It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny, I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that block. I felt like a million. There was no way in all this world I could have known that a Listeners' Lounge Edition sometimes can smell like honeysuckle...
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The Listeners' Lounge™ is a free-form forum where the main rule is Have Fun! Feel free to express your inner maniac in a playful, supportive, and creatively charged atmosphere with several witty, urbane 89.3 The Current listeners. The Lounge is a virtual place to "put up your feet or any other appendage" mentally, have an out-of-cubicle experience, and exercise the creative lobe of the brain for a change.
And I'm sure there's no need to remind you, this is a family thread.
Mostly
And I'm sure there's no need to remind you, this is a family thread.
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I'll bring you down, bring you down... ♫ ♪
Oh, wait, wrong Noir...
And HE was stopped at the border...
I guess the song SHOULD have been, "If you ever step on our patch, we'll bring you down..."
LOL Onie.
i'm still trying to find the Fatboy Slim re-mix of Eany Meany. I know it's on iTunes but I'm avoiding going that route for fear of bankruptcy.
I was remembering what Red said, about guys like me never having to pay and I wondered how true it was.
" Mike... did you love Nancy?"
" Naw, she was a friend. I saw her once and spoke to her a few minutes and we got to be buddies. It was one of those things. Then some son of a bitch killed her."
" I'm sorry, Mike. I wish you could like me like that. Do you think you could?"
She turned again, and this time she was closer. Her head nestled against my shoulder and she moved my hand up her body until I knew there was no marvel of engineering connected to the bra because there was no bra. And the studded belt she wore was the keystone to the whole ensemble, and when it was unsnapped the whole affair came apart in a whisper of black satin that folded back against the sand until all of her reflected the moonlight from above until I eclipsed the pale brilliance, and there was no sound except that of the waves and our breathing. Then soon even the waves were gone, and there was only the warmth of white skin and little muscles that played under my hand and the fragrance that was her mouth. The redhead had been right.
*Heads off to a cold shower*
(sw:Must not go there..............)
I palmed that short nosed .32 and laid it across his cheek with a crack that split the flesh open. He rocked back into his chair with his mouth hanging, drooling blood and saliva over his chin. I sat there smiling, but nothing was funny.
I said, "Rainey, you've forgotten something. You've forgotten that I'm not a guy that takes any crap. Not from anybody. You've forgotten I've been in business because I stayed alive longer than some guys who didn't want me that way. You've forgotten that I've had some punks tougher than you'll ever be on the end of a gun and I pulled the trigger just to watch their expressions change."
He was scared, but he tried to bluff it out anyway. He said, "Why don'tcha try it now, Hammer? Maybe it's different when ya don't have a license to use a rod. Go ahead, why don'tcha try it?"
He started to laugh at me when I pulled the trigger of the .32 and shot him in the thigh. He said, "My God!" under his breath and grabbed his leg. I raised the muzzle of the gun until he was looking right into the little round hole that was his ticket to hell.
"Dare me some more, Rainey."
Heh...sweet...
HOSEHEAD IN DA HIZEEEYYY
Aaarrrggggg!!!!
"But, what does that have to do with my planned root canal, Dr. Timmo?"
The Twins??
She was twenty or so, small and delicately put together, but she looked durable. She wore pale blue slacks and they looked well on her. She walked as if she were floating. Her hair was a fine tawny wave cut much shorter than the current fashion of pageboy tresses curled in at the bottom. Her eyes were slate-gray, and had almost no expression when they looked at me. She came over near me and smiled with her mouth and she had little sharp predatory teeth, as white as fresh orange pith and as shiny as porcelain. They glistened between her thin too taut lips. Her face lacked color and didn't look too healthy.
"Tall, aren't you?" she said.
"I didn't mean to be."
Her eyes rounded. She was puzzled. She was thinking. I could see, even on that short acquaintance, that thinking was always going to be a bother to her.
"Handsome too," she said. "And I bet you know it."
I grunted.
"What's your name?"
"Reilly," I said. "Doghouse Reilly."
"That's a funny name." She bit her lip and turned her head a little and looked at me along her eyes. Then she lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theater curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air.
"Are you a prizefighter?" she asked, when I didn't.
"Not exactly. I'm a sleuth."
I worked up a husky mouthful of saliva and spat it as close to his feet as I could. The fat cop spun on his heel and let his lips fold back over his teeth in a sneer.
" You gettin' snotty, Hammer?"
I stayed slouched in my seat. " Any way you call it, Dilwick," I said insolently. " Just sitting here thinking."
Big stuff gave me a dirty grimace. " Thinking...you?"
"Yeah. Thinking what you'd look like the next day if you tried that stuff on me."
The two cops dragging the little guy out stopped dead still. The other one washing the bloodstains from the seat quit swishing the brush over the wicker and held his breath. Nobody ever spoke that way to Dilwick. Nobody from the biggest politician in the state to the hardest apple that ever stepped out of a pen. Nobody ever did because Dilwick would cut them up into fine pieces with his bare hands and enjoy it. That was Dilwick, the dirtiest, roughest cop who ever walked a beat or swung a nightstick over a skull. Crude, he was. Crude, hard and dirty and afraid of nothing. He'd sooner draw blood from a face than eat and everybody knew it. That's why nobody ever spoke to him that way. That is, nobody except me.
Because I'm the same way myself.
Gosh, I miss the Lounge.