Wade’s finger is on the trigger. Sinorita is about to go bang. Dirty Desmond checks into the nearest men’s room while someone…or something…lounges in the darkness. Wade has the shadow lady in his sights! Stay tuned and find out if his aim is true.
Something tickles Wade’s ear. A soft voice sings a lullaby as the room dims into a hazy purple glow. Darkness devours light while amorphous claws rip apart delicate curtains of faded luminescence. The drunk banter between Hellmouth Lounge’s demons grow distant and soft as if they’re being erased.
The hair on the back of his wide neck springs forward. Sweat drips from a cold palm while Wade squeezes Sinorita’s trigger.
Shadows extinguish Hellmouth Lounge. Fat, greasy raindrops splatter upon the newspaper like a storm cloud tucked inside Wade’s very large hat.
An ember sears inside his mind—forgotten memories caressed by violating heat. Wade’s hand trembles as it slithers and turns on him like a disturbed pit viper. Sinorita’s long barrel places her cold round mouth underneath his square chin.
“Hey.Vinny. I’m gonna go take a piss.” Benny says.
The darkness recoils as the light resuscitates into a purple, dismal existence. Benny whistles while he strolls between Wade and an empty table. A cold breeze embraces Wade’s shoulders—the newspaper unfurls inky wings as it’s carried away by a spectral laughter. Articles drift upon the ashy carpet while the cold breeze slips underneath a nearby cracked window.
Wade’s eyes drift between the broken panes of glass and sees a high-heeled dark figure prancing on wet concrete underneath a golden streetlamp. A car awakens across the block, then accelerates northbound on Grime Street.
He grips his silk tie, and then tightens it like a noose necklace. Wade thumps wide leather soles into the men’s bathroom.
“Is the deal set? I got the stupid paper, oh, yeah, I don’t care what that potbellied sludge sucker says. I’ll spit in his face, yeah, I’ll spit right in that fuckin’ wrinkled pupil. Do you hear me, Benny? Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Dirty Desmond says while straddling in front of a urinal.
Benny yells from inside a closed toilet stall:
“The car is warmed up, Dirty. Don’t worry. Calm down. We’ll be out of here soon.”
A sigh escapes out of Dirty Desmond’s closed mouth.
“Uhhh…yeah, I suppose I need to calm down, right? My psychiatrist told me I shouldn’t keep things all bottled up…hey! Benny! Benny! Benny! Do you have any damn idea how much that overpaid cock sucker charges per hour? Do you? Yeah, sure, and they call me a criminal, I don’t get it, I just don’t get it, you know what I’m going to do? Benny? you still there?”
“Yeah.” Benny yells from the toilet stall.
The bathroom door swings open. Large leather soles navigate through polluted water soaked into a green moldy tiled floor. Wade stands above Dirty Desmond and stares down at a curly red scalp.
“Huh? Ummm, pal, you’re going to have to wait your damn turn, give the man a little breathing room, will you? Come on, it’s hard to work in conditions like this.” Dirty Desmond says.
He glares inside a smudged mirror.
“Say—is that a loaded gun in your pocket? Or are you just happy to see me?”
A long, stiff barrel grows from Wade’s coat pocket. Dirty’s eyes grow pale.
“Okay, you win, no problem, no one has to get blood on their suit! Come on, you know how difficult it is to get blood out of white shirt, right? Right?”
Dirty Desmond zips his fly, and then places them behind his curly red scalp.
“Oh! Hey, I Forgot to wash my hands.”
He turns on a faucet and rings his hands underneath trickling warm water. Benny’s skinny legs shake as he covers his mouth.
“Okay, I’m ready, let’s get out of here, it stinks in here.”
Dirty Desmond flicks his fingers dry, and then walks toward the bathroom door. He holds it open while stepping to the side. Vinny stands in the doorway, with the snub nosed revolver held low.
“What? What? Did you think I was just going to walk out of here? Your disappointment is my pleasure! Vinny, go ahead and plug this cartoon full of holes, will you?”
Vinny squeezes the trigger.
A piece of lead burns a hole through Wade’s big hat, ricochets off the ceiling, drops to the floor, bounces into the ceiling, zips into the urinal, and then plunges into Wade’s shoulder.
“Get him! Get him! Get him! Come on! come on! COME ON! He’s still standing!” Dirty Desmond says while stomping up and down.
Vinny extends his arm upward, aiming the snub nosed revolver toward the center of Wade’s hat. He squeezes the trigger. But the only thing that can be heard is the sticky red stuff dripping from Wade’s shoulder.
Wade wraps his python fingers around Vinny’s scrawny hand and constricts until the delicate bony architecture collapses.
“Ahhhh! He crushed my fucking hand!” Vinny says.
Wade pulls him into the bathroom as Dirty Desmond yanks at his curly red hair. A large leather sole kicks Vinny into the urinal…face first. Wade steps on his neck, and then flushes the urinal.
…One more time.
Vinny’s feet seizures a twitching dance.
His feet stop dancing.
Dirty Desmond sneaks a foot beyond the bathroom’s threshold. Wade snatches Sinorita’s grip and pulls the really long barrel out of his coat pocket. He thumbs back her hammer. Dirty Desmond smiles while raising his hands in the air.
“Ha, okay, I’m just joking, you win, no problem, we’re just having a little fun, I have money, girls, drugs, whatever you want, no problem, okay? Deal?”
He looks down the barrel of the biggest fucking gun he has ever seen in his entire life.
Wade swings Sinorita across the air and whips Dirty Desmond across his freckled head. He slumps to the ground.
“Your blood matches your suit.” Wade says.
Dirty Desmond laughs while a jagged tooth dangles from his lip. Wade twists Desmond’s arms behind his back, and then lifts him off the floor. He escorts him out of the bathroom—a pair of stripper handcuffs dangles across a red chair. Wade snatches the cuffs.
“Hey, hey! Have a little respect, will you? Get those things away from me! Do you know what the girls are up to around here? Yeah, well, I do, okay, so just go ahead and…”
Wade locks the cuffs around his wrists.
“…Great, fantastic, the cuffs are sticky, I’ll get you back for this, Wade, do you hear me? Do you? Ohhh, yeah, I’m gonna get you back real good.”
Wade shoves Dirty Desmond into the red seat, and then glares toward the bathroom.
“Hey, pal, what’s your problem? You can’t keep goin’ around man handlin’ everyone, okay? Yeah, and they say I’m the one with anger issues, yeah, right, yup, what a bunch of shit! I swear Wade, I swear! I’m gonna rip your spine out and use it as a coat rack! Ha, yeah, I’m gonna…”
Wade marches into the bathroom as Dirty Desmond mumbles.
Benny sees very large brown soles trot in front of the stall. Legs quiver while he places a hand over his mouth. Wade condenses a fist—a mountainous knuckle range rises above the valley of his fingers. Benny shakes as the stall door’s hinges explode into a rain of rusted bolts.
Sinorita’s trigger has yet to be pulled. The piece of paper was delivered, and now a shadow lady is on the loose! Wade’s dark history is tucked under his very big hat, however, there are pieces of truth even the darkness can’t hide. Will Dirty Desmond continue to bleed? Or will the piece of paper spare his life? Load your revolver and put on your coat—episode 4 will get you wet!
Story Concept / Written