Posted by Barbanne on July 03, 2003 at 00:59:36:
OK folks, here's a short story to remind you that I'm around.
If anyone of youse doesn't like my Brooklyn, or is it Noo Joisy, accent just watch it. I'll moider da bum dat complains.
I'm da only female gumshoe in da big apple at dis time, like nineteen thoity two.
My name's Barbee, wid da emphasis on da eeeeee, see if you're a gumshoe ya gotta have like a dumbass name. I thought of calling myself Phillipa Marlowe but nah, it wasn't right.
I was sittin' in my seedy office pickin' my teeth, wid da neons right outside da window blinking on and off, when da dame walked right in. I ain't gotta secretary see.
She wuz stacked!!!
Like her nipples arrived a half minute before she did.
She sat down on da end of my desk and fired up a fag. She puffed furiously as she told me her old man wuz cheatin' on her and she wanted me to check hin out and help her nail his ass. I said cool and then she started blubbering and we hugged and she felt me up a little and we did the nasty on my scabby, tattered old lounge. We arranged that I would come to her house on de upper east da following day.
When da cab dumped me at her joint I got out, paid him off and turned and sucked wind like I'd been hit in da bread basket.
Da joint was about two rooms short of Buckingham Palace!
I skipped up da stairs and rang da bell.
I tried again.
I checked the door and it wuz open.
I went inside and found myself in a sorta combined mausoleum and museum. No-one wuz around. I mounted da stairs and checked da bedrooms on da upper floor. When I pushed open da third door I realised I was in da mistress's bedroom on account of it wuz way bigger dan da others and had a giant bed and a hagnormous bathroom opening off of it and mostly I knew it wuz hers because my client was sprawled out across da bed naked except for fuck me high heels and stockings and she wuz dead!
Her tits scrambled skywards like two upturned ice cream cones only one was leaking raspberry sauce where a slug had punched through her magnificent mammary and stopped her heart. More raspberry sauce wuz leakin' around her teeth and drooling out of her gaping mouth and her baby blues were wide open and staring fixedly at da ceiing as though she found something there awful interesting.
I checked da pulse at her neck.
She wuz ice!
I went through her drawers (no not those ones naughty you) in amongst undies I could only fantasise about and found a card for the Pink Galah, a hot shot night spot on a hundred million and fourth. I turned it over. On da back someone had written a name in pencil. Sharelle!
I heard sirens in da distance. I didn't know who had tipped da cops but it wuz time I wuz outa dere.
Da Pink Galah wuz da sorta night spot you bring your mac and galoshes.
A sleazeball neon, hot pink of course, flashed on and off saying Pin* Gal*h where some of da tubes were out.
Two gorillas, newly arrived from Rwanda but in suits, guarded da door. I flashed my best smile and said, "Hi! here to see Sharelle." A billboard announced Sharelle and the Singlettes. Three blonde pompadour hairdos with pink lipstick and teeth smiled out at the passersby. Da gorillas grunted in tandem.
I took it that meant I wuz in and pushed inside.
I sashayed over to the bar where a bored barmaid was leaning against the woodwork nursing a vodka and a sneer. I almost needed night goggles to penetrate the smoke.
"Sharelle?" I said.
"And you would be?"
"In back, the one with the star," she croaked a phlegmy laugh.
I went through a curtain into a narrow, piss smelly corridor with doors off it. One had a star, glittery but crooked.
I pushed da door open and went in.
Like my late client Sharelle was nude except for some feathers. Like my late client Sharelle was stacked. In a heap with two other horribly peroxided blondes, and like my late client Sharelle and the Singlettes were all dead. All three dames were wearing their stockings around their necks and they were wearing them tight! In fact dey wuz so tight dey wuz almost beheading the broads. Sharelle's eyes bugged like marbles from her over made up eye sockets and her tongue hung out like those cartoon characters when there tongue like hits the ground in surprise. How could a dame have dis much tongue? I wondered if da Singlettes had maybe been lezbeens. Dey sure looked like dey wuz trying to meld into one. I crossed over and felt for a pulse. Sharelle didn't have one and the way her butt was covering da face of da second singlette I knew she wasn't breathing good. Da thoid dame was going blue and I knew she wuz cactus. It wuz all like a scene from some fillum noir (Dat's noyer for youse who ain't highbrows) I noticed that Sharelle mighta been pretty if she wasn't choked gerckless and she had sorta buck teeth and dem pancake tits dat spread apart leaving a stretch of ribbed chest on view when you're lying on your back.
Dat wuz da last thing I noticed because just den somebody sapped me right behind da left lug and I nose dived into dat old inky black pool.
I swam back into consciousness.
My head ached abominably where the sap had slugged into me and I wuz face down with my nose buried in something which smelt like sex and sweat and poifume!
I jerked up and sure enough I had been lying face down between her thighs. Her dead thighs!!!
I didn't know whether that wuz yeck or bewdy.
I staggered to my feet and looked around. Nothing had changed in the dressing room with the star on the door. Sharelle and the Singlettes were still dead and still piled together in a heap of cooling, stiffening, poifumed flesh.
Something wuz different!
Written across Sharelle's splayed, sagging, pancaked tits, in bright vermillion lipstick, was an address. A place near Washington Square in da village. I memorised it and peeked outside. Someone was calling for the Singlettes. Time for me to disappear. I slipped out into da corridor and sneaked down to a rear fire door and out into a lane overflowing wid garbage. I walked around to da front of da Pink Galah and got a cab.
Yappy driver but I told him to can it and take me to da address that Sharelle had been wearing across her bust.
It was a flat on the thoid floor of a walk up block and I bullshitted my way past da doorman and started up da filthy staircase.
Piss, booze and just plain mouldy rot smells filled my nostrils and my head thumped.
I found da joint. Three sixty six.
Da door wuz open and I pushed my way in.
Thank goodness no corpses. A standard lamp with a faded ballerina shade cast yellow light over the living room. It looked cheap but sorta clean. A light was coming from beneath a door to da side. I sashayed across and pushed against the door. It wouldn't open. Something was blocking it. I pushed harder, straining my puny muscles. A sucky sound and the door moved about thirty centimetres and I poked my head in through the crack.
I saw what was the problem.
It was the bathroom and the shower wuz going full pelt. A brunette naked as the day she wuz born and saturated with water lay blocking the door. Her legs were wide open and beneath a dense beaver pelt her pinkly gaping pussy winked at me as I pushed against the door. She had two decent globes of breasts and emerging from the valley between them wuz a bone handled knife. Two thirds of its blade wuz buried in her chest. Her mouth lolled open and her tongue dangled like a slaughtered beast's and her eyes, brown and lifeless, stared straight at me.
I ducked to one side expecting to be sapped again but there wuz no-one there.
I shut da bathroom door.
Then I tossed da place good and found a picture of da dead dame who was decorating da tiles in da bathroom, together with my late client and Sharelle, the (used to be) Singlette. Dey had dere arms around each udder and were standing in front of a factory. Billson's Shoes it said on da sign visible over dere shoulders. Anudder dame, a redhead stood to one side in da picture. I wondered where she figured in all of dis.
I knew where my next call was going to be.
I phoned in da stiff to da precinct using my anonymous voice but da call wuz taken by da awfully cute Sergeant Al and he said, "Barbee, is dat you Barbee, shit what stiffs are you tripping over dis time?"
"Nah its not me Al," I said and hung up.
I went back to my office and finished picking my teeth and looked up Billson's Shoes. It wuz abouth thoity k's up state.
When da cab dropped me outside Billson's Shoes da place was all in darkness. Well, it wuz about two thoity in da morning. I wished I had my gun but remembered it wuz in da freezer back home.
It scares me you see.
I tried all da windows until I found one open and snuck inside.
Dere wuz a light coming out from under a door about fifty metres away. I crept over and crouched down and peered through da slit under da door. Inside da redhead from da photo wuz nekkid and cowering away from a black clad arm. Try as I might I couldn't see da arm's owner. Da redhead had amazingly humungous hooters and freckles and wispy red hair at the base of her belly where her pussy nestled. She had pale blue eyes and wuz kinda pretty.
Da arm shot da redhead and she pitched onto her back and her arms and legs scrabbled like an upturned beetle.
Da arm stepped forward and I could see it wuz a dame, all dressed in black and she popped da redhead again right between da eyes and da redhead jerked violently and flumped out dead.
I got to my feet and saaaaaaaaaappp!! someone sapped me again and I kissed da concrete.
I came to wid an even woise headache and da naked redhead wuz still dead on da floor of da room only now I wuz in da room too and I wuz as nude as she wuz and hogtied hand and foot to a chair.
Da dame in black, a gorgeous, tall brunette had her gun aimed at my face. A neanderthal stood beside her.
"Da irritating little bitch who keeps turning up everywhere," she said.
"Dat's me," I agreed.
"Waal bitch dis is as far as it goes. Its coitans for you."
"Before ya kill me," I said, "tell me, what wuz it all about?"
"Simple. Da shoe factory is a front for da mob's drug distribution and dese dames," she indicated the red haired corpse and by extension the others, "wuz cheating on us and taking da product and den threatening to blow da whistle. Dey had to go."
"Oh," I said.
"Now its your turn bitch."
She brought da gun up and rested it against my temple and then BLAM! BLAM!
Considering she'd just blown my brains out I could think pretty good. Then the tall brunette said, "Shit!" and toppled onto da ground her high heels bouncing twice when she hit. She wuz leaking blood from her chest and she looked dead. Da neanderthal wuz on his back a ways away, dead as meat.
Sergeant Al came over and started untying me.
"Gotta save your ass again Barbee."
"How'd you know I wuz here and needed saving," I said in a little voice.
"I'm da hero," he said, "I allus turn up at da last moment and save ya babe."
"Thank goodness," I said and stood up and passed out cold in his arms.
Dis time when I came to I wuz on my back and da dames and da guy were still dead on da floor and Al wuz inside me and fucking me HARD!
"What's dis den Al?" I asked.
"I'm resuscitating ya babe."
"Mmmmmm, keep it going Al, I sorta feel I'm gunna need a lot of resuscitating.