CHAPTER 7: LETHAL DRAG
In a penthouse apartment overlooking Scarlet Square, a woman shaped like a halfback in lethal drag surveyed the city below. There was something hard in her beauty, sugar on a pneumatic drill. She moved in an orbit heavy with gravity, mixing this potion with that, destination zero.
The face, white as death, glowed by the light of a bunsen burner in the only chemical research laboratory in creation with an ocelot color scheme and Persian houri candles. In her languorous Balkan accent she said --
"Fix me another speedball, won't you, darling?"
Faust, her doting lab-rat, prepared two big bangs after selecting from a batch of dirty needles on the coffee table.
"And go easy on the cocaine, I'm in no mood for idle conversation."
Not to be cruel, but Faust was an odd looking creature. Short, yes; but no midget, no cute little micro-sapien. He was a dwarf. Deformed and proud, with a head too large for his legs and too small for his appetite. He couldn't speak as clearly as he could think, or make love like they did in the movies. He could scrap though, like a savage.
"This has been quite an afternoon, Faust. Not only have we confirmed the viability of the Time/Space Warp, we've also served notice that the Korps is powerless to stop us."
Natasha was confident, but Faust had spent ten years in solitary confinement after our last get together, and he knew it was too soon for champagne wishes and caviar dreams.
"The Korps...wormy, rotten...Doolan...
parched throat...bleeding heart..."
Her eyes said -- "I'll make him sorry," as they bumped rigs and shot the stars a toast to never.
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CHAPTER 8: OH! DEM GOLDEN ARCHES