Kelly Had Some Nice Shoes Back in the Day (chapters 1-5)

CHAPTER 1 - The Whore’s Bloody Pumps -
    Suddenly it is the dawn of no tomorrow and Kelly opens up her book. Dancing at strip clubs has brought nothing but hardships to Kelly in the form of sums with money. Except the few days she’d noticed poor Steven the beach bum surfer, taking his little hobo baths outside of the club where she worked so far from the beach. “Just passing by through the city for the library!” Steven would yell out in flat American accent when he saw Kelly try to hide.
     Kelly would wear the most ridiculous outfits in the eye of her own esthetic values those days near the end of her life. She knew many surfers in high school, but it was her heart’s constant quandary that rocked the Jn. Co. Brand jeans as she did. It’s still late dawn and Kelly had barely cracked her book, her book still open with Steven long passed by, and an outlaw biker of the gang called the Fly Tiers crept behind her breathing down her neck. The mucus ridden filth covered pustule-scape squeezed her right breast with his left hand by reaching over her nine O’ clock shoulder. He squeezed her pert natural mammary so hard that a long quickly stabbing pain shot from both her ankles to the drool that he had freshly placed on her vertebrae, she suddenly knew who it was (“the writer”), and she’d simply known it was her last moments in life. “Here’s a tip for you bitch.” with what he believed were fast jabs of a blade the infectious gangster whispered, ending the beautiful whore’s tortured life.
     Poor Kelly’s book lied open on the floor and the Fly Tiers set in on rolling her body in a carpet. At the Diamond House Tavern there’s no other gangs welcome, and that is the unofficial sentiment stated by so many bikers’ rugs thrown away. Gushing for the end and longing for lost friends newly reattached by hips thrusting in sand, Kelly bleeds. She’d finally again tracked down Steven at the beach just two weeks prior to the final opening of her last library book she’d ever checked out, which was always her every different Bible whenever she’d got home. Her newly kindled passion had always been a love of hers, since ten years ago in high school. “Steven I coghloaujvnhohhuhghH!.!” and her own last words pleased Kelly more than losing her life gave her joy for the sadness of not disappointing a new love.
     Kelly had often talked to Steven at the library (Before they made love three times) where he would sit, read, and look at the internet which he called the toilet. Steven was as many Americans, with dark tan skin and an extremely mixed heritage. She wanted to be with the young man as urgingly as he did her, but saw him as a low some bum who had nothing in the world but the memories of surfing championships. Steven always astonished Kelly with his vocabulary, quick witted humor and quips, but she just couldn’t get past that poor homeless thing which he chose for himself. “I got the life O’ Riley little woman…” he would always say, and in her last moments Kelly wished she could have cared for more than pleasure and owning. She always thought that she could never have the strength and humility to gut it out on the streets, and so she just turned her tricks in those disgusting biker pubs.
     The day she’d finally got the guts to confront Steven after watching him surf at his usual spot she was in her usual sober mood of depression from too many alcoholic drinks. The blues she had, filled her with such confusing contemptuous hatred for her own denial of reaching out at the risk of a dream that wasn’t even dangerous. She stormed against the current going with the outward tide and confronted Steven shouting “What the hell is your problem ignoring me when you know I’m up at work in the bar! I told you a hundred dollars, and I’ll give you the world for one night since it’s you! So what is it, are you just a coward or are you a damned queer, because I at least know you’re a total loser you stupid bum?!” “Are you hearing yourself? Listen weirdo you can call me a bum, you can call me stupid I mean I’m still working on a business proposal for ‘You’re never going to finish or amount to anything.’ (Kelly interrupts) Yeah well what you don’t call me is a loser, get me?” Steven thought he was finished. “Really, well just what the hell have you done at all in your life loser?” Kelly emphatically stated her disrespectful rhetoric. “I’ve glazed the marble bitch! Why don’t you stick around and see how much respect I get?” before Steven had finished asking his question Kelly’s hand was full of his penis gently massaging. Steven hadn’t even set down his surf board and pleaded “Look darlin’ this does happen to be my board, but I’ve got to go put it up at a friend’s house; maybe he’ll have some condoms though because I haven’t been laid in weeks.” “Let’s do it on the beach baby.” Kelly sighed longingly, and the wind eventually blew hardly any sand in the most awkwardly high flying manner of spinning gravitational calm. Kelly and Steven, while covered by a blanket ended their friendship that hardly ever was with just huh just um just oh and the occasional whistle in between.  
    Just two weeks and a day later Steven would find out about Kelly’s blood stained book, and those killers who tie so well with their wells of resources never completely knowing the depths of a floatable bucket.
 
Chapter 2 – New Yellow Boots with Brown Laces –  
     “Well God save the queen with her head on a fucking pike damn it!” Steven screamed when he heard the horrible news with more than just an “Uhg!” At least for his temperament, he was lucky enough to be on the beach as someone passed him the info, he cried “It’s those dumb ass hellacious bikers man I know it, what do they call those guys Fly’s Pies or some shit?” Steven asked the African American stripper who was enough of friends with Kelly to find the little “white boy” who Kelly’d always talk about and break the news to him. “Yes sugar all right, that’s who it was, but you need to just forget about those honky tonkin’ crackers for real.” Devonia said to Steven. “You saw it happen didn’t you? Who was it? Who did this? I swear to God I’ll fuck their life into oblivion.” Steven said while flopping onto his ass in the sand and spitting out a mixture of mucus and tears with a hard hiss through his teeth. “Oh honey, it’s not like I could say if I did see anything, but as soon as I walk into a strip club my mind just shuts off and becomes like a garbage disposal all right. Sugar do you want a hand job? I guess I could give you some free head baby, since you’re just so cute out hear amongst these waves and shit.” The stripper didn’t even realize what and who she was insulting, and Steven’s mouth turned into a horrid threatening questionable grin as he turned his head towards Devonia and began to rise. “There’s something Kelly never knew about me, I have a degree in law from Purdue.” Steven growled and hissed, and Devonia inquisitively replied “So what the fuck is you gonna do, I mean who gives a damn about that shit?” Steven whispered loudly with his own response pointing directly at his heart “I’m going to the cops, and you can watch me hunt these assholes down myself.”
     “Baby you must be stricken with grief all right, you need to just let it go honey, and I’ll let the thing about the cops go. I don’t wanna be hearin’ about any police, forget that shit. OK!” Devonia ignorantly quaffed, and Steven’s voice dropped into a low octave of swallowing tremble “Well when I get this badge, if I ever kick down a door that you’re behind, you just shut the fuck up and stay the hell out of my way.” “Oh, uhn uh oh no I don’t think so, you don’t be talkin’ to me like that.” the stripper’s sensibility for allowance of misconduct was offended. “Well why don’t you just get the hell, actually wait I’ve got twenty bucks and some weed do you wanna smoke? I need to forget.” Steven queried “Whatchou mean like gentile? ‘Cause yo’ ass is scarin’ me.” Devonia was trembling. “Yes baby, are you Ok? I’m sorry for getting all wrath of God in your face.” Steven half wittedly apologized. “Well sugar let’s go, yo’ ass is gonna do it fo’ real I can see it in your eyes. You should just smoke those stupid Fly Tyin’ bitch ass suckers.” The pair of not so average little freaky weirdoes retreated into the shadows, and no one heard the moans of Devonia until after the roar of “OhAhhg!” then shreds of “..oh my..” and etc were heard far down the beach.  
     “What the hell was that?” A beach yuppie shouted into his undersized condominium at his wife, and she replied “Oh it’s that Steven Burns down there I bet you anything he’s wasting his money again on those dumb ass balloon sized condoms with one of those dumb ass beach whores. At least that man has heart, and he’s the best lay I’ve ever had.” “Myra how could you?” the poor ritch man was devastated. “Oh you’ve cheated yourself Howard, and a couple times you even told me you wished you could suck the man off yourself.” and the upscale housewife laughed. “Well let me just pop a pill baby, and we can get down you know what I’m sayin’?” Howard softly pleaded, and his wife replied “Well let’s go baby! (and then she whispered to herself) Oh Howard you’re only 37 years old you weak little sissie.”  
     The next day after confirming the passed along information of Kelly’s demise, Steven Burns headed toward the downtown city office to place an application for the police academy. He knew it was true, that his bad feeling from not hearing of Kelly was the affirmation of the worst possible outcome (to him); what he didn’t know was with his degree in law all he needed was a four week safety acclamation course to start in on his road to becoming a detective. His vendetta wasn’t caring of any regulations, only a side arm and a badge, so he hamstered out his classes eagerly anticipating getting a few lap dances to borrow a little lip service from any carved out pearl house doll he could find. Even though he was in the boonies; the city of Farcington burned in his mind, and he just happened to be carrying fuel in his heart.
     All of a sudden it’s graduation day and officer Burns could smell Farcington (the city of oil) off in the not too far distance. He had a confused erection, so much that the Sergeant of Arms noticed the awkward fit of Steven’s pants as he passed the certificate of graduation into the rookie’s hands. “I heard you want to go detective son, so I guess they call some of you guys dicks for all different reasons.” on a path that he thought he would never be on, the future Detective Burns laughed at the Sergeant’s comment. “Sir I’d be glad to cut the damned thing off at this point if it would sharpen up my nose for my oath.” Steven told the Sergeant after the ceremony was over. “Well I suppose some of you fellahs actually do listen in here don’t you?” the dedicated officer replied. “Yes sir I’m a new man sir, you can go ahead and call me space monkey if you’d like.” Steven cared no longer for glazing any globe with his style of popping out eyeballs and dropping jaws with his acrobatics on the waves; just burning off fat by torching out terror and hatred for the beauty of the world such as donuts.    
 
Chapter 3 – Green Shell Toe Flats with Blue Stripes –
     “Oh my God he’s on the ground!” A strange mix of peering non-gentlemen and strippers scream in a weird chime “Don’t get that him kill stupid mother please fucker!” The man who goes by Rider yells “Shut the fuck up bitch! Big Viggie just end this dumbass!” “You sure mister?” Big Viggie who goes by many names usually barks at people, but with the older second half general he’s always polite, and as he asks Rider of his certainty he shifts his weight. “AGHH take this you mother fucker!” Steven rolls into the rotund biker drawing his knife out of his pock with his right hand and rises with a wild left hook that lands with a fierce amount of strength. Wiggie Big Boy lands on his back, and Steven is on his feet opening his little razor sharp pocket knife.
     “All I did is ask about a friend of mine you stupid assholes where’s the fire at?” Burns questions deeply with a slow smooth tone. “And who the fuck are you to fight like that!?! Look what you did to Outty and our brother Big Gizzard, You’re not makin’ it out of here mother fucker, nobody fucks with the Fly Tiers.” The man who often referred to himself as “the writer” (Rider) coughed, and Steven wastes no time slashing Rider’s face and fleeing out through the swinging door. Rider drops to his knees, grabs his gushing open face and whines “What the fuck just happened?!” A muffled shout comes from the lot outside with the sound of a large approaching motorcycle “You wanna know who I am you fuckin’ idiots?! I’m a rookie cop, and just wait mother fuckers, ‘cause Kelly’s heart is comin’ straight out of my damned eyes you skeevy freakin’ losers!” The door opens back again to the crackity jacked gentleman’s lounge, a seven foot tall man wearing leather pants with no ass exposing cottage cheese-like spilled wrinkles walks in, and says in a weathered low mixed bumpkin accent “That wasn’t a real cop, it was Iron Man brothers.” “You let that mother fucker get away!?” Rider screams in a questioning tone, and uncaringly the seven foot tall Louie Bouie answers back “Whatever OK, all I’ve been thinkin’ about all day is curdled milk, and I don’t have any Cottage Cheese over here brothers. Anybody wanna churn some prison butter?”  
     “Later for your ass Dr. Bouie, did you guys just here that? The kid called us skeevy freakin’ losers, and was even stupid enough to say he’s a rookie cop. ‘Is, not was there right?’ (Louie inquired about grammar, and Rider was quick on his blade taking three steps and slicing Dr. Bouie’s throat) Watch this old cut up face of mine go win sympathy with the law over that stupid fuckin’ surfer.” Rider’s plan wasn’t questioned, but Louie lied flowing a swamp load of disgusting blood from his gargling words “pefpghIII wagandgandahn fphruogh ahjritittitititit” “Oh shut the fuck up Louie.” Rider laughed. “Hey mother fucker that was my back door too.” Big Gizzard was on his feet and he was pissed off. “Well what do you think about my plan, or do we need to circle the bikes?” Rider asks and is answered by a rain of shouts “I don’t give a fuck!” “Fuck you I’m an accessory to that shit!” “What?” “Hey who killed Louie Bouie?” asks Outty sitting up with a fuzzy head “Maybe he’s not dead?” comes out of the corner of the bar. “See guys this is why I do our planning for the night time, what have I told you about level fuckin’ heads and cursing? I mean did you hear that dumb ass little surfer, he was like some kind of sailor wasn’t he?” Rider elaborates on his plan with a simple order that hardly anyone heard at all “I’m going to snitch on a cop to his own cruller munching friends, and you guys clean up Bouie because I don’t give a damn either you stupid mother fuckers. The only thing I care about is Dr. Bouie’s sick ass stories, they keep me in vagina.”  
     As soon as Rider’s motorcycle cranks, out of a shadowed corner in the bar drops a holey news paper “I done heard about what you boys been doin’ in here, and I finally done seen it for myself with my own God head killin’ eyes. Maybe that boy was a pig, maybe he was a good cop, or perhaps he was a fuckin’ liar I don’t give a shit. All I know is most you fly tied up mother fuckers are gonna die soon, and I pray it’s on my soul not any ticket writer’s. That bossity boss of y’alls’ is a damned fool though I can tell you that, and I hope you don’t get this damned mess cleaned up well. So, since that fellah said he was a cop, then Jimmity Glickin’ Glide is about to Jimmity Glick out the mother fuckin’ door right now.” “As if muthah fuckah!” the same black whore that Steven had sex with in some sand dunes off the beach yelled. “If you boys wanna see my forty five sky rocket out (Jimi Glide whips out his pistol) and pop off on some bull shit fuckin’ ass happy Glocks, then go ahead and say boo about any fuckin’ thing.” and the mysterious stranger in snake skin boots, baggy jeans, a cowboy hat and a leather jacket slippity clops with a slither out through the swinging door which hangs on an off kilter hitching axel. “Well at least that dude smelled like the ocean to me all right, and all of you whores better get to fuckin’ spilling out some sodium peroxide and water.” Outty said while he picked up the odd stranger’s news paper “Hey this news paper is full of fuckin’ holes, so just who the Hell is or was the cops around here?”  
     “That was the real fuckin’ homicidal Jimi fuckin’ Glide; I know it was I’ve seen that guy a billion fuckin’ times.” (Those were the last words an unknown old timer shouted out as he tried to sprint towards the door, and the last sound he ever heard was a gun shot through the back of his chest) The hygienically cleanest biker of the group walks over to the elderly dead man, kneels down and says “I don’t feel it. Somebody give me a shot of crank, I’m too sober to do my God feeling thing.” “You idiot, you’re not getting any of my powder for your dumb ass bull shit.” Outty shouts as Busy Bee starts to rise slowly saying “I’ll show you my God strength.” Outty wants him to see it coming and knows his habits. Busy Bee points towards the sky saying “I’ve built the force of nature out of this barrel (He begins to turn slowly drawing his gun down to aim, and Outty begins to step to the side) and I am the God that chooses you on… Where’d he go?” “God this mother fucker.”  Outty lets go with three blasts from an automatic nine millimeter blowing Busy Bees brains all over the place, and Big Gizzard drops to the floor directly behind Busy Bee.
     All the strippers scatter out of the bar in different degrees of nakedness. “What do we do now? Busy was the one who always helped the whores clean up man?” Outty says just before he hears a shotgun blast from directly to the side of him, but he doesn’t fall down or feel anything he simply gives his last words as he looks to his side “Man we are fucked up. (Looking down and to the left at his missing arm and blown out rib cage) Hey! (He sees a member of his crew holding a shot gun that he doesn’t even remember the name of, although they’ve had anal sex), what the hell did you do to me baby buhbuh buuuuhtshthtuhs?” and he finally falls to his last hellacious hang over.
     Steven burns wakes in his car the next morning and wonders where he’s going to go to clean up for his first day visiting the Farcington police station for assignment in his uniform; all the while Rider is sitting on his bike as he has been without the sudden thought that he once had to go to the cops. Rider spins tires in the direction of the Puppy Sweat Kitchen (The setting of the prior night’s scene), and as he’s riding up to the tittie bar he sees a gallery of officials wheeling out dead bodies and surveying the scene. He had all ready taken off his Fly Tiers vest, so he pulls into the crowded parking lot yelling a cowardice howl “Hey pigs! I know what happened here last night, and it was one of you who started it all! He cut my fuckin’ face man, and I didn’t do shit or at least he said he was a cop. OK!” “Look you old coot! I don’t know who the Hell you are, but shut off the bike and we’ll talk about it!” a uniformed officer grimaces. “Well I’m scared right now man! (Rider shuts off his bike) Did you hear me? (The cop places his right arm on his fire arm, puts up his left hand in a halting gesture and nods his head) I’m even scared of you guys. I don’t know why, I love cops usually; but I’m hurt brothers and all I wanted to do is see some titties last night.”
 
Chapter 4 – Brown Galoshes --    
     Everybody dies and they do see judgment in their life sometimes; then there’s those who think not at all, except for their own rules they try placing upon others within the exceptions they’ve attempted to build glass fortresses upon. The Police Department property doors open and Steven burns walks through the corridor heading to the window office in which he was instructed to go. “Hello! (Steven hears his own voice echo) Anybody in here! (No echo this time just eerie silence, and then he whispers to himself) What the hell is going on in this weirdo place right now man?” “You have to come down here and to the left you bull shit rookie loser!” a strange voice echoes all around him, he wonders which way exactly is it coming from, and at that exact moment a man in a black suit with the squinty eyes of a desert soldier comes from around a corner that’s in the direction that he came from on the right. He points at the man in the company suit and shouts “Was that you?” The man glares at him simply shaking his head and quickening his walk; so Steven turns in the other direction and just blindly marches double time forward, but the man marches differently than Steven. “Where the Hell are you dude?!” Steven shouts. “BAH! (The invisible man laughs harshly) You hear that behind you, you bull shit mother fucker?! That’s your doom comin’ you dumb ass son ‘OH! I don’t even have to turn, there you are’ (Steven says glad to see the insulting black cop behind the cage in his office) you dumb bitch ass rookie you’s a for real stupid ass son of a bitch, niggah you ain’t gonna make it.”  
     Steven noticed he no longer heard the steps of the man in the suit and turned partially to his left, but there was no one there “What’s going on here dude?” Steven whispered, and the property officer questioned “What kind of drugs are you on? (Steven turned back one hundred and eighty degrees to his right) ‘BOO!’ (and it is the man in the suit) Awe Man! (Steven sighs loudly in outrage with himself). “Whatever it is I want some you stupid loosie goosie mother fucker. At least officer Geofries didn’t catch up to your ass and you didn’t even run by me. Trust me kid a lot of bull shit losers come down here, and most of ‘em end up suckin’ Geofries’ dick.”  Says the property officer “It’s true I like weeding out bad duckies from our detective programs, and I don’t mind getting blow jobs. Wanna pucker up butter cup?” Geofries tests the newly non-recruited officer.
     “Listen, I like my clothes at least a little baggie, so toss me my pistol and some extra threads. You can try to gawk at my crotch for a second in the men’s room if you want you weirdoes, but I’m not letting you touch me though.” Geofries pokes Burns on the shoulder “Touched you, you dirty little surfer. Wanna try to do something about it?” Geofries displays a huge seemingly murderous grin. “Awe forget you man, how do you know I surf? I mean Whitey you bullshit mother fuckers your damn selves.” The phone rings, and the property officer picks it up to a blaring heat of frustration in static. “Hey the BSMF thing is his OK I don’t curse.” says Geofries, and the property officer slams the phone down “Get out. No guns for you today just get out.” “What?” asks Steven. “I said get the Hell out.” responds the black officer, and the battle hardened Geofries interjects “Unless you wanna suck a dick (Geofries throws on his sun glasses) I’d do what the neegerd says.” Steven faces the property officer and queries “Hey what’s your name dude because you ‘My name is Property’ (says the black man) ‘I’d get the hell out of here if I were you, you swervy little bastard, because there’s two of us and only one of you.’ (Geofries growls throwing number signs with his fingers) and just where the Hell am I supposed to go?” “Tahiti!” warns the property officer. “Excuse me?” asks Burns. “You know where Tahiti is? Processing. (with sarcasm states the officer in a suit) That’s right! You’re either workin’ for initials all the live long day, or you’re gettin’ ready for an ass slammin’ vacation. Just leave here on the elevator in either direction, and we’ll watch what happens from the other room you idiot ex-criminal probably.”  
     A bellowing laugh echoes towards Steven’s drift of depression all the way to the door, and when his own footsteps stop he hears a moan “Come on Geofries hurry it up man, your ass has been too hurtful since the operation.” “You skeevy freakin’ losers what are you doin’ it in the butt down there or somethin’?” “Don’t mistreat your property kid.” groans Property, and Geofries yells “That’s right!” Steven Burns thought to himself that he had to get the fuck out of tombstone, or whatever the Hell, where ever the Hell or whoever the Hell’s nightmare this is. He whispered alone with a solemn painful moaning grunt in the elevator “This is about last night man, I was high off of graduation. Maybe I could do some kind of Die Hard movie maneuver, and just go skittly boppin’ around these suckers with some cool breezin’ surfer’s played out disco tap dancin’ shit. Yeah right.” Steven pressed L for lobby, but the elevator kept going up.
     “Well long story short mom, they fired me before they even hired me, and I even volunteered for undercover which I didn’t want to do.” Steven’s on the phone with his mom long distance to the Caribbean. “uku;glgk; fuotrfih;uyojvfyit;uitdf” live crackles through the line “Mom you must be drunk or something, but I can never understand you anyways.” “Yeah well that were’d id id something world in and out, I’d still suck your boners off if you were here sonny boy, will you let me like when you were four likie likie” “Mom did you do that since I was four?” “Well I licked it you stupid mother fucker, just nothing came out ‘till you started smacking me back. At least you kicked your dad’s ass for me.” “HuhhhhGeeegH! Man you’re messed up mom. NO! OK! Come back when you’d like, but I got shit to do anyways you weirdo. I love you mom and I’m out.” “Oh I don’t think so you dan’t be dallin’ me man you’reiklrhvbnqerbrbvhjb;qherjvbkbhbhfb hl” “Hello, hello, mom?” Steven puts down the phone “I guess she hung up.”  
 
Chapter 5 – White Dress Sandals –
     A gangster dressed in all black jumps out of nowhere wearing a leather jacket, and lands on the beach in a squatting stance next to Steven who’s just trying to think in rest mode as he sits by his board. “Hey what’s up mother fucker I’ve been paid to do you in by some old ass biker who even pointed you out to me a few hours ago. Did you realize it, that I’ve been watching you?” the cold looking gangster says in his part Italian mixed with Chicago accent. “No, actually a lot of people do nothing but gawk out here, and I hate that part of it. You can go ahead and do your worst.” says Steven in a low depressed tone. “Well I’m just here this time to punk you out a little and test your lovin’ heart kid. I’m totally unarmed sort of, why don’t you raise up on me and see what fuckin’ happens?” the gangster cackles. “Well you’re not going to murder me in some seemingly legal way dude, so as I said you can just do your worst man. Who the Hell are you any freakin’ ways?” Steven slightly gulps. “My name’s Cakies, and I’m a dumb ass gangster who’s had to turn into an idiot assassin (The strange assassin throws some sand with a hard force onto the side of Steven’s face) You wanna hear the funny part (Steven’s eyes open widely to completion in fear for saying anything) is I’ve got warrants in Farcington, but I heard there was a hit out on you. So, I’m here to either warn you or steal your crafty fuckin’ feet away from the world, if you’re not ready to go all Catholic Old Testament on me in order to defend God’s property which lies in you.” Cakies cackles again in a high pitch.  
     “Well, what have you lost your mind for dude? I’m not so attached to the lies I’ve got in me to think that my grown ass is completely God’s property anymore.”  Steven growls on “So as I fuckin’ said, why don’t you throw somethin’ harder than sand at me, and perhaps you’ll see, (Steven looks to his right where the gangster was) where’d this guy go now?” “Oh you’re a real idiot who doesn’t know how dangerous the world is (Steven jerks his head back around, up and forth in more than seven hundred and twenty degrees), I’m not going to get hard on you dummy, want some chocolate? (All Steven sees is a pair of hands coming out of a black Italian leather jacket squirting chocolate sauce in his face) ‘Oh shit what the fuck is that, you’re not a damned cannibal are you? Where’d you go man, please no more?’ Oh you in grateful son of a stupid harlot, that’s name brand Hershey’s. What are you so dumb and half black for now? (Steven looks around, but doesn’t see anything instead of an oddly deserted beach, and he moans a fearful whimper hearing) So, are you ready for some harder treatment mother fucker? Have some sprinkly cup cakes (With the sounds of whipquiick whipqscuiuck whipqshuck, Steven is smacked on both sides of his head and the center of his face with lemony sprinkled cup cakes and sighs inwardly noticing he’s probably about to die) You stupid weakling you’re not even running, so get ready for the fiesta de resistance. (Steven wants to run, but all he can think of is greasy fast inhuman Italian speed, and he sees the loud slow footsteps coming towards him from his left as he’s crookedly facing the ocean. Cakies the gangster stops a little past Steven dead to his three o clock. Steven turns to have the ocean facing him from a mid day seat, and sees nothing but the barrel of a silencer on a gun, yet he feels a cool breeze and closes his eyes) You know kid I was never in this for marbles, cake, or diamonds really; my real name’s Michael and I’ve forsaken myself ‘My birth name’s Michael too, and maybe I deserve it like this.’ (Steven says interrupting the gangster) please run the fuck away kid (and KabOOm).” BOOM Boom boom echoes down the beach.
     There goes brains all over the beach, and Steven lays fidgeting on his side with a good amount of blood on him. “Kid my name is Jimi Glide, and I’ve got warrants too, just not in fucking Farcington. Those Fly Tier mother fuckers, well this old swamp raised boy right here (Steven starts to sit up next to the dead assassins body not believing he’s still alive.) who you may not wanna be around too much because some organizations cross state lines for warrants. Well well well lookie down there, I believe I see a rat mother fuckin’ Fly Tier with his fuckin’ writer killin’ self. Ohp, there he goes, I was about to sprint off, but no way he doesn’t have a ride nearby. Look mister surfer that Cakies guy was fuckin’ (Tears begin to well up in the native looking Southern man’s eyes, and a few roll down in a streaming way out of his right eye), well he wasn’t all bad, at least not directly from the cradle. I know because I’m a lone rider who’s snorted blow with that dude befo’. Befo’ befo’ befo’ be show be show be show be knowin’ the glowin’s of a souls messed up showin’s (The swampy biker raises his pitch to that of a female soul singer) and let your soul glow back down to the roll of your hold on the world which you have no controll (and his pitch drops back down again) in or for fo’ su’e fo’ su’e. Well I don’t hear any sirens, what about you mister surfer? (The ocean blows its breath of calm relaxing awesome voice) Huhhhhhghh, I guess I’m still alive and I’ve still got things I could get done. (Jimi Glide whipes his face of tears) You know one time I drew a schematic that showed the possibility of a boat that can fly through the air off the pressure of water being circulated through its chassis much like the way the tides of the ocean work.” the cowboy hat wearing outlaw finishes his tirade and throws down his gun.  
     “Mister how the fuck would I know anything about that?” Steven nervously tries to warn the ex-bank robber “You need to be aware of something yourself man, and stop losing your mind in grief for a second. ‘This is the police!’ (The sound of a loud speaker echoes from behind the sand dunes) Look dude thanks for saving my life, but why don’t you escape as fast as you are if you can right now?” The loud speaker feeds back a little and echoes more “Place your hands upon your heads, and get down on the ground.” Jimi Glide speaks quickly to Steven ”Well that was a rhetorical question. Do you know what that is, a rhetorical fuckin’ question? Watch this though, I can run faster without my guns, and this sure as hell ain’t a frickin’ game.” Steven Burns doesn’t avert his eyes he simply slaps the sides of his forehead, and Jimi hollers a tune and shouts “Bump buhmp bunt buh duh du duh dunt dunt dunt dunt dunt duhn duuuhhn, and their off!” A harshly stinging blast of sand is all that Steven feels, and he can swear he only sees a jet stream heading up and over the dunes into the city.  He was lucky he had his hands partly covering his eyes.
     Steven throws his hands up slowly into the air before he rocks forward to his knees, then he shouts out saying “The gun’s to my left! Man I swear I freakin’ swear to whatever especially the frickin’ cops, all I’m gonna do is go back to my little beach bummy surfin’ skateboarder thing. (Steven starts to ball in tears) Maybe I should sell Kelly’s car, I don’t know why her mom was cool enough to give it to me.”
 
To be continued...
 
M.E.L.