Sunday, November 30, 2014

Angels Live in Booze Bars


He was just a private inspector trying to find a booze to drink. What a day! His name was Dennis. First in the day he had been trying to catch a man having sex. First he go to the man’s work. No sex. Then he go to the man’s house. Guess what? No sex there either. Dennis had a client lady who said “Listen bub I don’t want to hugger mugger!” it was the 1940s.

She said “I want you to find that man having sex, and none of your funnybook stories!” Dennis ate a couple of toothpicks and said “Okay baby you got it. This is the city streets and they are MY city streets. I can find ANYBODY having sex on them.” He drank a booze.

She goes “Should you be drinking a booze when you are talking to a CLIENT?” She almost couldn’t believe anything.

“This is my office, sweetheart. I call the game here.” He ate a whole handful of toothpicks. “So what is his name?”

She said “Jeremy Robot. Here is a picture of what he looks like.”

Dennis looked at it. Jeremy Robot looked like an obituary on a Sunday morning that was otherwise nice. Who would want to hold HIS penis in their hand??

“He looks dumb,” said Dennis, not even caring. “Have you touched his penis?”

“Of course,” she goes. “He and I are daters.”

“Hm,” said Dennis. “What is your name?”

“My name is Gladys Shoes. Now will you take my case?”

Dennis lit a toothpick with a lighter and then used the toothpick to light his cigarette – that was the cool way. “You got it baby.”


That was all earlier today. But he couldn’t find Jeremy Robot doing anything like sex ANYWHERE in New York City. Dennis had gone to Carnegie Hall and the Empire State Building and the New Year’s Ball and CATS and the famous hot dog place, not the fake hot dog place, the real one that just closed, and he ate ALL the new York style pizza (with cheese) – still no sex.

His client would be so mad. He sat in his big car and decided he would go to a bar and have a booze and show the people there Jeremy Robot’s picture. He went into his favorite bar called New York City Is Great And Tough and he ordered a bunch of whiskey. The bartender was an ex prisoner who people called Prison Sam, The Ex-Prisoner. It was a nickname.

“Hi Dennis!” said Prison Sam.

“Hi Prison Sam!” said Dennis.

“How is business?”

“Oh you know,” said Prison Sam. “This is New York.”

“Boy howdy,” Dennis said in agreeance.

Prison Sam goes “I had this one fellow in here he was dressed like a statue of liberty!”

“Ha!” laughed Dennis. “Sometimes I wonder is it a FULL MOON?”

“I think that too!” said Prison Sam. “But it isn’t even a full moon!”

“What a town,” said Dennis.

“It is like a lady,” said Prison Sam.

“I agree,” said Dennis. He took out Jeremy Robot’s picture. “Do you know this guy?”

Prison Sam looked at it. “That guy looks like a dog and you like dogs but you don’t even want to pet it.”

“Have you seen him today?”

“Sure I have, sure I have. He was here earlier with a dame. Her name is Freda Spimt.”

“Wow," said Dennis. "Sexy name. Sexy name…sexy DAME?”

Prison Sam laughed for about fifteen minutes. “You know it, Dennis! She is one hot little tango. Hot like food spices if you understand what I mean.”

“I think I do,” said Dennis. "You mean that sometimes food is spicy, or ‘hot,’ and this dame is spicy as well, but in a sexy way.”

“Exactly,” said Prison Sam. “I mean that she is ‘hot’ in that sense.”

Dennis was intrigued. “Where are they now?”

Prison Sam shrugged. “Who knows? That lady has her hand in ALL the soups of THIS city. She could be ANYWHERE.”

Soup? City? What had Dennis gotten himself into???


The city was dark and cold as Dennis went outside into it. It was dark like you know how when you go to the closet at your friend's house and it's night and everyone is sleeping and you want to look at his coats so you don't turn on any lights because it is secret so it's dark outside of the closet already and then you open to get a load of those coats and it's even darker? That is how dark the city night was. Also Dennis's soul was pretty dark too because this broad Freda Spimt sounded like bad news. If what Prison Sam said was true, she sounded like a tarantula stuffed with poison: super dangerous. But Jeremy Robot was probably "giving his penis to her" so if he found Freda this case would bust wide open. Dennis ate a cigarette.

Dennis got in a cab and he told the driver "Hey Mac take me to my friend's house!" and the driver goes "Sure thing pal! Whatta city!"

Dennis agreed. The city was like a girl. Dennis loved it, it was so pretty. But tough as a gutshot zebra. Still he had to see his friend. They were at the house. The friend was Loony Toons Pete. He was a street informer who knew lots of things.

Pete opened the door.

"Hi Pete."

"Oh hi Dennis."

Their talk was like gutter nails dipped in bloody booze.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dennis snarled.

"Please do!" Peter spat.

"Do you know who Freda Spimt is?"

"That dame? Hoo-wee sister! That lady is someone you don't want to mess with even though she is so pretty you just want to hug her all the time!"

Dennis said "Prison Sam told me she has her face in all the things of the city."

"That is accurate," Pete sneered.

"Well I think she and my client are dating," Dennis said. Pete suddenly looked like a ghost walked in and started setting of fireworks. Like, being a ghost is enough but fireworks too!? Pete looked so scared! "Pete, what is it!?"

Pete was scared to talk but he said "If your client is dating her you need to drop this case like a handful of broken glass. You don't want to hold broken glass do you?"

"No I guess not. But tell me Pete, what is this broad's deal, huh!?"

Pete poured himself a giant booze and he drank it all like it was fruit punch or citrus punch or apple juice. Like it wasn't even booze, in other words.

"Dennis," he said "that lady is dangerous. She is bad. Let me tell you how bad. There are several parts to this thing I want to say."

Just then Pete's house exploded. Pete died, first of all. A big wood thing flew into his chest and he went "Blech!" and died.

Then Dennis was thrown outside by the explosion. He was in the street all bruised and whatnot. He was so bruised that it was like he'd fallen down and got hurt. But he couldn't just lay there. Pete was dead. Someone had to pay.


Dennis went to the hospital with his bruises but told the doctors “No thanks Frankenstein, this is one monster who after you put the bolts in my neck I’m like stand back Charlie because I’m going to find the damn jerk who put them there.”

The doctors had never seen such toughness. “Okay buddy we don’t want no trouble,” the main doctor said.

Then the doctor goes. “But don’t drink too many boozes or you might die of it.”

Dennis sneered and ate a toothpick.

“Nice try Dr. Frankenstein,” he said. “But this is a night of streets, and streets need an angel. And angels live in booze bars.”

So after that Dennis kept going to booze bars looking for the lady. That’s what it was like in cities. Death wore a dress in cities. Dennis went to six bars! By the fifth one he was so tired! But he still went to the sixth because his friend was DEAD! At the sixth bar he said "Where is Freda?" to the whole bar. Everyone there was a bum who ate street drugs...ate them by the bowlful.

"Ah get outta here you 'private inspector!'" screamed one of the "druggos." "We don' need none o' yore bad news!"

Another "druggo" shrieked "Yeah! Leave us be! We just want drugs all the time! That's all we ever even think about!"

Dennis felt sick!

"Listen you guys are seriously all messed up!" Dennis roared. "Now you tell me where Freda is or I will punch at least two of you!"

A bunch of the "druggos" made that "aw get out of here I'm not kidding" thing with their hands but one of them went "Freda? You mean the Angel of Death?"

Dennis couldn't believe his ears! "What did you call her??"

"The Angel of Death," said the "druggo." "You know it's just a nickname like Spike or Slappy. As in 'Spike, Slappy, the Angel of Death & myself are ordering pizza. Want some?'"

"Fair enough," said Dennis. "Where does she live?"

"Across the street in an apartment." Dennis punched his hand. "I knew it!"

Dennis threw the "druggo" a handful of peanuts because "druggos" could make anything into drugs. Then he went across the street to Freda's apartment house. He knocked on the door and an old lady answered.

"Are you Freda?" he asked.

"No" she said. "You are wearing a suit. I guess you must be the president of these United States! HAW HAW HAW!"

"Enough with the wisecracks, Auntie Jim!" snarled Dennis. "Tell me where she is!"

"She is on the upstairs floor you bastard."

Dennis threw some peanuts at her and went upstairs. There was a door and he knocked on it.

"Hold on!" said a voice.

It was a voice so beautiful it sounded like a very pretty bird that had just eaten the best soup of its life. Dennis was like "Oh man." The door was opened by a really good-looking woman. "Boy oh boy!" Dennis said. Freda smirked. She was wearing a sexual robe.

"Do you like what you see?" Freda asked.

"Lady what I see looks like it was made out of the finest goods!" said Dennis about her body.

"You are being fresh!" she cried but Dennis knew she liked his sweet words. They always did. "They" means "girls."

"Come on in why don't you" she goes.

"Okay" he went.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "Can I make you a booze?"

"Yeah" said Dennis. "A whiskey and apple juice with just a little brown sugar." That was called an Apple Pie and was the toughest drink.

Freda said "That is the kind of drink that truckers and construction men and soldiers and prisoners eat. Are you one of those kinds?"

"Maybe" said Dennis. "Or maybe I am just a big toughie." He was being dead serious. She looked him up and down like "Aw yeah."

"A toughie, is it?" she said handing him his drink. "That is how I like my men. As it happens."

So Dennis says "I like tough ladies. This is a real coincidence. Also I like your body. If I had to compare it to anything I would compare your body to okay let's say you have a bunch of candy canes. First you know the curved part of candy canes?"

"Yes I do" said Freda silkily.

"Okay you break off a bunch of those. I would break two of those down so they were little curves and I would pretend those were your hips. Then I would take two other curved parts and make those your boobs. I would connect the two halves of you with the straight candy cane parts. I would use more straight candy cane parts for your legs. Anyway" Dennis went on "the idea is, this would make a pretty curvy body."

"I think I understand" she said.

"Is your name Freda, by the way?" he asked suddenly, catching her off guard.


Dennis smirked. "That is interesting."



"Well I want sex with you."

Dennis was expecting this. He took off his whole pants. She took a gander at his wiener. She nodded and gave him the "a-ok" sign. Then she took off her clothes. He said "I love your boobies." Freda nodded thanks. Then they were kissing all over! Her skin was like electric curtains!

"Where do you want my penis?" asked Dennis experiencedly.

"I want it all over the place," she said.

He did all the things with his wiener perfectly. He did sex in exactly the right way. She was like "This is great."

"I'm glad you like it" said Dennis and then was done with sex just like you're supposed to. "Now you are under arrest for murder!"


“What do you mean ‘under arrest for murder’!” Freda bellowed. “Is this some sort of outrage??”

Dennis covered his wiener up with his pants. He waited while Freda put her boobs away and then her other parts. What a doll! But she was a doll of murder.

“That’s right, lady!” he said. “You killed my friend from earlier! You blew up his house like it was made of peanuts! And that don’t sit right with me. I am an errant knight of these streets.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” Freda cried, frightenedly eating a can of beans to calm her nerves. “I never blew up nobody!”

“Plus, also, on top of that,” said Dennis, “you and Jeremy Robot are touching each other’s naked bodies! And he is MARRIED!” Dennis couldn’t even look at her. “Now tell me,” he said while pouring himself a beer with wine in it, “where is Jeremy Robot?”

“But Dennis,” said Freda “Of course I roll around in blankets with Jeremy Robot! Don’t you understand that he is my HUSBAND??”

“That is so crazy,” said Dennis. “Gladys Shoes is his wife. She is my client. You are lying. Come on. Knock it off. That is enough lies.”

"I'm not though" said Freda. "Jeremy is home now being a gambling addict. Go and see!"

"Then why are you kissing ME!?" Dennis yelled.

"Well because Jeremy is lame and dumb. He's a jerk and mean. You seem nice and pretty good so I was like 'ok here we go.'"

"He is a jerk to you?" asked Dennis. "But how can I believe you?"

Freda opened her purse and took out $5. She said "I had $7 in here this morning. He stole $2 and gambled with it."

Dennis took his gun out of his pants. "That piece of garbage. I'll give his teeth something to chew!"

"A sandwich?"

"My gun! Or my fist, in the form of a punch!" Dennis punched the wall in disgusted rage. "Let's go."

Dennis and Freda drove to Freda's other apartment. (The first apartment was just one she had because of business things she did). It was a "flop apartment" in the part of the city they called "Garbagetown" or "Trashburg" or "Rotten Landing" or "No Thanks Terrace."

Freda explained "The reason my apartment is so stupid is because we are poor due to gambling. Jeremy's gambling!"

He thought how pretty Freda would look if she didn't have any clothes on in a nicer apartment. His blood began to fizz like hot booze.

"Let me handle this," Dennis roared. They went to the apartment door and she opened it but it was so bad that the door just fell over!

"Who is there!?" cried a man.

"It is Dennis the Private Inspector!" Dennis yelled. "I am coming in to talk to you!"

When they went in it was Jeremy Robot at a kitchen table eating cold water out of a bowl with a spoon and a cup of uncooked rice. He ate that because he was poor from gambling but he didn't even care! Did he think gambling would cook his rice? Geez, get real bub!

"Are you Jeremy Robot?" said Dennis.

"Yes!" shrieked the man.

"Give Freda back her $2!"

"Never!" squealed Jeremy and he pulled a knife.

"Jeremy what is going on out there?" yelled a lady.

"Who is that?" wondered Dennis. And then guess who came out of a room? Gladys Shoes!

"I've been had!" yelled Dennis. "Scammed all along! The whole time! I was just a punk, a nothing, a kid! But why?? Why!?"

Gladys smirked. "Because," she said, "you are so loyal, so honest, such a tarnished king of the streets that we knew it would be easy."

"That makes total sense to me," said Dennis. He saw their whole plot clear as a glass of some booze that he had drunk to wash down the pain and sorrow that he saw in his job every day, the mothers who dropped their kids into the lion pit at the circus or the fathers who told their kids "Here is your first cigar" but the cigar was a bomb or the old lady who needs help with her groceries but the Boy Scout is like "No thanks Jackson!" or the rich businessman who fires a guy for being paid too little or the wide-eyed teens who just want to see a nice movie but instead are hot-rodded down in the streets by a couple of bobbysoxers. It was because Dennis cared about these things that he was easy to scam. And they had scammed him. Scammed him but good.

"And now that you have been scammed," said Gladys "it is time for you to be shot. Shoot him Jeremy."

Jeremy put his knife away and took out a gun. He pulled the trigger and the gun coughed and puked out some bullets. Dennis got hit in the shoulder and it felt like a searing stitch that bit down and wouldn't let go. All the other bullets missed and hit Freda in her belly. She fell in a heap. Blood bubbled out of her like soda. Dennis took out his own gun and fired. His gun barked and spit out metal. Dennis used a .489 gun and the bullets were as big as cars. Jeremy grabbed his wounds, dying. Dennis emptied his gun on him.

Gladys smirked. "Just as I planned," she said. "All along I knew it would be you and me at the end. This worked out really well."

"But why?" cried Dennis.

Freda I mean Gladys said "Because when I saw you it was like 'uh oh, that's for me! Yowza!'"

"This is totally sick," said Dennis.

"Maybe so" said Gladys "but you ain't got not bullets left! Now kiss me! Kiss me while she dies!"

Dennis looked at Freda's dying body and shrugged. He went over and started kissing Gladys right on the lips.

"Oh yeah," said Gladys. "Exactly!" They were kissing and rubbing their hands on each others backs. It was total passion! But then there was a gunshot like a puking dog. Gladys who was now naked collapsed.

"Whu happen...?" she groaned.

"I shot you, you idiot," said Dennis.

She died. When he turned around, guess what? Freda was dead too.

"This has been a terrible day," said Dennis. He found a booze bottle in the apartment. He didn't even care what kind of a booze, he just mixed it with some milk and sipped away. Then he sat down in a room with bodies in it. He thought about crying. But in this city, who would listen?



John said...

Dark, dark stuff, man, maybe your darkest yet. But also absolutely your most accomplished and brilliant to date, and that is saying something.

Plus socially relevant, to boot, as all Great Art must be or die, what with all the thinly veiled digs at a corrupt cronyfied capitalist system that produces inner-urban hellholes like Trashburg, not to mention your scorching "cynical insider" portrayal of the dead-end world of boozes and pills (i.e. "peppers" and "zonkers" as the "kids" know them on the "streets"--a bit of factual knowledge for your next opus, perhaps), and let us not overlook the ongoing howl of injustice at the problematic reinforcement of brutally oppressive gender stereotypes, as exemplified by the cruelly ironic fates reserved for Glynis and Franda, or whatever their names were.

And don't even get me started on the higher-level symbolism... I mean, the peanuts?! Outta sight! Talk about META!

bill r. said...

With the peanuts, my plan was to be symbolically meta so it's really gratifying to know that I was so incredibly successful!

As for the darkness, hey, you know, when you live it, you gotta write it. Period. That's it.