Revolvers – New Fiction

Reid Dickie

I love taking long baths.

Alone in the house, I decided on a bath. I made all the preparations, climbed in while filling – my favourite part – and gathered around me a hot soothing broth that would be my world for now.

I’m not a fussy bather. We’ve had large old claw-footed monsters with sloping backs that compliment the curve of my spine perfectly. Now we have a dated blue-coloured metal tub under a shower. Small and narrow, it’s a tub nonetheless. I lit a candle; pulled the shower curtain to create a tiny room and floated off into a warm watery reverie. My kind of evening.

Not two minutes into the soup, I heard a dull thud from downstairs at the back of our two-story house. Then another. I had locked the front door and knew the back was secure as well. A louder, longer thud came followed by the sound of the heavy patio door sliding open. I sat up in the tub and listened intensely. I heard stealthy footfalls and a mutter. Break-in.

As quietly as possible, I stood up in the tub and slid past the curtain. I dried my feet on the floor towel and wrapped the bath towel around my waist. I could hear the sound of brittle plastic clacking. They were after my CDs.


I cracked the bathroom door. The clacking grew louder.

With no phone on this floor I wondered what could become a quick weapon. Nothing came to mind. The heaviest thing on the floor was LPs. Why not, I thought.

I deeked into the nine by nine, grabbed a handful of LPs from the top shelf and carried them to the table at the head of the stairs. My towel fell off and I kicked it to the side. Naked I carried two more handfuls of LPs to the table. I had almost fifty LPs at the ready. The clacking continued the whole time. Just then, the cat came chatting down the hall toward me to investigate the commotion. I grabbed her, put her in the bathroom out of harm’s way and closed the door. The snapping of the door made the plastic clacking stop.

I heard someone say, “You get the rest. Hurry.”

Holding a stack of LPs, I peered over the railing. I saw someone step onto the first landing, looking up. He glanced away and I dropped the LPs. They mostly missed him but the corners grazed his cheek and disoriented him a bit.

“You son of a bitch,” he said coming up the stairs.

I grabbed a bigger handful of LPs and lifted them above my head. I saw a flash of metal in his hand. He was looking up at me; head tilted back swearing when I dropped them. Bull’s eye! The flat side of the records slammed into his upturned forehead. His head went back, I heard a snap and he tumbled backward down the seven steps he’d climbed amid a shower of LPs. Some of the vinyl escaped from the sleeves in mid air. He landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, limbs all akimbo, littered with LPs. A snub nose lay next to him.

I heard the accomplice say, “Nicky? Nicky? You okay?” in a semi-loud whisper. I saw a hand reach toward Nicky and give him a shake. I heard “Holy shit!” and the thump of a bag being dropped followed by the sound of a bumpy inelegant escape.

I leaned on the banister for support, my heart racing, breathing deep.

A few minutes later, I called the police.

I’d broken his neck. Killed him.

He was packing. Lucky for me. Self-defense. No charges.

Turns out Nicky was wanted for two gruesome home invasions. He’d bust down the door of one old man and gave him a heart attack. The other was an elderly woman in a wheelchair.

Police caught the accomplice twenty minutes later. His wallet had fallen out onto my living room floor.

My CDs and LPs were kept as evidence but I got the whole works back about three months later. There were twelve LPs in the first drop, weighing 8 lbs, twenty-one in the second, weighing 15 lbs. 33 records in all, 23 lbs total. All the heroic LPs involved are listed below. A few sustained injuries, noted with ^. There was one fatality, noted with ~.

The accomplice told police Nicky’s favourite song was “Stairway to Heaven.” Led Zeppelin IV was one of the LPs that killed him.

Everything is a circle.


Breakfast at Tiffany’s SDTK – Henry Mancini

Movies – Holger Czukay^

Fisherman’s Blues – Waterboys

Sea of Dreams – Nelson Riddle

Ptah the El Daoud – Alice Coltrane^

The Notorious Byrd Brothers – Byrds

All Aglow Again – Peggy Lee

Closing Time – Tom Waits

Greatest Hits – Wilson Pickett

No Pussyfooting – Fripp & Eno

Soldier of Love – Arthur Alexander

First – Jackson Browne^


IV – Led Zeppelin

West Meets East – Menuhin/Shankar

Silk Road – Kitaro^

Lonesome Echo – Jackie Gleason

Dear Friends – Firesign Theatre

Heartbeat – John Mills-Cockell

Relax With – Reveen

Rock Billy Boogie – Robert Gordon

The Red Bird Story – Various Artists

Time Out – Dave Brubeck Quartet^

Matching Tie & Handkerchief – Monty Python

The Golden Era – Bob Wills & his Texas Playboys

In Person Friday & Saturday Nights – Miles Davis

Ring-A-Ding – Frank Sinatra^

Floating into the Night – Julee Cruise

Rhythm of Resistance, Music of Black South Africa – Various Artists

Revolver – The Beatles~

Live Stiffs – Various Artists

Unrequited – Loudon Wainwright III

Music from a Sparking Planet – Esquivel^

Hawaii Goes A Go-Go – Martin Denny


Filed under Fiction, Idiots, Music

4 responses to “Revolvers – New Fiction

  1. Nice Work! Love the story, totally grabbed my attention right till the end.


    Heart thumping!

    Sent from Sharon’s iPhone.


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