“Yeah,” I said slowly. “How’d you know?”
She tapped her foot on the floor. “Old building. Thin floors.”
“I doubt it,” I replied. “Otherwise I would have heard you walking around. Stiletto heels aren’t terribly quiet.”
“Good guess.”
“Not really. Women who hang around in the shadows smoking cigarettes always wear stilettos. I bet you have a little hat with a veil on it too.”
She smiled at me. Well, she showed her teeth, so I assumed it was a smile. “And I suppose you know what I eat for breakfast?”
“Lucky Charms. You say it’s just for the toy surprise.”
“Close. I’m a Captain Crunch girl.” She walked forward into the light. She was wearing a severely cut woman’s suit with stiletto heels. Dark hair framed a pale face, but the thing that drew my attention was the Desert Eagle in her right hand.
“Huh. I figured you for a snub-nosed .38.”
“It’s in the shop.” She leaned against the wall, gun held level at my midsection. “So, cowboy, you’re awfully glib for a guy with an organ trying to kill him.”
“You’re awfully well-armed for a Dame.”
She laughed. “Well, you kill a vampire in front of the Queen, it tends to leave an impression.” She waved the gun nonchalantly. “Relax. I’m not pointing it at you. I’m pointing it at your gall bladder.”
“How considerate.” I glanced around. “A chair or two would be nice.”
“I only had one left and I didn’t want you walking off with it.”
“That was a gift.”
“It was a figure of speech.”
We looked at each other for a few moments in silence. Ash from her cigarette dropped off, leaving a little clump on the otherwise immaculate floor.
“So,” I finally said. “Are we going to keep up the bad film noir parody or should we move on?”
“Oh, thank god!” she said, kicking off her heels. “Those things kill my feet.”
Next week: Part 5
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Never Trust a Woman in a Mask: Part 3
I turned, denting the wall with one of the chair legs. “Did you reconsider?”
He shook his head. “I was just going to validate your parking.”
“No need. I parked on the lawn.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Well, he stared at me. I was watching the beauty mark meander down the hallway.
“Look,” he finally said. “I know a Dame.”
“Congratulations. And I don’t think anyone calls them ‘dames’ anymore.”
“No, she’s a Dame. Like, when women get knighted, they’re not ‘Sirs,’ they’re Dames.”
“Like Dame Judy Dench?”
“Exactly.” He produced a pen and drew a picture of a frog slapping an elk on the side of my chair. “Turn it over,” he said, just as I was about to protest. It was an address. “You go talk to her. Tell her I sent you. And tell her I liked the gift basket, though brie gives me gas. And then, if you’ve got time, tell her about the situation in Prague.”
“What situation in Prague?”
“Exactly.” He nodded and turned to go back into the examination room.
I left the office, stepping carefully over the body outline and made my way back to my truck. I secured the chair into the bed with some bungie cords and took a look at the address. It was for an office on the third floor of the Palm Tree Office Plaza.
I turned around and looked at the sign on the wall behind me. I was at the Palm Tree Office Plaza. The office was directly upstairs from the one I just visited. I decided to just leave the chair there.
The door to the office was labeled ‘Mad Mongoose, Inc.’ There was a little drawing of an upset mongoose with a knife. I looked at it upside down, but I can’t read Chinese.
This waiting room was painted stark white and contained nothing but a small mobile hung from the ceiling featuring a walrus, a whale, and an albatross.
“So,” said a feminine voice. I looked over past the reception desk. A woman was there, mostly hidden in the shadows. A curl of smoke rose from her cigarette, the ember glowing brightly as she took a pull. “I hear you have a gall bladder you need taken care of,” she said.
Tomorrow: Part 4
He shook his head. “I was just going to validate your parking.”
“No need. I parked on the lawn.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Well, he stared at me. I was watching the beauty mark meander down the hallway.
“Look,” he finally said. “I know a Dame.”
“Congratulations. And I don’t think anyone calls them ‘dames’ anymore.”
“No, she’s a Dame. Like, when women get knighted, they’re not ‘Sirs,’ they’re Dames.”
“Like Dame Judy Dench?”
“Exactly.” He produced a pen and drew a picture of a frog slapping an elk on the side of my chair. “Turn it over,” he said, just as I was about to protest. It was an address. “You go talk to her. Tell her I sent you. And tell her I liked the gift basket, though brie gives me gas. And then, if you’ve got time, tell her about the situation in Prague.”
“What situation in Prague?”
“Exactly.” He nodded and turned to go back into the examination room.
I left the office, stepping carefully over the body outline and made my way back to my truck. I secured the chair into the bed with some bungie cords and took a look at the address. It was for an office on the third floor of the Palm Tree Office Plaza.
I turned around and looked at the sign on the wall behind me. I was at the Palm Tree Office Plaza. The office was directly upstairs from the one I just visited. I decided to just leave the chair there.
The door to the office was labeled ‘Mad Mongoose, Inc.’ There was a little drawing of an upset mongoose with a knife. I looked at it upside down, but I can’t read Chinese.
This waiting room was painted stark white and contained nothing but a small mobile hung from the ceiling featuring a walrus, a whale, and an albatross.
“So,” said a feminine voice. I looked over past the reception desk. A woman was there, mostly hidden in the shadows. A curl of smoke rose from her cigarette, the ember glowing brightly as she took a pull. “I hear you have a gall bladder you need taken care of,” she said.
Tomorrow: Part 4
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Friday, Yet Again
Hey all!
It's been a busy week as usual. I went to visit my surgeon for my post-op visit and he said everything went great in surgery and that I now (quote) 'can do anything I want.'
Several things I wanted to do immediately sprang to mind:
Eat an entire Meat Lover's pizza
Take my pants off
Make someone incontinent solely with the power of my mind
Teach a hot alien babe about this thing we humans call love
Go back in time and kick my 13-year-old self in the ass
Solve the world's problems via buying everybody ice-cream
Talk to a girl
Obviously, none of these things happened. Well, my pants were already off, so it kinda did.
Have a great weekend. We'll be back on next week with more blogs and pages.
Cheers,
-Jason
It's been a busy week as usual. I went to visit my surgeon for my post-op visit and he said everything went great in surgery and that I now (quote) 'can do anything I want.'
Several things I wanted to do immediately sprang to mind:
Eat an entire Meat Lover's pizza
Take my pants off
Make someone incontinent solely with the power of my mind
Teach a hot alien babe about this thing we humans call love
Go back in time and kick my 13-year-old self in the ass
Solve the world's problems via buying everybody ice-cream
Talk to a girl
Obviously, none of these things happened. Well, my pants were already off, so it kinda did.
Have a great weekend. We'll be back on next week with more blogs and pages.
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Never Trust a Woman in a Mask: Part 2
The man shook his head, his finger going to his lips. “I’m sorry,” he said, as he wrote something on a pad of paper. “I think you have the wrong person.”
“But, Meredith-“ I began, only to stop at his glare.
He held up the paper, showing me a crude drawing of a dog, or possibly a donkey, farting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
I pointed at the drawing and shrugged. He looked at it, his eyebrow going up at what he saw. He rotated the page 180 degrees and held it up again.
The drawing was now a sentence. ‘Careful,’ it read. ‘It might be listening.’
“Oh, that’s okay.” I said. “I stunned it with a double-bean burrito with extra sour cream at lunch.”
“Good. You’re smarter than you look.” He tossed the page to one side and ran a hand through his thinning black hair. “Gall bladders are tough,” he said. “This ain’t going to be cheap.”
“I’ve got a hundred bucks, an unused lottery ticket from 1993, and this chair.”
He chuckled. “Not even close. If it goes wrong, your gall bladder’ll come after me.”
“You afraid of a gall bladder?”
He sneered and reached down to pull up his pant leg, revealing a shiny, plastic artificial leg. “Lost that fifteen years ago.” He tapped it, letting the hollow sound reverberate through the office. “I’d taken out three gall bladders, thought I knew it all. I got cocky. Didn’t take precautions. I lost my leg. Smitty lost his life.”
He fell silent. The beauty mark landed on one of the Seventeen magazines, right on the model’s cheek. Outside, a bird warbled, sounding just like the guitar solo from ‘Teen Spirit.’
“Who was Smitty?”
He looked away. “He was my second cousin, once removed. Great kisser. He drowned in a vat of salsa twenty years ago.”
“The gall bladder got him?”
“Nah. He just didn’t listen to the tour guide.”
“So his death is totally irrelevant to the story?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It sounds better when I add that in.”
I leaned on the chair on my lap. Somewhere in the building, a clock chimed four and a half times.
“I could go one-twenty and I’ll throw in a set of floor mats for an ’87 LeBaron.”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t tussle with gall bladders anymore. You got an appendix you want bumped off, I’m your man. Tonsils? No problem. Electrolysis? Well, I know a lady, but no gall bladders. Not anymore.”
“Guess I am in the wrong place,” I said, as I slipped off the examination table. “I was looking for a professional.” I brushed past him. “Thanks for the chair,” I said, as I opened the door.
I was halfway down the hall when he called out.
“Wait!”
Next week: Part 3
“But, Meredith-“ I began, only to stop at his glare.
He held up the paper, showing me a crude drawing of a dog, or possibly a donkey, farting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
I pointed at the drawing and shrugged. He looked at it, his eyebrow going up at what he saw. He rotated the page 180 degrees and held it up again.
The drawing was now a sentence. ‘Careful,’ it read. ‘It might be listening.’
“Oh, that’s okay.” I said. “I stunned it with a double-bean burrito with extra sour cream at lunch.”
“Good. You’re smarter than you look.” He tossed the page to one side and ran a hand through his thinning black hair. “Gall bladders are tough,” he said. “This ain’t going to be cheap.”
“I’ve got a hundred bucks, an unused lottery ticket from 1993, and this chair.”
He chuckled. “Not even close. If it goes wrong, your gall bladder’ll come after me.”
“You afraid of a gall bladder?”
He sneered and reached down to pull up his pant leg, revealing a shiny, plastic artificial leg. “Lost that fifteen years ago.” He tapped it, letting the hollow sound reverberate through the office. “I’d taken out three gall bladders, thought I knew it all. I got cocky. Didn’t take precautions. I lost my leg. Smitty lost his life.”
He fell silent. The beauty mark landed on one of the Seventeen magazines, right on the model’s cheek. Outside, a bird warbled, sounding just like the guitar solo from ‘Teen Spirit.’
“Who was Smitty?”
He looked away. “He was my second cousin, once removed. Great kisser. He drowned in a vat of salsa twenty years ago.”
“The gall bladder got him?”
“Nah. He just didn’t listen to the tour guide.”
“So his death is totally irrelevant to the story?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It sounds better when I add that in.”
I leaned on the chair on my lap. Somewhere in the building, a clock chimed four and a half times.
“I could go one-twenty and I’ll throw in a set of floor mats for an ’87 LeBaron.”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t tussle with gall bladders anymore. You got an appendix you want bumped off, I’m your man. Tonsils? No problem. Electrolysis? Well, I know a lady, but no gall bladders. Not anymore.”
“Guess I am in the wrong place,” I said, as I slipped off the examination table. “I was looking for a professional.” I brushed past him. “Thanks for the chair,” I said, as I opened the door.
I was halfway down the hall when he called out.
“Wait!”
Next week: Part 3
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Never Trust a Woman in a Mask: Part 1
The address was scrawled on the back of a used envelope and it led me to a dimly lit corner of the Palm Tree Office Plaza. I found the door I was told about: flaking green paint and a burn mark that looked like a top hat, and went in.
The dark lobby smelled of cigarettes and bug spray. A clown nose was stuck to the wall with a switchblade and I’m pretty sure the red mark on the floor beneath it wasn’t grease paint. I ducked under the police tape and stepped towards the counter, trying to avoid the remains of a balloon animal on the floor.
There was a cough from the counter and I looked up, to see a woman in a faded blue dress watching me. Her brown hair was up in a tight bun and she was smoking a cigarette. There was a large beauty mark on her left cheek.
“Whaddya want?” she said, blowing a smoke triangle towards the ceiling.
“I need to see the professional.”
She blew a smoke parallelogram, causing her beauty mark leap off and buzz about the room. “He ain’t in.”
“Meredith sent me,” I said, laying a buck fifty in loose change on the counter.
The change disappeared. “Take a seat.”
I found the chair with the smallest bloodstain and picked it up. The lobby itself was done in the same faded green paint as the door, with only a few old pictures on the walls for decoration. A single magazine lay on the floor in the middle of a chalk outline. It had a bullet hole in it.
My arms started to get tired from holding the chair. “What’s his story?” I asked, nodding at the outline.
The receptionist shrugged. “I heard he got on the wrong side of the clown mafia.”
“It’s the greasepaint,” I said. “Makes ‘em crazy.”
There was a buzz and the receptionist glanced down. “He’ll see you now.” She gestured towards the back. “First door on the left.”
I walked past her, banging the chair on her desk as I went by. She didn’t appear to notice. There were three doors in back and I went into the first on one the left. The room was empty save for an examination table, a rack of power tools, a pair of Italian loafers on a shelf, a saddle, a large stack of pizza boxes, and three years worth of Seventeen magazine sorted by month. So yeah, empty.
I sat on the examination table, letting the chair rest against my thighs. After a few minutes, the door banged open and a heavyset man with slumped shoulders shuffled in. He leaned against the wall and stared at me with his good eye.
The receptionist’s beauty mark buzzed by.
“So,” he finally said. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s my gall bladder,” I said. “It’s trying to kill me.”
Tomorrow: Part 2
The dark lobby smelled of cigarettes and bug spray. A clown nose was stuck to the wall with a switchblade and I’m pretty sure the red mark on the floor beneath it wasn’t grease paint. I ducked under the police tape and stepped towards the counter, trying to avoid the remains of a balloon animal on the floor.
There was a cough from the counter and I looked up, to see a woman in a faded blue dress watching me. Her brown hair was up in a tight bun and she was smoking a cigarette. There was a large beauty mark on her left cheek.
“Whaddya want?” she said, blowing a smoke triangle towards the ceiling.
“I need to see the professional.”
She blew a smoke parallelogram, causing her beauty mark leap off and buzz about the room. “He ain’t in.”
“Meredith sent me,” I said, laying a buck fifty in loose change on the counter.
The change disappeared. “Take a seat.”
I found the chair with the smallest bloodstain and picked it up. The lobby itself was done in the same faded green paint as the door, with only a few old pictures on the walls for decoration. A single magazine lay on the floor in the middle of a chalk outline. It had a bullet hole in it.
My arms started to get tired from holding the chair. “What’s his story?” I asked, nodding at the outline.
The receptionist shrugged. “I heard he got on the wrong side of the clown mafia.”
“It’s the greasepaint,” I said. “Makes ‘em crazy.”
There was a buzz and the receptionist glanced down. “He’ll see you now.” She gestured towards the back. “First door on the left.”
I walked past her, banging the chair on her desk as I went by. She didn’t appear to notice. There were three doors in back and I went into the first on one the left. The room was empty save for an examination table, a rack of power tools, a pair of Italian loafers on a shelf, a saddle, a large stack of pizza boxes, and three years worth of Seventeen magazine sorted by month. So yeah, empty.
I sat on the examination table, letting the chair rest against my thighs. After a few minutes, the door banged open and a heavyset man with slumped shoulders shuffled in. He leaned against the wall and stared at me with his good eye.
The receptionist’s beauty mark buzzed by.
“So,” he finally said. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s my gall bladder,” I said. “It’s trying to kill me.”
Tomorrow: Part 2
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Next Comic Will Be Late
So, as a distraction, here's a video of a cute kitten.
Honestly, this is one of the most adorable things I've ever seen and I'm not one to use 'adorable' lightly. When my niece was seven and dressed up as Tinkerbell for Halloween, I rated it as merely 'cute.' This is also when my mother declared that I was a soul-less robot.
I may have also been cut out of the will. I'll have to check.
Anyway, the page will be up as soon as Leigh's power is restored, hopefully on Wednesday.
Cheers,
-Jason
Honestly, this is one of the most adorable things I've ever seen and I'm not one to use 'adorable' lightly. When my niece was seven and dressed up as Tinkerbell for Halloween, I rated it as merely 'cute.' This is also when my mother declared that I was a soul-less robot.
I may have also been cut out of the will. I'll have to check.
Anyway, the page will be up as soon as Leigh's power is restored, hopefully on Wednesday.
Cheers,
-Jason
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Less of Me to Love
Hey all,
I just wanted to let you all know that the blogs will be back next week. I took this week off due to having surgery on Tuesday. Some of you may recall me complaining about my gall bladder trying to kill me, but I struck first and had the little bastard 'eliminated' when it wasn't looking.
So I spent most of this week sleeping and eating several times my body weight in soup. I'm feeling pretty good, all things considered, so look for new blogs next week.
Coincidentally, the first one will probably be about my surgery and how I had to fight a tyrannosaurus while wearing one of those gowns that opens in the back.
At least, I’m pretty sure it was a tyrannosaurus. It might have been a doctor in green scrubs. Which would also explain why I woke up with a black eye.
Cheers,
-Jason
I just wanted to let you all know that the blogs will be back next week. I took this week off due to having surgery on Tuesday. Some of you may recall me complaining about my gall bladder trying to kill me, but I struck first and had the little bastard 'eliminated' when it wasn't looking.
So I spent most of this week sleeping and eating several times my body weight in soup. I'm feeling pretty good, all things considered, so look for new blogs next week.
Coincidentally, the first one will probably be about my surgery and how I had to fight a tyrannosaurus while wearing one of those gowns that opens in the back.
At least, I’m pretty sure it was a tyrannosaurus. It might have been a doctor in green scrubs. Which would also explain why I woke up with a black eye.
Cheers,
-Jason
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