Read Chapters 1-5 HERE.
Congrats, Phish. I made it far enough to earn a banner.
Chatper 8: Next time: "Special Delivery."
I knocked on the door. Uber stood behind me. I knew he was worried, but we had to get in this house, and I didn't have a better idea. I stood there for a while, looked back at Uber, saw the blank slate that was his face, and was just about to give up, when the door finally opened.
"May I help you?" A man who was obviously a butler and even more obviously constantly regretting every decision he made in his life that led him to this end appeared in the doorway.
"Yessir," I began, my sales pitch at the ready. "I'm from the NAPS - North American Porn Specialists. We're currently running a great deal on some very rare magazines, and thought the owner of the manor might be interested."
The dead-eyed gentleman's gentleman stared at me for a moment. I was worried he wasn't buying it. But even money said Bloom was a pornhound, and his butler would know about it. Or, perhaps this butler would himself be interested.
"What are you offering?"
Jackpot.
"Well, we've got everything from lesbians to trannies. You got the kink, we got it in ink. Just to give you an example, we're currently offering a special on this," I said, pulling out an issue from the stack we took from the golf nut. "Schoolgirls, Aardvarks and Pudding. First issue. And it's not just one, or even two of them. Each pictorial makes use of all three fetishes. Great stuff."
The butler stared some more. He had yet to show any human expression.
"Please come in. I'll get the master of the house."
We waited in the, what do you call them in fancy houses, foyer? Yes, I think that's right. We waited in the foyer until the man himself came out.
"I'm Mr. Bloom," he said, not offering a hand. "I understand you are selling something I might be interested in."
"Only the kinkiest, craziest porn, delivered right to your house in the most discreet way possible."
"Interesting. Why don't you come into my waiting room, while I have my servant bring us something to drink, so I can, ahem, peruse your wares." He gestured to the next room. "Schrock! Bring some brandy to the sitting room, please! Thank you!"
The butler brought the brandy, and we sat for a while, going over the porn we had brought. Bloom seemed genuinely interested in a few issues that focused heavily on very muscular women. I honestly felt like I was about to make a big sale, which would have been great, if that had been my actual intention.
"This look great," he said at one point. "I'd like to order, let's see, this one, this one, and, oh, definitely this one. These products all look great, ah, I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"
"Tommy," I said, without skipping a beat.
"Tommy? Hmmm," He said. I didn't like this. "You look more like a Goat, to me."
Before I could react, multiple doors opened, and other people began pouring into the room, some of them holding guns. Too many of them holding guns, actually.
One of them was Aruss. Son of a bitch. Uber also noticed.
"Boss? What's going on?"
"Uber, my friend. Sorry for the deception, but it was important you bring Goat here, and he couldn't know anything. I trust you, I really do, but we couldn't let you slip up. Stakes were too high."
Aruss gestured to Uber, directing him to join him over with the large group of well-armed goons.
"I still don't get it," Uber said. "It's not like Goat was hiding. We didn't need to go through all this, get shot at by some loon at the golf course, just to bring him here."
"I know, I know. It's all very complicated, Uber. Forgive me for not confiding in you, but we were working on a short schedule. You've been a wonderful right-hand man all these years, really. I want you to know that."
Uber looked at his employer, as one of the goons silently positioned himself behind the poor dunce. I didn't have time to react, although I could feel the next few moments in my gut before they even happened. I even think I saw a very brief moment of what might be called "understanding" pass ever so faintly across Uber's face, just before his brains flew out of his forehead, and his dead body slumped coldly to the carpet.
"Goddammit, Aruss!" screamed Bloom. "That's Persian, you ass. Not knockoff. The real deal."
"Shut it, you old blowhard. We're in this together, now."
"Fine. What about him?" Bloom pointed at me.
"Pat him down. Take him in the kitchen. Tie him to a chair. We're going to have a conversation."
A few minutes later, I was strapped in to what I have to admit was a very comfortable dining chair, with Aruss staring at me.
"Sorry this had to work out this way, Goat."
"If you're going to put a bullet in my brain like Uber, just get it over with."
"Oh, you'll be going to the great whorehouse in the sky, no doubt about that, but we need you first. For a couple of things. First of all, we need to know who else knows anything at all about this case. Anything."
"Kiss off, fatass."
"I thought you'd say that. Honestly, I was kind of hoping for it. We'll see how you feel after a little motivation." He stood up. Actually looked a little sad for a moment. Or at least, that's what I would have thought, if I'd honestly believed he was capable of anything passing for human emotion. He raised his voice. "Come in."
A door opened. A man walked in. He was wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a polo shirt with collar popped all the way to his earlobes. He sported perfect white teeth and frosted tips. And he was wearing two sets of brass knuckles.
"Money," Aruss said. "Go to it."
Next time: The Conspiracy Revealed
This post was edited on 4/4 1:55 AM by TheOriginalHappyGoat
Congrats, Phish. I made it far enough to earn a banner.
Chatper 8: Next time: "Special Delivery."
I knocked on the door. Uber stood behind me. I knew he was worried, but we had to get in this house, and I didn't have a better idea. I stood there for a while, looked back at Uber, saw the blank slate that was his face, and was just about to give up, when the door finally opened.
"May I help you?" A man who was obviously a butler and even more obviously constantly regretting every decision he made in his life that led him to this end appeared in the doorway.
"Yessir," I began, my sales pitch at the ready. "I'm from the NAPS - North American Porn Specialists. We're currently running a great deal on some very rare magazines, and thought the owner of the manor might be interested."
The dead-eyed gentleman's gentleman stared at me for a moment. I was worried he wasn't buying it. But even money said Bloom was a pornhound, and his butler would know about it. Or, perhaps this butler would himself be interested.
"What are you offering?"
Jackpot.
"Well, we've got everything from lesbians to trannies. You got the kink, we got it in ink. Just to give you an example, we're currently offering a special on this," I said, pulling out an issue from the stack we took from the golf nut. "Schoolgirls, Aardvarks and Pudding. First issue. And it's not just one, or even two of them. Each pictorial makes use of all three fetishes. Great stuff."
The butler stared some more. He had yet to show any human expression.
"Please come in. I'll get the master of the house."
We waited in the, what do you call them in fancy houses, foyer? Yes, I think that's right. We waited in the foyer until the man himself came out.
"I'm Mr. Bloom," he said, not offering a hand. "I understand you are selling something I might be interested in."
"Only the kinkiest, craziest porn, delivered right to your house in the most discreet way possible."
"Interesting. Why don't you come into my waiting room, while I have my servant bring us something to drink, so I can, ahem, peruse your wares." He gestured to the next room. "Schrock! Bring some brandy to the sitting room, please! Thank you!"
The butler brought the brandy, and we sat for a while, going over the porn we had brought. Bloom seemed genuinely interested in a few issues that focused heavily on very muscular women. I honestly felt like I was about to make a big sale, which would have been great, if that had been my actual intention.
"This look great," he said at one point. "I'd like to order, let's see, this one, this one, and, oh, definitely this one. These products all look great, ah, I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"
"Tommy," I said, without skipping a beat.
"Tommy? Hmmm," He said. I didn't like this. "You look more like a Goat, to me."
Before I could react, multiple doors opened, and other people began pouring into the room, some of them holding guns. Too many of them holding guns, actually.
One of them was Aruss. Son of a bitch. Uber also noticed.
"Boss? What's going on?"
"Uber, my friend. Sorry for the deception, but it was important you bring Goat here, and he couldn't know anything. I trust you, I really do, but we couldn't let you slip up. Stakes were too high."
Aruss gestured to Uber, directing him to join him over with the large group of well-armed goons.
"I still don't get it," Uber said. "It's not like Goat was hiding. We didn't need to go through all this, get shot at by some loon at the golf course, just to bring him here."
"I know, I know. It's all very complicated, Uber. Forgive me for not confiding in you, but we were working on a short schedule. You've been a wonderful right-hand man all these years, really. I want you to know that."
Uber looked at his employer, as one of the goons silently positioned himself behind the poor dunce. I didn't have time to react, although I could feel the next few moments in my gut before they even happened. I even think I saw a very brief moment of what might be called "understanding" pass ever so faintly across Uber's face, just before his brains flew out of his forehead, and his dead body slumped coldly to the carpet.
"Goddammit, Aruss!" screamed Bloom. "That's Persian, you ass. Not knockoff. The real deal."
"Shut it, you old blowhard. We're in this together, now."
"Fine. What about him?" Bloom pointed at me.
"Pat him down. Take him in the kitchen. Tie him to a chair. We're going to have a conversation."
A few minutes later, I was strapped in to what I have to admit was a very comfortable dining chair, with Aruss staring at me.
"Sorry this had to work out this way, Goat."
"If you're going to put a bullet in my brain like Uber, just get it over with."
"Oh, you'll be going to the great whorehouse in the sky, no doubt about that, but we need you first. For a couple of things. First of all, we need to know who else knows anything at all about this case. Anything."
"Kiss off, fatass."
"I thought you'd say that. Honestly, I was kind of hoping for it. We'll see how you feel after a little motivation." He stood up. Actually looked a little sad for a moment. Or at least, that's what I would have thought, if I'd honestly believed he was capable of anything passing for human emotion. He raised his voice. "Come in."
A door opened. A man walked in. He was wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a polo shirt with collar popped all the way to his earlobes. He sported perfect white teeth and frosted tips. And he was wearing two sets of brass knuckles.
"Money," Aruss said. "Go to it."
Next time: The Conspiracy Revealed
This post was edited on 4/4 1:55 AM by TheOriginalHappyGoat
