[Sodium_noir] FW: Mortals & Ghouls at play in Darktown

[eagandigh]

Antoine, Onitt & the last of the Four
Ghouls & Mortals



Jaleel started the van and drove off. Antoine sat beside him, tense.
Onitt and Dédé sat in the back, behind them several blue plastic bags.
The bags were tightly closed. None of the four gangstas were in a
particularly bright mood, every one of them entertained thoughts of
sweet destruction meted out on a bunch of poor mops. They still had a
stink of death clinging to them. “Where to?” asked Jaleel. “Drive just
down the street, always along the river to the bridge.” Antoine told
him. His fingers drummed on the armrest.

“If some fucked up cop decides today is his bright chance for heroism
”
Onitt started, but he got interrupted by Antoine. “Yeah, go on, brighten
our mood. If a goody two shoes cop is messing around with me tonight, I
tell you, there will be one more damn fucking body joining the rest.”
There was silence for a while as the car drove along the river, the
bridge coming slowly into view. “Drive over the bridge into the industry
district.” Antoine said. “Yo. Where are we headed, anyway?” “Biggest
fucking meat production facility in the whole damn city.” Jaleel shot
Antoine a side glance. “Eh?” Onitt grunted. “Don’t know if you can call
it that. I mean, they don’t produce hamburgers and stuff. Or put the ham
in the can.” Jaleel laughed. “Ham in da can. Good joke.” “Yeah, very
funny. I laugh my ass off later. I said production, not processing.
There is a difference between the two. Look it up in a dictionary.” As
the van rolled over the bridge, silence again descended upon it.

 

“Turn right after we leave the bridge.” Antoine directed. “I feel like
bein’ back in damn driving school again.” Jaleel muttered. “What’s so
bad about this place we are going to, anyway?” Dédé asked from behind.
Onitt stared out of the window, while Antoine’s drumming intensified.
“Well? Should we’ve packed some AKs?” Antoine sighed. “Okay. We are
going to one of the bigger pig farms in Gotham.” “I think they have
chicken, too.” Onitt interjected. “Do you want to tell the story? No?
Thought so.” Antoine lighted a cigarette, took a deep puff and
continued: “Well, they might have other kinds of animals, too. I think a
lot of the pork we are eating comes from there.” Jaleel whistled. “I
think this is going to be ‘Hannibal’-like, isn’t it?” “If you guys
continue to interrupt me, we will never know, will we?” When no one said
something, Antoine continued. “Actually, this is what I thought, too. I
mean, after seeing all these movies that told you that pigs are really
good devourers of people and you drive to a damn pig farm to get rid of
too abundant bodies, well
 I thought that maybe when I eat some fine
pork the atoms in that meat once belonged to Johnny from across the
street.” Jaleel looked at Antoine. “The what belonged to Johnny?”
“Forget it, too complicated. Anyway. When we had to get our hands off of
some fucks that messed with us and it was a little inconvenient to just
let them lying around, the Bêtenoir told us to bring them to this
 guy.”
“At the pig farm?” “Right. So we brought them there. The place is real
creepy and I was prepared to face the fact that little piggy gets
something extra in its fodder for a change. But instead this guy told us
to bring the bodies into this old pump station. They have their own pump
station down there, to either pump something into the river or pump
water from the river up to them. So we bring them into the station, and
there was this well. Really deep well. So I thought, phew, they just
dump them into the river. Could have done it myself, would’ve taken me
far less money.” Antoine stopped his talk and pointed to a rusty gate in
a rusty fence that circumvented a big area right beside the river.
Several long warehouse-like buildings dotted the premises. “And?” Jaleel
asked as he pulled up in front of the gate. “Well, we dumped the bodies
down the well and then we heard the strange noises from below. Feeding
noises. Strange grunts. And I thought, whatever is devouring the bodies,
whatever makes these noises, I don’t want to know what it is and I don’t
want to ever meet these critters. I mean, what could live down there in
the pump station? Certainly no hungry lean pigs.” Antoine opened the car
door, jumped out and slowly walked to the gate.  

[Tag Spikey]

>-----Original Message-----
>From: Sodium_noir-bounces at elsinore.net
>[mailto:Sodium_noir-bounces at elsinore.net] On Behalf Of eagandigh
>Sent: Friday, May 05, 2006 5:57 PM
>To: sodium_noir at elsinore.net
>Subject: Re: [Sodium_noir] FW: Mortals & Ghouls at play in Darktown
>
>
>Phil & Fab
>Mortal gangstas
>Whorehouse in Darktown (across the street from a recent nasty fight)
>
>
>Phil lounged on the sofa, his boots slumped on a table. After
>the ceremony he had retired with Fab to one of the filles’
>whorehouses, incidentally the one where the fight with the
>Snake Bitches had taken place not a week ago. The whole
>rattlesnake incident had been a glitch for Phil, cause he was
>the one in charge of the whorehouses, just like it was Onitt’s
>duty to make sure the shopowners in the quartier paid their
>‘tithes to the loas’. Onitt was frightingly effective at that
>job. Phil took a deep sip from his whisky bottle. He knew that
>he was blamed for the fact that the rattlesnakes had
>infiltrated the whorehouses. He had been glad when the
>Bêtenoir was MIA and now was deeply concerned. He knew what
>happened to people who were causing the Bêtenoir
>dissatisfaction. So, Phil had used the time and had cleaned
>the whorehouses thoroughly. Dammit, he had lost a few fine
>broads, some of them he wasn’t even sure that they were in the
>enemy’s bed, but better safe than sorry. He took another sip
>from the bottle.
>“Bro’, you’re awfully quiet, man.” Fab exclaimed, while
>lighting the joint he had prepared. He took in the smoke and
>exhaled slowly. “Damn, boy, tis ganja is reely fine. Hit my
>bitches ass!” He took another draw , and then handed it to
>Phil. “You don’t have a bitch, punk.” Phil said and took the
>joint. “Well, I know you’re deepshit afraid that da
>Bêtenoir’ll cum up an’ slap your ass. But, bro’, ya has done
>all ya could done ta bring da shit back in order.” “You really
>have a thing for asses, don’t ya?” “Fuck, man, keepin’ da
>bitches in order is no small job. You give ‘em a roof over da
>fine asses and give ‘em da chance to earn sum money ta buy
>seir fix. And how do they tank you? Run and roll on deir backs
>for da next best fucker, who cumes aroun’.” Phil just grunted
>and passed the joint back to Fab. Fab inhaled deeply and blew
>circles. Just like fucking Gandalf, Phil thought. “Ya know,
>it’s jus’ like da bitches havin’ no respect anymore, drawing
>guns on us an’ all.” Fab mused. “Just like bitches have been
>all da time, but they know better now.” Phil said and took a
>side glance at Jameela, one of the whores, who was sitting on
>a couch on the far end of the room, polishing the nails on her
>feet. She looked up at Phil, her black eye becoming apparent,
>then looked again at her feet.
>Fab leaned back into his armchair, a plushy thing that seemed
>to come right from a garbage dump. “Well, fuck dem, they don’t
>know nuthin’ what’s good for dem. I mean, they could walk deir
>asses off down da street, in any fucking weather, not knowin’
>what da next punk’ll do ta dem. Here, it’s warm, da john’s cum
>ta dem, they have protection should any of dem get a queer
>look on da face an’ they don’t need ta find sum little kid who
>don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout good crack ‘n’ stuff, but get reel
>good stuff right from da source. Man, sum people don’t
>appreciate deir damn luck.” Jameela rolled her eyes, but
>didn’t react otherwise. Phil was still eyeing her,
>distrustful. Was there a gun somewhere on her lithe body? “An’
>it’s not like we’re sum fuckhead dipshits from sum damn no
>good gang from down da hood. I mean, we’re da children, if we
>say we protect ya, we do. We don’t stick our tails between our
>asses an’ run to our mommys jus’ because tings get a little
>rough. We don’t let anyone hang in da air, jus’ because sum
>punk is waving sum gun at us. No, we give it back ta dem
>tenfold. An’ they never cum back once we hit ‘em. Hey, we even
>take deir damn souls an’ stick dem heads in dem asses. If
>tings can be believed dat are said. We fuckin’ stand to our
>fuckin’ words. If ya’re with us ya safe, dammit
” Phil groaned
>inwardly as Fab continued to blubber. Why was he stuck with a
>guy, who couldn’t shut up after he had his first joint. And
>had that unwholesome thing about asses going on. He settled in
>for a night of unimaginable torture.
>
>
>TBC
> 

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