Chapter 38: Too Much Drama and Not Enough Belles
It had been a few hours since Artie had gotten home from running his errand for Johnny and only now had he just woken up from a six hour long nap.
He was clad only in his boxers and an undershirt as he relaxed in front of the TV, flipping through channels until he happened across the CNT network.
On right now was "Ghetto Eye for the Queer Guy," a show where a group of gang bangers take a random pussified gay man and attempt to turn him into a 'badass motherfucker.'
At the moment two blue-clad gang members had a skinny white guy with bleached blond hair standing with them in a back alley.
"Hey yo' this here is J.C.J. and I got my homie G-Dawg wit' me and today we're gonna be showin' this pansy assed cracka' Chad here how to roll wit' da' real boys on these 'ere streets!" the first gangster, a skinny black man with his hair worn in an afro, shouted to the camera.
"Um, excuse me sir," the gay man called out in a stereotypical feminine lisp, "Uh, why are we here at this time of day? I mean, I like to start out every morning with my tofu shake and some pilates."
"And I like to start my day out blastin' some of those motherfuckin' Bishop bitches!" the gangster called G-Dawg snapped, "And for God's sakes take this fucking gay scarf off! You roll wit' da' Cribs now, you wear our colors motherfucker!" he said ripping the ascot from Chad's neck and shoving a blue jacket into his hands.
"But this isn't Didier Sachs!" Chad protested before having a Tec-9 shoved into his face.
"And this ain't a Desert Eagle, but it's still gonna splatter your gay brains all over the gay sidewalk if ya' don't start cooperating wit' us! Now put it on bitch! You're one of us now and only 'cause we're gettin' paid to babysit your sorry snow white ass!" J.C.J. screamed in his face, forcing Chad into tears.
"Aw, look what cha' did, ya' hurt his feelings," G-Dawg called out in mock sympathy before ramming the butt of his shotgun into Chad's stomach, "Ya' gonna cry now ain't cha little bitch boy?"
Both Crib members then proceeded to beat the living hell out of Chad before the camera went black. When the image came back into view, the three men were standing outside a nightclub.
"Aw'right ladies and gentlemen, now we that we got that little 'incident' outta tha' way, we're here outside the Redrum, a known Bishops hangout spot," J.C.J. explained motioning to the building behind them.
"Got a bunch of those bitches in there tonight," G-Dawg spoke up pumping his shotgun, "and we gonna show them what happens when ya' gun down one of our brothers on his own front porch!"
"My god that's awful," Chad spoke up from the background, now wearing the blue jacket and a matching do' rag with his face heavily bruised up, only to receive another slap upside the head from G-Dawg.
"Bitch you just sit back and shut your fuckin' hole! This ain't West Vinewood pretty boy! Out here, you only speak when we tell ya' to! Capiche? Oh wait sorry, that ain't 'Gayanese' is it?"
"Aw'right this is it, we're gonna storm this place and teach those muthafuckas a lesson in respect," J.C.J. spoke while handing a Beretta M9 to Chad, who then raised his hand.
"The fuck you want now bitch? Ya' gonna complain 'cause that gun ain't all nice and pretty enough for ya'?"
"Um no Mr. J.C.J. sir, it's just that I wanted to know are we really going to come out of this alive? I don't want to be late for my yoga class tonight!" Chad spoke before taking another backhand from G-Dawg.
"Bitch, tha' Cribs don't do any of that yoga shit or any other pink tight wearin' shit! We ain't a bunch a bustas like those fags ya' hang out with! We fuckin' eat danger and shit victory!" the larger gang member shouted before being stopped by J.C.J.
"Shit, there's one of those bitches right now!" he shouted pointing to a red-clad gangster smoking a joint and looking down to his Whiz Ballsak.
The two Cribs raised their weapons and cut down the man in a hail of gunfire as Chad screamed in the background like a woman being raped.
"Man you scream like a bitch in heat! No wonder ya' like the dick so much!" G-Dawg shouted as they exchanged gunfire with more members of the Bishops.
Chad continued screaming like a woman until he was cut down by a barrage from an AK-47.
"Damn, that's the third queer this week!" J.C.J. shouted.
"Are we still gonna get paid for doin' this show if they keep dyin' on us like this?" G-Dawg asked.
Artie's cell phone rang and he saw it was Donnie calling him again. Switching off the TV he then switched his phone on.
"Hey Cuz, you coming or what?" the elder Cappelli called out as techno music thumped in the background.
Artie looked down to his digital watch and saw it was getting close to 8 o'clock. He would need to be there in roughly an hour.
"Oh shit, sorry Donnie I lost track of time. I'll be over there right away!" Artie said reaching over for a clean pair of blue jeans.
"Your ass better be. This has gotta be one of the biggest nights of my life," Donnie replied.
"And you've said that how many times already?" Artie asked.
"See you there!" Donnie said ignoring his cousin's sarcastic question and hanging up.
"And once again I find myself being Donnie's 'bitch boy.' Gotta wonder what it's gonna lead to tonight," the errand boy asked aloud as he pulled on a clean light green polo shirt, "Should I even bother asking?"
Scooping up his wallet, keys, cell phone and Beretta M9 he exited through the back door and was about to make his way down the stairs when he spotted another horrific sight he wished he would never have to see ever again.
"Oh god no…how the hell did she survive?" he asked himself staring down upon Freda, slumped against a nearby wall with a bottle of Mack Samuels in hand. "Last time I saw that bitch I put a fucking bullet in her arm."
Her snoring was loud enough to wake the dead, but at least it had been loud enough to disguise the hitman's footsteps as he snuck around her.
"Handsome…handsome…Italian…man…" she muttered between snores, enough to convince the errand boy to run like hell out of the back alley before she could awaken and continue her rancid pursuit of him. Reaching the Huntley Sport he threw himself inside and fired up the engine, his station switched to Rewind FM, currently playing "Heart of Glass" by Blondie.
"Just one more incentive for me to get the hell out of this shithole once the blockade is lifted," Artie told himself with a shudder as he fought to expel images of the aging hooker from his head, "but only if I can find a way to kidnap those Russian twins. They really prove to be quite the tag team. Why the hell should we have wasted so much time fighting communism with the kind of women they have? I mean, hot fucking damn," he thought to himself, so deep in his train of thought he blew through a red light and forced a lime green and white Oceanic to swerve into a nearby bus kiosk.
"Fucking cocksucker! This was my daddy's car!" the motorist called out, but Artie was out of earshot by then.
The hired gun blew across the Eastwood Bridge and the rest of the drive to Lakeview went by uneventfully and much quicker thanks to him having memorized all the shortcuts and it wasn't long before he was pulling up to the newly reopened gentlemen's club.
"Oh my fucking lord…" Artie gasped as he noticed the length of the line of people waiting outside, also not to forget all the limousines pulling up and the spotlights illuminating the nighttime sky like he was attending some kind of Vinewood premiere.
"Donnie, I think it's safe to say you've officially outdone yourself," Artie spoke as he was forced to park down the street due to the parking lot being filled to capacity.
Jogging towards the entrance he made his way directly towards the front door, earning a vast array of jealous glares before finally reaching the same doorman from his last visit there, who was named 'Jacoby' according to Donnie.
"Hey Jacoby, it's me Donnie's cousin Artie!" the errand boy called out waving at the beefy man.
"Oh hey, what's up?" he called out as he was forced to divert his attention away from some guy in a dark fancy suit, "Yeah, the boss said he needed to speak with you immediately!" he said opening the door for him.
Artie made his way inside and right away could barely move due to the vast amount of people present, wondering if all of Jefferson Vale was present for this grand reopening.
"Man, and I thought the people of Liberty City loved their tits," he thought forcing himself into the main club area, where "Porn Star Dancing" by My Darkest Days blasted over the loudspeakers as numerous naked ladies either grinded up against the vast assortment of poles present or each other while others were in the midst of performing lap dances.
After maneuvering his way towards the back of the building he finally reached Donnie's office.
"Alright, I'd better be ready for whatever there is inside," he thought to himself, remembering how he happened across the impromptu orgy at his cousin's house a while back and furthermore, seeing him naked, another image which made him shudder. Swallowing everything up he rapped hard on the door.
"It's open," Donnie called out.
Slowly opening the door, Artie was relieved to find Donnie fully clothed, wearing a light blue pinstriped suit, blue and white striped tie, white cowboy boots and a light gray fedora, two naked women sitting on his lap as he attempted to sip a glass of wine at the same time.
"Hey Artie!" he called out over the ladies' giggling, "C'mon in Cuz!"
"I see you're having quite the grand reopening here," Artie said looking over the two women, one a shapely auburn-haired beauty with piercing green eyes and curves in all the right places and a strawberry blonde-haired woman with an athletic figure and an ample chest to boot.
"Cuz, this is greater than anything I could've ever imagined!" the elder Cappelli boomed as he 'accidentally' spilled some of his wine all over the blonde's chest, "Sorry about that sweetie, I'm gonna have to 'clean that up' in a little bit, but first my cousin and I need to discuss a little business. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said motioning for the two women to stand up and they walked over to the nearby loveseat as Donnie rose to approach his cousin.
"So you said you needed some extra security for tonight, huh?" Artie spoke up.
"Ah yes, so far the night has gone by pretty smoothly, but given the kind of shithole this city is, it isn't likely to last for long," Donnie explained.
"Okay, so what do you need me to do?" the younger Cappelli asked.
"You're gonna need to do like any typical ape," Donnie said placing a hand on his cousin's shoulder and leading him to the door, "You and I have been to these kinds of places before. Anybody starts fights, deals anything they're not supposed to or gets too 'touchy feely' with the dancers, you throw their punk asses out the door!"
"Gotcha, no way I could ever fail my 'favorite cousin in the entire universe,'" Artie sarcastically replied.
"That's the spirit dear boy!" Donnie spoke with a hearty pat that was harder than Artie would have liked, "Get your ass over to the security office and talk to Autumn. She'll give you the gear you need. I'll warn you, she's quite the looker, but she's also a dyke so don't get any ideas. She won't even put out for me and believe me; I've convinced my fair share of lesbos to sleep with me in the past!"
"Um yeah…that's' good to know," Artie replied, reluctant to hear any more about his cousin's past sexual exploits, "Guess I'll be on my way then."
Artie once again braved the crowded club and made his way over to the security office where he was greeted by the club's security manager Autumn, a tall, busty blonde in a provocative miniskirt.
"Ah, so you must be the boss' cousin then? Heard it's your first night on the job," she spoke as she diverted her attention from the security monitors to Artie.
"Hey, you must be Autumn, a pleasure to meet you. I'm not going to be a regular around here. I'm just doing this for some extra bucks until the quarantine gets lifted," Artie explained while walking over to the nearby locker and pulling out a black suit similar to the one he wore while running his last errand for Donnie.
"Well so far it's been fairly peaceful out there, but you never know with a place like this," she replied.
"Yeah, I'll have to keep that in mind," Artie said putting in his earpiece and giving himself a final look over in the mirror before exiting the office.
Artie made his way back outside and took a position near the top of a flight of stairs, watching over the floor as a bunch of horny clients surrounded the main stage, where a woman wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and a pair of Western-style boots rode a Puerto Rican dancer like a bucking bronco while simultaneously spanking her.
"Gonna be another one of those nights," he told himself while trying to avoid pitching a tent in his pants as a dark-haired woman gyrated her hips provocatively before baring her DD-sized chest to the crowd before her on the side stage to his left, the horny patrons hooting and hollering as they tossed their dollars onto the dais.
"Artie are you there? I'm picking up on a possible drug deal over by the men's restroom," Autumn called out over his headset, "Address the situation at once!"
"I'm on it," Artie shouted into his little microphone.
Artie made his way over to the restroom area, where surely enough he spotted a black man in a bright red hoodie and matching turned around baseball cap offering some small plastic bags to two jocks in lettermen jackets, a Redcoat slime bag no doubt.
"Alright, break it up!" he called out, "This shit isn't going to fly in this club. Take it elsewhere at once!"
"Fuck you Gestapo pig!" the dealer called back before spitting in his face.
Artie grunted in disgust as he wiped the saliva away from his face, "Alright, I'm going to give you to the count of three to get your punk ass out of here or else I'm gonna do something that isn't nice!"
"Or you'll what?" the dealer mockingly called out.
"You'll try raping him with your pea-sized dick?" one of the buyers shouted.
A second later the cocky punk was down on the floor with a broken nose, compliments of Artie's right hook.
"The fuck you doing?" the guy's friend called out, only to be halted by Artie raising his fists.
"Enforcing the rules," Artie said rubbing his sore knuckles, "Now take this shit elsewhere or else a broken nose will be the least of your worries!" the hitman shouted.
"Aw fuck me in the ass bitch! Let's get the fuck outta here!" the dealer called out to his 'customers' before they finally exited the building.
"A Redcoat would have put up a fight, guess he doesn't roll with them," Artie thought as a brunette dressed in a provocative construction worker costume passed him by, her denim cutoffs barely covering her round buttocks and once again forcing the hired gun to do everything he could to control himself.
"Artie, you need to get over to the V.I.P. area at once! A customer is feeling up one of our dancers!" Autumn called out.
"Roger that! I'm on it!" he shouted back and bolted over towards the same area in which he had been in the midst of getting his private dance before Donnie started shooting the place up.
"Get off me you filthy ape!" he heard a woman's voice calling out. Following her voice he entered a V.I.P. room to find a buxom brunette in nothing but a leopard-print G-string struggling with a muscular man in a red and white striped top.
"Alright pal, we don't allow that shit around here! Break it up!" Artie shouted as he managed to pull the dancer away.
"Hey fuck you prick! I paid for this dance!" the man protested, only to be silenced by a karate chop that left him collapsing to the floor clutching at his sore throat.
"Obviously you weren't made aware of the rules around here. There is absolutely no touching the dancers!" Artie grunted as he grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him to the back door, tossing him outside.
"Thank you so much," the grateful dancer said as she grabbed onto Artie and began grinding against him, "If you want I'll give you a free private dance just for doing that for me."
Again Artie had to fight against his own hormones, "Thank you ma'am. Your offer is very tempting, but I'm on the clock so I'm gonna have to take a rain check, but keep up your good work!"
"Mmmmm, I'm definitely gonna hold you to that honey. You better come back for that dance," the woman said winking at him before making her way back to the main room.
"You're goddamn right I will," Artie whispered, checking out her barely covered ass as she exited. "I never thought I'd say this, but thank you Donnie. This beats being shot at, chased by the cops or having to track down some two-bit loser any day of the week."
Artie returned to the main floor where things were running a little more smoothly than before and a few songs played, one of which left him watching in awe as a petite Filipina managed to scale the tallest pole all the way to the ceiling and then gracefully spin her way down upside down and then flip herself back onto her feet.
"Man, Flea Man eat your heart out," Artie said quietly before he was interrupted from his thoughts by another call.
"Artie, we've got a drunken disturbance over at the bar. Check it out whenever you can," Autumn called out.
"Gotcha," Artie replied.
Bounding over to the bar area, he found a shaggy man screaming violently at both bartenders.
"You can't tell me the Australian-American War never happened you filthy liberal slut!" the belligerent man shouted as he tossed a glass at the woman, who barely ducked underneath it, "You're no better than that damned kangaroo launching that suicide attack upon us at Perth! Ten good men died that day! I still hear my buddy Charlie's dying screams every night you fucking cunt!"
"Alright pal, you need to settle down," Artie said grabbing the man by the arm.
"Take your hand off me…you…" the man slurred before being stopped by an unseen force and then vomiting all over Artie's shoes.
"Oh you're so getting it for that you piece of shit!" Artie growled grabbing the man by his hair and slamming his head down on the bar before placing him into a full nelson submission hold and dragging him out the front door, shoving him into the nearest trashcan.
"You can't do this to me! I served this country in a foreign war and deserve better than this!" the man screamed as Artie made his way back inside.
"Artie, I need to see you in the security office at once!" Autumn called out.
"Hmm, maybe she's pissed at me for being a little too rough with the patrons. Guess I'm gonna be getting fired my first night on the job," Artie thought to himself looking down to his soiled shoes, "I need to change my shoes anyway," he told himself making his way towards the office.
Making his way inside he found Autumn sitting at the bank of monitors.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked, trying to remain as calm as he possibly could.
"You're damn right I wanted to see you," the busty blonde replied turning towards him and spreading her legs to reveal she wasn't wearing any panties.
"Are you coming on to me?" Artie asked perplexed, "Donnie told me you were a dyke."
Autumn scoffed in reply, "Heh, I only said that so he'll leave me alone. Christ with all the women here he's already fucked do you really think I'd wanna pick up whatever he's carrying?"
"How he hasn't already picked something up is beyond me," Artie replied, just as Autumn stood up and placed her hands on his shoulders, turning him around and lowering him into the seat.
"Relax tiger, just sit back and enjoy yourself," Autumn replied getting down on her knees and pulling her top down so her breasts were out in the open.
"Might as well. Donnie's probably too busy to notice anything," the errand boy thought as his pants were unzipped, "Crap; Gladys will kill me if she finds out about this…"
XXXXX
**1 Hour Later**
Artie emerged from the security office with an ear-to-ear grin as he straightened out his sport coat.
"As good as she is I wonder how she gets away with being a 'pretend dyke' around Donnie of all people. I definitely thought he was a lot sharper than that," he thought making his way over to the bar, where the bartender who had been harassed earlier saw him coming and poured him a shot.
"Here Mr. Cappelli, have one on the house. You've earned it," the woman smiled at him, her nametag identifying her as 'Shauna.'
"Artie, are you there?" Donnie's voice called over his headset.
"Donnie?" he asked, surprised to suddenly hear from his cousin.
"No, it's the freaking Easter Bunny, of course it's me dipstick!" the elder Cappelli called out before resuming his business-like tone, "Anyways, you're gonna need to be on top of your game. I just received word that Dustin Beaver is one his way."
"Did I just fucking hear you correctly? You said that Dustin Beaver, the pop sensation, is coming to Hell's Belles of all places? How the hell old is that little shit stain? 10? 12?"
"My guess is as good as yours, but in the end who gives a fuck? The little bastard claims to have a 'permission slip' from his mother to be here," Donnie replied.
"Seriously?" Artie asked, finding himself fighting to contain his laughter, "And just why are you telling me this and not Autumn?"
"You wanna make some extra bucks or not?" Donnie replied.
"Okay, what's going on?" Artie asked.
"I've been told he's going to need someone to drive him around after he's had his 'fun' here. I honestly cannot stand that little prick and his sanctimonious little 'goody two shoes' act. I know you probably hate the paparazzi just as much as I do, but I'm sure you've still got your camera phone with you and I'm gonna need you to take some incriminating pics that I can send to the Celebinator and bring that little fraud down once and for all."
The ear-to-ear grin returned to Artie's face, "My god Donnie for once you're going to have me doing a very high and noble deed! Thank you!"
"No problem Cuz. I'm tired of seeing that little rat bastard's face everywhere, not to forget I'm also tired of my neighbor's 13 year old daughter blasting that song where he's singing about supposedly being in love with some little girl! Christ, all he signs is 'Girly, girly, girly, girly, girly-"
"I get it, I get it," Artie replied, "I'll see what I can do about the little cocksucker."
"That a boy Artie! He should be arriving any minute now," Donnie giddily replied before cutting out.
Surely enough it wasn't long before Dustin Beaver arrived flanked by a large entourage, the big beefy men doing everything they could to shield the teen pop sensation from all the women and gay men attempting to get at him. How gay men could be in a place like this was beyond even Artie himself.
"Thank you! Thank you I love you all!" the teen heartthrob called out, "You're all such amazing fans. I love every single one of you-" he called out before a plastic bottle hit him in the face, bringing him to tears.
"Get that little prick!" one of his bodyguards called out and within seconds they converged upon the guilty man, beating him with nightsticks and shocking him with tasers.
"Will somebody please give this kid a poor lap dance!" the singer's handler called out and within seconds a curvy African-American woman was on hand to lead him back to the V.I.P. area.
"Come with me baby boy. Mama's gonna make it all better," the woman spoke leading him by the hand to the back area.
"I'm definitely gonna make it better for a lot of people," Artie thought to himself as he withdrew his phone and snapped a picture of the prepubescent with the dancer. "Have fun explaining that to your mommy little boy!"
For the most part things went quietly aside from a few patrons raising their voices, to which Artie managed to gently admonish them without bloodshed.
It would be an hour before Dustin Beaver reemerged and Artie found himself approached by his handler.
"Hey, are you the errand boy we were referred to?" the man asked.
"Yes, that would be me," Artie replied, shooting a filthy glare towards the pop star.
"We've been told that you were to chaperone Mr. Beaver here, make sure he gets around to his devoted fans safe and sound," the handler spoke.
"Ah yes, that would be," Artie replied with the fakest smile known to man.
"Make sure you're with him at all times. We don't need him being arrested for violating curfew," the man explained.
"Oh yes, my mother wouldn't like that at all," Dustin spoke up in the most angelic tone he could muster.
"She wouldn't like you being here either you little shit," Artie thought to himself before replying, "I will do what I can. You can trust me."
"Oh and before I forget," the handler said handing him a small vial, "This is his anti-diarrheal medication. Make sure he takes two capsules before bedtime."
"I will not fail you," Artie spoke through gritted teeth, forcing himself to hold back laughter.
"Alright, let's go you douche!" Beaver spoke up, dropping the 'innocent angel' act, "I've got places to be and I hear this city has the best of what I need!"
"Sure thing, right this way," Artie replied leading the teenager to the back door, where a black Super GT awaited them behind the building.
Artie was about to switch on the radio when he was halted by the teen star producing a C.D. from his pocket, "I don't wanna listen to any of the crappy stations around here. I want you to be the first to listen to my brand new demo."
"Heh, maybe I don't wanna listen to your demo squirt," the errand boy grunted, only to receive a weak punch to his arm.
"You're working for me now you worthless jackass!" the teenager hollered, "You're going to do as I say or else I'm telling my mother on you!"
Artie roared with laughter, slapping his knee with one hand and holding his aching side with the other.
"And you're going to tell her what?" he shot back, struggling to get his words out as he was still laughing his ass off, "That you met me at a strip club? I bet she's going to be oh so thrilled when she hears that little tidbit of information," Artie laughed.
The click of a gun suddenly came from next to him and he turned to find a Colt Python pointed in his face.
"Just do as I fucking say, you worthless piece of shit that will never ever see a Grammy in your entire life," the teen growled.
"Bet you don't even know how to use that, junior," Artie taunted.
A gunshot erupted next to him and the errand boy was nearly deafened by the up close blast, the ringing so intense he didn't hear the driver's side window shatter next to him.
"Do as I fucking say," the teen growled.
"Fine, you win," Artie sighed in defeat, "This is going to be a long fucking night!" he thought as some extremely crappy pop music filtered in over the car's stereo, to which Dustin began singing along to. "And to think little girls actually slit their wrists over this little sack of shit not taking notice of them. Christ, what is America coming to?"
"So where to first, little tyke? Construct-a-Coon? Duckeyland? Wherever else little kids hang out?" Artie asked as they pulled into traffic.
"Take me to the Red Light District. I hear you've got some good merchandise over there," the teen ordered in between singing along with his own tune, rambling on about another likely non-existent girl he is supposedly 'in love' with.
"Hmmm, is that a little too 'big and scary' for a little one? I hear you gotta be this tall to enter certain places around there," Artie said making the height motion with his hand, wanting to be as much of a condescending prick as he could be.
"Fuck you dickweed, my gun is bigger and scarier than…more than you could ever think!" the teen replied, struggling to make a strong comeback.
"Oh, there is some damned good merchandise in those parts. Believe me, there is," Artie replied while stifling an evil giggle, knowing he could get some damn good compromising shots of the supposedly squeaky clean teenager in that area.
It was a long trek that would take Artie all the way across the city and even with all the shortcuts he knew, it was still going to be a grueling task given the shitty pop music he was forced to listen to the entire way there. Following what seemed like an eternity, they were pulling into the aforementioned district and were driving around checking out the numerous scantily-clad women walking the streets.
"Alright kid, you're the one in the candy store here. Whatever you want is yours for the taking, Artie replied in a bored timbre, doing nothing to disguise his contempt for the talentless hack sitting next to him.
They drove around in silence as most of the hookers began taking notice of the fancy car passing through their area and started primping themselves to look good for a possible high paying client. They were nearly out of the district when the hired gun finally spoke up, "Well kid, I brought you here now are you going to pick something out or what?" he asked as he began eying up the numerous hookers strolling about.
"Nope…no…not really…" the teen spoke as he scanned the numerous women before crying out, "Ooh, I want that one!"
Artie brought the car to a halt and looked around, "Alright, which lady do you want?"
"I want that one over there!" he shouted pointing excitedly out the window.
When Artie saw what he was pointing at, he didn't know whether he was supposed to laugh his ass off or puke his guts out.
Reclining against a rusted mailbox outside a bar called 'The Hole Patrol' was a short skinny man of Asian descent wearing a lime green sleeveless top and pink hot pants, gayer than a carload of queers doing a 69 in a 55.
"Oh my fucking god, you've gotta be kidding me!" Artie muttered under his breath as the teen superstar exited the car and approached the man. Utterly revolted, yet sensing his opportunity he pulled out his cell phone and switched on the camera phone, snapping a picture of the teen feeling up the gay prostitute in a suggestive manner and then another as they entered a nearby alley holding hands.
"Now that's fucking sick right there. I don't know if I should strangle Donnie for this or what? Jesus, that's so fucking gay right there for a lack of a better cliché!" Artie thought with a shudder as he waited impatiently, shutting off the C.D. player and switching the radio over to 94.3 CSKD, now playing 'Aesthetics of Hate' by Machine Head.
"At least something normal for once," Artie exhaled, the aggressive music having a soothing effect upon the severely disturbed errand boy.
He felt his phone vibrating and reached down to see it was Zeke calling him. Turning down the music he switched the phone on, "Hey man, how's it going?"
"Dude Artie, you oughta' come over right now. Iceman, Randy and Dal are over here and we're about to take on some wannabe gang banger shitheads from Los Santos! I know it's gonna be a walk in the park, but still we could always use an extra guy," Zeke called out.
"Plenty of booze here too," he heard Iceman shout from the background.
"Thanks Zeke, but for now I'm gonna have to pass. Donnie stuck me with a babysitting job tonight," Artie replied as he looked over towards the nearby alley Dustin had disappeared into almost fifteen minutes earlier.
"You'd better be babysitting some hot piece of ass in order to blow us off this time," Zeke replied.
"Yeah, yeah I am," Artie half-groaned, "A hot chick from his club," he lied, knowing he would never hear the end of it if they knew he was stuck escorting Dustin Beaver without putting a bullet in his skull at the end of the night.
"Well just hope she isn't some of Donnie's sloppy seconds. Take care until then bro," Zeke replied.
"Yeah, you too," Artie said switching the phone off and then looking back towards the alley, "C'mon you little fudge packer, what's your fucking hold up?" he grumbled, only to stop himself to avoid another disturbing mental image.
"Too late," he told himself as he looked across the street to find some balding middle-aged pervert opening his trench coat and flashing him, "Jesus Fucking Christ I need to say fuck what Donnie wants and kill this little son of a bitch."
A few moments passed before Dustin finally emerged from the alley hand in hand with the gay prostitute, who leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
"Now I know why he's so pale, there's no sunlight in the closet," Artie thought to himself snapping a picture of the episode.
Dustin made his way back to the car and climbed inside, "Why have you taken out my demo and replaced it with this devil music?"
"Oops, I forgot that you just fornicated with a male prostitute," Artie cried out in mock terror, "I wonder how your pastor is going to react if he ever finds out!"
"Whatever dickhead, just get me over to Little Jamaica. I hear there's a nice old lady over there who serves the best of everything, and I'm not talking food," Dustin spoke.
"Sure thing," Artie replied knowing what he had to be talking about when mentioning Little Jamaica. He shuddered at the thought of being in Yardie territory after what had happened earlier today; then again it wouldn't be the first time he has been in the belly of the beast.
"So tell me Mr. Cappelli, do you know any nice dago bitches?" the pop star inquired.
"Excuse me?" Artie shot back, finding himself offended by the ethnic slur.
"You heard me," Dustin replied, "You're Italian and I heard Italian women are supposed to be animals in the sack."
"And just who the fuck told you this munchkin? Your mommy?" the errand boy mockingly replied.
"No, my grandmother," the singer answered as Artie came to a stoplight.
"You just took it in the shitter from another man kid, why the fuck should I point any women in your direction? You probably don't even know what sex really is, do you?" he asked the teen star, fighting his urge to throw him out and let a street sweeper run him over.
"So that's what they call it when a man puts his 'long wiggly thingy' into a woman?" Dustin asked staring at him wide-eyed, "You mean it's not the same thing as what Father McKelty did to me in the confessional booth when I was 7?"
Artie snickered at the question, "Yes! Jesus kid, don't they have Sex Ed. classes at your school?"
"No, my mom teaches me that sex is evil and that you're supposed to wait until marriage," Dustin replied.
"Fucking conservatives," Artie spat, "dumbing down America's youth more than they are helping them."
At the same time he had to laugh at the amount of trouble he knew this kid was about to get into.
They approached the Little Jamaica district and right away Artie was looking around carefully for any Yardies. He found a few standing around outside the Jerry Juana's Green Galore clothing shop he had shaken down for Johnny, but fortunately they appeared more interested in the marijuana and alcohol they currently consumed.
"Over there!" Dustin cried out excitedly as he spotted an overweight Caribbean woman in a multicolored dress with a Jamaican flag-patterned towel wrapped around her head sitting in the back of an opened Slamvan parked in the alley next to the 69 Cent store.
Artie watched as the teen excitedly bolted over towards the woman and handed her a wad of bills before accepting a small pink vial of SPANK.
"Smile pretty for the camera," he said pulling out his phone and zooming in to take a picture of the teen accepting the vial and then snorting up all of its contents on site.
He waited patiently as the singer stumbled over towards the car and fell across the hood, bracing himself as he struggled to open the passenger side door.
"Ugh…get me back to the club…please…" Dustin slurred as he collapsed into the passenger seat.
"Aw, don't wanna stop anywhere else?" Artie mockingly asked.
"Fuck…you…" the singer weakly replied before passing out with residue all over his face.
Artie couldn't resist the opportunity and raised his camera phone to snap one last picture.
"Oh Dustin, Dustin, Dustin, you've been a very bad little boy," Artie snickered to himself as they made their way back to Hell's Belles. The ride went along smoothly as he drove back to the gentlemen's club and sure enough, there was a limousine waiting to collect the megastar.
"I trust everything went well for you," the handler inquired as another guard reached in to pull his charge from the passenger seat.
"Everything went just fine and dandy. He was such a pleasure to be around. Now I know why he's as popular as he is," Artie replied in mock sincerity.
"Mr. Beaver loves his fans and anybody who does him a good favor he says deserves this," the man said handing him an envelope containing five thousand dollars in cash.
"It was all in a night's work," Artie nodded.
"Any particular reason his face is covered in all that white residue though?" the handler again asked lowering his glasses to get a closer peek at his passed out client.
"Oh that…we stopped for doughnuts…he really loves his doughnuts," Artie chuckled nervously.
"Indeed he does," the handler replied, "Very well, we must be moving. He is a busy young man after all."
As the limo pulled away he pulled out his cell phone and speed dialed Donnie's number.
"Donnie, I got some juicy pics of that little shit in action. I think you're going to like what you see, or more appropriately, the Celebinator is going to like what he sees," Artie reported.
"Hell yeah Cuz, I knew you could do it!" Donnie roared in approval, "I'm gonna laugh so fucking hard when that little pecker is hitting rock bottom!"
"Me too Cuz, I'm sending you the photos right now," Artie replied and hit the button to forward the pics to his cousin.
"Oh hell yeah! Once again you've gone above and beyond the call of duty! I'm gonna see to it you get paid as soon as possible for this noble deed of yours," Donnie replied.
"That's all that matters. I'll talk to you later. I'm beat," Artie said before hanging up.
Before Artie could make his way towards the parked Huntley Sport he heard a series of zombie-like moans coming from the nearby alley and whirled around with his hand on the handle of his pistol ready for a fight, only to stop himself when he saw who was approaching.
"Man, this fucking sucks," the blond-haired man in the group groaned while struggling to keep his balance against a nearby concrete wall.
"Guess this is what happens when we leave Smitty in charge," his redheaded counterpart spoke next to him.
"Fuck you asshole!" the bandana-wearing man spat until he looked ahead and noticed Artie, "Oh hey wait a minute, you're that Artie guy that helped us out a while back! Artie, it's me Smitty from the Luciferians!"
"Oh hey, yeah what's up man?" Artie said waving back.
"Oh yeah…you're that fucking Guido that Iceman's buddies with," Turk spat.
"Hey man, he helped us out! Show some fucking respect," Smitty said approaching Artie and nearly collapsing onto him.
"Whoa, what the hell's wrong with you guys?" Artie asked while struggling to help the bigger man stay on his feet.
"Your new boyfriend over there thought it would be an oh-so-great idea for us to hit up some bar run by the chinks over in Chinatown," Bucky grunted, "Needless to say, there was some hot looking pussy there, but those bitches screwed us over and not in the kind of way we would've liked…"
"They fucking slipped something in our drinks and stole our bikes," Turk spat, angrily kicking a nearby trashcan over.
"So here we are now…far away from the clubhouse," Smitty said as he felt confident enough to stand on his own two feet.
"Not to forget there were some Cocks nearby too and those bitches at the bar also took our cell phones, meaning we wouldn't have been able to call for backup if we needed it," Bucky spoke up.
"Hack wouldn't like to have seen us run away like a couple of pussies," Turk groaned.
"Well hey, you guys had to do what you had to in order to survive," Artie replied, "Three guys against an army of pissed off drunken rednecks isn't exactly the best odds you can have."
"You've got that right," Smitty said earning dirty looks from both of his brothers, "Try telling that to them though."
"Heh, you always were a fucking lightweight Smitty," Bucky retorted.
"Hey, hey calm down you three!" Artie said finding himself playing an unlikely peacemaker amongst the three pissed off bikers, "Now I bet you guys are gonna need to get back to your clubhouse, right?"
"Right," Smitty spoke up.
"Well alright, I'm in a generous mood right now so I'm willing to give you guys a ride, provided you keep the Italian jokes to yourselves," Artie said looking to both Bucky and Turk, knowing Smitty likely wouldn't give him the same kind of trouble as them.
"Whatever just get us back home," Turk grunted.
"And don't play any pussy shit on your radio either!" Bucky added.
With a nod Artie led the three bikers back to his Huntley Sport and waited for them to climb in; making sure his radio was set at 94.3 CSKD, now playing "Prevail" by Kataklysm.
"Alright, take us to our clubhouse over in Stilsen," Smitty said rubbing away at his throbbing temples.
"Sure thing," Artie replied as he shifted into drive and proceeded towards their destination.
"So how are things going with you and the rest of the club?" he asked, deciding to make small talk with the friendlier Luciferian.
"Eh, still having to lay low after that job down at the docks," Smitty replied, "Those bastards wiped out most of the guys we had left and we can't get any help from our brothers on the outside because of the damned blockade."
"Yeah, I hear you on that B.S.," Artie shuddered thinking of the quarantine which kept him in the accursed city much longer than he would have liked to be. "Once that's lifted I'm getting the hell outta here."
"Any idea where you're going once that happens?" Smitty asked as his eyes diverted towards a busty prostitute strolling down the sidewalk.
"No clue, just far away from here," Artie replied, "I'm afraid if I blab too much about it there'll probably be people sent after me."
"Well I'm sure if you keep up the good work, the Luciferians will have your back. We've got chapters all over the country, plus we're tighter than a virgin's pussy with The Lost, maybe they could help you out too," Smitty chuckled.
"Well I'll have to hold you guys to that then, provided some can keep their mouths shut in regards to disparaging Italians. Not all of us run with the mob y'know," Artie replied as he sped past a DF8-90 that poked about.
"Well you're alright man, despite what others stay," Smitty nodded.
"Christ, you two might as well just start making out while you're at it," Turk called out from the backseat.
"Says the guy who's got another guy lying face down in his crotch," Artie replied.
Just then Turk looked down to find Bucky lying face down in his 'special place.'
"Ugh! Damn it get off me Bucky!" Turk said forcefully pushing his brother off of him, who was then snapped wide awake.
"Wh…what?" the Luciferian sergeant-at-arms blurted out looking around to see what was going on.
"You tell any of the brothers about this I'm hanging you upside down by your nut sack from the Eastwood Bridge!" Turk shouted to Smitty, who just snickered along with Artie.
It wasn't long before Artie reached the Stilsen district and pulled up to a dilapidated bar that served as the Luciferian clubhouse.
"Alright guys, we're here," the errand boy reported and waited for the three bikers to make their exit.
"Thanks man, we appreciate it!" Smitty waved back as they disappeared inside the building.
"Alright, well I've had enough fun for one night. Time to get some shuteye," Artie said before yawning and then making his way back home.
XXXXX
Author's Note: "Ghetto Eye for the Queer Guy" is a spoof of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy." The two gangs featured in that show, the Cribs and the Bishops, are the property of Af Spirit, both of which were featured in his discontinued "Laugh Now, Cry Later" GTA fic. I want to give him special thanks and recommend you check out his stories as well. It's basically a self-improvement show, but with a "Gangland" twist.
Construct-a-Coon is a spoof of the Build-a-Bear Workshop franchise.
As I've probably stated before, Dustin Beaver is intended to be a spoof of Justin Bieber and the scene where he is hit in the face by a plastic bottle is a reference to this clip I saw on YouTube a long time ago where he's onstage rambling in between songs and some fan threw a plastic bottle in his face.
This episode would basically be my take on the "Club Management" missions featured in "The Ballad of Gay Tony" and Artie's interactions with Autumn would be inspired by Luis' interactions with Joni. I thought it would be funnier if she pretended to be a dyke just to throw off Donnie. Physically, she is inspired by porn star Phoenix Marie.
I think that's everything I have to say for this post-chapter author's note so as always, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/