Free The Conch Shell of Doom by Ryan Hill

“Look at my face. I can do nothing for you.”
    Percy glared at Mr. Lovell’s face. For once, it seemed like the stoner was actually putting some thought into something.  
    “Shit!” Percy faced the van and then buried his face in his arms. The shoulder heaves came next.
    The boy’s crying. What a sad, pathetic excuse for a person.  
    Mr. Lovell scratched at his stomach.
    That said, we need to fix this. It’s too late to find a replacement.  
    “Stop whining. It’s disgusting. Let’s go inside. They should be able to help.”
    Mr. Lovell led Percy into the pharmacy. The cashier, an overweight black woman with wild, curly hair, greeted them from behind the register.
    “Oh!” She pointed at Mr. Lovell’s face. “You need some Aloe?”
    He swallowed back his anger. “I’m fine, but if you could point my friend toward the First Aid section.”
    The cashier yelped at Percy’s face. “What’s up with you two?”
    “First Aid,” Mr. Lovell growled.
    “Aisle three,” the cashier said. “Though I think you’re way past the point of Band-Aids. I’m going to call 9-1-1.”
    Percy ran down aisle three, and then tried to pick out a box of bandages. Mr. Lovell strolled over, the fluorescent lighting and brown carpet giving everything a deathly ill look. He laughed to himself. He scanned the aisle, picking out some heavy-duty gauze and medical tape.  
    “This will do.”
    The two of them went to the counter to pay. Percy scanned the candy rack in front of the register. Watching such a wreck of a person ogle at the sweets made Mr. Lovell feel the slightest bit of sympathy.
    Why not? We still need him.  
    “And whatever my associate picks out,” Mr. Lovell said.  
    Percy smiled and stashed a couple packs of Peanut M&Ms in his pocket. Mr. Lovell gave the cashier a fifty-dollar bill.  
    “You want change?”  
    “Keep it.” Mr. Lovell was ready to move on with his night. Percy’s mishap with Franklin had held things up long enough.
    “Can I get some painkillers, on the house?” Percy asked.
    The cashier shook her head. “Pharmacy’s closed, honey.”
    Outside, Percy leaned against his van, while Mr. Lovell tucked Percy’s eye back into the socket. Once it was packed in nice and tight, Mr. Lovell rolled the gauze around Percy’s head. Blood seeped through the first few layers, but the makeshift bandage did the trick. He looked like a mummy when Mr. Lovell finished.
    He hasn’t mentioned the cargo. We need to know if Franklin got to them.
    “I swear,” Percy dumped the last of the M&Ms in his mouth. “Nothing is going my way tonight. Not one damn thing.”  
    “Do you still have Trenton’s body parts?”
    Percy looked down at the ground. “Course. They’re in the back.”
    He’s lying.
    Mr. Lovell grabbed Percy by the neck. He tried to claw free, but it was no use.  
    “I really hate being lied to,” Mr. Lovell said.  
    “Franklin. He got them.”  
    Mr. Lovell squeezed harder. Not because he needed more information. He wanted to. Percy’s mistake led to most of Trenton’s body being destroyed. Mr. Lovell enjoyed the feeling of Percy’s throat collapsing under his grip.  
    “Boss,” Percy said, his flailing weakening by the second. “Please.”
    Let him go. I’m as disappointed as you, if not more so. That was my body he failed to protect.
    Mr. Lovell let Percy go. He massaged his neck, trying to ease the pain. He coughed as his lungs tried to take in large gasps of air.
    “He was just one guy. I had a gun. I didn’t think he’d smash my eye in with a cue ball.”
    Something we may want to thank him for.
    “You have to think. Always think.” Mr. Lovell patted down Percy’s wrinkled shirt. “You’ve never met Franklin in person. I should’ve been more diligent in explaining how dangerous he was.”
    Percy’s cigarettes had fallen on the ground. Mr. Lovell picked up the pack. He took one out and stuck it in Percy’s mouth. The boy tried to suck on it.  
    “Need to