Sunday, March 8, 2009

Someone call for the Paddy wagon

When we last left our intrepid hero, although we didn't know he was intrepid at the time, or a hero, just some dude taking a drag on a cancer stick in that oh so suave way that macho guys with fedoras do while mastering the skill of aloofness that attracts sexy broads and not just in the movies, he was about to sit down to a life-altering game of whist. Yes, I'm going to make you click on that -- well, not make, because I'm not a king, though if I was, I would, but I wouldn't wear a fancy ass purple robe --

"It'd fit your purple prose."

You want a purple bruise? But a scepter would be cool because then I could clock wise guys on the noggin. Anyway, go read part one, which wasn't part one when I wrote it, then come back to the present day to find out what happens next. Why am I continuing that piece of haphazard claptrap now? Fuck if I know, why don't you go ask Randal.

No, not me, that drunk in the corner.

There, in the center of a very round table, rounder than any circle he had ever seen, sat the deck of cards, right in front of a single empty chair, only one because the other three were occupied by members of The Daughters of the Bohemian Yugoslavs, some of whom had daughters, some who did not, though all of them were. And though Leon tried, scrutinizing every luscious curve that folded and pleated every fold and pleat of their Bohemian raiment, every line in their naughty brow, he could not vouch for their Yugoslaverie.

He shuddered to think that, hidden amidst this bevy of Central European beauties, lies a spy, a devil with not necessarily a blue dress on (though it could be that blonde worthy of a Botticelli), from the diabolical Empire of Transylvanians whose ghoulishly imperial designs on the Kingdom could be sated only by blood. But they were all dames with meowing cats, so he didn't mind that much.

In a spiffy, sultry cadence, the sheba sitting across from him spoke, brushing away a stray curl the color of a lacquered coffin ready for a freshly dug grave. No, I'm not foreshadowing. You paranoid?

"I guess we're partners," she said, her lush timbre rattling the bones beneath his faux-leather bomber. He was smitten and had forgotten how to deal. Laying his gruff, workmanlike fingers on the deck, he pushed them towards the smoking woman.

She laid her cold, slender digits on his, pushing them back. His skin hummed like the buzz of the cigarette luckily caught between her ruby red lips. Wondering what it would be like to be that cigarette, he felt trapped, but in a good way because he was, after all, the only man at the table. That is, until he saw the mischievous look radiating from her neon green eyes like steam from a busted radiator.

"Go on, Paddy, deal. If we win, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Flabbergasted that she knew his nickname, a bit of secrecy to which only a precious few were privy, his icy demeanor crumbled and he cleared his throat, audibly as it turned out, as the entire establishment turned to see what all the fuss was about.

"And if we lose?"

She smiled, as a vampire would before tasting the sweet nectar of her defenseless prey, if vampires were real, which everyone knows they're not, don't be stupid.
Tune in next time, I don't know, autumn or so, when I get around to writing part three. Who is this chick working for? Who is he working for? Is she a vampire? Is he? Are we? Does Frankenstein make an appearance? Prescott Bush? H.G. Wells? Vlad the Impaler? Gary Oldman? Can I stop asking questions now?

16 comments:

Distributorcap said...

randal, you are my hero

Christopher said...

Why are our heros always "intrepid?"

So many questions, so little time.

Mary Ellen said...

I've always wanted to accessorize my outfit with a gun like the chick in the picture. It's much more useful than a purse and carries a bigger message, don't you think? Although getting the gunpowder residue off the white gloves could be a problem.

My favorite line in the whole story, "In a spiffy, sultry cadence, the sheba sitting across from him spoke, brushing away a stray curl the color of a lacquered coffin ready for a freshly dug grave."

I love it!

Dusty said...

You would make a great king Randal. ;)

Lisa said...

Don't make us wait. Get writing, before we crown you, king.

MRMacrum said...

I'm not sure what to think. You are telling me vampires are not real? Well there's goes my chance at immortality. But like Lisa said, pick up the pace man. A tri-annual serial just seems to lack something.

Chef Cthulhu said...

I think Judge Smails should make an appearance. He'd know what to do with a hot slavic vampire.

Great stuff, BTW. I add my vociferous support for more frequent installments.

Bubs said...

Cool

Dean Wormer said...

In a spiffy, sultry cadence, the sheba sitting across from him spoke, brushing away a stray curl the color of a lacquered coffin ready for a freshly dug grave. No, I'm not foreshadowing. You paranoid?

Nice ruse. I know it's really foreshadowing but you're trying to throw us off the scent.

Guess you didn't count on Mr. Clever figuring it out.

Liberality said...

foreshadowing?

(see, I can ask rhetorical questions too!)

Jang-chub Ozer said...

"although we didn't know he was intrepid at the time, or a hero, just some dude taking a drag on a cancer stick in that oh so suave way that macho guys with fedoras do while mastering the skill of aloofness that attracts sexy broads"

there are many ways of flirting with danger - if he lives in a trailer on the beach and is fond of passive aggressive sarcasm then he's mine! Jim Rockford, I think I love you.

Utah Savage said...

I love this! You've been hanging out in a fedora at Wolfshead haven't you? Did you know I play whist?

susan said...

I especially liked the part about pushing his gruff, workmanlike fingers towards the smoking woman. What an image.

Keep writing.

I've been drawing.

Beach Bum said...

Damn this was great.
Prescott Bush making an appearance? Now that is scary.

Randal Graves said...

dcap, but am I intrepid?

christopher, that is a good question. Why are they never indifferent?

Nunly, that's why you wear black gloves. Extra sexy.

dusty, plus I hate doing work, so it's a job I could enjoy.

lisa, you just wait until I'm king, I'll have you picking rutabagas for that remark.

mrmacrum, but think of the anticipation! The fanboys didn't mind waiting three years between Star Wars flicks, and this is obviously as epic.

chef, hmmm, that's not a bad idea for a cameo.

bubs, oh, I'd say if not lukewarm, at least tepid.

dean, I knew I couldn't fool you. Just don't spoil it for everyone else, okay?

liberality, I never said foreshadowing.

jang, another idea for a cameo! Who knows the streets better than Rockford?

utah, I haven't played whist in years. You're not a vampire, are you?

susan, then when I become a famous author and you a famous artist, you can illustrate my book and we'll make oodles of filthy lucre.

BB, I've actually been thinking how to weave him in there.

Dr. Zaius said...

Too many commas. ;o)