Chapter 2: part 3:
The Pizza Guys
[Samael]
The following bus ride was long, contemptuous, and bumpy as we made our way out of the lowly abode known as the ninth ward to the beautifully paved roads of the glittering Garden District located farther past the bend of the Mississippi River than we have ever dared to venture.
Marvin Yater was our target but we had no legal tender past $90…How would we get evidence of whatever manner of scandal this mysterious “Mr. Richards” is determined to be uncovered?
If he was a valid and honestly sane mayoral candidate he would never have even attempted to fein mercy on my brother and me….even if his secretary dotes on him like he's the second coming of Christ.
Squaler-Kin and the Money-Veins never mixed into anything negligible for the first party, at least not for reasons that polite society would claim are befitting of those they hold to high standards. Using their money as the weight meant to be felt by their moral stoicism and character value.
Siphoning the moral good of the have-nots while reaping the benefits in order to bring us blitzing in on a dystopia of their own design; fueled by intangible dollars we may never see but cling to the promise of its value….
That dubious woman Delilah….and cunning man Richards….know what they are doing seeking me out knowing I needed medical assistance not sent head first here…
…no way of taking photographic evidence and going there without any real tools to ascertain any info…were flying in blind and naked just as when we were spawned on this silly little swirling blue ball.
My brother's usual stillness was long gone due to what I assumed was him getting high on that little oxygen mask…or maybe it was a lack of Xanax…I was so lost in my own thoughts he seemed to just be a dancing illusion in my periphery.
This night’s felonious endeavor is making me very apprehensive about meeting our promised boon of employment and legitimacy.
How would we get into the grounds during…from some of what I could see from this stupid little yellow pseudo prayer card– this Marvin Yater was an extremely rich Old money type. He’s bound to have at least a gaggle of personal security….
Milo was in no condition for adverse and rigorous bouts of athletics due to his only now manageable cough. If we are found out by whoever is on the property…I will have to do whatever it takes, Milo needs me…
I do not wish to become my father nor to become any more woven to The Bagman's malignant and long-set plots for my future….but
“you will do whatever I dain fit for you, I will take Milo and everything you love and crush-”
just as I felt the arctic sickle of The Bagman’s voice in my already overly alert ears; Milos' now recovering raspy voice broke my locomotive of contemplation as always…
“Why do you look like you’re a fucking depressed mime?” my brother nudged me with his rough and bony elbow then pointed out the dirty bus window.
The view was immaculate mansions in the garden district which held so much history…
We made our way off the bus passing a sea of disdainful looks at our less-than-appealing attire and honestly, the energy we probably gave off made the bus feel like a hostage situation…
this didn't bode well for our future secret endeavors, yet my mind ruminated on the backdrop yet again as I felt my foot hit the smooth sidewalk of the garden district.
so many souls trapped, their manifestations sinking into the bayou to live in the shadow of these grand estates. The bus came to a halt as we stood up and left, I noticed the foggy weather clinging uneasily to the Victorian-style plantation turned to Mega-mansions.
I could see the spire-like white columns of the ex-plantations reaching opulently skyward as we slowly made our way up the block toward the vapidly glowing structure. The mint green paint mixed into a new shiny matte gray color; meant to mask the most likely lead and asbestous covered interior.
I could feel the America-stranded, desecrated, and tortured spirits of my ancestors intermingling with the gout-sweet smell of profiteering; even if I knew they were psychosomatic due to my brother's lack of reaction, it chilled my bones to the marrow…
“Hello? Sam? The fuck is your problem dawg?” Milo said while stopping to take his shoes off. I followed suit as we placed our socks in our pockets.
He was facing me as the southern mansion loomed in the background. We had crouched behind the southern edge of this excotton compound. staring oppressively down at me like a snide face.
“Nothing, just make sure you don't leave any fingerprints, the last thing we need is to lose this job because of one of your funky little foot heaters” I snapped the button on my humble and faithful black cargo shorts. I've had the same pair since we were forced out of our last foxhole…
I felt the instant surge of adrenaline as I wrapped the unloaded half of my 3D-printed glock with one of my black socks, this makeshift glove maneuver just in case we needed to touch anything inside the home of our quarry.
“Fuck you, Minnesota was not my damn fault…It was colder than’a bitch AND I’d rather not lose my fingers just to chill with a bunch of Cheeseheads” He spat a disgustingly bloody snot rocket into the gutter adjacent to us.
It mixed viscously in the sickly black sludge seeping from the swampy drain. Almost poetic how even grime rejects our very DNA.
My brother's quick temper was abhorrent nevertheless, I spent a lot of what meager moments I had of solace from The Bagman’s unhallowed manipulations weathering the vitriolic slew of tantrums he threw.
“Milo…the last 4 states we've been forced to abscond to, have unequivocally...100 percent been you're doing!” I let my embedded annoyance slip into my hushed tone as we scoped out the property from a distance.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
My anger towards Milo simmered in my gut more due to my heightened stress than actual animosity towards him…Yet his flippant jokes and loud tromping would give us away before we found anything useful and I could not allow that.
I bit my tongue for a moment and scanned the perimeter of the grounds one last time. Seeing all the minor details of the yard was difficult now that we were closer due to the large 14-foot bushes in front of us.
I noticed a small back entrance leading into it from a side gate…the hedge maze seemed our best chance - its twisting green walls could hide what the pastor wanted unseen
…but not from us. Before I could open my mouth to speak I heard Milo finally give off a huff before exploding into a world-class hissy fit.
“You know what you're a hoe-ass….and in fact, you can fucking suck my dick bitch….*oxygen mask gasp* ..im going in there, swiping the damn neckpiece before you can blame me for us just standing around as well”
his stupid remarks already having infuriated me into an unfocused state made me just stare blankly at him and shrug my shoulders feining the henchman role to my idiotic drug addict of a twin.
I simply departed with a mischievous smirk knowing he would get himself into some kind of trouble.
As I crept inside, the musty foliage exuded an earthy dampness that clung to my brown skin. Strange rotted wooden idols peered from shadowy recesses, their jagged teeth, and empty eyes sending unease skittering through me.
Protective totems and warning glyphs marked shrines to bondsmen spirits long passed yet still trapped on these grounds. This Marvin Yater was definitely up to something big…I have never heard of an “Anti-God” Pastor before.
I paused at a narrow dank tunnel hidden cleverly behind a Small modernized shed about 300 feet from the main mansion. Just before I let my foot fall into the open space between this gaudy hedge maze, I froze in place as I noticed a rotation of 4 milky-eyed albino African men carrying what seemed to be a very reluctant but sullenly silent woman.
I could not see anything more; due to trying to maintain my cover, I didn't dare blow this opportunity the first shot I had.
I waited as they trudged slowly across the brick patio to a darkened cellar on the left side of the mansion disappearing slowly as they bobbed out of view.
Seizing my opportunity I silently dashed into the small Cobblestone tunnel instantly feeling all my senses screaming as I entered the ancient structure, it felt like I was not meant to see the other end of this tunnel…
But I pressed on not letting the whispering ghosts enter my already Bagman-occupied psyche.
Sensing the cold cast-iron shackles and festeringly bleak hopelessness of those who had crawled through its crushing void; seeking liberty but never able to bring their overworked and calloused hands to the freedom they watched others squander.
The billowing yet claustrophobic walls gave way to a gnarly fork in the dingy servant tunnel.
Just then, footsteps crunched towards me coming from the right split of the tunnel. Not illusions of my mind or shared history but tangible hostiles! I slid into the left tunnel, its blackness enveloping me further into its illusory time machine.
In the dark stillness, the Bagman's presence swelled once more effortlessly. "We could raze this hovel of hypocrisy to ash and bone..." his rasping voice needled my thoughts, trying to spur me toward destructive impulses. “Your people died here Sam…and all you can muster is stealing!
I blocked out his twisted goads, inching forward as pinpricks of light appeared ahead cascading small shadows into the small space. I inched my way silently as each footstep led me closer to…At this point, I didn't even know what was ahead for me.
With bated breath and hushed step, I peeked into the small sliver left slightly ajar leading to some sort of small office space inside the mansion.
…..There, in an enclosed cement room adorned with blood-fed veves, Pastor Yater stood chanting in French Creole to an audience of whipped and beaten individuals surrounded by animal-masked jade-robed figures.
A nude elderly man writhed sadly at his feet, skin sagging and covered with ungodly sores. With a fluid slice of a sharp and small shard of obsidian, Yater peeled back the man's chest in blasphemous cold sacrifice, digging his hands deeply into the old man's chest severing the arteries connecting his aortic valves.
Yater’s eyes were lizard-like as he dipped his hand deeper into the elder's chest cavity snapping his bones as Yater put the full force of his 6’5” frame into the small malnourished old man's weak skeleton.
As the crunching and squelching persisted; the animal-masked lurkers took hold of the man's extremities and began peeling his flesh into sinews and Gorey chunks as they placed the lumps of epidermis layers into the mouth of a large black sandalwood effigy swaddled in hauntingly wriggling tree roots.
[Milo]
I felt like I was gonna blow this whole “gig” if Sam didn't shut his stupid fucking mouth.
“Milo…the last 4 states we've been forced to abscond to, have 100 percent been your doing!” Sam made sure to make his tone lower than mine just to belittle me again! Sam said trying to look me in the eyes with his stupid light-colored beady-ass eyeballs.
His stupid little baby-boohoo blame game shit nearly made me slip into some godforsaken over-filling gutter I just spat into…im not taking any more shit from him, especially after this morning!
“You know what you're a hoe-ass….and in fact, you can fucking suck my dick bitch….” I was a little louder than I needed to but fuck Sam and fuck being his “brother”
Who the fuck does this sack of shit think he's talking to?! I ran out of air….Damn, it-he probably is trying to get me to sit this thing out…He thinks im just some weak little mini-twin fuck him!
“ ..im going in there, swiping the damn neckpiece before you can blame me for us just standing around as well” I let the silence hang for a moment unflinching as I held the oxygen mask on my face.
He just mockingly shrugged his shoulder like the good little henchman he knows his dumbass is…
I turned around and hopped the small black gothic fence leading to a grey brick pathway to the front of the house as I heard Sam's creep-fuck footprints disappear into some weirdo hedge maze… Good, he got the fucking hint, I DONT need him.
I never understood rich people, im pretty sure those bushes in upkeep alone cost more than a used car… Fuck this guy “Pastor” Yater, im gonna steal some of his rich light skinned guy shit.
I gravely chuckled to myself as I heard a weird noise coming from in front of me. Not wanting to end up on the 5 o’clock news I hid behind what I thought was a garden gnome, but the second I was able to get myself and the fucking oxygen tank between noise and this lil’ statue I noticed it was NOT a gnome at all….
A creepy fucking 8-eyed naked fat baby with rotten and melted eyes made of some black nasty-ass wood sat 4 inches from my face. I nearly shit myself as I felt its cold energy almost feeling like it was attempting to latch onto my fucking soul.
What the fuck is this…what the fuck am I looking at, I felt like I was being sapped into a strange trance as I felt my whole body turn colder than permafrost.
My blood feeling like it reversed in direction from just being near this fucking thing
“HEY! What are you doing back there?” I felt myself instantly rise to my feet as a buff-cut Samoan dude was bum-rushing me; gun out…. least it snapped me out of whatever the hell just happened
“I got lost at the party and…” I felt like my head was being eaten by fucking Baphomet moths on a fresh leaf.
“Im gonna have to bring you inside then, wouldnt wanna miss it right….no one is allowed on the grounds after the dark, party or not anyways…” He looked down at me as he let out a stupid little sarcastic grunt like I wasn't shit while lowering the sleek black firearm.
"Nah, I'm actually gonna dip..." I laughed half annoyedly half nervous dusting mud off my shirt. "Maybe tell your 'boss' to get less demonic fucking garden decorations."
Even trying to play it cool I noticed what felt like lingering fishing hooks attached to my fucking amygdalas from that godamn baby.
I shot a subtle glance at the burly-suited guard. He had a silenced pistol, safety off, gripped tightly in his meaty tattooed hands.
My stomach sank feeling like I just swallowed 2 pounds of damn brand new asphalt.
"No. Your skinny ass is coming with me," he growled. I smelled his rancid dead breath as he stepped closer. "I won't ask ag—"....too close!
I struck first and hard, planting my hand and sweeping my leg into his knee before he finished speaking. A sexy wet pop echoed through the darkness as his joint bent the wrong way into his knee.
He howled in pain, leg giving out but he definitely wasn't down after just that…
"Fuck!" Face reddening, he clawed for me as he fell. His sausage-like fingers tangled in my polo shirt, nearly wrenching my shoulder out of its socket before we tumbled to the dewy Louisiana grass.
The impact knocked the wind from my barely recovering lungs. Within seconds of landing violently the dude fucking mountain kneed me in the ribs before I could suck in any air anyways.
I felt a crack and searing pain followed as I saw nothing but Crimson Red…. neither of us said another word, we both fucking knew what this was.
He wrapped his Popeye forearms around my head, biceps crushing my temples like a fucking fruit gusher, I didn't think he would be this fucking strong.
I thrashed violently as black and neon green spots bloomed across my vision. Bucking wildly, I couldn't break his hold. I felt like a salmon caught out of a river being stripped of my skin alive.
My leg flailed against something metallic— the gun.
I tried to grab it as we rolled, but my motherfucking fingertips just grazed the textured grip. The weapon sliced my infected tattoo as the mammoth Samoan secured a side mount scraping me viciously against the ground.
As he dual-hand choked me trying to suffocate me to death he drove my head into the soil. Blood filled my mouth where I'd bitten my tongue.
I could feel my infected tattoo bleeding everywhere while I tried to grab at anything.
I coughed wetly, still struggling for breath as the metallic tang coated my throat.
The Shrek ripoff’s weight seemed to increase, grinding my face further into the grass. The world went mute and dim around me
….really…this is how i fucking die…crushed….alone…not even…able to say goodbye to Sam…
another end!