"Killing Tom" is the story of two drunken, drug-addled nincompoops who conspire to murder the insane boyfriend of one of the men's mother, who they feel will most likely eventually soak up every last penny of any possible inheritence to be had down the road.
The story takes place over the course of a year - from one Christmas to the next. I thought it only fitting to sit down and apply the finishing touches to the first draft while on Christmas vacation from the Anonymous Fortune 500 Company. It somehow makes sense, and I somehow feel ready to write the last of it.
It's been a long road - this one has been in the hopper for years. My ex-brother in-law Kelly and I started writing it back and forth via email for laughs, each entry taking the story in a more absurd direction than the last. That worked for awhile, but eventually my instinct for story began to take over, for better or worse. I started writing longer chunks and eventually Kelly dropped out. I don't recall why - I'm certain I probably kept writing and stopped emailing, hijacking the tale for all intents and purposes. Sorry, Kelly - it wasn't intentional. Of course, he might have simply lost interest... I should ask before I get all apologetic.
But I digress.
Looking at the book to the point where I left off, the nincompoops (Walter and Jack) have thus far butchered the neighbor's dog (by accident), nearly burned down the family cabin in Wisconsin, set off a bridge disaster on the Chicago River, gained and lost equitable employment as a circus clown, ingested liquid morphine, handfuls of painkillers, gallons of whiskey and set a man's feet on fire. There promises to be more to come.
The story is dark and frightening. It is also some of the funniest work I have ever written. All at the same time. I look forward to chipping away at the rock over the next couple of weeks to see what lurks beneath. The story awaits - it is up to me to find it.