It begins
It was a weekend like any other, with a few minor exceptions. I decided to brush off my investigative skills and work with a old friend as a Bounty Hunter, so after asking Sister Mary Margaret to cover my ESL class, I was off on the investigation beat, to coin a popular expression oft heard these days; I was go’en get me some of the’m evil-doers.
Dear friends, little did I know that a that the undertaking I was entering would take me to the highest levels of power, and the lowest levels of depravities, in what can only be said is a story that would make the epic-documentary director Roger Moore blanch.
I developed what I assumed would be an effective cover-story and wardrobe change (I was glad I saved all those clothes from my days in Seattle with the grunge-band, nods to Pastor Bob who had recently returned my Red Army over-coat, and East German ruck-sack.
My cover story was quite simple (given my belief that in covert-ops the simplest plan is often the most appropriate). My name was to be “Spike” and I had jumped ship from a North-Korean Iron-Ore freighter that at that time was docked in my sleepy port town. With those preparations made dear reader I dove into the steamy-under-belly of the “City of Churches”.
My friend and I, (who for the sake of this story will be known by the cover-name I knew him best as (when we were mercenaries in the killing fields of Principality of Monaco) “Lolly-Pop”, a name that is still both blessed a cursed in some parts of Europe.
We soon found ourselves at the water front of our port city, replete with; seedy bars, tattoo parlors, happy-ending massage establishments, Buy-Here Pay-Here car lots, Pay-Day Loans, and the local republican headquarters. All places the “low-people” are known frequent, yes, our path into the darkness would begin here.
We were on the trail of close knit gang of thugs and bail jumpers, whose last offence was strong arming the patents at the local VA hospital, into keeping their mouths shut about a proposed plan to close the hospital leaving them without the sub-standard health care they had grown accustom to, in their wake they left broken hips and shattered the dreams of these proud veterans, everyone a hero. Oh, yes dear reader it was personal now, “Lolly-Pop” and I were going to make someone pay.
We picked up our trail at a bar known as the Boom-Boom Saloon. For those readers who have never been to this particular tap-house, let me paint a mental picture for you. There are three things that Boom-Boom's is know for they are:
The quality of the exotic female dancers (dear reader, if ever the word exotic was appropriately used, it is here now). Your typical dancer often is a sweet lass, between the ages of 18 and 61, track marks plainly visible, replete with tattoos, piercings (fish-hooks, were most often seen on this visit, given its water-front local) knife and/or gunshot scars or wounds in various stages of healing, and advanced cases of gastro-intestinal disease. (How would one tip these ladies? I use the dollar per tooth method, I love attention to detail, and it always insures I leave with money).
The building itself, while offering an extensive lunch and dinner menu (hats off to the chef) it is still best known for its beer-drinking cockroach population, (it is often best to drink quickly and cover any remaining beverage with the fine wire mesh the wait-staff provides). I tend to stay away from beers brewed in St. Louis due to the notable fact that the roaches seem to prefer them to all other domestic and imported beers. Also, I must inform the reader that shootings and stablings occur with such a frequency among the customers that after a brief adjustment period, they take on an almost surreal effect, that is most easily compared to current Swiss post-modern film(my most recent viewing was Schlorkbabies an der Raststätte, two thumbs up).
And last, the thing that has allowed this place of respite for the wicked, such renown, is the fact that they (the owners, who it might be added are also big funders of the Mitch Daniels campaign for governor, of our fare land, our great state, Indiana) ..always pride themselves on having at least one midget dancer (or little person, as I was informed they prefer to be called, at the point of a knife, while looking in her mouth in an earnest effort to gage the amount of my tip).
It was soon after finishing a ninth pitcher of beer, and a wonderful petite roasted Capon in garlic and walnuts with a cream sage butter sauce, polished off with Cream Brule, that “Lolly-Pop” gave me the heads up, a C.I. (confidential informant, to those of you not familiar with trade-speak) had some information that could help our investigation, and we should meet him in the ally between the gun-store and the rescue mission. His C.I was only known as “green-teeth”.
I am sorry, dear reader, but the nurse is here now to give me my sponge bath, and drop off the flowers just sent to me by the Truthful and Compassionate Mrs. John Q. Public, who has I type this is on the road with the Boy-Band, filming a interview with Kansas Public Television, in preparation for their show Wednesday night, (my understanding is that they are opening for a Monster-Truck Show & Pull, at the 4-H fair-grounds). I will continue later, if my injures allow it.
Yours,
JQP, DDS
Dear friends, little did I know that a that the undertaking I was entering would take me to the highest levels of power, and the lowest levels of depravities, in what can only be said is a story that would make the epic-documentary director Roger Moore blanch.
I developed what I assumed would be an effective cover-story and wardrobe change (I was glad I saved all those clothes from my days in Seattle with the grunge-band, nods to Pastor Bob who had recently returned my Red Army over-coat, and East German ruck-sack.
My cover story was quite simple (given my belief that in covert-ops the simplest plan is often the most appropriate). My name was to be “Spike” and I had jumped ship from a North-Korean Iron-Ore freighter that at that time was docked in my sleepy port town. With those preparations made dear reader I dove into the steamy-under-belly of the “City of Churches”.
My friend and I, (who for the sake of this story will be known by the cover-name I knew him best as (when we were mercenaries in the killing fields of Principality of Monaco) “Lolly-Pop”, a name that is still both blessed a cursed in some parts of Europe.
We soon found ourselves at the water front of our port city, replete with; seedy bars, tattoo parlors, happy-ending massage establishments, Buy-Here Pay-Here car lots, Pay-Day Loans, and the local republican headquarters. All places the “low-people” are known frequent, yes, our path into the darkness would begin here.
We were on the trail of close knit gang of thugs and bail jumpers, whose last offence was strong arming the patents at the local VA hospital, into keeping their mouths shut about a proposed plan to close the hospital leaving them without the sub-standard health care they had grown accustom to, in their wake they left broken hips and shattered the dreams of these proud veterans, everyone a hero. Oh, yes dear reader it was personal now, “Lolly-Pop” and I were going to make someone pay.
We picked up our trail at a bar known as the Boom-Boom Saloon. For those readers who have never been to this particular tap-house, let me paint a mental picture for you. There are three things that Boom-Boom's is know for they are:
The quality of the exotic female dancers (dear reader, if ever the word exotic was appropriately used, it is here now). Your typical dancer often is a sweet lass, between the ages of 18 and 61, track marks plainly visible, replete with tattoos, piercings (fish-hooks, were most often seen on this visit, given its water-front local) knife and/or gunshot scars or wounds in various stages of healing, and advanced cases of gastro-intestinal disease. (How would one tip these ladies? I use the dollar per tooth method, I love attention to detail, and it always insures I leave with money).
The building itself, while offering an extensive lunch and dinner menu (hats off to the chef) it is still best known for its beer-drinking cockroach population, (it is often best to drink quickly and cover any remaining beverage with the fine wire mesh the wait-staff provides). I tend to stay away from beers brewed in St. Louis due to the notable fact that the roaches seem to prefer them to all other domestic and imported beers. Also, I must inform the reader that shootings and stablings occur with such a frequency among the customers that after a brief adjustment period, they take on an almost surreal effect, that is most easily compared to current Swiss post-modern film(my most recent viewing was Schlorkbabies an der Raststätte, two thumbs up).
And last, the thing that has allowed this place of respite for the wicked, such renown, is the fact that they (the owners, who it might be added are also big funders of the Mitch Daniels campaign for governor, of our fare land, our great state, Indiana) ..always pride themselves on having at least one midget dancer (or little person, as I was informed they prefer to be called, at the point of a knife, while looking in her mouth in an earnest effort to gage the amount of my tip).
It was soon after finishing a ninth pitcher of beer, and a wonderful petite roasted Capon in garlic and walnuts with a cream sage butter sauce, polished off with Cream Brule, that “Lolly-Pop” gave me the heads up, a C.I. (confidential informant, to those of you not familiar with trade-speak) had some information that could help our investigation, and we should meet him in the ally between the gun-store and the rescue mission. His C.I was only known as “green-teeth”.
I am sorry, dear reader, but the nurse is here now to give me my sponge bath, and drop off the flowers just sent to me by the Truthful and Compassionate Mrs. John Q. Public, who has I type this is on the road with the Boy-Band, filming a interview with Kansas Public Television, in preparation for their show Wednesday night, (my understanding is that they are opening for a Monster-Truck Show & Pull, at the 4-H fair-grounds). I will continue later, if my injures allow it.
Yours,
JQP, DDS
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 7:42 AM
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