The Last Breakfast/ Bus Stop, a short story

It was one year ago today that Chantel Garp, of Tampa, was apprehended by the Hillsborough County Sheriff's Department for the murders of two bay area men. An investigation continues as local authorities are connecting Garp to a number of mysterious deaths that have occurred within the last year.  In yet another "Tampa, It's True! We Printed It, Didn't We?" exclusive, we give you excerpts from Chantel's fateful journal. Police were led to Garp following a tip from the manager of the Denny's on Dale Mabry in Tampa. Garp frequented the restaurant. Denny's manager, Elaine Fritz, told the authorities that Garp had always seemed a little "off kilter." Ryan Paul, a retired postal worker, would often chat with Garp at the counter. " She would sit and write for hours, she always took full advantage of that Bottomless Cup-O-Coffee." Just two days before her arrest, Garp's journal was found by the Denny's manager. While searching for a name or address to return it, Fritz made the startling discovery that led her to the police.  The two excerpts that follow describe, in chilling detail, the murders of Jay Guynn and Billy Edd. Garp's narrative is grim, bordering on comedic. She brings a frightening clarity to her confession providing a glimpse into her madness. Upon investigation, detectives have found a number of Garp's journals filled with stories they can only hope to be fiction. Due to the nature of the case the media has no access to any of the new entries. Geraldo Rivera took a break from his O.J. format last night long enough to read what he claims are excerpts from one of the new journals. Readers can look forward to another "Tampa, It's True! We Printed It, Didn't We?" exclusive in which we will print the new entries as soon as they become available. Prior to Garp's arrest, the death of Billy Edd, owner of Billy Edd's Real Cheap Cars, had been declared a suicide. The death of area businessman, Jay Guynn, was thought to be accidental. Edd, who has been described by neighbors as a  "loner" , was found in his kitchen in a pool of blood. The victim of an apparent suicide, Edd bled to death after consuming approximately twelve eggshells. Until Garp's arrest, Edd's family had contacted several attorneys citing a popular movie as his motive for suicide. Below is the entry from Garp's journal that absolved Billy Edd from suicide, and will allow him to rest in peace. Chantel 7/13 The Last Breakfast He swiveled around on his barstool and gave me an infomercial smile. His eyes surveyed my body, up and down, stopping one too many times on my breasts. He was a rare breed, one that slipped out the back when natural selection was ringing the doorbell. He had a Herb Tarlick way about him. I half expected him to unbutton his hideous shirt to reveal gold overlay chains nestled in a meticulously manicured yield sign of chest hair. Knowing my task, I took in a deep breath, prayed he wasn't wearing Aqua Velva, and made my way over to the bar. English Leather, equally horrible. "Hey baby, what's your sign?" he was a Virgo. I told him it was his lucky day. I gave him the look that never failed and asked him if he knew how to cook. "Hell baby, I'm a regular Julia Child." I proceeded to inform Julia that I wanted to go to his place, and that I would make him very, very happy as long as he made me breakfast. "Darling I'll make you and the best scrambled eggs you'll ever have." His kitchen was clean. The food smelled wonderful. As he cracked the eggs he put the empty eggshells back in the carton. What kind of an idiot puts eggshells anywhere but the garbage? Ah, but that was it.... my inspiration! Herb/Julia came up with a brilliant idea. It was probably his only brilliant idea. It would certainly be his last. I wasn't sure it would work, but I was willing to try if just for the sheer joy that would ensue. I pressed the tip of my gun ever so gently against the back of his neck. "Look bad cologne boy, I'm here for one reason, and one reason only. Well make that two the breakfast was superb. You and your QVC chains, that are turning your neck green, are a disgrace to humanity. I'm here to kill you. I am proud of you, though, for you yourself created the inspiration for your demise. You're a good boy, Herb.  With that, I grabbed an eggshell from the carton which left me with eleven shells, crispy and sharp, to finish the job. I placed it in his mouth and told him to crunch a bit and swallow. "Crunch and swallow!" I was hoping that an entire dozen of these would tear apart his esophagus, and he would slowly bleed to death in his own kitchen. By now the gun was pointed at his forehead. He was very obedient. I ate the rest of his toast while he was one shell short of a dozen. For the sake of evidence I washed and dried my dishes and left his on the table beneath his head where it had subsequently fallen. An eggshell suicide, who would have thought it? " I guess I'll go now, Julia, call me Kevorkian for assholes, call me what you will. Oh, I forgot, you can't call me anything you're dead. Look at it this way, you had a great breakfast, but you might want to cut down on those, the cholesterol will kill you..." Jay Guynn's death has been described as accidental / almost pre-meditated/ really lucky/ murder. Need we say more? Without Garp's vivid account of the brief affair she shared with Guynn, the charges would have all been dropped. Below, Garp relishes in depicting the demise of a man even she once thought to be perfect. Chantel 10/30 " Bus stop, wet days, she's there, I say we share my umbrella..." The Hollies. The week after I totaled my car was a wonderful, enlightening experience. I was given a crash course in bus travel. The buses I'd seen in Tampa always frightened me. Had I known the joy this would bring me, I would have bused much sooner. The first day of my bus sentence was wet, but not too wet. I spotted him. He was leaning against a pole, dripping, gorgeous. He smiled as he shook drops of rain from his Beatle haircut. I was completely enamored. I was praying I had finally found a man to which there was no end. I offered my umbrella, although wet was beautiful on him, and he accepted.                              Amazingly enough he worked in a building that was only a block away from my office. It was a long, long ride, thus providing a good amount of time for conversation. We talked incessantly. He was a perfect dream, but I was sure he was too good to be true. On the second day he produced flowers. Someone produced rain. I, do-gooder that I am, produced the umbrella. The other passengers thought this was sweet. Some of them were even humming that damn song (Bus Stop). More flowers and an annoying "I think you're special" card began the third day. I forgave him instantly for the card. It was tacky, but even Mr. Right can have a few flaws. A few... He gave me his work number. We planned a lunch date for the following day. Our fourth day lunch date was wonderful. I walked around in shock for the rest of the day. The perfect man, and I found him at a bus stop. The commute home involved very little talk. Suffice it to say that we were definitely communicating. The fifth led us further into our exploration of communication. Yes, right on the bus. Obviously, the bus drivers aren't the only ones who should be under investigation. I'm sure that the driver on this particular bus is still making money off of the surveillance tape. He should die for that.... after he gives me a copy. Six was a very bad day. Terrible; horrible for all concerned. The words I'd been trying to imagine coming out of his all too perfect lips made their way to my ears. " I love you." Without taking a breath, however, he erased those words, brought me back to reality, and sealed his own gorgeous fate. " I love you, and I should have told you sooner, but now I know how much you care, and this trivial detail can't change anything because I really love you."  Have you guessed? The fucker was married! Mr. Right gone wrong. Horribly wrong. I just smiled and said, "Oh darling, I know just how much you love me, and I intend to prove it." Bus stop, seventh day, he's there, okay. I think he needs some rest now. The rain was pouring down, as if on cue. The wind was simply evil, which was working well with my state of mind at the time. Mr. Right and I were about a block away from the stop. We were huddled under my fateful umbrella when it just flew out of my hand, into the street, placing it right in the path of our bus. Please note that this is a mode of transportation with psychotic brakes that usually doesn't stop until it's gone down a block too far. I screamed, in delicious shock, " Darling, you must get my umbrella, the token of our love...Hurry, please..." Ah, he certainly was a chivalrous fucker. The events played out miraculously well. My job is becoming much too easy. The bus, rain, and umbrella gods must have been on my side. Well, not the umbrella god, I have to buy a new one. The bus and the rain, however, were as perfect as he seemed to be on day one. So now I'm embarking on a new first day. Actually, I'm writing this on the bus. In the sacred seat, no less. None of them suspect a thing, half of it may really have been accidental. Maybe... this is hilarious; some of the passengers think I am absolutely heartbroken. Devastated. "Oh, woe is me." They even chipped in on flowers for me. Maybe I should kill them too... Mr. Anything But Right threw me off track. I lost focus. My duty, my life's work is to destroy the slimy man of mankind. I will not falter again. Those fuckers are all going to die. Preferably sooner than later. Did I mention that it finally stopped raining? Chantel Garp's tell all book, "I Had To Do It To Get Published ", is currently number two on the best seller list. She has pleaded with prison officials to let her out once a week for book signings. Garp is rumored to be recording an album with Hole singer, Courtney Love and Canadian man-hater, Alanis Morrissette.  Garp's single, which she recorded in the prison laundry, " Blow Away Testosterone " is rising steadily on the charts. She has been receiving fan mail by the pound. Most of the mail comes from women's rights activists. Surprisingly, she receives mail from a large number of men, including Trent Reznor. Tomorrow night, all three networks will air their version of Chantel Garp's story, all three of which are titled, "The Journal Made Me Do It ". A network out of Atlanta will coincidentally air their version of the bus driver's story, "Back Behind The Line, Asshole!"  Drew Barrymore, Alyssa Milano, and Tiffani-Amber Theissen respectively share the leading role among the three networks. In a surprising twist, Drew Barrymore is also playing the role of Howard, the bus driver with manic depression and surveillance tapes for $49.95. These videos may be ordered by calling 1-900-Get Off The Bus. Howard also has a number of other surveillance tapes, that do not feature Garp, on sale for $29.95 each. Be sure to tune in to one of the movies tonight, our money is on Barrymore. Let the ratings battle begin! Written July 13th, 1997 © on May 20 2001 05:01 AM PST   0 • 1