Now with three times the wrongness.
Suggested Audio Jukebox ♫
 Eddy Grant Electric Avenue
 The White Stripes The Big Three Killed My Baby
 Paul McCartney Spies Like Us
 ABBA The Winner Takes It All
 Liza Minnelli New York, New York
 Jimi Hendrix Purple Haze
 Simon & Art Garfunkel Bright Eyes
 Wham! I’m Your Man
You’re skating on decidedly thin ice partner. I just want to make that clear before we proceed with what I’m assured will be our most dangerous bust to date. Up until now it’s been child’s play and neither Devon, Amber, or Coco have offered very much in the way of resistance. Well I do believe that is about to change as we bid to double up on our tally at Madame Layla’s Bordello. This particular creep joint is positively packed with peril and, while its proprietor will not be present, her three most valuable assets are unlikely to give us an easy ride. Infiltrating this den of iniquity shouldn’t pose too much of an issue as I will simply pose as a punter and wait until the perfect moment to strike. But I’m mindful of the fact that the whole undercover deal hasn’t exactly gone to plan thus far and cannot allow the same rookie errors to sink our ship this time as the punishment is odds-on to be decidedly severe and we’ve come too far now to go out like punk ass bitches. Hence I will need to remove this badge first and foremost as the last thing I need is to arouse suspicion and this time I would suggest us parking way down the street out of plain view while we go over any last-minute details. For the record, the next box of doughnuts are on you after the stunt you pulled back at Coco’s joint.
Okay so here’s how this is going to play out fledgling. In just a few minutes I’m going to stroll straight up to the front of house and introduce myself as a totally innocuous punter. While I do this, you’ll need to find another way of worming your way in, as I’m going to be needing the additional firepower once the shit starts going down. Just to reiterate, there are three targets within, and we’ll be required to keep these bitches apart as there will be hell to pay if they unite and I’m not altogether sure I possess sufficient funds for that kind of transaction. Of course, the very moment the first of these slags hits the deck, security is likely to be raised, and this is where you come in as I’m going to need you to deal with one of these threats yourself. Do this without a hitch and we’ll have the last of them outnumbered, it really is as easy as that. Think you can handle that? You’re not exactly looking over-confident right now and what are the tears for anyhoots? I get it, I may have been a little hard on you up until now but it’s for your own good believe me. May I suggest consoling yourself in the fact that you’re hung like a Shetland pony? When this whole sordid mess is behind us, you’ll still own an abnormal cock. That’s the spirit, you see, every cloud has a silver lining. Now man the fuck up will you as your snivelling is some way beyond pathetic.
Okay so about that final briefing. First up is Bambi and, while I’d love to report that she possesses the balance of a newborn fawn, the truth is far less encouraging. Bambi is officially the meet-and-greet girl and responsible for making any visitors feel at-ease while checking for any available slots. If she catches even a solitary whiff of foul play, then she’ll blow the whistle faster than I can adjust my pants and will most probably have levelled me by the time either of her colleagues enter the fray. You ever heard the term femme fatale? Well Bambi fits the profile rather snugly and has no problem whatsoever with fighting dirty either. I’m expecting hair pulling, eye gouging, testicle thumping, the whole nine if her cage gets rattled and I’ll be lucky to walk away from this skirmish with minor cuts and bruises. Don’t be fooled by the Disney-esque title as Bambi curses like a trucker and can say “fuck balls” in over thirty different languages. Needless to say, if you hear “fick bälle” ringing out then, chances are, this frisky Fräulein is about to recite a far seedier version of Mon Frere and it may be time to call for that back-up. Head on a swivel and fret not as Bambi will be my concern. You, my questionable ally, get Crystal. Bully for you.
You see, Crystal is all about the fun and games, and this one proposes to be something of an eye-opener for a young upstart such as yourself. I know it is customary to outgrow one’s toys by the time we reach adolescence but somebody forgot to tell Crystal as she’s effectively a twelve-year-old girl in a body so hard that it could make a spirit level appear wonky. To be fair, I’m not altogether sure that the kind of activities she has in mind were about when I was in the schoolyard, but just watch out for those accessories and you’ll know what I mean once you cross her. You ever heard the legend of the dreaded Purple Pete? Good, then let’s try and keep it that way shall we? I’ll say no more right now as it’s on a need-to-know basis and I don’t wish to strike fear in your heart before such a pivotal bust but, rest assured, Purple Pete has claimed victims before and will think nothing of doing so again before the night’s out if you place a solitary pinky out of line. With me calling dibs on Bambi and Crystal under your sole jurisdiction, that just leaves Cherry sitting atop this treacherous trifle and believe me when I say that she could make even the sweetest tooth decay faster than Skittles.
In the history of inappropriate names, Cherry is right up there with the best of ’em, as chastity is certainly not something this cock munching stinker has in her armory. That said, it’s kind of fitting when you consider that she plies her trade in the penthouse, and will therefore be sitting pretty at the very top of our tree. Once all other threats have been neutralized, and not a second before, we’ll make our way topside for the big showdown and it will take two of us to topple this tramp as she won’t go down without one helluva brawl. Together I believe we can take her but let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. Remember, I’m dealing with Bambi, you’re on stealth duty and will be required to take out Crystal with the bare minimum of fuss, and we’ll regroup in the front lobby in, shall we say, fifteen minutes? Good, now don’t you go ballsing this up for me, as I’ve been some way less than impressed by your performance up until now and this time the margin for error is non-existent. And you can quit it with the lip trembles too as I’m sick to the tonsils of being your patsy. Buck up bonehead and go make that name for yourself before I fly you to the United Arab Emirates economy class and trade you for two camels and a snake charming starter kit.
Right then, it’s time to get my head in the game, and go make some formal introductions at front of house. I’m pleased to report that the badge of identity has now been relinquished and that makes me pretty much your Average Joe, albeit slightly more dashing. Just as expected, Bambi is present and correct at reception, and appears to be in lofty spirits which will make her far less suspicious and a doddle to manipulate. I’ve fitted my firearm with a customized silencer and have every intention of ensuring her denouement is both swift and contained. Of course, with remaining covert being key here, I’ll need myself a nice ordinary moniker to operate under and reckon I have something suitably low-key to pull the wool over those pretty little eyes of hers. Mike Smith – whaddaya think? Have you ever met a Mike Smith who has been anything less than congenial? You can trust a Mike Smith, feel relaxed around a Mike Smith, and would never so much as half-doubt a Mike Smith’s intentions. Tell me you don’t wish to cup my balls in your palm right now and blow on them gently and affectionately. And do you know what? I haven’t got the time for that shit as I’m all about the objective baby and it will take more than a pair of polished plums to sway these branches. Here, take a look at this for a game face and go cup some other sucker’s balls you unnecessary distraction.
Actually, what in the blazes are you still doing here? You should be halfway up that trellis preparing to take your shit to toy town. Git!
“Good evening young lady”
“You a fed?”
“Who me? Mike Smith? A fed? Whatever gave you that preposterous idea?”
“Can’t be too careful. My apologies, how can I help you this evening good sir?”
“I’d be very much obliged if I could make an appointment with your finest hoe”
“You’ll be wanting Cherry then”
“Is she your finest hoe?”
“Honey, she’s the finest hoe this side of Massachusetts”
“Cherry it is then”
“Not so fast Whistle-stop Willy”
“Excuse me miss. Mike Smith remember. Just regular old Mike Smith”
“Mr. Smith, if you wish a pop at Cherry, then you’ll first be required to fill this out”
“A waiver of liability of the house”
“O…kay. And the reason for this would be?”
“Do you have a pacemaker fitted?”
“Not to my knowledge, although there was this one Christmas party when I got a bit carried away with the Jägermeister and inserted a digital carbon monoxide detector in my bottom. Believe it or not, I actually saved seven lives that night. Why are you asking?”
“Sweet deluded little Mike Smith. Ten minutes alone with Cherry and you’ll likely require reconstructive surgery and that’s before she lays a solitary finger on Little Mike”
“So you’re saying she’s a bit of a ripper then?”
“Ripper. How quaint. Yes Mike Smith, Cherry is a bit of a ripper”
“Goody gum drops”
“She’s also booked up until 12.30”
“But that’s almost an hour from now. What am I supposed to do until then?”
“Well my timetable is clear and I’m actually due a break anyway. If you like, I could show you a good time for a hundred bucks”
“And how much is Cherry going to set me back may I ask?”
“A grand. For ten minutes”
“That’s alright, I’ll only need six-and-a-half or seven with a Red Bull. A grand though, isn’t that a tad excessive?”
“I don’t make the rules Mike Smith but I can stretch one leg behind my head. Look!”
“A hundred sounds reasonable. Do you take debit card?”
“Darling, I take anything”
Well I have to say that $1100 is way more than I was anticipating this little shakedown setting me back. That means digging even further into my daughter Minnie’s college fund and my name is gonna be dirt when I eventually show my face back at home. I’m already in the dog house for not taking the trash out on garbage day and this may well be the straw that breaks…well would you look at that. Credit where it’s due, that’s the most novel way of swiping plastic that I ever did see. Now where do I tap in my pin number?
Actually don’t grace that with an answer as I reckon I have a vague idea. They don’t call me second-rate Columbo for nothing you know. Indeed, they don’t call me second-rate Columbo at all. You know why that is? Because they call me Mike Smith. Ain’t no way I’m falling for no banana in my tail pipe although, if what she said about Cherry is on the money, I may soon be required to accommodate a misshapen courgette.
“What’s up, did my card decline?”
“No that went through fine but I swear I can hear a cell phone”
“Oh that’s me. Would you mind terribly if I get this? It may be important”
“Knock yourself out. I’ll just get started on the limbering up exercises”
Well would you look at that, she can touch her toes without even arching her back. Seems a little excessive for a simple hand job but it’s great to see her being so committed to her work and I believe I may just have ascertained what Bambi had for her lunch. The whole phone call thing is a bit of an unwanted distraction but it does buy me the time to work out whether to opt for head or gut when I exterminate this roach. Suppose I’d better answer it before she starts to grow suspicious. After such a strong start, it would be most unsatisfactory blowing my cover now.
“Hello. Desk Sergeant Nick McGovern. Is that you chief? Oh it’s you mother. I should have known from the Death March ring tone. Yes I did remember to wash behind my ears this morning. No I haven’t been drinking. Yes I did set Downton Abbey up to record. No I haven’t forgotten to come over Thursday and soak your bunions. Yes I am aware that your foot spa is busted. No I haven’t had a chance to ring the Electricity Board and inform them that they overcharged you for August. Yes I will do so first thing on Monday morning. No I didn’t clog up your lavatory last time I was round. Yes I’m sure. No I don’t think Brett Spiner is an alien. Yes I’m wearing that sweater you knitted me last Christmas with the reindeer on it. No I wasn’t aware that the price of wool has risen sharply in the last six months. Yes I do have to go now. No I’m not fobbing you off like I always do. Yes I did remember to wash behind my ears this morning, I’ve already told you that. Jesus Christ mom. I’ve gotta go alright, official police business and all that. No I haven’t received a promotion yet. Yes I am working on that as we speak. No I won’t mess it up like I do everything I put my hand to. Yes I am slightly insulted. No I’m not just as pathetic as my no-good swamp rat father. Listen mother dear, not wishing to be the bad son or anything, but SHUT THE HELL UP! No I didn’t mean that. Mommy? Mommy?”
I bet Mike Smith doesn’t have to put up with this shit. Anyhoots, where was I? That’s right, I was just about to claim that hundred-dollar hand job and shoot me a hooker. Speaking of which, why is she pressing a serrated hunting knife up against my Achilles tendons and looking like she’s ready to cut away the chase? Did I do something to upset her? Perhaps she was incensed that I didn’t compliment her on her elasticity. But I gave her a wink. This doesn’t make a lick of sense but you know what it does make? Yes vaguely uncomfortable would be one way of putting it, while another would be that it does make me wish I’d not had that spicy vindaloo for dinner last night.
“Spill the beans Nick McGovern or I’ll spill something else and have no preference for either”
“But I’m Mike Smith. remember?”
“And I’m Liza Minnelli”
Great. Now I have a mental picture of Liza Minnelli to contend with, as well as the six-inch blade currently nuzzling my heel ribbon with intent to snip. God, that’s a chilling thought, maybe she is Liza Minnelli and I’ve been well and truly punked by a pro. The moment she peels her face off like Ethan Hunt and begins reciting New York, New York I’m outta here faster than Chris Brown can exit through the restroom window during a domestic violence seminar. Not that I’m a sissy or anything, but I am a realist and that’s one punishing match-up I’m only too happy leaving to Telly Savalas.
“Just for research and development purposes, what was your first clue?”
“Stop stalling for time gumshoe and I would suggest instead snivelling for your pitiful life so that I have some pipe dreams to crush”
“Look over there, is that Antonio Fargas that just bowled in?”
“Do you think I was born yesterday?”
“It is look. Cooey Antonio over here. Do me a favor and say “my bitch better have my money” will you? That line never grows old man”
“Silence you cretin”
“Well what do you want from me? That’s starting to hurt you know”
“Tell me what your orders are”
“Then you’ll let me go?”
“Did I say that? No I’ll just make your demise slightly less excruciating”
“Can I approach the bench on that one?”
“Spit it out you fucking fuck. Who sent you?”
Told you she has a potty mouth. Here come those expletives. I mean honestly, would just a single F-word not have sufficed there? Someone oughta wash this hooker’s mouth out with scented soap and I’d be thrilled to receive offers right about now.
“I’ve been sent here to put you bitches on ice. There I said it. My objective is to “Shoot those hookers” and you’re in with a bullet at number four on my list. Now I’ve had it with you mangy mutts and double dare you to do your very worst as I’ll raise that shit with my own”
Tell me I’m not dirtier than Harry Callahan. I almost pitched in with “Do you feel lucky? Well do you…punk?” but don’t wish to infringe any copyrights and…ARRRGH! MY ACHILLES TENDONS!
“You rancid motherfucking vole prick”
While I’m down here, I wish to lodge a formal complaint against whomever is responsible for shampooing the carpets at Madame Layla’s. These dust mites are wreaking havoc with my sinuses. More importantly right now, it would appear that my ballroom dancing days are now behind me. That said, I’d be interested to see my Charleston with two severed tendons. This particular Bambi is nothing whatsoever like her Disney counterpart and, even more dishearteningly, looks to be growing increasingly aroused watching me suffer. This must be that S&M business I keep reading about although I’d have settled for a donkey punch if I’m honest.
“You crippled me you heartless wench”
“That’s just for starters fuck balls. For my next trick I shall cut the very heart from your concaved chest and feed it to my pet possum Randy”
Randy? What kind of a ridiculous name is that for a marsupial? I mean, my nan had a cat called Alan, but seriously? Randy? Meanwhile, my heart has become somewhat accustomed with residing in its fluids and I’m not altogether thrilled with the prospect of having it fished out by some premenstrual party pooper with a mouth less savory than Fatman Scoop’s ass crack after twenty minutes on the cross-trainer. I wonder whether she kisses her mother with that thing. Speaking of which, I wonder if mommy is a M.I.L.F. Perhaps she needs a spotter for that one. No Nick no! There are far more pressing matters at hand as you are pretty much immobilized and about to be opened up and relieved of your most vital organ. Where’s your fight soldier? I’ll tell you where it is as soon as this ungodly pain levels out. Until that time, I still have two jazz hands.
“You’re fucking pathetic. Where’s your fight?”
“It’s funny, I sent just it a messenger invite”
“You ain’t got shit fucko. Just a negligible waste of the most pointless of all human life”
“Hold on, now that’s a bit strong”
“Die schreien fick bälle”
There it is. I told you she’s multilingual. Not sure whether to be mildly in awe or just continue bleeding from both eyeballs. Think I’ll opt for the latter as I seem to have nailed that one. That said, “die schreien fick bälle” doesn’t sound too encouraging. I’m guessing that doesn’t translate to “let’s call the whole thing off fuck balls”. Unless I’m mistaken, it’s shit or get off the pot time, and I’m curious to find out which one shooting a hooker point-blank in the face classifies as. That’s right, Bambi made her critical error when deciding against frisking me and, while my legs are as ineffective as Dick Van Dyke’s cockney accent, I still remember how to squeeze that trigger.
“Smile for Thumper bitch”
You like that? Slides straight over the barrel, is machine washable to boot, and also comes in ferret scope. What is even more beautiful a sight right now is the interior of Bambi’s cranium as it parades before me in fountain form. However, while this victory tastes decidedly sweet, there is still plenty of work afoot and I no longer possess the fleet of foot to make it up two spiral flights to Crystal’s boudoir before my partner comes a cropper. You see, I may have brushed over the basics of the villanous Purple Pete, but someone needs to warn him about the kind of heat he’s packing. You see, his nickname is “The Sodomizer” and one shot would be sufficient to floor a Rocky Mountain goat from a country mile away. See for yourself and perhaps you could see your way clear to lending me your calf muscles while you’re at it.
You tell me, is that what you would call “a hugger” or, is it in fact, more of the people eater variety? Perhaps now you can see the urgency. By now my bumbling deputy should have ascertained how to open the bathroom window and that makes him mere seconds away from irreparable brain damage or worse. Much as he has proved a hindrance thus far, he’s still my wingman dagnabbit, and I owe it to him to lead by example and offer whatever menial support I can. I just pray that I’m not too late. There is such a thing as the point of no return and Frosty The Snowman knows precisely what I’m blathering on about.
I got grounded for a week for pulling that stunt. My point being that I cannot discern any fat ladies singing right now and that means there’s still time on the clock. Granted, said time is ebbing away faster than Charlie Sheen’s career prospects, but if The Mighty Ducks can suck less over time then there’s still hope for Nick McGovern to come away from this smelling of hero sweat. Just a few more pushes and I’m there, not got the faintest clue what to do on my arrival, but at least I’ll have shown my grimacing face. Okay, here we are. Let me take a quick peek inside before we barge on in. Would hate to throw my partner off his stride. All appears calm, no sign of forced entry, but I believe that is the shower I can hear running. Curiouser and curiouser. Guess there’s only one way to find out.
Well shiver me timbers and make me walk the plank in that order, unless my blood-stained eyes deceive me, there’s our Crystal and, I have to say, Purple Pete doesn’t look at all like his profile. That said, holy Macadamia that thing is a monster. Surely it won’t fit in there? It’ll take more than a few squirts of shower creme for that not to do some considerable damage. If only my partner was here now, it even puts his serpentine schlong to shame, and I really cannot give any higher praise than that. Nevertheless, it looks like I’m flying solo for a third time, as he is nowhere to be seen and, judging by the sound of ground level sobbing outside, it would appear that he had a little trouble with negotiating the trellis. Credit where it’s due, at least he gave it the old college try, but that doesn’t shoot us any hookers does it? Looks like it’s me and my shadow again. I know one thing, this time I’m going in with that trigger cocked. Time for Nick McGovern to reveal a different side to his game.
“Hold it right there, this is Desk Sergent Nick McGovern and I’ve never missed before from this distance so I’d suggest you put the widow’s comforter down and raise both hands above your head so I can get a better look at those jubblies. I mean so I can place you under arrest”
“Got room for one more you know and the water’s HOT!”
“I’ll do no such thing. Listen missy, I’m not here to bargain with you and won’t be falling for any of your shameless diversion tactics either”
“Have you ever seen what hand puppets do on their day off?”
Well this should be worth sticking around for; I naturally just figured they had their own bingo hall. Well slap my thigh, yell yee to the haw, and call me Sandra, wherever did her left fist get to? Never mind, there it is. And there it goes again. Muffin The Mule, if you’re watching this, it’s way past your bedtime. And I know just what you’re up to in the corner Andy Pandy.
“That’s an extraordinary trick madam”
“Thanks. I like to call this one handcuffs”
All ten? I feel compelled to warn Crystal about the irreversible damage she is likely doing to her uterus but not as driven as I feel to say this.
“Many hands make light work you know”
“But I thought you were gonna shoot me with that weapon of yours. You know, empty that bloated barrel right here”
“You ever heard it said that you should never wake a sleepwalker?”
“And what has that got to do with anything?”
“Let me put it another way, will you need me to remove my wristwatch first?”
“No you can keep it on”
It’s official. Heaven really is missing that angel. You know what else, it’s a real chubby timepiece too, one of those eighties digital numbers with the built-in calculator. Not sure if it’s shock resistant though. Perhaps I should slide it off anyhoots just in case. Wait up, what am I doing here? Is this “shooting those hookers”? Or am I providing my Johnson with a little too much to rope to hang out with?
“Have you ever cum so hard that your balls called their friends afterwards to brag about their exploits?”
“Stop it will you. I’m trying to have a moment here”
“Shoot me and you’ll never find out”
“Do you have an anti-slip mat in there?”
“No I prefer a little slip and slide if you know what I mean”
“Do I know what you mean? I’m a man of the world, a slave to my sexual desire, a panther of love. Just to be straight, I’m getting laid right?”
“Yes Nick, you’re getting laid”
“And how the hell do you know my name too?”
“It’s embroidered on your shirt sleeve”
So it is. Damn you Meryl, it’s embarrassing enough that you pack my sandwiches and lay my clothes out each morning on the bed but now you’re bringing needlework into this? How’s Minnie ever going to respect her daddy when he has to have his name sewn onto his shirt to remind him who he is that day. And who told you the sleeve was a good place to stitch it for crying out loud? That said, she still isn’t aware of my profession. I could just be Nick Regular from 24 Bland Street, Drabsville for all she knows. Although I did kind of burst in with my firearm on sweetener duties.
“Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?”
“My mother just called me at a decidedly inopportune moment for my twice-daily reminder that I breathe too much if that qualifies”
“I’m so dirty Nick. Please help me scrub some of this stubborn filth off”
“And you’ll keep the purple peril out of it?”
“I’ll place it down here out of my reach. No need for it anymore”
“I’m not sure I can match it for girth, just to be clear”
“Then I’ll just use your head instead. Now are you coming or what? I ain’t getting any cleaner”
No shit. I’m soundly stumped as to what to do next. While I happen to be rather fond of vaginas, I generally prefer not to wear them like pink balaclavas. That said, I’m presently feeling more feral than that one Christmas Party when I guzzled the ale and ended up changing my name to Elkie by Deed Pole and stapling moose antlers to my forehead. Screw detective work for six-and-a-half minutes (allowing an extra two to drag my fast bleeding out bones to the cubicle), I’m going nose deep, perhaps even beyond that.
“Give me a minute or two to slide on in and keep the water warm”
“I’ll go one better Nick. I’ll even shuffle over to make space for you”
“Don’t forget you didn’t put down the ANTI-SLIP MAT!”
What a wretched turn of events. Poor Crystal may have gotten away with only light lacerations after pirhouetting through the glass shower door but her eye socket seems far from elastic enough to take Purple Pete’s one-eyed vengeance. I do believe that is a first you know. I’ve seen some sights in my years but never before have I watched a hooker impale herself on a nine-inch rubber dildo. Guess she’s regretting not having those hands free now. Nevertheless, while she’s still convulsing, there is still time for me to shoot this hooker, thus making it a clean run of five hoes down for Nick McGovern and precisely as specified by the chief. Fret not little lady for I shall put you out of your misery. Just so you know, this has been my most bittersweet victory to date, and I’ll never forget you, no matter how much rigorous brain scrubbing I engage in. Time to meet the bunny blaster bright eyes.
I really do feel positively awful you know. We really seemed to have something there and now I guess we’ll never know. However, there is simply no time to mourn the recently departed when that Cherry is upstairs just begging to be popped and I now make it 12:28 according to my trusty Casio. That gives me two minutes to get to the chopper and I’m ready to bite that wound dagnabbit. Excruciating pain ain’t all that once you get used to it, sooner or later, the adrenaline kicks in like the happy morphene that it is. Granted, in half an hour or so I’ll be blubbing like Britney Spears when the trouser snake wriggled away but, right now, I’m primed for the fight baby. And would you look at that, I’m making some ground here. Almost there now although I’m a little apprehensive about what awaits me behind door number two. By my watch, I make it time for another sneaky peek. Here goes that last nothing.
Now that is a sight my sore eyes weren’t expecting but will only too gladly receive. It would appear that Cherry’s last appointment isn’t quite up yet and, unless I’m having a wet dream here, said client is none other than the proprietor of this very bordello and number six on my hit list.
Indeed it is the infamous Layla and I would love to fill you in on what makes this double-dip to die for, but this door can still open a further three inches and I’m itching to find out who’s sporting the strap-on in this relationship.
Damn they make them realistic these days. Hold on, where are the straps? Oh! Methinks a little rethink is perhaps in order.
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Richard Charles Stevens
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
Copyright: Grueheads Films 2017