CHAPTER 4: A THERMOS FULL OF DAQUIRIS
The Old Fairgrounds were ripe with stickball and Gatorade and my mind wandered back to the Gidgets of yore. Some said life was easier then, I guess meaning the women were. More often than not, with the gentle persuasion of a thermos full of daquiris, me and the crew would wind up knee deep in huevos. But that was then, and the good old days were dead and gone.
It was still life here though, fairly teeming with nubiles and punks, and though it did my black heart good to see some urban resuscitation, I had the sinking feeling that my honeymoon was over and I'd missed the rerun too.
It was then that I spotted the Equalizer's daughter, Suzy-Q, lounging among the jet flotsam of a new generation. She was pale, freckled, and if she went topless, well you couldn't tell it by me. I guess she was growing up though, judging by the pout heavy posture she assumed upon sighting yours truly.
It seemed like a shame to put her away, but I was three lines from stable as it was and all I really wanted was a stranger's bed and a window to jump out of. I also knew that one more slider meant wipe-out. I gritted my teeth and approached.
"Hey Suzy, long time no see."
She wasn't surprised to see me, but thrilled wouldn't be quite accurate either. I figured she'd let some sparks fly and she didn't disappoint.
"Daddy told me they donated your liver to science and it came back postage due."
Before I could muster a reply, a young hardtail, one notch above Neanderthal, stepped to the fore flanked by four bubble-head henchmen. His hair was every color of the blessed rainbow and on his scabby chest was a tattoo of E=mc2, the transmartian symbol for too much, too soon. He opened his hole and you just knew that toastmaster wasn't his bag.
"Dry up gumshoe, before I put my foot in your ass and kick your damn head in."
Now, I've been trained to believe that timing is everything. I took a good look at the terrain, pulled out the Fly-Rite and gave it a couple of experimental twirls. Then I let Mr. Congenial have it right between the eyes. With my boot firmly in his backside, and the razor wire around his throat, I told his buddies one false move and he was history.
The blood poured green off his neck and onto my hands. It felt good. As he gasped toward unconsciousness I even found myself enjoying his company for the first time since we'd met. The feeling didn't seem to be mutual though, so before he made pals with the Reaper I put on my bad doggie voice and ordered Suzy to come home with me. And then something wicked happened.
The punks and their women were bathed in a weird eerie light. Then they rose up off the ground every so slightly and vanished in a puff of formaldehyde.
It was one of those moments when you feel the car that is your life careen into a brick wall in gruesome slow motion and before you hit, you already know it's over. I lit up a Lucky and rolled my eyes to the heavens. Something told me I should have been aiming a little further south.