LA FLEUR DU MAL CH 4: VISITORS

[The Urbane Spaceman]

In honor of the return of Lady savage, now it is proper to catch you up with what I've been doing.


Start here:

The Snow Files XV




...here is what I’ve been doing, and maybe you should read these. Get you up to speed. Cheers to The Return Of The Lady Savage.


These are the Easter Eggs that I’ve been writing for our lovely ladies of the MDM.


Don’t say anything.





Shhhh. Just DRINK!





Easter Egg #1






Easter Egg #2





Easter Egg #3




Now read them Easter Eggs before we go further, cool?




It is a big X on the lawn.


Promise me that you will read those three little chapters before the spoiler below, cool?



I’ll wait.




Hm Hm Hm Hmmmm




Here’s an old tune for me while I wait for you, you greedy Drunkard. No fair reading further, fuhrer fuckers. Hey, don’t Judge me. I happen to smile when I hear this happy tune. Bastards.


















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Spoilerspoilerspoilerspoilerspoilerspoilerspoilerspoilerspoilerspoilerspoilerspoilermaker






During them Easter Eggs, we went to these places, interspersed with them other places.


This healing process for Savage took some juju and Draaaanking copious amounts of bourbon. I saved the chocolates for her.




La Fleur Du Mal CH 1





La Fleur Du Mal CH 2




La Fleur Du Mal CH 3







Now we go.



We waited.



We drank.




Sometimes, draaanking while waiting for a phone call is not the best thing to do.


Other times, it might be the best thing of all.



Especially when you are rocking on ZID.


It was way too quiet in our state of mind. Much too serious.





Yup.



So,



He was all worried.



I left Joey in his fancy, wrinkled suit and came back with my boombox out of my bedroom. I slammed it down on the table.



Joey snorted his Strawberry Hill wino out of his nose and he appeared to have some concern.



He said, “Hey! I’m waiting for an important phone call!”



I said, “Fuck you in your fancy suit and your important phone call!”


He laughed his arse off and then he said, “Ya know, I was hoping for some tunes. Take my mind away form the thing I have to do now. About damned time. Crank it up Urb!”



I slid in a cassette tape. That is a French term for “a really cool thing to do.”





We jammed it loud. I think that no one stole anything form us while we were in our rooms, because they didn’t fuck with us. Good idea.


You see, I played tunes to charge him up for his important meeting. I could tell that he was worked up, even though he didn’t say anything about it.



In between the songs, we could hear the telephone ringing. It sounded quite angry.



Joey said, “Holy shit, Urb! Turn it down for a second!”

He hopped up and grabbed the lake trout off the wall. He said, “erm, hello?”



The angry voice said, “Dammit! Wipe your ass! Time to do this!”


Joey said, “why hello there my good man. Yes indeed. Please tell me the location.”



He wrote it down with his cigarette butt ash on the table top. Then he hung up the phone.

Yes indeed, you once had to hang a phone with a noose in its cradle. How fucked up does that sound?



When his taxicab finally arrived, he was gone off to visit the Devil. Gawd help him.


















I settled back and sparked up shmoke and blasted my boom box. It had been a hell of a fortnight. I mean, what the hell happened? Moments stood out, like blue against black, after white flashes the night.


Explosions.


Looking back, sipping cheap beer and shmoking, it felt like I’d just walked out of a cinema that played its movies in a high-speed blur.



What I did not know was that my brain was still trying to process it all. I simply had not given it time to do such a thing. It is not sitting back and reflecting that does this. It is, instead, about three days of deep, hard coma rest.



Led Zeppelin’s Going To See Savage and Tom took on a peculiar percussion at the quiet part, and I cocked my head like a dog does when you make fart noises out of your mouth at it.



I had no dog at that moment, and no percussive instruments other than the table. I wasn’t playing the table at that time.



Then I realized that someone was knocking quietly on the door.



Well, shit. Probably a neighbor come to ask me to turn it down. You see, we had an agreement among our neighbors. If you got a problem with me, come talk to me. I may be inconsiderate at times, but I’d rather deal with you than Johnny Law. I promise to not hit you. I may even do as you ask, or lend you a cup of starved cockroaches if you need some.




I didn’t look out of the peep hole because we weren’t heavily into snow at that time. That would come soon enough.



I opened the door and saw a pretty girl standing there in her black leather jacket. Huh. Was it time for the kids to go door to door selling their punk-scout cookies?



“Hey.” I looked her up and down. She couldn’t have been more than a teen.


She said, “Is Jerry here?”


I said, “Nope. Never heard of this Jerry. You got the wrong place.” I closed the door on her face and she knocked on it again.



I opened it up and took a sip form my beer. I said, “What.”


She said, “You guys saved me from the explosions.” Then she smiled.



I felt my face get red. She stepped back and put her hands up. I said, “YOU?” I tossed my beer can over her head and took a step forward to grab her and bring her inside.


She was very quick and she ducked and glided to the side. She said, “Wait! Don’t hurt me! I can explain!”




I stood back and looked down at her. I said, “I’m not going to hurt you. Physically.”


She straightened up. She said, “Well that’s good. Do you want to do this out here?”



I said, “I’ll need to frisk you.” She stuck her arms out straight at the shoulders. She did not have any weapons, unless she was hiding something somewhere that I was not prepared to visit.



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Now, here are two important considerations. One is that when a thief returns during the day and offers to explain, then you make certain they don’t have evil intentions. That is why you check them for weapons. She had come empty handed, unarmed, so to speak.



Two is that when the thief wants to go inside, then you must put you back to the corner, and observe all entrances. This affords you the view, and the safety of not needing to watch your own back. It also allows a young lady to feel like she can escape if she feels the need. Puts them at ease.



That way, you can see her expressions, unfettered by worry of entrapment.


I said, “I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.” This was true.



She blushed. She said, “I don’t usually do that sort of thing.” She looked at the fridge. She was lying, of course, but I didn’t need proof of that.



I said, “I know you by your smell. Do you know how much it will cost me to dry clean this leather jacket?!”



Ok, no more jokes here. I just had to lighten the moment for our Ladies of the MDM.





I said, “What? You do not usually do what? The fucking a big fat punk pig in a smashed up house that’s about to explode, or stealing all the shit you can form some broke ass punks the next day?”



I felt my face get hot red again. This thing made me go back to my roots.



She inhaled and stiffened up. She said, “You promised that you wouldn’t hurt me.”

I nodded. I said, “I won’t hurt you. Physically. True.”




She breathed out again and then she said, “What does that mean? You will hurt me mentally? Emotionally? Financially? What?”


I shook my head. I said, “Nah, with all of those things, you’re already broken. It’s obvious.”



She said, “Then what is there left?”

I frowned. I said, “You left out the most important one. I’ll fuck you in your god hole.”



She shuddered and rose to get up. She said, “This is getting weird. I just wanted to explain myself to Jerry. That’s all. Where is Jerry, anyway?” She looked over her shoulder, left and right.


I said, “Maybe he’s under that flipped-over couch there. Maybe he’s hiding in the freezer?”



Her eyes got big and she walked to the door. I followed her out into the fresh air. She turned around and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked up at me and said, “They’re coming back. I didn’t know what I was getting into.”



I had no idea what in the fuck she was saying. It raised my hackles. Native style. But I didn’t show anything from me to her. I was all poker-faced. I said, “Why the fuck are you looking for him anyway?”




She said, “He… uh… well…” She pulled out a book of matches and a soft pack of cigs and lit one up with shaky fingers. She took in a long drag.





She said, “I feel like I been looking for him for a long time. In my fucking Life. I finally found him. Now he’s gone. I fucked up. I’m homeless. I been couch surfing for years. I took all that shit from you guys to get money. They asked where the rest of it was. I showed them. I told them not to take your boom box. then they shook your place down. I think they looking for that snow. You need to get out of here now. G'bye.”




She slipped away like a shadow. I stood there, amazed at what I had just heard.




What.


The.


Fuck.











.

[oettinger]

WTF Really!

Easter Egg #3 "Sean. You can’t clean up your mark." She stole that famous line from the one and only Squalor Man. Women these days...

[mistah willies]

TL:DR


Boooooring.



Where are the sexplosions?



C'mon dude. yerr killing me here already.


jeez

[oettinger]

Really! Whatta bouts 24 hours for ZID
Or did he sing 24 hours to jizz
Or 24 hours of jizz...
???

[mistah willies]

Wish this Spacey duee could tell a tale in 24 hours. Or , ok, give him 48 hours.

Dam


Damn the pamaprts!

.

[mistah willies]

Fucking write something


we need entertainment you drunken baastrd

[Dear Booze]

WWPD?

He would continue on with the story! It's the right thing to do!