It was a slow day in the office again. It was a slow day in the office every damned day.

I just finished another bottle of Orina Del Diablo, the cheapest, strongest tequila I could afford. I probably could get something cheaper and stronger, but that meant I had to walk another block to the other liquor store. I was taking my usual one o' clock siesta which lasted about three hours. That fit snugly between my eleven o'clock forty winks and my four o'clock eye rest.

I was recollecting my thoughts on my previous case. Mrs. Marino. The dame thought her hubby was cheating on her. It was a simple Polaroid job. I took some snaps of hubby knocking boots with his secretary, then I blackmailed him for some money.

Unprofessional you might say, but the Fatcat had it coming. Rich bastard should have been more careful not to let the ball and chain know he was getting some the side. After I took the black loot, I gave the snapshots to him through our wonderful delivery system I like to call the post office.

That night, Mrs. Marino got back at hubby for cheating on her, and afterwards I rolled over and gave the remaining shots, the ones I conveniently forgot to mail to Fatcat hubby, to her.

"These are good," She flicked through them, examining them like a letter from Ed McMahon, "this one's at least the house in Beverly Hills worth, maybe some more money for emotional damage too." She held up a picture which showed two figures in a position that would make a yoga instructor ponder.

I woke up around two thirty; the tequila bottle was on the floor. I never got drunk drinking booze. Main reason was that I never put the bottle to my lips. The twins drink for me; I just need the hangover that comes later on to make me feel something. Pain is a good ole buddy of mine, been there ever since the twins came to life.

There was a silhouette on my door's new frosted glass. It just stood there for a couple of seconds, the silhouette, not the frosted glass. There's only two reasons for a person waiting behind my door like that. It's either Bubbles, the hooker who usually takes my money for reasons not mentioned in this fic, taking her panties off; or it's someone who's planning something. Can't be Bubbles, the silhouette's too rotund, so it must be the latter. I don't like people who have to plan before going into a room. It's usually detrimental for my health.

"The door's manual, you'll have to turn the handle to get in!" I yelled.

There was now the end of a wooden baseball bat in the place where my new frosted glass was. Now I'm sure it wasn't Bubbles, she would have used her steel bat.

The door swung open and there stood the Fatcat. All dressed in a rich man's blue suit, made out of more material than a Macy's parade balloon.

He walked in, or in his case shuffled, the two goons he brought along walked.

"You didn't hold up with your end of the bargain." He said.

"And you broke my door's window, I think we can call it even now." I said.

"You slept with my wife." He said.

"You wanna break my desk lamp and call it even?" I said.

"Boys, kill him. And make it hurt. A lot." He said.

Goon A swiped the bat at me and Goon B stuck a knife in my gut. I bled.

When he pulled out the knife, they both looked a little confused at the missing blade.

I struggled standing up. They looked even more confused at the gun I was now pointing at them.

Due to my original way of handling cases, I tend to get a little trouble in my office. That's why I usually keep my revolver under my desk. I would have pulled it out sooner, but it somehow found it's way on the floor before I could show the barrel to my new friends. That mistake rewarded me with a new bellybutton.

I held the wound closed with my left hand while pointing the gun with my right. It was only a show, the wound stopped bleeding when he pulled out the knife. I heal quickly around my stomach area.

"Now boys, I want you to slowly put down the bat and the knife… or what's left of it on the desk."
They did it.

"Now your wallets."

"We don't keep our wallets on us, part of the job." Goon A said.

"Do you have cash on you?" I asked

"Yes." Goon B said. Goon A glared at him.

"Then on the table with it, that window won't pay for itself."

They pulled a couple of twenties each.

"Good. Behind you I keep those plastic zipper strap things, yes, there, in the drawer. Goon A," I pointed the gun at Goon A, "Cuff your life partner's hands with it, good, now I want you to stick your one hand between his arms and cuff yourself. Goon B, help him out and pull the zipper strap tighter."

"How? I can't reach it like this." Goon B said.

"Be creative, use your mouth." I suggested, I looked at where the Fatcat is standing. Or was standing, he wasn't there anymore. For a big guy, he's really stealthy.

I picked up the phone and dialed my friend Jason. He's a cop, met him in the academy. I usually help him out by throwing a criminal or two his way.

"Yeah hi, it's me, Japh. I got two new playmates for you. Of course they're not free, twenty bucks each. Eighteen? No, the offer stands at sixteen bucks each. Oh all right then, fifteen bucks each. Geez, you're stingier than I am. You want to pick them up? I charge for delivery. Half an hour? All right then, see you."

I put down the phone.

"So, coffee anyone?"

They declined.

"You sure? Apparently I make a mean cup of coffee. Never taste it myself, but I never was the suicide type."

"What happened to my knife?" Goon B asked.

"Yeah, you should be calling the hospital now, there's a blade stuck inside you." Goon A added

"Oh don't worry, the blade's long gone. My boys ate it." I lifted my shirt and showed where he punctured me. The hole was gone, only a little dried blood remained.

"What the fuck?" Goon A blasphemed. "I know, he's a fucking mutant. You're a fucking mutant aren't you?"

"Watch your mouth or I'll have to gag you."

"What happened to my knife?" Goon B reiterated, "That's my favorite knife."

I sighed, "Here, look." I lifted my shirt and let one of the giant maggot creatures that live in me crawl out of my stomach.

"Oh god, oh shit, oh fuck." Goon A added to his swear word list.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

I held up the maggot, "This is Eany, and I think he ate your knife's blade."

There was a knock on the door and a voice, "Good god man, Japh put that thing away, or I'll arrest you for indecent exposure." Jason was peering through the window hole that previously contained glass.

"What happened to your door?"

"Bert and Ernie here mistook it for a ball." I turned away and let the maggot burrow back in me. People tend to be squeamish about these things.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean that's it? That glass was frosted glass, not that cheap distorted glass. Oh, and you'll also find some of my blood on that knife handle, maybe on the bat too."

"What happened to the knife?"

"Those things in him ate it!" Goon A yelled.

"Hey, was I looking at you when I asked the question?!" Jason yelled back.

"My dietitian said I need more iron in my diet." I added.

"Hey, you want to take them in?" Jason's partner asked.

"Yeah, you coming Japh? Still need your statement."

The partner and Jason took the evidence and led the goons out the door.

"I'm coming." I grabbed my wallet and the wad of twenties on my desk; and followed them out. I didn't even bother locking the door. "I'll be back in an hour" I thought.

Boy was I wrong.