Chapter 22: A Prized Possession
It took a while before Artie had managed to reach the Lakeview district, enjoying a quick meal from Taco Hell that had been left in the hapless motorist's passenger's seat.
Slowing to a halt in front of Donnie's condo, he parked on the street rather than the driveway and made his way across the nicely-trimmed lawn to the front door and rang the bell, which chimed to the beat of Sam & Dave's "Soul Man" rather than the usual solitary 'ding.'
Donnie answered the door dressed in a Rushmore University t-shirt and blue workout shorts with a protein shake in hand.
"Hey come on in Cuz, glad to see you finally decided to make your presence felt here at Casa de Donnie!" the elder Cappelli said motioning for his cousin to enter.
"Wow, this is some place you've got here," Artie said looking around. This place was definitely the lap of luxury compared to the relative squalor in which he and Gino resided.
The living room was a large open space with several comfortable, yet expensive-looking couches arranged in the middle of the room before a grand fireplace with a glass table in the center outlined by marble. Above the fireplace was a wall-mounted HD TV and at each side were small lighting fixtures caressed by maiden statues made of solid bronze.
There were also several works of art present, including a band poster that had been signed by all the original members of Love Fist, which he knew would have made Gino die out of jealousy.
At the back of the room was a gaming area with a pool table and some arcade games. Not too far away from the sliding glass doors leading to the back patio was a Lycan motorcycle with a flame paintjob and near that was a tiger's pelt serving as a throw rug. A state-of-the-art stereo system was also present, currently playing "Maneater" by Hall and Oates.
"Jesus Fucking Christ, how can you afford all this stuff Donnie?" Artie asked himself until his cousin placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you Cuz, now please have a seat," he said motioning towards one of the couches, "Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Tea? Dude Lite?"
"No thanks," Artie replied taking a seat and stretching his legs out, "I just had some Taco Hell on the way over here."
"Eh, your loss," Donnie said returning from the kitchen area with a Dud Lite in hand and taking a seat across from his cousin, grabbing a remote from the coffee table and switching the stereo off.
"So what's going on? You said you needed my assistance because one of your 'friends' was in a jam or something like that," Artie asked, his eyes still darting back and forth on the expensive trinkets decorating the living area.
"Getting down to business already, huh? Normally I'm one to complain about such a mindset, but since you're family I find myself liking it for some odd reason," Donnie said setting his beer down onto a coaster, "One of my closest friends recently got his ass busted after he got too careless and because of it, he ended up getting his pride and joy impounded by the police."
"So this friend of yours is yet another criminal? Jeez Donnie, what the hell kind of people are you associating yourself with?" Artie scoffed.
"I roll with A-Listers Arthur, high society. Granted, some of them might not be on the right side of the law, but then again who really is in this city to begin with?" Donnie said picking up his beer again, "Never mind that, but my point is that we still look out for each other. You know how that goes, you scratch my back and I scratch your back."
"If you're so gung-ho about 'scratching other peoples' backs,' then why aren't you getting this person's prized possession back yourself?" Artie asked leaning towards his cousin.
"As much as I love my closest friends, I am still a busy man and when you're a busy man, you naturally tend to have your hands filled with numerous projects at once. Sure you can multitask, but there's only so much multitasking that you can do," Donnie said before taking a long chug of his beer, "When you're a busy man, you also tend to pick up your fair share of enemies and thus there are certain areas you can't be caught dead in."
"Hmm, well you did manage to waltz right into a police station and blackmail the captain into setting your cousin free, I don't see why you can't just bribe these people who hate you so much into not blasting your head off," Artie replied looking over to an expensive-looking coat of arms that looked more like it belonged in some ancient European castle, something his cousin must have spent a pretty penny on.
"Very funny Cuz," Donnie spat with an angry scowl before setting his empty beer can down, "I guess there isn't a big enough dollar amount that can make you shut your mouth, am I correct?"
"Fine, now you're talking my language, now please do go on," Artie said, still feeling a little put off by his cousin's secretive nature.
"Alright, I'll cut straight to the chase, my buddy got busted a few nights ago, but his lawyer managed to get him out. However, the police impounded his beloved '08 Infernus and the corrupt bastards aren't giving it back even after he's signed the paperwork and everything else necessary to secure its release, minus turning tricks in a back alley," Donnie replied.
"Thank God," Artie breathed.
"Anyways, the car itself is being held in the impound lot behind the precinct house over in Victor and we need somebody to get it back. Seeing as how you were able to help me secure that truck full of antiques for my other friend, I have chosen you Artie, yes you my dear cousin to help us out with this endeavor," Donnie proclaimed pointing to him.
"Should I feel flattered or frightened?" Artie laughed, only to receive another sharp stare from his cousin.
"Can you please take this seriously for once?" Donnie demanded before composing himself, "Alright, naturally they're not going to just open the gates for an average Joe like yourself, unless you pay them of course, but we're not gonna go that route. However, they will open for a squad car, so by any means you need to get your hands on one and I don't give a shit how you get it, just as long as you can get something that will get you inside that impound lot."
"Alright, what does this baby look like?" Artie asked.
"I have a photo saved here on my phone," Donnie replied reaching for his cell phone, until his doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" he said rushing towards the front door like he was a kid who had been waiting for some present to arrive in the mail.
At the front door was the same busty woman from the gym whom Donnie followed into the shower area, only this time she was clad in a white masseuse's outfit, with an extremely short skirt that barely covered her private area.
"Are you ready for your appointment?" she seductively cooed, but then noticed the elder Cappelli still had company.
"Oh never mind my cousin Vanessa, I was just dismissing him," Donnie said returning his attention to Artie, "Hey listen Cuz, I'm gonna have to send you the picture later on. I've got some 'business' to attend to."
"Uh yeah sure," Artie replied, finding himself turned on by the attractive woman, who smiled and offered him a friendly wave. Donnie saw this and gently grabbed her by the shoulder.
"Don't worry, I'll send it to you soon, I promise!" the elder Cappelli said leading his masseuse into the other room.
"Sure thing," Artie called out shutting the front door behind him.
It was now getting dark and the sun could be seen setting along the horizon, the once light blue sky shifting between various shades of dark navy blue, purple, pink and the forthcoming black. He could actually hear the crickets chirping at the howls of a few dogs in the distance, a welcome change from his neighborhood.
"I can't believe this kind of place is here in Rushmore City. This place is like a suburban utopia," Artie said to himself enjoying the quiet serenity. Around here there were no police sirens, no gunshots, no dying screams or threats of violence, just nothing but peace and quiet. He stood alone with his thoughts until they were broken by a police siren, "Guess I spoke too soon."
He watched passively as a police cruiser sped into view with its lights flashing and sirens blaring, disrupting the tranquility of an otherwise peaceful community. The vehicle screeched to a sudden halt outside of a light green house across the street from Donnie's condo and a cop quickly ran to the front door, where a woman's ear-piercing screams came from within.
"I want this son of a bitch out of my fucking house! He ain't worth a shit and can't even hold down a fucking job because he's such a worthless fucking drunk!"
"Well look what that bitch did to my fucking eye!" a man's voice shouted back.
"Ma'am, Sir, can you please watch the language while children are present?" the officer called out.
"Oh I'll do even more to your fucking eye you fat assed piece of shit!" the woman screamed before several crashing noises followed.
"Jackpot," Artie exclaimed happily running over and climbing inside the cruiser, "Cops in this city are fucking stupid!" he laughed while buckling himself in and then slamming the gas pedal down to the floor.
He knew exactly where he had to go and switched on the lights and siren once he was out of the Lakeview district, smiling to himself as other motorists pulled over to the side so he could pass.
"God I need to get myself one of these," he smirked to himself, the smirk becoming an ear-to-ear grin as he saw the Remington 870 shotgun resting in the center console as well as a Beretta M9 sidearm. Furthermore, he would almost laugh aloud in joy as he saw a navy blue jacket with 'R.C.P.D.' emblazoned upon the back in gold reflective letters and the officer's cap lying on top of it.
"Should be a piece of cake," Artie told himself as he pulled over to the side and slipped on the coat and hat.
"All available units report, we have reports of a possible battle in the Horgate district. Shots have been fired and there are believed to be casualties. Aces and Redcoat street gangs are believed to be the perpetrators. Repeat, we have a possible gang battle in Horgate, all available units respond."
Artie switched off the radio and continued with his journey to the precinct house over in Victor, only switching on his lights and siren when he finally approached the large ivory building and slowly pulled into the side alley.
He pulled up to the gate and rolled down his window, where an officer in the booth put down his newspaper and pushed the button that allowed him to enter.
"Go right on in," the man spoke, noticing only the hat and jacket which Artie wore, not even bothering to question his identity.
The impound lot was much larger than the hired gun had expected and he rode around looking for any sports cars, finding mostly large vans that were probably used for transporting drugs and illegal firearms, and the occasional sports car here and there, but no Infernus.
He was about to call Donnie when a loud beeping suddenly came from his phone and made him jump.
To his relief it was just a text message from Donnie:
"OK Cuz, here's the ride I was talking about. She's quite a beauty ain't she? Get this baby over to the storage unit in Jansport."
A picture of a beautiful bright red Infernus was included with the text message. The picture almost made Artie drool he was so taken by its splendor and would gladly claim it for himself had it not belonged to somebody who would most likely track him down and attempt to blow his head off had he actually gone through with it.
He kept driving the cruiser around the lot until he spotted the very sports car he had been sent after, being checked out by two officers drooling about it in the same manner.
"Man, this sure is a beauty," an overweight gray-haired officer said, "Maybe if I got this for my wife she'd stop bitching at me all the time."
"Heh, I heard that," replied his colleague, a lanky brown-haired man, "Screw getting a Tropic, I'd take this sexy bitch any day of the week."
Artie stopped the cruiser and got out, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder and carefully concealing the Beretta.
"Hey man, you here to check this beauty out too?" asked the older officer, stopping when he suddenly realized there wasn't something right about the faux cop's uniform.
"I am as a matter of fact. I intend to do more than just check it out," Artie said before pumping the Remington and firing a round of buckshot into the man's stomach. Before his colleague could react, he too would fall with a blast to the torso, both men slowly bleeding out as the hired gun ran over and climbed inside the car, getting to work hotwiring it.
The two shotgun blasts had been heard and already there were two additional officers making their way into the yard and opening fire, several of their rounds striking the beautiful car's exterior.
As soon as the engine roared with life, he gunned it out of there towards the iron gate, slamming through and peeling to a halt, but not quick enough to avoid hitting the broad side of the adjoining building.
"Fuck, I'm gonna have to stop by a Pay n' Spray and get this baby fixed up. No doubt its owner is gonna want it in mint condition," Artie told himself as he sped onto the street at an alarming rate that almost had him shitting his pants, several cars swerving out of his way as they noticed the red streak coming at them.
Fortunately, the car's amazing speed enabled him to more easily outrun the cops and within seconds the sirens were heard no more.
"Easy as pie," he said aloud making his way over to the nearest Pay n' Spray in Red Light District and pulled in to meet up with the jumper-clad workers.
"What'll it be kid?" one of them asked.
"Just touch up the dings and bullet holes on this baby, keep the color and everything else the same," Artie said stepping out and handing the man five one hundred dollar bills, making his way over to the lounge where he purchased a soda from the Sprunk machine.
Relaxing in one of the chairs he grabbed the remote and switched on the TV, flipping through several channels until he came across "I'm Rich" on the CNT network. Normally he wasn't a fan of reality television, but with nothing else on and needing a distraction while he sat around waiting, he caved in and watched as Clay "PG" Jackson showed off a fancy mansion he had recently purchased in the Vinewood Hills, currently in the billiard room where a bunch of large-bottomed women were shown shaking their asses to his latest single, a sight which almost made him chuckle given the rumors of the rapper's alleged homosexuality.
About an hour and a half passed as the mechanics worked their magic and the lead worker knocked on the sliding window before pulling it aside.
"Hey bub, your car is ready to go!"
Making his way back into the garage he again smiled, seeing the car looking good as new.
"Just like you wanted it kid, you keep that baby of yours in good shape now, ya' hear?" the lead worker spoke as he climbed inside.
"Oh I will," the Italian-American replied starting the car up, the station set on Techno Playground FM, playing "Can't Get You out of My Head" by Kylie Minogue. Being cautious for once, he pulled out slowly into traffic and made his way towards Jansport.
While he made his way down the street he heard the same cheery tone that accompanied his text messages and flipped his phone open to see it was from Gladys, who was just inquiring on how well he was doing and wanting to do something together sometime, throwing in a few 'x's' and 'o's' for good measure.
"Gonna have to wait sweetheart," he thought as he made his way into Jansport and past the Cluckin' Bell where Randy formerly worked before approaching the same storage unit where he and Donnie had dropped off that moving truck for the latter's friend about a week ago. Getting out of the car, he quickly walked over and pulled the shutter open before climbing back into the car and driving it inside, closing the shutter behind it again.
"That settles that," Artie whispered to himself pulling out his cell phone and speed dialed Donnie's number, pacing back and forth as he listened to the ringing and mentally screamed at his cousin to pick up before the phone finally switched on. Before he could even say hello, he heard a woman's moans coming from the other end.
"Donnie?" he asked, wondering if he should really have been surprised.
The elder Cappelli cousin was lying on his pool table while Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing" played on his stereo in the background. A naked Vanessa bounced up and down on top of him, moaning sweetly as he clenched her buttock with his free hand. Needless to say, what had initially began a massage soon turned into something more.
"Uh Donnie, are you there?" his cousin spoke from the other end, but Donnie had been too distracted by the beautiful black woman's bouncing DD-sized breasts as she continued riding him hard.
"DONNIE!" he screamed.
"What? Oh yeah…yeah I'm here Cuz, what's going on?" he spoke as Vanessa arched her back and called out his name.
"I got your friend's car to the storage unit in Jansport. It got a little roughed up on the way out of the impound lot, but I stopped by the Pay n' Spray and got it cleaned up. It's good as new and I think he'll be happy," Artie reported.
"Oh right…that…that job…" Donnie managed to get out before squirming hard, "…yeah I'll see to it that you get paid…for your job well done!"
"Alright, sounds good Cuz," Artie said.
"You did real good!" Donnie shouted just as Vanessa bounced on him really hard.
"What about me baby?" the woman demanded grinding herself against him as hard as she could. Her moans had now become full blown screams of ecstasy as Donnie felt her vaginal fluids coating his rod.
"Yeah, you too!" the elder cousin shot back squirming and groaning, both of them feeling their coming climaxes.
"Okay, you sound busy. I think I'm gonna let you go."
"Yeah, I'll talk to you later!" Donnie shouted back just as Vanessa began pleading wildly.
"Please Donnie, do it all over my chest!"
Artie switched the phone off and shuddered at the thought of his cousin busting his load all over some woman he would probably be kicking to the curb the next day.
"Then again, he invited her over for a second round, so that's kind of an 'improvement' for him," Artie thought as his phone suddenly rang again.
"What the fuck?" he grunted in frustration, seeing he was now being called by Aunt Gracie, "What does this psycho bitch want?" he asked before switching on the phone.
"Arthur, I require your assistance at once young man!" the woman called out.
"Needing to be picked up from the bingo hall?" the errand boy asked, until a shotgun blast echoed from the background.
"Very funny smartass," Aunt Gracie hollered, slipping back into her 'psychotic' tone, "Listen up, some of those Yardie hoodlums jumped me while I was making a delivery to my friend's bridge game and now they've got me cornered in the Blue Mahoe Inn over on Ocho Rios Avenue in Little Jamaica. I need you to get your pansy ass over here and help me goddamn it!"
"Remember that I don't work for free," Artie spoke slyly, knowing she wasn't there to slap him upside the head.
"Fine, I'll pay your bitch ass $2,000 if you come over and help me!" she hollered just as more loud pops could be heard, followed by the shatter of glass.
"Make it three, I'm looking to move out of my cousin's place," Artie demanded. In truth he wasn't, hoping to get the hell out of the city once the blockade was lifted, but really wanted to twist her arm for the hell she's put him through in the past.
Another loud explosion sounded followed by a frightened scream from the elderly woman, which almost made the young man laugh aloud, "Not as tough as you think you old crow."
"Fine, $3,000 it is, and please hurry!" she shouted before hanging up.
"This would be a good time to call Iceman," Artie whispered going through his phonebook and finding the gun runner's number, hitting the speed dial button.
"Hey, what's poppin' dude?" Iceman called out.
"Iceman, I need some of your 'merchandise.' You think you can meet me somewhere safe in Jansport?" Artie asked.
"No problem man, I'm on my way," he replied before hanging up.
It took a few minutes, but Artie smiled as he saw the silver and blue Patriot come speeding into view and pull into a back alley where they could safely conduct their transaction.
Iceman stepped out and finished up a drink from Burger Shot before making his way around to the back, leaving the engine running as Lamb of God's song "Grace" blared over his radio.
"Hey man, I take it you've pissed off some people again, huh?"
"Not really, just gotta help a friend in need…we I don't know if I'd really call them that," Artie replied as the tattooed man opened the rear hatch and proudly displayed his cache.
"The Iceman Express is open for business. Choose wisely my friend."
Artie first selected a bulletproof vest and then shifted through the available firearms, selecting an AMP Automag Model 180 and some ammo for it, along with an FN P90 and ammo, and lastly three blocks of C-4 plastic explosives.
"Man, you're packing light tonight. Either you're going after a pussy or you're just going soft on me," Iceman laughed.
"Fuck you," Artie retorted as he handed his friend a wad of money, "and thanks for your help too. I'll have to pay you back for this sometime or another."
"Anytime bro, I'd sure as hell hate to be the poor bastard you're going after," the dealer replied climbing into his Patriot and taking off.
Now armed with some decent hardware, Artie's next task was to find himself a set of wheels and he looked around, grunting in frustration as he saw there weren't many people out for this time of night.
"Son of a bitch, somebody show up for Christ's sakes!" he grunted aloud and began running until he finally spotted a black and white '98 Phobos VT coming at him. With no time to waste, he stepped into the street and raised his Automag.
"Get out of the fucking car now!" he screamed.
The driver looked horrified and was about to stomp on the gas pedal, but Artie was quicker and fired a round through the windshield that tore apart the man's face and neck.
"Bastard," he spat running over and pulling the man's nearly headless corpse from the driver's seat, taking note of his now ruined black suit, stained by torrents of blood. "Oh well, not the first time I've ridden around with someone else's blood on my seat," he thought as he switched the For Hymn 87.1 Christian radio station over to Rock of Rushmore 89.5, which was playing "Foolin'" by Def Leppard.
Stepping on the gas he bolted over to Little Jamaica, a district dominated by nightclubs, record shops, sex shops, cheap clothing retailers, fish markets, sleazy hotels, Caribbean-themed restaurants, the Rasta 106.9 radio station, and a bunch of buildings with exteriors bearing green, yellow and black paint schemes after the Jamaican flag.
"Alright, where the fuck are you bastards?" Artie asked searching the side streets for any signs of movement, knowing the Yardies like to travel in packs.
Normally he would have asked for a lot more hardware to bring along, knowing how crazy the Yardies could be, but he also knew they carried a lot of ammo and would be ready to swipe up whatever he could from them.
He drove straight until he heard he ear-splitting rattle of numerous AK-47s being discharged simultaneously and took a right onto Ocho Rios Ave., where he could see several Yardie-owned Lobos and Huntley Sports parked around a tall, thin light green building, several henchmen surrounding them.
"Wonder if Aunt Gracie's still alive," he asked himself, having seen firsthand how merciless the often drugged up gangbangers could be.
He pulled into the alley next to a Bean Machine coffee shop and quietly got out, readying the FN P90 and began creeping his way towards the Yardie-owned vehicles to plant a booby trap.
"You gon' be sorry ol' granny when ya' be dealin' on da' Yardie turf without our permission!" one of the goons called out before firing a barrage at the hotel.
"Sounds like she's still alive," Artie thought as he approached the nearest Huntley Sport and placed a block of C-4 on its tailgate, carefully securing it to the SUV's rear bumper.
"C'mon out and we make this quick and easy, yah! We put chu' to sleep! Ya' don' have ta' make dis any worse than it have to be!" the same thug called out.
With the first block in place he crept over to a Lobo parked near Voodoo Vince's Deli that had its passenger side door opened, placing the block beneath the passenger's seat.
"We 'aven't got all night lady, you gonna be dyin' sooner or later! No denyin' the inevitable when ya' go against da Yardies!" the dreadlocked man shouted.
"She may be an old bat, but as long as she's willing to pay I'm gonna help keep her around," Artie told himself before placing the final block beneath a '92 Maibatsu Alpha parked in front of a 69 Cent store. Making his way back into the alley where the Phobos was parked and pulled out the detonator, pushing the button.
A chain reaction of explosions shook the entire street's foundation, swallowing up most of the Yardie vehicles along with most of the Caribbean gangsters themselves. Those who had somehow survived were firing away madly, believing they were surrounded.
"Showtime!" Artie boomed as he raised the FN P90 and stepped out into the street, firing away at one of the shooting Yardies.
"Get 'im!" he heard another thug calling out and took cover behind a '01 Bobcat pickup as they opened fire.
"Ain't nowhere to run Yankee boy!" the same thug called out.
Artie ducked low and fell onto his side, watching for the Yardie's feet as the gangster came running by. Aiming his gun beneath the truck, he fired a burst that took out both the man's shins, leaving him screaming on the ground unable to move.
A feral cry sounded from above and the hitman looked up to see a dreadlocked Yardie with a voodoo charm necklace leaping onto the hood of a parked Lobo with a machete in hand, literally frothing from the mouth as he stared upon his prey with bloodshot eyes. With another cry the madman leapt into the air.
Artie rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the machete swipe and fired a burst into the Yardie's arm, forcing him to drop the blade, yet the man offered no screams of pain. He went to fire another burst, but the submachine gun clicked empty and the man tackled him and tried to wrap his good hand around his neck.
The hitman stomped on the man's foot and head butted him in the nose, yet the drugged up gangster still pressed forth, offering animalistic noises as he snapped his teeth at him.
Artie again head butted the thug in his already broken nose and shoved him back into the open, where the man was riddled by a barrage of bullets from behind.
"Gonna be sorry!" another Yardie called out before throwing down his now emptied AK-47 and pulling out a Molotov cocktail and a lighter.
"Somebody's gonna be sorry alright," Artie thought to himself raising the Automag and firing several rounds which shredded the man's arm and shattered the glass, showering him and a nearby colleague in flames. He could only snicker as both men burned alive, screaming as they rolled around on the ground. "Guess those fancy charms couldn't protect your sorry asses from that, huh?"
Another Yardie attempted to avenge his fallen brothers, firing away with his AK-47 as he took cover behind a fruit stand. Artie saw the man's black fedora hat sticking out and aimed where he thought the man would be, shredding the fruits and showering the gangster with various juices before shooting the hat off the man's head. The thug was still alive and dove for cover behind one of the Huntley Sports, firing through its shattered window.
Needing a weapon with a greater range, the hired gun snagged an AK-47 off the closest deceased Yardie and wiped some blood away from its trigger and handle before returning fire, managing to graze the man's right arm, yet his opponent continued to fight. He waited for the man to run out of ammo before firing again and nailed him with a round through the shoulder, forcing him to drop his gun and send him staggering away, only to fall from a burst to his spinal column.
"Now to get the old hag outta here," Artie whispered as he climbed the stairs and made his way into the hotel's foyer, finding several patrons and workers lying dead in pools of their own blood, but luckily none of them were Aunt Gracie.
"Hey Aunt Gracie, are you in here?" he called out, hearing the whimpers of a frightened clerk and guest coming from behind the front desk. Hearing no reply he reloaded the FN P90 and kicked the door open of a nearby computer kiosk, yet finding nobody.
The hired gun continued down the side corridor, shoving a few unlocked doors open, yet no signs of the drug dealing granny. He went to round the nearest corner, only to find a gun pointed in his face.
"My oh my, aren't you such a sweet little boy, coming to help an old woman across the street," the diner proprietor cooed in her 'innocent' tone.
"Uh yeah sure, c'mon let's get you-" Artie was speaking until Aunt Gracie raised her gun and open fire.
The errand boy squeezed his eyes shut, only to open them when he heard a loud thud behind him and he turned around to find a machete-wielding Yardie lying on the carpeted floor with a round to the forehead.
"You should've kept your eyes open jackass!" the granny scolded, "Now c'mon, Granny needs her beauty sleep!" she said kicking the dead Yardie's he aside as she made her way towards the nearest exit.
Artie followed the old woman outside, where an untouched Lobo had been parked around the corner from the hotel. Running over to the vehicle, he climbed in and started the engine. Aunt Gracie followed suit, climbing in and right away switching the Rasta 106.9 station over to Symphony 104.1, currently in the middle of playing the "William Tell Overture."
"Take me back to my diner," she ordered.
"Sure thing," Artie replied, not even bothering to ask what she was doing over in this neck of the woods, lessening the risk of her turning into her bipolar bitchy self on him.
It was mercifully another uneventful ride back to Aunt Gracie's Corner Diner and he dropped her off out front, waiting for the old woman to return with an envelope.
"Alright dear boy, there is your payment for a job well done," she said handing him the envelope, "Now you have yourself a good night and make sure to brush your teeth before you go to bed."
"Sure, I won't forget," Artie replied unenthusiastically.
"You'd fucking better asshole, I don't wanna be near you again when it smells like a pig shit in your mouth!" the old lady hollered.
Artie only scoffed as he started down the street, "And I don't wanna fucking be near you when you're a crazy fucking bitch."
Author's Note: Well this was definitely a shorter chapter compared to some of my previous installments, but I am excited to write the next few entries as they will be original brand spanking new chapters. So as always, tune in until next time to see what kind of hijinks our beloved errand boy will find himself thrust into, oh and don't forget to read and review as well!
This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/