The van teetered precariously as it rounded the corner, lifting a wheel ever so slightly before settling back down heavily, just before slamming into a deep pothole. The driver nearly lost his grip on the wheel, and the top heavy vehicle oscillated wildly as it rocketed down the road, finally settling into a straight line, at least horizontally. Eventually the road turned to loose gravel and, finally, to rutted dirt. The driver caught a glint just ahead and a few yards to the right, jamming the brakes on and yanking the wheel to take the van off the road into a trail on the side. Coming to a stop, he glanced over his shoulder. The Lady was lolling sideways in the bench seat along the side in the back, still unconscious, a dark hood in place over her head. Thank God for that, he thought to himself. The back doors opened as two men in black clothes climbed in to retrieve the woman.
The doorman, who had been in the back with the Lady, squatted behind him. “No, don’t turn around again. You haven’t seen my face yet. You don’t want to.”
A thick manila envelope thrust out of the darkness. “Take it. Now count it.”
The driver complied, counting thirty hundred-dollar bills, wrinkled and stained.
“You did well. Now keep it up. No one knows what you did tonight. Ever.”
The doorman clapped him on the shoulder, hard, and quickly left through the back doors, closing them firmly but quietly. The driver heard tires slipping on the dry dirt and gravel, and then the sound of an engine becoming fainter and fainter.
His heart pounding, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He had done what he did for The Resistance, but now that it was complete, he wondered whether he would ever be safe again. Maybe it’s time to pull up roots, he thought. Maybe I can start a coffee shop somewhere.
* * * * *
Dick Slashballs strained against the massive hand pressing his head down, holding it underwater. He thrashed from side to side, but the fingers still did not release his neck. An equally massive knee shoved into his lower back, excruciatingly grinding bone against bone with only a thin veneer of flesh between. Heh. Veneer. He wondered blankly whether he’d ever finish the bookcase project, sitting in his little shop at home. As he fought the incredible need to inhale, he realized he only had a few seconds left. Random thoughts and images were popping into his mind, but there was only one he needed. He focused on it, drawing it up out of near oblivion, and centered his mind around it. Pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, just behind the teeth, he concentrated everything he had into one last course of action
* * * * *
An hour and a half earlier, Slashballs had been sipping his second Macallan, chatting up Kristy, the callipygian bartender. Seemed she had been on duty when the shit went down, and saw most of what happened, excepting the bullet strike between the shoulder blades of the doorman, thankfully. “Yeah, Chuck, you know, the doorman, he’s out tonight,” she had said. “His wife isn’t doing so well; he spends a lot of days taking her in for treatment, but sometimes it goes over, and he calls off in the evening. That guy who was here tonight was a temp. I’ve seen him before, but only once or twice.”
“That’s some pretty wild stuff,” Slashballs had said. “Seems kind of dangerous around here.”
“Ha! You kidding? After the protests a few years ago, a little curbside kidnapping is pretty calm shit! But seriously, we really don’t have to deal with this kind of stuff, ever. It’s a little scary.”
“Ah, don’t worry, it’s probably a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” consoled Dick.
“Probably. Oh, hey, I have to make my rounds again. I’ll be back.”
Slashballs nodded, looking down the bar, half-pretending to follow her ass with his eyes. An olive-faced man was beckoning to the bartender, raising his empty glass. The guy had been spending a lot of time looking in this direction, and Dick suspected it wasn’t just to signal for a new beer. He watched casually in the mirror as the guy ordered. Balding, dark hair slicked back, white button-down shirt under a dark jacket. Wire-rimmed glasses. Heavy watch on the wrist holding the glass. Face too clean-shaven for the time of day. The bartender was making a pour now, and looked his way again. She smiled, then turned. Olive-Face glanced away from Dick quickly as she approached with his beer.
As she worked her way down the bar toward him, Dick kept a discreet eye on Olive-Face. The whole time, the man could have been looking at him or at Kristy. “Another Macallan?” she asked.
“Nah, thanks, I gotta get up early tomorrow and check on my bags—airline lost ‘em, and I gotta make sure they get here before the conference. Thanks, though!” Olive-Face had gotten up and was headed toward the restrooms, near the exit.
“Well, OK, but maybe we’ll see you tomorrow evening, Mr. Orbis? You know where the best pours are in the area, now, and your prospects’ll like that.”
“Hey, it’s Wally, remember? I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try, Kristy. Thanks for chatting, this road life’s for the dogs but sometimes it’s not so bad.” She smiled at that, and he stood, turning for the door as he left a gracious tip.
As Dick walked along the bar, he looked toward the restroom entrance. No one there. He walked out of the din, glancing back toward the bar, seeing Kristy look away quickly, smiling, as he caught her eye. Yeah, sometimes this was for the dogs. He probably wouldn’t see her again.
Dick took the elevator to the eighth floor, and looked for where he knew the stairs would be. Entering the stairwell quietly, he stopped and listened. Nothing. Heading down to the seventh floor, he looked through the reinforced glass window. Walking down the hallway, he stopped at the room next to the number written in the keycard folio and knocked, loudly. Again. Nothing. He went to the room on the opposite side of his and hammered on the door. Nothing. Good.
Entering Room 717, he hit the light and walked to the bed, setting the backpack down. Opening the pack, he grabbed the toiletries bag and, checking the other side of the bed quickly, headed back to bathroom, starting the shower. Later, as he brushed his teeth, he turned over and over in his mind what he had learned this evening. No one knew of the assassination attempt. He needed to find out about what temp agency this place used. The doorman’s wife, sick. Leverage. The weird non-lethal assault on the limo driver. Well, better get some sleep, we can pick this up tomorrow; it’s way after midnight, Dick thought.
Rinsing his mouth, he heard a clicking sound behind him and to his right. As he turned, he saw the adjoining room door slam open and stepped back as a tall, heavy man barreled through the door at him. As he retreated, he stepped on the bath mat on the floor, losing his footing, giving the larger man the advantage as he hit his head a glancing blow on the countertop on the way down.
* * * * *
As he thrashed his head from side to side in the toilet bowl, futilely trying for a gasp of air, he reached up for the flush lever. A giant hand slapped his away from it violently. Slashballs knew the huge man was balanced on his knee, pressed into his own lower back, and tensed every muscle in his back and legs, feeling the knee shift ever so slightly to compensate. He flailed his left hand back, hitting at the man’s left calf in an apparently futile attempt to drive him off. Then he went rag-doll, rolling his hips to the right in a desperate bid for his life. His ribs slammed into the toilet seat as the heavy weight bore down on him, exhausting all the used-up air from his lungs and making him want to vomit, but the knee rolled to the left as his assailant, distracted by the flailing hand, lost his balance, crashing into the tub.
Slashballs clutched at the countertop, dragging himself to his feet. The large man was on his back in the tub, trying to get up. Dick grabbed the toilet tank lid and slammed it hard into the man’s groin, coming down on top of it with all his weight. The man let out a deep groan but reached out for the lid. Dick grabbed it back and slammed it down once again, this time into the man’s throat, holding it there with everything he had, pinning the man’s lower legs against the edge of the tub with his own legs.
The man, desperate now, grabbed once again at the lid, lifting it slightly. Grappling for the lid, Dick knew he couldn’t keep this up too long. He was still weak and stunned from the oxygen deprivation and the hit on the head. With his opponent on his back, but still stronger and larger, Dick snatched the toilet lid back, surprising the man. He reached back for the toothbrush he knew was still next to the sink and came down harder than before with the lid. The man made to block the lid, but Slashballs drove hard with the toothbrush, gouging through the right eye, rotating and grinding hard against the sphenoid bone behind it. The man shrieked as Dick pulled back and descended on the other eye, now pressing the toilet lid harder and harder against the larynx, stifling the cries as the man, in desperate pain, flailed with his hands, missing Dick and slapping the faucet valve around. Dick shoved the man sideways and continued to bear down, cold water now pouring into the ruined sockets, washing blood and vitreous humor down the drain, along with the attacker’s last remaining strength, as he went limp under Slashballs. Dick continued to press the lid downward with all his strength for as long as he could, until his own exhaustion caught up with him and he sat back, hard, on the bathroom floor.
Looking around, Dick saw the blood was confined to the tub. Quickly searching the man’s pockets after checking for a pulse, he found a fold of cash and a knife, just an emergency backup, really. An ankle holster held a small .22 pistol and a tiny silencer. Nothing else, no wallet. Jeezus, I got lucky. He wouldn’t have made any noise with the gun, but he thought he had me, as small as I am compared to him. No cuffs, wire ties, rope. Not a capture mission. He could have just peeled my cap from behind. Why not? Fuck.
Sitting heavily on the bed, rivulets of water still running down his neck from the soaked mop on his head, he grabbed the burner phone and texted the emergency number. Cleaner. Rm 717. DS.
Fucking storms took down my interwebs, I got my phone I guess
This is how you enact fiction, people.
Well done, db, and worth the wait.
I second this comment. It’s wonderful to have so many good writers on the site.
Fantastic, db!
…callipygian…
And I learned a helpful new word! Thanks!
He rites purty.
Excellent, db, but I think I missed an episode, I’ll have to look. Maybe it’s me?
and “spheroid”
Those are gonna be tough to work into a conversation
I just updated with links to previous parts at the top. My bad.
Thanks, Tonio, I meant to do that when I was editing it, but forgot. Much appreciated!
Thank you!
I have a t-shirt that says that! It was a gift.?
OMWC is the getaway driver??
This article got scheduled at the last minute, and it doesn’t look like db is around, so I’m curating it for him.
It’s not necessarily OMWC, per se, but it’s an easter egg for him. It’s what gentleman writers do for their friends, and as a little something for their fans.
Sounds like another Easter Egg to me.
The evidence mounts…
A silly pronoun joke lead to this.
*furiously waves tiny Glibertarians flag*
Silly?
Harrumph my fine top-hatted rat! I say harrumph!
Do you know how many people haven’t felt othered yet today by someone using the wrong pronouns to refer to them?
…them?
Outrage!
Some of these Glib fiction pieces could do with an audio version. Does anyone have an audio book-friendly voice. It could work in the voice of The Hat.
How did you gain access to our secret, nefarious plots? Are you the fed?
No I’m just the guy the feds contracted to cut together fabricated incriminating evidence from the recordings. Try to use the words “capitol”, “insurrection”, and “Trump” a lot, and also throw in as many racial slurs and Nazi slogans as possible. That would make my job easier. If I don’t deliver what they want they’re going to stomp my guinea pig to death and lock me up in supermax for eternity.
I’ve been told I have a voice for radio, And a face for radio, too.
I have been told to stick to text. The big martian googly-eyes and squeaky voice are a TV turnoff.
If you’re looking for monotone, yet with undertones of snarling hostility, I’m your guy.
Is that talent naturally acquired, or something taught in law school ?
I think I acquired it during 30+ years of practicing law.
Dick Thlathballth?
I doubt anything written on this site would sound good as read by a 12-year-old redneck female.
I love this! Thanks db.
Thank *you*
Where else but Glibs could a joke turn into a serial story with little callouts to the audience? You rock for coming up with this and running with the secret agent gag.
Yay for the return of DSB.
callipygian
You learned that word from Q.
Well, no, actually, but it’s a great word, and I love to see it used.
“The man shrieked as Dick pulled back and descended on the other eye…”
He aint no Steve Smith.
STEVE SMITH NOT SPY! STEVE SMITH IN-INCONSPICUOUS!
https://www.houstonchronicle.com/politics/texas/article/Gov-Abbott-to-sign-hard-fought-Texas-elections-16440223.php
Suck it, Dems.
Speaking of Deep State nefariousity:
Boyland died almost immediately. It was ruled a “drug overdose”.
Looks to me like the cops killed two unarmed women on January 6.
There’s no way they’d use fentanyl for something like that. I mean, it’s never been done before….
Narcan is available over the counter now. Might be handy to keep some on hand.
He probably wouldn’t see her again.
Sad. It seemed like there was something going on with the callipygian bartender.
I like this installment.
I took the “probably” to mean she is a member of the Resistance, or the Deep State, or both, and will reappear in all her bounteous glory.
Don’t get my hopes up.
Answering Nephilium from the dead thread:
On the matter of musical horror movies from the Thursday night one, have you heard of Stage Fright (2014)?
I have not seen it! It is on Tubi so I can add it to the queue. Working on GingerDead Man now, feels like work is stacked to the ceiling all the sudden. A good place to be.
Stage Fright is gloriously cheesy, with some surprisingly big names involved (Meatloaf, Minnie Driver). Just a taste…
Mrs. Suthenboy has put the TV on ‘Atlas Shrugged’.
Christ I have no idea how someone could miss such a big target. The writers, producers and directors really need to be in another line of work.
Oh yeah. Is that the multi-part one? I found that on Amazon.
That was possibly the worst movie I have ever seen. So much potential, wasted.
That was possibly the worst movie I have ever seen.
R.J. says “hold my beer.”
My thoughts exactly. I have to wonder if it was squandered deliberately.
That’s an interesting theory, one I hadn’t thought of. I assumed they just got what they could for the money they could scrape together, in which case, you get what you pay for.
For true anger, read the Wikipedia entry about the production and how Rand’s script was trashed in favor of focusing on the love story. I wonder if anyone even has that script?
I heard, though I have never actually researched this, that Rand wanted Farrah Fawcett to play Dagny.
Great Flaming Blood-Clots of Mother Mary! Overwhelmed Morgues Belie U.S. Illusion of a Defanged Pandemic
Im kinda drunk, and dont have much of a critical eye, but I failed to see the article address which morgues or where all these bodies are piling up. It was more BS stats.
PS- to authors Levin & Smith: if you dont have ‘medical grade’ oxygen on hand, welders grade works in a pinch. Ask me how I know.
Because it comes out of the same supply tank at Airgas?
See also- “intrinsically safe” devices for explosion areas vs. non.
The one you pay 3X for just has a neat sticker for the most part.
I have a confession. I use multimeters with expired calibration certificates. Or purchased without one to start.
Once, for a project with a chemical company, I had to use a few differential pressure (and static pressure) sensors inside their “Intrinsically safe” area. Despite having some on hand, they didnt have the sticker. I paid Rosemount an obscene amount of money for theirs with the proper label. When the project was over, I tore one of each apart and the guts were identical.
+1 billed to customer
Yup. For that project I was told “anything over $150K is a capital expenditure that goes to corporate. Anything under the plant manager approves, and he wants this done.”
My billing was $149K.
What is this, February? Most states are tossing doses because anyone who wants a shot, can get one. No appointment necessary.
I literally don’t believe any of that.
Sorry, the media, you’ve lost all credibility.
I’m hearing zero backchannel chatter about this in the health industry. So, yeah, after about the 20th Fake News story about overwhelmed morgues, I stop believing it also.
I think the only one that had any truth was in the very early days of the pandemic, in NYC. NYC has a whole bunch of relatively small hospitals (with small morgues), and I think some of them ran out of room. I would bet its because the funeral homes stopped accepting COVID patient bodies back at the very beginning of the pandemic, but I haven’t seen that confirmed.
A friend of mine works in an administrative capacity at our local children’s hospital. I asked him how over-whelmed they are with CoVID kids, he said “we’re actually both expanding to add another building, and anticipating a round of layoffs”.
Anecdotal, so take it for what its worth.
Sounds about right. Making up losses in volume doesn’t work so well in the real world.
This cannot be overstated.
https://www.rt.com/news/534109-vietnam-covid-quarantine-jail/
Wow.
I wonder if they considered Gary Glitter an ‘infectious disease’.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary_Glitter
Emphasis added.
I think I could do a dime in that joint. I bet they have the best Ramen.
Why would they bother when they have pho?
People have forgotten that the Nazis started camps with the infected – tuberculosis, at the time. No complaints from anyone – I mean, they’re infected and gross.
After that it’s easy. The Jews were in ghettos so they cut off water and sanitation to those places which causes…? Yes, more infectious diseases.
Look at the language Hitler used – he called himself the “Robert Koch of politics.” Koch was the German doctor who discovered the mechanism of TB.
You’re in good company, Australia.
Related.
Good for (((them))). Fucking Nazis.
I’ve been saying that the Nazis probably did it all in the name of public health. The uncurious German citizen probably believed them.
YASSSSS! Thanks for the new episode, db!
Thanks! I had two different episodes partially written to dead ends and didn’t like either of them, so I ended up taking the parts I liked from both, adding to them, and mushing it all together.
That’s how you do it. Always save anything you write and like. I save a new version of the document every day I write, or every day I make a major plot change.
The toughest part about birthing the First That Will Change Everything is having to hold in all of my other Firsts. The accumulated energy is needed as fuel. It is coming.
You’re pregnant?
That’s not what I thought he was holding in.
I think he’s asking to be felched.
It doesn’t smell like he’s holding anything in.
Put your face closer to the monitor.
“Contgratulations Bro! It’s a girl!”
With the Antichrist??!
What rough beast…
I have run across those a few times.
So what you’re saying is, you haven’t shit in weeks, because #2 is not an option?*
*h/t Gardner Minshew
oblig: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=iX7Yt0D4NEg
One of my KK monikers at TOS back in the day was “Kallipygian Kr___en”
Kallipygian Kraken?
Kallipygian Krautmen?
Kallipygian Krankenwagen?
And, I do recall that handle.
Kallipygian Krampus
LOL I have a Krampus story cooking.
If any of the TPTB are watching, I submitted a post on charities. Pretty light, not time-sensitive, can be used as filler when needed.
“used as filler when needed” is how my drunk baby-mama made me feel when she would come over for a 2 am booty-call…you insensitive monster!
/cries, runs to shower, decides to carry mattress around
I am scared to ask. Most charities are money laundering operations. There are a few good ones out there but you can count them on the fingers of one hand.
Shriners
St. Judes
Salvation Army
Uh….I still have fingers left over
I give to Habitat and Special Olympics on the regular. They both seem to be above board.
Habitat for Humanity would be one of my pet charities if I won the lottery. Don’t have much to give right now, after tithes.
This would be the second, Veterans Community Project.
I would probably spend time finding individuals who are really down on their luck and help them out. I don’t know how that could be done on an individual basis other than tripping over them, but that’s where my interest would lie.
I have personal experience with the ones I listed.
1. St. Judes and Shriners…a child of a friend of mine turned out to have Job’s syndrome. Both hospitals took her in and treated her with no charge.
2. Salvation Army …Katrina refugees showed up here. Bam! I took a busload of them to the SA and they were loaded up with pillows, blankets, clothing, school supplies, shoes, medications, etc. no questions asked. They helped them get SS card replacements, driver’s licenses etc. within a day or two.
The other charities that ‘helped’ helped by having them spend 2 days filling out paperwork.
Contrast that with the Clinton Foundation.
Do yourself a favor. Dont look up Job’s syndrome. Take my word for it.
Keep it in your pants, fellas. I’d like a few comments when it posts.
LOL
STEVE SMITH OPEN PANTS, GENERATE COMMENTS. BY GENERATE COMMENTS, MEAN…
I’ve also submitted one. Probably better as a night time post, though there’s nothing directly in it that’s NSFW.
R C Dean and Creosote Achilles — thanks for your submissions. I’ll give them the old squinty squint tomorrow.
grinding hard against the sphenoid bone
Remind me to never piss you off.
Kill me now. Annual infosec training is out of control. Password length requirements increased again. Too bad so many obsolete and unsupported systems only allow 8 characters.
Some consultant out there is probably salivating over the opportunity to “solve” this problem.
See also- Animas River.
“By golly- we have a problem that needs fixed, but it wont cause itself.”
NOBODY NEEDS MORE THAN EIGHT CHARACTERS!
/Cuomo
Just got to this, work is a giant shitshow today. Another great read, db, thanks!
https://www.oann.com/las-vegas-mom-furious-after-mask-taped-to-sons-face-by-teacher/
So furious that she sent him back to school the next day with a note to the teacher safetypinned to his shirt like a WWII evacuatee?
/speculating based on just the url
I mean, if the cooties are the kid-killer they claim, taping their mouths and noses shut is the least we could be doing for them.
That sounds like a whoopin’ to me.
Needs to get a bunch of people to go to the next school board meeting and stand silently with masks duct-taped to their faces while she makes a public complaint.
The Open Post. He Daid.
Need to get my comment count up
Great stuff db. Glad you got back to it, youse gots some talent in this. Thanks!