by Doctor MC
I looked at the human filth on the floor, and I thought, I could kill him. I’m strong enough, and I don’t think I’d need Fatima’s magic for a jury to acquit me. Let me tell you, Reader, that oh, I was tempted.
Instead, I knelt down, yanked the revolver from his hand, then walked into the living room and hid the revolver under the couch. By the time I returned to the hallway, Gregory was sitting up, wincing with pain.
“Stand up,” I said.
He did. And I discovered that, in the few seconds that I’d been out of his sight, Gregory had pulled a trick on me.
There was a split second between the time that Gregory lifted his legs and hips off the carpet, and when his left hand came off the carpet. And in that moment, I saw something laying there by his good hand—
When Gregory stood up, he was holding a knife in his left hand.
He smiled at me. “Well, Marvin, you got a problem. You try kicking me again, you’re gonna get your leg sliced. But walk away, and I promise Janice won’t get hurt.”
“Gregory, you’re stupid if you think I’ll believe that promise.”
“Doesn’t matter, big man. Because you’re there, I’m here, and there is no one and no thing between my blade and her throat.”
I said, “Thanks for reminding me.” And then I leaped.
I leaped a pimp in a single bound. I just barely cleared him, too—not because my legs weren’t up to the challenge, but because the trailer’s ceiling was so low. Anyway, as soon as my hands hit the carpet behind Gregory, I pulled my legs in, then shoved them out hard, toward where I’d come from.
“Oof!” I heard Gregory say. A moment later, something heavy hit the ground several feet behind me.
For a moment, I felt danger. I was off-balance, and my enemy was behind me with a knife. But on the other hand, I’d just given my enemy a new problem of his own to deal with.
When I was on my feet and facing Gregory, I saw that he was lying on his stomach, still clutching the knife in his left hand. I’d shoved him far enough that only his feet still touched the hallway carpet, while his upper body was blocking anyone from opening the front door.
He was trying to get up off the floor. I couldn’t have that. I leaped on him, my thighs straddling his hips, and I grabbed his skull between my hands.
He froze, except for his knife hand. He moved the blade from pointing forward or to the right, to pointing backward or to the left.
I said conversationally, “Gregory, I paid close attention in high-school biology class, because I was hot for my teacher. And one of the things I learned from her is that the braincase isn’t one big round bone, like an egg, but eight bones. The frontal, the occipital, the left and right parietal, and I forget the other four. Point is, guy, these eight bones are welded together. Know anything about welding, Gregory?”
Silence.
I squeezed his skull some. “Know anything about welding, Gregory?”
“Yes! Did some in high school.”
I relaxed my squeeze. “Then you know that the weakest part of any object is where parts are welded together. Right?”
“Make your point, Frankenstein.”
“Now, you have a choice: You can toss that knife a few feet away, so that it’s out of your reach, or you can swing your arm back and stab me somewhere. But I don’t recommend Plan B.”
“Eat shit, guy. There’s no fucking way I’m giving up my blade.”
“Suit yourself. But as soon as you move that arm toward me, I’m gonna start squeezing. And holding your head are the two most powerful hands in the world. But maybe your skull is stronger than I think it is, or maybe I’m not so strong as I think I am—or maybe your skull cracks into pieces like a Hershey Bar, and then I squeeze your brain down to the size of a walnut. So you’ve got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
“Fuck you, Marvin.”
I laughed. “By the way, if you don’t toss your knife by the count of ten, I stop waiting and start squeezing. One...”
Gregory tossed the knife at “Seven.” But as soon as he did, his muscles relaxed and he started making a weird noise.
When I realized that what I was hearing was Gregory snoring, I also noticed green motion to my right. I turned to look, and saw a green-smoke cloud in the living room. The green-smoke cloud silently imploded, revealing Fatima.
Fatima pointed through the walls toward Janice and whispered, “Master, may I help?”
Chapter 25
I Give A Pimp Problems
I whispered to Fatima, “Where’s Holly?”
Fatima whispered back, “In the car, magically asleep.” Fatima then pointed to Gregory.
I gave Fatima a thumbs-up, then said in regular voice, “Fatima, please help me with this. Janice?”
“Please don’t come in, Marvin,” I heard Janice say. “I didn’t do any hooking, but—”
Now Fatima and I were standing in the bathroom doorway. “—you told me to get clean, Marvin, and I’m not clean anymore,” Janice said. She looked and sounded despairing.
Janice was sitting wet and naked in the bathtub. Her foul-smelling clothes had all been thrown into a nearby green bucket. Then I noticed what was laying on the floor, between the bathtub and toilet—
Rubber tubing, and a syringe.
Janice’s eyes were already getting glassy. “I don’t know you,” she said to Fatima. “Do you go to Plato Smith?”
“Fatima’s older than us, Janice,” I said. (Which was the 2,600-year-plus understatement of the day.)
I picked up the syringe and turned to Fatima. “Look, Fatima, Gregory played a trick on her! There’s nothing but water in here.” Janice couldn’t see me give Fatima a raised eyebrow.
Where my body blocked Janice from seeing, Fatima did two-handed gestures. Then Fatima said, “You’re right, Marvin, I don’t see any drugs in that syringe.”
I turned around and showed Janice the (now water-filled) syringe. I said, “That prick has mind-fucked you. You got clean and stayed clean—I’m so pleased with you.”
She gave me a big smile; but that smile melted into a puzzled look. “But I feel the shit, Marvin. It’s in me.”
I took Janice’s right hand in both of mine. (Which prompted her to say, “I am yours.”) I said, “Janice, listen to me, Gregory pulled a trick on you.”
“Why would he trick me?” she asked sleepily.
“He made you think he gave you drugs, so you’d quit fighting him. You’re in the same shape as you were an hour ago. Tell her, please, Fatima.”
Fatima took hold of one of Janice’s hands; Fatima used her free hand to rub Janice’s arm. Fatima said, “Listen to my voice, Janice.”
“Okay, listening.”
“You are feeling alert, you are feeling so alert.”
“So alert.”
“At the sound of my voice, you are getting more and more alert.”
“More and more alert.”
“I’m going to count to three, and when I say ‘three,’ you are going to feel like you’re clean and you just drank a whole pot of coffee. You won’t be able to keep your eyes closed, no matter how hard you try. Understand, Janice?”
“Yes, Fatima,” Janice said.
“One. You’re more alert. Janice, you feel like you took only a small hit, and you just drank a cup of coffee.”
Janice raised up her chin a little.
Fatima continued, “Two. You’re even more alert. You feel like it’s been hours and hours since you had your last hit, while you just drank three cups of coffee.”
Janice slowly blinked, and then slowly looked around. Now she seemed dazed, not drugged.
Fatima said, “Three. Now you feel clean of all drugs, and you feel more alert than you have in years.”
Janice actually stretched. “Wow, you guys, I feel great. Well, my stomach still hurts.”
I nodded. “Once we get you to my place, I’ll put some Gatorade and food in you. Janice, I say again: I am so pleased with you f
or not hooking, and for staying clean for four days.”
Janice grinned again, then said, “I’m going to your place? Won’t your parents mind?”
Fatima smiled at Janice and said, “They won’t cause a problem with this. For one thing, I’ve met his parents and they’re cool.”
I grabbed the stinky green bucket, and threw the drug paraphernalia atop Janice’s vomit-covered clothing. I told Janice, “Take a shower, shampoo, brush your teeth, and get yourself as clean as you can. Fatima will be back in a few minutes with clean clothes for you. Which bedroom is yours?”
“The one closer to the bathroom. Other one’s my brother’s, he’s in the Marines.”
“Gotcha,” I said. Then I grabbed her naked shoulder and said, “Janice Wesley, I claim you.”
Her eyes got teary. “I’ll serve you good, Marvin.”
****
With that, Fatima and I stepped out of the bathroom, and I shut the bathroom door.
I and then Fatima walked into Janice’s bedroom. I went through Janice’s dresser and her closet, and picked out an outfit for her—skipping everything that had Spandex, sequins, or glitter.
After Fatima delivered the clean clothes to Janice, I led Fatima into the living room, past the still-snoring Gregory. I said, “Under the couch is this clown’s gun. Please move the gun and his knife”—I pointed to it—“to inside Uncle Warren’s footlocker.”
Quiet fooms in stereo told me that this was done.
Janice’s bedroom carpet had two vomit-blotches, her bedsheets reeked of sour sweat, and the green bucket was full of nasty stuff. I asked Fatima to destroy everything in the bucket and to clean all the mess magically; she did.
Next I said, “Does Gregory have drugs in his pocket? Or weapons?” After Fatima consulted her scrying ball and she nodded at me, I said, “Please send whatever nasties he’s got in his pockets, somewhere where they’ll be completely destroyed.”
A quiet foom—all done.
I then asked, “Fatima, can you read the memories of someone who’s sleeping?”
Fatima replied, “I’ve never tried it, Master, but I think so.”
“Would you read Gregory’s memories that start from his eighteenth birthday, please?”
She walked over, knelt down, and touched Gregory’s forehead. A minute later, she was standing up and making a face. “He reminds me of some masters I’ve had. I enjoyed twisting the wishes of such men. But there’s one good thing about being in his mind.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
Fatima smiled evilly. “Now I know some very sexy and very effective ways to tie someone up.”
I asked, “Getting back to Gregory: What has he done that would get him prison time?”
“He’s killed two of his women, plus a rival pimp. He stole a hundred grams of heroin, and framed a man named Mauricio for the theft. And he forces all his women to take drugs if they don’t do it willingly.”
I nodded. “As he did to Janice today. Well, I don’t want Janice to have to deal with doctors, or cops, or D.A.s, or judges, so you and I have wiped out all evidence of what Gregory did today. Which means, this piece of shit gets a free ride—but by god, he will answer for his crime. To me, if not to a judge.”
Fatima turned her head and faced the bathroom. “Janice turned off the shower just now.” Fatima summoned her scrying ball. “Janice is drying her hair now. And singing.”
I pointed to the man on the floor. “It’s time to wake up both Holly and Sleeping Beauty here. And Fatima, here’s what I ask you to do now, please...”
When I finished explaining my plans, Fatima clapped her hands. “Master, I like it! It rights wrongs, and your plan is so clever, finding a way around Solomon’s rule.”
I told Fatima, “When you’re ready, slam the back door.”
****
Gregory Stevens was awakened by the slamming of a door, and a woman’s voice calling out, “Hello?”
Gregory didn’t recognize the voice.
“Fuck, what happened to me?” Gregory said. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Maybe you fainted,” Marvin replied.
Gregory had just enough time to realize that the muscle-bound ox Marvin was no longer sitting on him, when Marvin climbed back onto Gregory’s prone body. Marvin called out, “OKAY, FATIMA, YOU CAN COME IN NOW.”
A total babe walked into the trailer kitchen from somewhere in back. She had thick and shiny long, black hair, big tits that were the real deal, a slim waist, and smooth, muscular legs. Her skin color said “Indian or Middle Eastern,” but she had green eyes and style.
God, if I could turn her out, I’d make a killing! Gregory thought.
But Gregory was puzzled by what she had in her hands. In her right hand, she held some kind of hand tool and some long plastic strips; while she held a coil of rope in her left hand.
Marvin held out his hand and said, “Cable ties.” The green-eyed babe handed the plastic strips to him.
Gregory couldn’t stop Marvin from grabbing his wrists and pulling them behind his back—
Gregory screamed. “Motherfucker, my arm’s broken!”
“Yep, uh-huh, it sure is,” Marvin said cheerfully. “Remember how it got broken? Remember what you were holding at the time, and what you intended with it? Poor baby.”
And then Marvin used the plastic strips to somehow bind Gregory’s hands together. Gregory screamed again.
“Hey, jerkface,” Gregory said, “you can’t handcuff me. You’re not a cop.”
Marvin grabbed Gregory by the shoulders and pulled him standing up, as easily as if Gregory were a rag doll. “You’re right, I’m not a cop,” Marvin said. “You pointed a gun at me, and you pointed a knife at me. If I were a cop, you’d be shot dead.”
Marvin grabbed Gregory by the rib cage, lifted him in the air, and carried Gregory to the recliner in the living room. But before Marvin did anything else with Gregory, Marvin turned his head and said to the babe, “Fatima, there’s something ironic about me lifting a guy off his feet.” Gregory had no idea what Marvin meant by that.
Gregory got dropped into the recliner like a sack of potatoes. Marvin stepped away and said to the hottie, “Tie up his feet, special.”
“Yes, Master,” she replied.
Gregory thought, Whoa, did she call him “MASTER”? Shit, I GOTTA turn this girl into one of my bitches! Then I won’t have to pay her any “allowance.”
Meanwhile, Fatima was saying “Master?” She beckoned Marvin over and murmured in his ear. Then she and her rope went over to Gregory.
Marvin told Gregory, “Fatima is going to tie up your feet. By the way, I advise you to not try and kick her.”
Gregory sneered, “What, you’d beat up a man who can’t fight back?”
“No, your moron. If you hurt Fatima, it’ll be Fatima who makes you hurt.”
After talking to Gregory, Marvin walked to the front door, opened it, and gestured for someone outside to come in.
By now Fatima was kneeling at Gregory’s feet. He gave her his most charming smile and said, “Why don’t you dump Musclehead over there, and hook up with a real man.”
She didn’t even look at him. “You’re amusing.”
A minute later, Gregory noticed how she was tieing up his ankles, and he started to sweat. Fatima wasn’t just making him unable to walk, she was tieing up his ankles like a bondage freak would.
By now, Marvin was talking on his cel to someone named Bridget. While Marvin was on the phone, there was a knock at the front door. Marvin opened the door and let Holly in, without even asking “Who are you?” or “Why are you here?” Instead, he let her in and shut the door, while he talked on his cel.
What the fuck is the deal with Holly? Gregory wanted to know.
As soon as Marvin had pocketed his cel, and Fatima had finished tieing up Gregory’s feet, Marvin picked up Gregory and carried him to the kitchen table, dropping Gregory into one of its chairs.
That done, Marvin walked back into the living roo
m. As soon as he got there, Holly walked up to him and said something. This annoyed the shit out of Gregory. “HOLLY! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!” he yelled.
“Sure, I’d like a soda,” Gregory heard Marvin say. “But go ask Janice first if that’s okay. After all, this is her house.”
Holly dashed off toward the back bathroom, as eager as a puppy. Seconds later, she returned, announcing, “Janice says sure, you can have a Coke.”
Gregory laughed out loud. As zoned out as Janice had to be by now, she’d agree just as easily to being fucked in the ass with a baseball bat.
Meanwhile, Marvin was telling Holly, “And while you’re in the kitchen, go find out what Gregory is crying about.”
Holly walked toward the fridge. Not toward Gregory, the uppity cunt, but toward the stupid fridge! “Holly!” Gregory commanded.
Holly didn’t even look at him. She opened the fridge, got a soda, popped the top, and only then did she look at Gregory and walk up to him.
“What do you want?” Holly said.
“Give me a sip of that. I’m thirsty.”
“That’s for Marvin, not you,” Holly said. Then she added cruelly, “You want a soda? Get it yourself.”
“Bitch, I am going to hurt you bad when I get out of this.”
“Oh, you like pain, do you?” Holly said. Then she slapped Gregory hard.
He was too shocked to speak.
Holly then gave Gregory a “drop dead” smile, before she walked over to Marvin, putting plenty of hip action in her moves. Smiling warmly at Marvin, Holly handed him his soda.
Just then, Janice walked out from the back, with wet hair and wearing different clothes than when Gregory had pushed his way in her front door. But something was off about Janice.
It took Gregory ten seconds to realize: Janice wasn’t drugged. Her speech wasn’t slurred, and she wasn’t moving slow or giggling weird. And not only was Janice not junked up, but she was hanging all over Marvin even worse than Holly was.
What the fuck is going on? Gregory wondered.
Meanwhile, Janice was staring hard at Gregory. “Why is he sitting at my kitchen table? Does he expect me to feed him now?”
Marvin said, “He’s there because I put him there. His hands and feet are tied up. He can’t do anything on his own.”