Chapter 2

The Dark Side of Life

I was out of the prologue, and into the skivvy-divvies of the surely hard to find madam. She was out there somewhere. And I had to get laid. I was out in the sticks and diving for a board. The broad, she was out there somewhere as well. She was screaming, calling for someone, and I wasn't tired. No, I was not trying to hide my own amazement when she called me a fucking chandelier-hugging huffing-and-puffing serpentine-belt wielding dumbass. I was chancing it big time. But without those two noggin' heads in the corner rooting me on, I was certain to find not one, but two, big ol' deuces in the ocean! I found the man of the hour. But, what I also found was his bad breath.

"Detective Stormare, is it? I've never heard of such a lowlife, Detective! Now, now. Boys!" he called to his men of the power-hour, and I was not that way inclined, no siree Bob, no siree Todd and no siree Detective Santa Clause, I was not her fucking cruise missile uncle, either! This sour goblin was the anteater in the play submarine, and I was the fish out of the fire hydrant waiting for a chance to pop the question. Don't you feel ashamed, bub? Tying your own daughter up, raping her with your two handymen there in the lowliest fucking place on Earth, your own fucking daughter, my man. He was angry, but I had him pegged. He was a lowlife. He was lower than the fucking pugilist who was looking down from above, masquerading as some kinda bitch he wouldn't fight. He was tugging it, and I wasn't gonna get fried. No, but my keister and my sister's killer showerhead and her dog, too! Scram! Scram! I kicked his dog in the poochy behind and he was out of sorts. I walked to the curtains in the dressing room and found a loose manifested destiny that didn't sate me one bit.

She was playing hard to get at, and fine by me if that's all it took. But she was his fucking future and he took it from her. He took her virginity, and he took her-

"Detective?"

What's that? Say it ain't so! Mission complete! All right, let's get out of here nice and-

Kaboom!

I was knocked out cold like a slice of onion milk. And the pie was still in West Virginia! She had to be joking. Had to be meaning wasn't gonna kiss me awake, oh, no. No no no no no! Not the scene I was interested in today, or yesterday, or none of that! Woah! Nelly! I jumped down from the chandelier metaphor and climbed up and out of the rat's nest chimney with my flair. She was the flare gun and I was the person who had a job to do. She was trying to tell me it wasn't, but it was.

A fucking flare gun? She fired at me and said she had a wet nose or something. I was sure I had misheard her. "You're pregnant, or something, missy? I'm happy to oblige, but I ain't a wet nurse, I'm just a gangster or something, you spilt milk oaf queen with the biggest ah forget about it, go get your piehole stuffed if you wanna, but pause it for a second, okay shit for brains? Sheesh! And can it with the insinuations, okay, little girl? What are you, still in doubt? He's not your fucking daddy, he's a fucking wimp! And I've gotta get it through you both that I'm tired of your bullshit, young Mrs.-"

"Tiffany. My sister is the one you are looking for, no? Well, that's strange. She went missing, but it wasn't that long ago that they found her. Are you sure you don't mean to say she's still missing, sir? But, she never left the dungeon! She's still there, Detective! We've got to agree to disagree, because we can't go down there, now, can we? The door's locked! How will you get in?"

Oh, where there's a will, there's a way, little sister.

A big troublesome plot was unfolding. The dungeon, huh? So she's trapped and can't use her big features to flash some sense into these mafia brats that oh-so-kindly turned my whole world into a new Nutcracker ballet just a moment ago while you were up here powdering your nose, hot stuff?

I was ecstatic. A whole new wardrobe would be my bet. And the key to Narnia as well, if they threw that in, I would be even more fucking sure that she wouldn't be laughing last if they caught up to her. She had stolen something, right? And now I had to get her and the whole crap stick back to the matter at hand, what are you wearing, dollface? She was dressed in a weird kiddy fiddler's wettest dreamworld cosplay outfit, for Christ's sakes! It was like she was stuck in Great Britain in the 1920's and had never managed to find the rottweiler pills that'd turn her 92 once again once Hitler had brain damaged himself into a settlement with the witch doctors who plucked him feather by feather until he cursed her with this silly outfit she was wearing! It was like high school all over again, but it was my worst nightmares coming to fruition, not a curse or a boy's sundance festival she wanted to go to, get out of here with that shit, missy! Why are you dressed like that!? I was sure something was off with her little bimbo doll midriff-bearing happy doll happy place bitchfest-incoming gazebo locketed tire iron potato factory Beethoven-and-the-three-Elves set for divorce if there was ever any worry monkey's uncle shaved-gizzard drug peddling keister revenge plotting micro scrubber rotational dialect inducing midriff bearing again, oh, what was it now? Sweetie, do you need to be on my dick all the time or do you just nod off when the heroin hits just like that, oh, yeah, that's the stuff often, you delinquent time-double from 1975-55 triple-digit sex fiend primped and pampered, oh, but not scrubbed too much dirty talking nympho, you phony, you idgit, you donkey-

"Detective! Look!"

Oh, don't give me that shtick "It's the hand, sir, it's her fucking hand they severed when they were doing the nosey-candiru fishing, sirrah! Oh, I only mean it twice! Not that I'd mind if you screwed me with your pinky toe over the fucking truth, sirrah! Oh, my!"

Bimbo-dolly here ass-kissed me into finding out her sister's less-than-loco-unlikely overdrive motiff prinko-ka-come-to-daddy Malachi Moorhaven-spectactled "Oh, Detective, no!" look-if-it's-about-the-alimony-check-it's-in-the-mail-sweetheart-I-only-just got done finishing up showering, oh, Mr. Fro! Dough wielding pie having dumb-as-milk-in-the-cupboard reverse-garroted but not thrice because it would've looked better on the police report, what, do you want me to fuck her, too? Oh, oh, me too!

Me too and a double half twist and a screw-me-dinky-hole-in-her-arsehole-on-the-way-down-while-she-screwed-her-own-friends-over-twice-as-hard what!?

"Detective? Are you Detective Milton?"

No, I was not. And see here, you two-timing bath scrubber, this is the first and last time I'm gonna see to it that your finger is in my rear end and not getting me off, missy! Now where is- oh, there he is.

Ah, hahahaha.

Nice, Mr. Tiger-or-lion-or-whatever! Let's get out of here! Feet, on the double, why aren't I- oh.

"Mr. Milton, wouldn't you know it, was not any easier on the eyes, Detective. Now, tell me. Who are you working for, sir? The last time I checked, and that was moments ago when I called the damn place and checked every record in the fucking city of the Angel's that we lived in, good sirrah, with the hairdo like the mink puppet who is about to get thrown the fuck down, sir, there, there, missy. It's only cruel when you look away, my daughter. To look to the side is alright, sometimes, my dear Tiffany. Now, where is it that you are going, sirrah? To the dungeons, my sir? Why do you think she's in there, and why aren't you giving me the time to answer back when you spit in my face and say this isn't my daughter right here, you fucking lowlife, you absolute fucking useless bag of stones, Detective!"

He was holding Tiffany by the arm. He had me pegged. I wasn't gonna ask him twice for a favor.

"Now, now, Tiffany, my girlfriend Mrs. Nuggets here is going to eat what she wants to of that boy there, my girlfriend says to her picky dieting friends at the girlfriend, go! Get back here, you waif, you absolute boyfriend dawdling terror of my fine oil!"

"Take him away! To the dungeons!" he told his men who were taking the biggest risk of their short, little, impertinent and absolutely handsome in those fucking unicorn-shagging midriff-bearing little pencil-naysayers and accounting freaks who hey, who knows? I could even die in here, you fucking woah! Dear me! Is that young misses airhead with the countenance of a pearl and an oyster shagging one off before it hit them that the dolphin had its way with her first? Is she for real?

Oh, man! I'm so bone!