Pills-in-a-Little-Cup

by Rage, Reverend

Juan stood to let Mary out of their booth. “Does it really matter?” he asked. “Little baby Bubblegum over there looks like she’d fuck herself with a pool cue for a taste of the Silver and we’re gonna keep her fucked up on Plata ‘round the motherfuckin’ clock.”

  “And if she doesn’t go for it?” Mary insisted. Bubblegum’s feathers were bright shiny silver and hard black. She kept them plucked so that all of her pay parts were covered. She had a big plume of whispery feathers, reminiscent of hair, as a cloud halo crown. Mary thought she was sexy as fuck. She knew the vampire would dig her, that’s for sure.

  Juan smiled down at Mary. He thought Bubblegum was sexy, too. He said: “I think blood taken by force will taste just as good as blood given. Don’t you, my love?”

  “Yes I do, you fucking gorgeous creep,” she replied, biting her lower lip, nostrils flaring. Juan knew she was getting wet. Maybe Pilate would let them play some too.

  “And me. She looks good enough to eat.”

  Ignoring Morbid, Juan bent down quick to give Mary a kiss. Her breath caught as he probed her mouth with his teeth and tongue, finally ending the kiss with a nippy ball of spittle which he launched down her throat.

  “Go fetch,” he ordered.

  She swallowed and smiled.

  Mary went to the bar. Bubblegum was leaning against some older dude, trying to laugh at his lame shit. The guy had the biggest set of salt and pepper dreadlocks she had ever seen on a pasty-face. His suit was immaculate. He did not look like he belonged in this shoddy watering hole, but he had that expression on his face that fairly shouted: “Slummin!”

  Keeping half an eye on punkin’ pie there, Mary got the bartender’s attention, while purposefully ignoring fancy dreadlocks’ stare.

  “Two Crown rocks,” she told Steel Ovid, placing the empty glasses on the bar top and pulled out some cash. She laid money down for the drinks. The motherfucker will know what Mary wants when he sees the flash of cash. Paper money sales were always frowned upon these days. The Occupying Indian provisional government preferred patrons to use their very traceable digital accounts, bar-coded to a micro-chip under each legal citizen’s left wrist. Transactions using paper Rupees or the Federal Reserve Bank Trade Notes that the International United States – who’s terra firma The Harbor physically resides upon – is condoned, but just barely. The standard exchange is a 2 for 1, making the insistent cash holder lose money. But when one is purchasing narcotics, well… Everyone looks the other way.

  When the barman served up her drinks, Mary smiled sweetly, wrote on a bar napkin.

  “My phone number,” she told him, loud enough to be heard by anyone giving a shit. She handed over the napkin to the bartender. Steel Ovid picked it up and looked at it closely. He saw the two bills folded inside. He looked up at her, Mary smiling sweetly.

  “I see a 2 here at the end of your digits….that right?”

  Mary nodded, “Uh huh.”

  She straightened and waited for the barman to make change. She turned slightly, saw the girl losing interest. Dreadlocks seemed to actually think she wanted another drink. Bubblegum was getting increasingly anxious, no doubt her Plata high was wearing off and she was at the very beginning edges of panic. Bubblegum’s head was doing the herkie chicken jerk. She was unable to keep her head from bobbing like she was seizing. Mary could see the cluck was ripe for plucking. Mary got her attention. The old man turned away from them both.

  “What’s your favorite color?” she asked the girl. The bartender turned back and gave Mary her overly lumpy change and her cocktails.

  “What’s that?” Bubblegum asked, turning full to her.

  Mary smiled back at her while counting her change. It was all there: two 5K NewRupee notes, two 1Ks and a small zip-locked baggie holding two grams of thick gummy ear wax Plata. She let her new friend see the taut little yum-yum bag.

  “I asked you, what’s your favorite color?” Mary repeated, “Silver, right?”

  “Yeah, new best friend,” Bubblegum clucked, “Plata is my favorite color.”

  “Well then.” Mary replied with a growing knowing smile, “Come with me and I will make all your dreams come true.”

  Bubblegum immediately left the bar, following Mary without a moment’s hesitation.

  * * * *

  Juan went back to the same dark shoddy bar, again. And, again, he went without Mary. She stayed away to tend to Bubblegum, keeping her stoned and happy. The comely coop-chick still thought they both had a sex crush on her. They let that cluck-fuck fantasy remain intact.

  “I wanna shove it up her tiny stink-hole.”

  Juan needed to find Pilate, this time, for a face-to-face meeting. Nobody knew the vampire, or where he cribbed or how to contact him. It didn’t matter, however. Juan wanted no one but his Mary and him in on this plan. The Harbor may be a post-industrialized ghetto shit hole, but they knew small town rules still applied. Everybody knew everybody’s business: who was zoomin’ who. It’s just like Mayberry, but with a much higher body count. Except in Mayberry, Andy and Barney wouldn’t let you get the skin flayed off your body while fucking a dead dog for a 5K NewRupee auto-deduct.

  “Fuckin’ squares!”

  They could tell no one; trust no one. One word of what they were planning and niggas might kill them simply because they hadn’t thought of approaching the vampire Plata dealer first.

  Once again, Juan made his way through the drunk and fucked-up bar crowd. He was nervous as all hell. He’d been drinking more than he should, smoking super-strong ghetto weed constantly. Finally, after almost two weeks of this nerve-wracking shit, Mary pleasantly surprised him with a handful of muscle relaxing pills which he doled out to himself; one at a time. It helped a great deal as he trolled the same sleezy, sticky, loser filled bar, night after fucking night, waiting for Pilate. He was worried the blood-drinker wouldn’t show up and even more nervous that he might.

  Juan did a perfunctory head check of the patrons, seeing no Pilate around, had to pee. With some growing dismay, he pushed back, deep into the bar, toward the back hallways, stairs and the toilets.

  Juan split the curtains of human skin, replete with freckle, scar and mole stains, and pierces the confines of That. He entered the first hallway. Juan took the stairway down, following the signs to the bathrooms. Humans and Halflings alike were engaged in all manners of drug consumption and sexual congress. A young girl was tugging on folks, pleading with them all for the return of her hymen. Juan just shook his head. How the fuck should he knows where her freshness seal is? Shit.

  “Shit!”

  Juan stepped down about six more feet before he came to the first body. The male was long dead, judging by the smell. But that didn’t give the old woman with a bald, spotted scalp the right to straddle his below the knee leg amputation. She periodically coughed up mucous from her blow hole onto her hand. The old woman used it to further lubricate the dead fuck’s stitched, blunted stump-cock. As Juan carefully and quietly passed her by, he noticed she was vaguely see-through.

  “We gotta go through Hell’s Own asshole, just to take a piss?”

  Ignoring Morbid patter; --“Hello?”-- Juan kept working his way down in to the dark red smoke, until he finally reached the landing. There he saw a man with his hands secure-tied behind him. A taut, tight rope of aborted fetuses pulled up the man’s wrists. The babies were secured to each other by their own long, convoluted umbilical cords. A sulfur and sugar smelling pit-demon was feeding the rope of abortions through a dog skull pulley. The man’s mouth was buried on a firebrand. The acrid smoke curled from his burning mouth. The demon stared hard at Juan whilst he pulled on the rope. He dislocated the man’s shoulders and kept pulling. The man never made a sound. Only his tears bore witness to his True Pain.

  “Can I go to school here? It looks like they got some Level 10 pain downtown, Bubbie!”

  The restroom was filthy and crowded thick with men pissing. Trannies were sucking dick, their johns holding cash above their bobbing head as a promis
e. Drugs were being snorted, deals going down. Some nigga was desperate enough to tie his shit off in this horrid crapper in one of the door-less stalls, flicking up a vein, trying to feel for a bump to target his needle.

  “Gross.”

  Juan went into one of these stalls. Some passed out fuck, pockets having already been turned out, slumped over to the side, head planted into the feces smeared wall. He considered trying to wake him or dragging him off the seat. Instead, it was most expedient to simply pull out his pecker and piss on the motherfucker. He wouldn’t care.

  Juan was just shaking it and zipping up when he sensed someone. He looked up and right into the face of the old man with the big mass of dreadlocks again. The same polished slummin’ dude that was trying to holler at their Bubblegum. He smiled cruelly at Juan. His jumpy nerves made him cringe.

  “You sure you want this, dear fellow?” asked mister fancy dreads.

  “Want what?” Juan retorted, confused. The old guy is human, not a vampire, not a demon. That means dreadlocks teleported himself here. Other than the Indian Army, Juan had never meant anyone who could afford teleporting. He figured if someone teleports themselves into this shithole, Juan had better pay attention to what dreads was saying. At least dreads didn’t have to go back up through all that shit to get to the bar again. Juan would.

  “Are you sure you want to meet the blood drinker?” he asked Juan.

  “What’s it to you?” Juan wanted to know, getting wide with the cunt out of a deep-seeded need to not kowtow. It was ingrained and had gotten Juan into trouble many times.

  “Don’t get smart with me, young man,” he admonished. “I am The Good Doctor,” he began. “I am Pilate’s sponsor and protector. You need to be sure of what you wish for.”

  “Why’s that?” Juan asked, a bit more politely.

  “Because it may just come true,” The Good Doctor stated. And then he winked out.

  Just then a cold hand dropped solidly on to Juan’s shoulder from behind. It was strong. The talons growing out of the split fingertips dimpled Juan’s coat, punctured the cloth, and pressed into his flesh. Juan was surprised at how much it hurt. He sucked it up though and stood tall.

  “When you wish upon a star...”

  “You got balls hunting me,” the Nocturne told him. Pilate squeezed a little more and made Juan hurt a lot. “But do you have the heart?”

  “Makes no nervermind who you be…”

  “I’m not after you, we mean you no harm.”

  “What do you want then?”

  “We wanted to meet you,” Juan told him.

  “You and the girl you were with?”

  “That’s right. I was hoping to speak with you.”

  “And you are?” the vampire asked with a bit more pressure. It was getting bad, the pain, but Juan knew a test when he felt one. Juan told him their names and intentions. “Services?” he asked, “What services?”

  “Whatever you need, you know, help,” said Juan, arm going numb, fingertips tingling unpleasantly.

  “You two want to help me sell drugs?”

  “Yes, exactly,” Juan replied

  “And what, exactly,” Pilate mockingly replied, “makes you think I won’t kill your uninvited ass where you stand?”

  “Because we would not dare to seek you out empty handed, Sire,” Juan told him.

  “Stop the ass-licking sire shit, I don’t like it,” Pilate warned, “And it will not help to keep you, or your Mary alive.”

  “What shall we call you then?”

  “Nothing yet,” he said. “What do you have for me?”

  “We have an offering.”

  “Offering? What kind of offering?”

  “Blood,” Juan stated,” “A continuous stream of it.”

  The Nocturne smiled then. “Yes,” he replied, “That might do.”

  “I can take you to Mary, where she is being kept for you. And then we can bring her to where you stay.”

  “And this token of your esteem is in hopes that you and Mary can work for me, with me? Is that right?”

  “Yes, exactly,” Juan agreed. “We can be of great value and help. We can assist and protect you.”

  “What do you hope to gain and I expect the truth from you,” Pilate advised with one more, tiny squeeze, “Your life, where you stand, depends on it.”

  Juan did not have to think, Mary and his motivations had never changed. “We want in,” he said simply, “And you are the way.”

  “The Truth shall set you free.”

  The vampire was silent as he removed his painfully frigid grip from Juan’s shoulder, blood seeping now from the talon punctures. Juan could feel him moving close to whisper in his ear.

  “Well now, seeing as you two now work for me,” the vampire said, “I guess you should call me Pilate.”

  We’re in, thought Juan.

  We are!

  )0(

  BUBBLEGUM WAS BROUGHT INTO the hospital examination room via the back. She didn’t fight them a bit as she was led down an old, rickety elevator. They dropped loudly down several floors, far below the main floor. Pilate and The Good Doctor were waiting for them there.

  He had no family, friends or associates to lookout for him. Beyond The Good Doctor, Pilate had no familiars or anyone to help him with his work or to keep him protected and safe. He had no underlings. Now he does.

  His almost complete lack of social graces attested to his lonely life.

  But his new employees, Pilate’s new friends, were here now and they did not come to him empty handed. They had brought such a gift.

  The pressurized intravenous line ran from the metal IV stand next to the girl’s bed, to the jugular vein in her pretty neck. A 3-way stop-cock kept Bubblegum’s precious blood from squirting all over the aseptic, stark white floor. Heparin and saline filled the taut IV bag and kept the blood from clotting and dying. The teenaged egg-laying girl had an oxygen mask on her face-beak, a big green metal tank standing tall in the corner.

  For a Nocturne, it was the best kind of breakfast in bed.

  Juan and Mary stood nearby, excited and happy. The Good Doctor sat forward, working his hand-held pussy cat in quick, smooth-pulling tugs.

  Pilate went to Bubblegum and knelt at her side. Juan and Mary watched their new boss and benefactor. The blood drinker turned to get permission from his sponsor.

  “Get her,” The Good Doctor told Pilate.

  And that was it. They had done it, they were in.

  They smiled and held hands as Pilate opened the stop-cock and began to feed. He was making everyone’s dreams come true.

  Bubblegum was quivering now. Her blood being siphoned by the vampire, she moaned and cooed and bok-bok-bokked until her big breast and plump thighs were a writhing and wriggling mass. The feather trail that went between her over-sized dark meat thighs dripped her come. An egg shot out of Bubblegum and skittered spinning across the floor. It came to a stop at Juan’s feet.

  “Let me have it.”

  Juan looked to Mary beside him.

  “Go ahead,” she whispered, “Let the freak have it.”

  “You heard her,” Juan replied in his matching whisper.

  “About fucking time,” Morbid replied. He poked his pressed fingertips through Juan’s rectum, making his meat puppet pain out a little. No big deal. He slipped his hand down Juan’s chinos to below the cuff, and grabbed Bubblegum’s egg off the floor. Morbid slid it back up the pant leg and inside Juan’s ass in a second. Juan’s ass made a small flatulent that he had to clear his throat with a cough to cover. Morbid’s muffled chewing of the shell and slurping of the ovum inside was a gurgle storm from Juan’s abdomen.

  “That’s more like it, fuck-tard,” Morbid told him as Bubblegum caught her breath and The Good Doctor’s sweet pussy-fur lost hers, “But I’m still gonna gut her.”

  For fuck’s sake.

  ….THE END

  SHORT AND SMOOTH AND QUICK MOOD ELEVATOR

  “XANAX”

  MISTER MO�
� THUG HAS always been an asshole. Most everyone agrees. Mother certainly does. A waiter came and brought her some mint tea. She sipped at it and smiled at him. The waiter smiled back to her with an absolutely unexplained jolt of pure bliss. It came to a screeching halt when the obscenely tall man appeared. The waiter craned his neck to look up at the newcomer.

  Fear filled him as the stranger spoke: “Stop the staring, you mindless twit and seat me.”

  “Leave him be.”

  Mister Mo’ Thug darkened a touch, but he did as he was told. The waiter left and he carefully folded his eight foot tall frame creakily into the tiny bistro chair. He was directly across from her. He stared cold daggers at the little thing, nearly half his size.

  “What do you want?”

  Mother looked to him and sipped some more tea. She leaned casually back. She began to inspect a manicured nail, crossing her ankles. She wiggled the tiny toes at the end of her bare feet.

  “Job will follow you only so long.”

  A wager, he laughed at that. Job was his and she damned well knew it. “He is mine and the boy will do as commanded.”

  “For a time, then he will turn to face me. His back you’ll get.”

  “Perhaps I should simply destroy my progeny now.”

  “You have merely acted as caretaker and your arrogance is most unattractive.”

  “Like I give a shit, Mother. Job is mine and he always will be. There is nothing you can do about it. His heart belongs to me.”

  “His father gave him to you, not Job himself. Nobody bothered to ask us.”

  “This may be true, but I tend to his every whim. I shall give him power and wealth and even the crown. He will choose instantly me.”

  “Go ahead, be surprised then.”

  “No,” Mister Mo’ Thug insisted, “That will never happen.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I can give Job everything.”

  “True. And I can take everything away.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Mother smiled instead. “So are we on?”