Tagged: church

Oscar and the Other Two Sanitation Workers

  • by jen“Tell me, Ludovico,”
  • feeling the wind rush by
  • I met the bastard’s eye
  • very drunk
  • a superbly embossed plated coal-scuttle

Tune In Next Time Part 48                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

Oscar and the two other sanitation workers were upon me more quickly than I’d anticipated.

“Tell me, Ludovico,” Oscar said, spitting out my alias with such malevolent force that his stinking breath ruffled my hair, reminding me of feeling the wind rush by during my recent helicopter trip, “tell me again about the Pensacola dumpsters.”

I met the bastard’s eye and had no doubt that he was very drunk. The blue tinge on his lips told me he’d been drinking Barbicide again. That meant he and his cronies had been holed up in the barber shop for a long time, surveilling the church where Jason and Uncle Jinx thought they were safe. Where Lyudmila was now. I fretted for her safety, but tried not to let it show.

A grin split Oscar’s round face, revealing not teeth, but a detailed grill reminiscent of a superbly embossed plated coal-scuttle, inset with emeralds. Bad news for me, because that grill was a symbol of the highest rank in the sanitation workers union. It meant he had the authority to command every garbage man in the city.

I threw a look back over my shoulder, trying to decide if I could make it to the chopper if I sprinted.

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The Helicopter Ride

  • k-avatar“This is church! No kissing allowed here!”
  • be glad you’re not me
  • the Rhode Island coastline
  • unlimited plenty and moon colonies
  • to enhance its size

Tune In Next Time Part 41                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The helicopter ride was as bumpy as promised, despite Lyudmila’s piloting expertise. Time and Trouble wouldn’t stay out of my lap, jumping to lick my face. She laughed, but she still looked sad over the mess she was in with the Alliance. Seeing me studying her eyes, she said, “Be glad you’re not me.”

Distracted by the rambunctious pinschers, I didn’t even notice how long we were flying until the Rhode Island coastline came into view below us. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Jason has made contact with a splinter cell of ninja pirates, who long for a more progressive world, a world of unlimited plenty and moon colonies. They are a small group now, but our arrival will help to enhance its size.”

We had landed in a parking lot about a block from the shoreline, and hurried into the quaint building before the rotors had even come to rest. Once inside and out of sight, Lyudmila’s heavy breathing in the dim space overwhelmed me and I swept her into my arms. As our faces converged, we were accosted by a man wearing a velour cassock and a broad hat with a peacock feather plume.

Jason lisped, “This is church! No kissing allowed here!”

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