Chapter 1 An Alley and A Headache
269 0 4
X
Reading Options
Font Size
A- 15px A+
Width
Reset
X
Table of Contents
Loading... please wait.

One minute, I’m thinking about the wonderfully hot body that is right in front of me as I turn with her into an alley. But as soon as Miss Wonderful turns around, I’m face down on the pavement with a headache, wondering why I’m seeing my ancestors. Not their ghostly souls, mind you. No, flesh and blood people that I remember from pictures. None of them appeared thrilled to see me.

“You’re kind of scrawny and not very bright. But I suppose you’ll do Mr. Kennicott.” The dissatisfied sigh coming from those sensuous lips shot through my muddled brain.

However, I wasn’t paying complete attention. As I’m on the ground, an image of my great-grandma’s stern gaze of disapproval appeared. While I never met the old relative, I gathered stories about Blanche Kennicott. She led a local temperance movement back in the ancient past and would never approve of me getting drunk and following this temptress. Judging by my great-grandma’s censorious expression that I witnessed in my foggy mind; I knew her disappointment came from the number of beers, which made me stupid. Only an idiot drinking too much goes into a dark place with a stranger.

Yeah, tell me about it, granny!

Through the series of events over the course of a few minutes with Miss Wonderful, I absorbed several lessons that night. First, a guy should never believe his lying eyes when a mysterious babe suddenly comes on to him. Another lesson is that a guy needs to be damn skeptical of a beauty who starts using words like “trust me, I need a guy like you”, “let’s find some place quiet”, and “I’ll rock your world”.

But the key lesson I learned at that moment was that I can be a sap.

For you generation whatever types, a sap means a foolish or gullible person. Additionally, it’s the description of a handy device that knocked me right into this mess. You see, a sap also describes a little device that old-time detectives, cops, and thugs used to soften up their victims.

They’re easy to make. All you need is a couple of pieces of leather about the size of your hand, sew them up, then fill the insides with lead buckshot. Now you’ve got a nice bludgeon. Slap it on the ribs long enough and guys want to produce answers to whatever questions you ask. Indeed, pop someone behind the ear and they go down like a rock.

That’s how I first discovered their use when a guy used a sap on my noggin when I struggled and looked up at Miss Wonderful.

While I said hello to my long-dead relatives in a moment of semi-consciousness, two gorillas in human skin lifted me to my feet. That’s when I see the leather weapon in a massive hand holding my arm. There’s no reason to strike me again since I’m not standing on my own anytime soon, as my legs are sagging out like a scarecrow’s flopping in a strong wind. All the same, I felt another thump ring through my skull from the second gorilla.

Then, I’m talking with my imaginary childhood friend while my head falls forward and I see Miss Wonderful’s shoes under the alley light above us.

My hair hurts when she lifts my head, but I’m finally back to recognizing the woman who commanded my muggers. She’s got a mischievous gaze with her piercing eyes searching my soul. Her delicate nose and full lips gave her the look of royalty. Her wavy tawny hair lay long over her bare shoulders, leading my eyes downward to look at her breasts once again.

I’m such a damn fool!

Somehow, I decided that there was no way that I’m getting mugged without at least giving a fight. While I’m still mostly bendable, like a gummy bear at this point, I suddenly shake off the grip on my left arm and swing around at the guy next to me. I’m aiming for the bastard’s balls, and I nail him. A gratifying grunt comes from the son of a bitch grunt, but his vice-like grip loosens only a little. While I was trying to shake loose, a rib shot from thug number two hit me with a concrete fist from the other side. I’m man enough to admit I crumpled at the impact. That’s what happened when one lung smashed into the other one. Before I can fall, still unable to breathe correctly, I feel my arms lifted along with the rest of me. I’m dangling in the air with expectations that more pain is coming.

“Stop!” Miss Wonderful commanded her goons.

My gaze somehow comes back to that sweet stack of a woman standing in front of me.

Did she suddenly care about me now?

Nope!

I can tell by those hypnotic eyes inspecting me like I’m the fresh catch of the day at the seafood shop.

“That’s good! You need a bit of feisty to stand up against what’s coming. Just remember to use your brain as well! You get this right and I’ll see you again.”

I see her lick her lips and smile with too-perfect teeth. My brain screamed at my body to do something.

Too late!

Her punch into my diaphragm set off shock waves as the abdomen muscles seized up tighter than a virgin pussy. Both lungs decided to quit in protest. While I’m twitching around, gasping for air like a dying fish, Miss Wonderful elaborates on my situation.

“Don’t worry, it only hurts for a little while. Just stay alive. Your world is about to change! I really hope that you can survive.”

To say that I went out instantly is a lie. I feel my body hoisted, then dropped onto concrete. I hear a grunt, which I’m certain is mine. The three kidnappers are standing above me, or I think so, since they are fuzzy when my eyelids occasionally open. A dazzling light appears with a high-pitched whining sound, forcing me to jerk my head in pain. The noise reminds me of a jet engine trying to start. Then everything is black.

When I figured out some of what happened the next day, I must agree with one of Miss Wonderful’s promises. That bitch certainly rocked my world. Now, I just wish I could find her.

I want to give her the grafting gift of my fists, busting out her pretty teeth! It’s the image I had when everything finally went black.

The worst hangover in the history of humankind struck me when I woke. No, it was more than a hangover even though, at first, I figured the whole beat down in the alley was just part of a terrible drunken dream. Then, I made the mistake of moving my body.

“FUCK!”

My eyes open at the ache in my ribs. But the light it too bright so I closed my eyes and rotated my head. No alley anymore, just an interior wall I noticed in that brief instant.

Inside a screwed-up brain, I’m trying to avoid puking my guts out while considering the night’s events. Staying completely still, I carefully felt around my pockets for my wallet and cell phone. But they’re gone.

Naturally, I was fucking robbed!

The chair squeaks under me when I drop my hands while my head still lies on the top of the desk. The action makes me groan out loud as my ribs still ache from the thug’s fists. My eyes remain shut while my mind is still sorting out what the hell happened.

Somehow, I got back to my apartment.

Opening my eyes, the light in the room remains too bright, and I squint as I’m looking at a picture frame. My focus on the picture makes me blink several times. Then, it slowly sunk in as I got that icy chill along my back when things don’t look right. It’s a picture of a diploma of some sort hanging on a grimy pale green wall that has dark wainscoting halfway up.

I’ve never seen this damn place!

I close my eyes again, desperately hoping that I’m still in that twilight zone spot between sleep and awake. It is likely someone took pity on me and allowed me to stay overnight. There are some suckers like that. Then I froze. Was I kidnapped?

But you’re not tied up, you idiot!

That’s when the damn sound finally got inside my head like an earworm. Some asshole kept typing away in another room, each tap tap tap growing louder and louder than my head felt ready to pop from the pain. Finally, in desperation, I got to my feet and stumbled to the unfamiliar door. The movement gave my ribcage a reason to complain, and I grasped my side where the human gorilla struck me. The typing is still going on.

Stop it! Stop it!

I’m not sure that I actually yelled out the words screaming in my head. However, I know that a desperate rage mixed with more than a little fright filled me when I burst into the adjacent office.

Then, I stopped in my tracks!

When you expect to meet someone, you maintain expectations. Little things like what does the person will look like, or will they like me or not, come to mind. You certainly don’t expect to see an empty chair behind the desk.

No, that’s not correct.

Seeing isn’t the actual word, more like experiencing this crazy event. There was nobody in the chair at the desk, but there I was staring at the machine like a drunk trying to read the menu at a fast-food counter. That’s because the typewriter strikers busily slapping against the paper inside the roller.

NO FREAKING WAY!

There is no person in the chair. That’s right, it’s empty, and my overloaded brain has another thought.

Nobody uses a typewriter anymore!

To say I was stunned is more than an understatement. My eyes popped out of my head like a cartoon character. I slowly circle the desk while trying to figure out what I’m watching. Sticking out my finger, I pushed at the expected invisible person sitting there, but my hand kept going. Still, the damned typewriter kept working. Finally, I looked closely at the words on the paper. It’s a letter asking someone for payment. At this point, my brain laughed back at me in that maniacal laugh of crazy people in movies.

It’s a damn dream. An absolutely fucking crazy dream.

My first time in that screwed-up office sent me to the door as I hurried out of there. I still had hopes that the nightmare would quickly end. How wrong I was!

4