyone else but himself that night.

On the verge of a hysterical breakdown, he managed to encompass himself inside a greenhouse on the outskirts of town.

The greenhouse was humid, and Bill stripped himself of his pants and overcoat.  He lay in the corner of the greenhouse, and listened to the sirens drive by and the crowd passing the streets below. He eventually stood on the tables of plants and watched fires emerge from the towns. He saw silhouettes and shadows chasing each other on the walls of buildings. The small people with the giant shadows.