armed to the teeth with LIPSTICK:19.

by Blag Dahlia

CHAPTER 19: THE LONG HELLO

"Who the fukk is blowing away my hyper-chic clientele...Doolan!"

"Been a long time, Pederast."

"Longer than it was hard, Doolan, ya flimsy meteor maid."

Jesus, did we sound that goofy in real life? Conversing with the Gotham City disco crowd had me nervous about my colorful phrasemaking, but hearing it from the Geek almost got me homesick, and that too was trouble. For the both of us.

"Save the long hellos, Balzac. Natasha and that righteous runt Faust are here in your oily little backyard. You can help me find them or die trying."

All the piss and vinegar drained from his milky white face. He'd dropped a dime on Mars' Pubic Enemy #1 once and only fate's fickle digits had left him respiratory this long. I knew he'd crumble like week-old coffee cake.

"She'll have my hide if she finds me," he said, lips quivering like Pavarotti's sternum.

"You'll be lucky if she lets it go at that, Pederast. Remember the Dion quintuplets? There used to be two of them."

I didn't know what that meant exactly, but I kind of liked watching his shorts spring a leak. The fear of God always takes a back seat to the menace of womanhood.

"You gotta save me, Doolan. You... you got me into this."

"I don't have to do a damn thing but eat, sleep and reproduce in that order. Natasha doesn't know you're down here yet, and as long as you cooperate, it'll stay that way. Meanwhile, you're sporting a liquor license, which means you're paying off somebody. If the heat comes around asking questions about me, you're deaf, dumb, and ugly. And if your morbid clientele starts tripping on any new designer substances, find me some names and locales. Just don't forget the free samples."

I left through the door, but I'd found the proverbial gutter. Here, where the cruel stench of terror and three-day-old beer lingered, that was where I'd find Suzy, and we'd finish this snake dance for good.



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CHAPTER 20: INTRAVENOUS VERITAS