Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I Hate Rats
After a few hours, the rain finally subsided. The sky still looked as if someone had dipped a paintbrush in it and swirled it around because of all the darm ominous clouds. When I saw that Lefty was about to go investigate the roof top, I figured, what the heck, why not go with him? It had been a while since I vistited the Heights last, and I figured that it couldn't hurt just to get out there and show my face. Besides, I absolutely had to know what was on top of that roof. We hopped in Lefty's Mustang, but at the last second we decided to take my favorite car, the Mazerati. When we arrived at the Heights, a few people gawked, a few fled, and the rest were too high to react at all. We made our way through to the elevator, but considering the intensity of the storm that just pasted, we decided that we weren't going to chance. Being stuck on an elevator was the last thing that I needed right now. When we reached the stairs, my attention was immediately drawn to a kitten that was wondering around the stairwell aimlessly, and then to the only other human occupant in the stairwell, besides Lefty and myself, a very disgruntled, annoyed, and obviously rushed woman pushed her way past us both without so much as an acknowledging glance. I had killed a man before, and this woman struck me as cold. But after she pushde passed, we continued our ascent. Finally. We reached the exact spot where we had seen the figure in the storm, but all that was there was a shabby lemonade stand looking table and a small curiously motionless rodent on the ground. I refused to have my presence defied by something as trivial as a rat, so I motioned as if I was going to step on it, and yet it remained still. I bent down to take a closer look at this death defying creature, and i realized...the damn thing was stuffed. Who stuffs a rodents!?! Upon seeing this I became irate in the effort that I had wasted in my quest and began to curse at everything that he a pulse and was within earshot. A stuffed rat...why would anyone? Now being in the mood that I was in after the most anti-climatic investigation in the world, i decided it would make me feel quite a bit better to collect on some of the money that these so called hustlers owed. Surely not all of them would be able to pay me back, but today, that is exactly what I was counting on. Some people have stress balls, I have this. I told Lefty to put the word out that I was collecting today. What can I say? Its simply time to pay the piper.
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Oscar Alcazar
Grandma Pearl's aging behind waddled across the street. A white paper bag, stenciled with red cursive, reading "Oscar's," swung at her hip. "There's a good customer," Oscar said to himself. "Thank god little Alexader has the appetite of a rabid polar bear."
He slunk down into his Cadillac and rolled down to the bar. As he entered Machelli was in a heated argument with grimy young rapscallion, trying to pass off a fake ID. "Get the hell out! Do you know who I am? Boy I will find where you live, hunt down your family, and...." Oscar grabbed the kid by his collar and slung him out the door.
"Robby Mac! How's business?"
"As you can see, it's going pretty smooth my friend. Come on upstairs."
The upstairs was carpeted, floor to ceiling, with plush animal furs. This was the high life. For sure. Machelli poured Oscar a drink, and his massive hand enveloped the glass. "Life's good my man, life's good."
"That's good to hear," Oscar replied. They made small talk for a few minutes, before Oscar trudged home to flip his sign. He was hoping for a big night.
As the Caddy rolled into the parking lot, Oscar glanced across at the towering apartment building. Marissa's high heels clicked as she strutted into the front door. Before the glass door shut behind her, she looked back and motioned to Oscar. Oh yeah, she beckoned him alright. She wanted a little Columbian coconut, and he wasn't gonna say no.
"Eh, the store can wait." Oscar lumbered across the street to the welcoming lair of Basement Babe.
?
Shakka Shakka Shakka.
Someone was trying to enter? No. The warehouse shutter doors were being rattled noisily by the wind outside. This area seems prone to violent weather patterns. Maybe I should pray to the teru teru bozu? I should have enough time to waste to make around 50...
Perhaps this weather is here for a reason? Demons, Magicians, H.P. Lovecrafts fanclub, who knows. If anything, the girl whom walks around speaking in rhythmic tempo seems the most likely candidate for an unnatural occurrence in this vicinity. Mmmf, heavy. I've heard of something like her before...an Ameonna? No weather reports seem to be conclusive in terms of why the skies only become darker each day. Most likely a reference to my brain functions slowly wasting away in this place. Soon it will be pitch black and Dennis Quaid will have to come unthaw us from certain death.
Yes, there is certainly a large amount of materials here. Mr. Machelli really should care more about what and where he keeps his storage. Of course he doesn't have to, he does have a large area of influence. Reporting everything I have found comes for later, this is just one stop in many and I can only help when I'm gone. Only a few more days in this place.
**********************************************************
Yep. Still cloudy and very windy. My shoes have actually left my feet and are being blown down the sidewalk. I suppose I should put a stopper on any other investigation today.
Is that someone laying in the street?...It appears a bike crawled out from a manhole and attacked him, thats always unfortunate. Well, i'm certain there are rules for a situation like that. One of them most likely being, don't go near people bleeding violently in a ghetto. Its not as if I don't care, I am not a police officer. I am a detective. I should never be seen, only heard as a voice which aids with justice. This place isn't boring, you have to be awake most of the day to really know who and what is going to kill you. A mental challenge is what I want, and nothing here has more than a highschool degree.
"STOP! POLICE!"
And of course, there is always something going on. Someone is being chased down the street this very moment...
I wonder if brone bought any blueberry cream cheese with his bagels...
"Teru-teru-bozu, teru bozu
Do make tomorrow a sunny day
Like the sky in a dream sometime
If it's sunny I'll give you a golden bell
Teru-teru-bozu, teru bozu
Do make tomorrow a sunny day
If you make my wish come true
We'll drink lots of sweet rice wine
Teru-teru-bozu, teru bozu
Do make tomorrow a sunny day
But if it's cloudy and you are crying
Then I shall snip your head off"
Molina Rose blog 4
It felt so good to be home. I’m so tired of this weather and all these fools running around here. My hair’s all fucked up. I look a hot mess now. I need to do something with it before I go to work.
I haven’t gone out in a long time. I should go out tonight. Every time I go out to the bar one of those idiots is tryin to get me tto dance there. Some Italian big shot thinks he owns the town. Well he don’t own me. I dance wherever I damn well please, or where ever I can make the most.
Maybe I’ll go check it out. It’s not like I’m rakin in the big buck now. If I get in with the owner, maybe I can even get an advance outta him. You never know what you can get out of a horny son of a bitch who thinks he owns you. Manipulation is the key. Men are easy. I figured that out at a young age. Men are easy. Real easy.
Oscar Alcazar
The pain was sharp, throbbing, menacing, unforgiving. Any slight movement sent shocks of agony pulsing through Oscar's meaty head. He couldn't remember what caused the pain, why he was half-way off the bed, why he was sweaty and cold. He stepped outside into the fresh morning air and began to recall flashes of imagery from the night before.
He was with Manuel and Machelli. He must have been doing something illegal. A black van flashed through his memory. What was that? Why did he keep thinking about it? It must have some importance. Damn the pain was too much. Oscar collapsed into a dirty plastic chair. As his vision faded in and out, Oscar's skin bristled with goosebumps. Hail? Really? Please... But he was too delirious to care.
Oscar remembered see the black van drive away. Its tires screeched on wet pavement. The picture in his mind was blurry, hazy. He remembered commotion, disarray, frantic running, ducking, hiding. Gunshots. And the black van's screeching tires. That van was nothing but trouble. He knew it.
Marissa flung open the door of Washington Heights. A gust of wind tipped her sideways as she stepped off the curb. She recovered, hustling across the street towards Oscar.
"Watcha need honey, the usual?"
"Hell yeah. How you doin today big buddy? Looks like you had a long night last night."
"Sure did. Funny thing is, I'm still trying to remember it all." Oscar slapped her sandwich together. "Keep the money, girl. We cool."
"Thanks Oscar."
He returned to his look-out chair on the sidewalk. The wind felt good now, calming, relaxing, refreshing. His head was clearing up.
The Great Escape
Marcus Manuel knew it was time to wrap up the party when the bullet nicked his earlobe and drew a bead of blood. Shit was going crazy. The unmarked black van actually busted through the garage door and four FBI agents jumped out of the still moving van, guns firing. Manuel, Machelli, and Alcazar ducked under the table and started running to the door, crouched, with bullets whizzing and whirring around them. Of course Manuel had came strapped with a 9 under his belt buckle, but putting it there that morning he knew that it would be virtually useless if there was a situation. Well this was a hell of a situation. Manuel didn't even have time to think about how the agents found out about this. Manuel looked back to see Alcazar trip on the steps leading up to his shop from the garage, and his head hit the floor hard. Manuel, true to his cowardice nature continued to run until he felt a large force pulling him back. "HE DIES YOU DIE." Machelli's voice roared into his ear. Manuel couldn't believe what he was proposing. They had to go back to get Alcazar? Now? But Manuel knew better than to test Machelli. Machelli and Manuel ran back and picked up the morbidly obese individual up and dipped to the door. It was a big loading deck and garage but the agents were gaining fast. The two men and the unconscious man they were carrying ran into the doorway and slammed it behind them. "START THE CAR." Machelli's voice still boomed even among the chaos. Manuel, scared shitless, sprinted to the Escalade and jumbled and fumbled at his keys. Finally, mercifully, Manuel found the key he was looking for, opened the car, and started it. He screeched over to the front of the store, and saw an image that would stay with him for the rest of his life. In fact, it would be the last thing he would see in his mind as the executioner strapped him to Maryland's electric chair and put the black bag over his head four years later. Machelli was miraculously holding up Alcazar in his arms and effortlessly, he jumped in, Alcazar and all. Police sirens were screaming everywhere, but the men had Mother Nature to thank. Hail was raining down, making it impossible for any sort of police helicopter to track them. It was turning dark, but Manuel didn't even bother to turn on the headlights. The car screeched off. They narrowly missed hitting some kid coming out of a Chinese restaurant, but Manuel could have cared less who they hit.
"Man I need a girl in my life. I don't know how much longer I can take this crazy shit."
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