Lenny rocked back on the throne, which screeched with every strain. Marlene shot him a death glare from the adjacent cave. He grinned widely in return. Haha, mission accomplished. Stupid bitch wants to tell me to wait my turn at the slop machine all rude and shit? Man, fuck her. I'm annoyin her all day. Hahaha. "OyEEEEK!" The wail of an ass in labor, at Lenny's behest. Hahahaha! Phonic megalomania.
"Ey Len! Cut that shit out before I take away your chair, and make you sit on my foot!" Drillinator Ant barked from the back of the room. Over the chaos of phones, phonies, indecorous chatter, and the crown jewel of Lenny's chair, Ant was his own loudspeaker. He flexed, telling Art VanDeLye, "I'm a bull."
"Yeah, if you're a bull I'm a matador." Art's bizarre, nasal intonation constantly perplexed listeners as to whether or not he was being sarcastic.
"Hah! I'll fucking gut you." Subtle, as usual.
The wraith of Shehera snuck by to slip the mail under Dan's magic portal. Lenny grimaced. Stupid bitch! She think she can just come to my crib and breathe all my green without fuckin me or nothin? What the fuck she think, I'm just nice? She shoulda known I wanted her naked by the third roach. Bitches. Fuckin bitches. That's the last time I let a hoe smoke $80 without seein some clam first.
"Hi Lenny." Oh no, Ariana. He dreaded her presence. A WidgetWorld mannequin with a narcotic smile. Suspended animation was his only defense, but she persisted. "How are you today?" Still nothing. He was hoping that she'd just walk away.
Bitch can't take a hint, huh. How annoying can she be? "Hi Ari," he replied in somber obligation.
"What are you doing tonight?" He stared blankly. "Wanna put me out to pasture?" Dumbstruck, he prayed that she'd just go away.
"Nah...I'm good."
A dainty giggle. "OK. We'll try for next week." She winked and shuffled away. THANK GOD! Lenny sighed in relief.
"Hey man, what's wrong with you?" Benny, bemused as to why Len shut Ariana down every time, goaded: "That target is smokin! Sure she's kinda creepy, but who cares, man? Shellfish is shellfish! Clam in a barrel, just shoot!"
Len turned to him in horror. "Bitch is crazy."
"Aw man, you're all talk," Benny chided. "Always talkin bout 'Bitches this, bitches that.' You won't even take it when it's right in front of you!"
"Yeah, stop frontin," Art chimed in. "You too, Benny. You couldn't get laid in a whorehouse with a sack of diamonds! The two of you are just a few fags short of a bundle."
"Art, suck my sword!" Len retorted. Turning to Benny, "I'm tellin you, bitch is cray-zy! I'm not touchin that." He became vulcan. "Now all of you shut the fuck up and get back to work! Jeesus!" He swung to his screen, fuming, trying to forget that awful night.
A month ago, Ari ambushed Len in an empty ditch. She demanded a night on the town. He gladly accepted, thinking this the fruition of their periodic flirting. Haha, Lenny's getting laid to-night! At 7 sharp, doused in Hatchet Pimp Juice, he raced to the predetermined secret locale. They had picked a trough so far uptown that no one would find them. Dawgs wanna be in everyone's shit? Fuck that. Plus the consequences of Ant's finding them together terrified them both.
When he finally arrived at 8 Ariana was impaled on a barstool, swaying in a nonexistent breeze. Her smile was even more inane than usual. Still, she looked svelte in contrast to the bawdy pub crowd. "Hi Len," she drawled. "How are you?"
"Mmm, you look fine," he unctuated. "What you doin hangin out with all these bums?" Cackle guffaw, cackle guffaw.
"Oh Len, sit down. Have yaaself a maahtiini." Her native accent, usually sublimated, was congealing. He ordered a Long Island Iced Tea and left the tab spread eagle.
"You been waiting long?" Ariana left the mill at 5:30.
"Nnnah, it's ok. I got some grub and did some shaahping. There's a big sale at WidgetWorld right now. Wanna see what scrap metal got me?"
"Yeah! Show me!" An aesthetic vulture himself, trick-or-treats - even vicarious ones - were like Christmas to him.
She pulled out what appeared to be a black bathing suit destroyed by a paper shredder. Or maybe something worn by a victim in "Jaws." The clots of red lace could indicate that.
"How do you like it? It's my new teddy." Her erotic stare gave him goosebumps, but not in a way that engorged. People were gumming and giggling.
"Ooo, I bet you look good in that!" Lenny replied with extra sass. He grabbed the mess and drowned it in her bottomless handbag. He ordered another round.
After two more inoculating glasses, Ariana bitching endlessly about the womenfolk, and a few derisive stares, Lenny couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. "Man, I hate this part of town! Village idiots!"
"Yeah, they were a little crude."
"Wanna go back to my space?" Come on baby, come on...
"Oh sure! Afterhours! How sweet of ya." Score!
It was midnight by the time they got there. "Welcome to my castle!" Lenny flipped on the 32" flatscreen, panicked and flipped it off. He prayed that Ari missed the 3 seconds of porn. It was a tiny one hole - 400 square feet at most - but in the uuber hot Drama District, at 2,500 droppings a month before sludge and hot fire, it was a bargain.
"Oh nice," Ari said flatly. "How do you breathe in a place this small? Where's the dump?" Lenny was emasculated.
Emerging from the sewer, Ariana hit a smokescreen. "Oh my gaawd, the apaahtment's on fiyah!" Lenny swam to her from the couch.
"EEE!" he screeched like a eunuch. "What the.."
"Don't you like my new teddy?" She smiled and wobbled. Lenny was immobilized. Her physique was nauseating. Normally he devoured all shapes and sizes, but something about about Ariana repulsed him.
A lace clot singed when she whacked his blunt, though she was oblivious. He found fire and relit. "Hey, put that shit out! I'm allergic!" Upon which she started whooping dramatically.
The ember sizzled on the stone. "What, you don't smoke?" he asked.
"Nah, I'm a pill popper," she replied.
"Um...ok. Well I aint got no pills, but..." She was already deep throating his JD. "Ok."
Lenny sprinted to the bathroom and locked himself in. He reignited and puffed furiously. Oh my god, oh my god, what do I do? Gotta get this crazy bitch out of here. He never stopped to consider the absurd fact that he - Leonard Richard James, horndog, Cassanova of the gullible - was turning away the only non-prostitute who had ever seduced him. FUCK! Oh my god, what do I do, it's almost 1AM...
He got an idea.
"Yeah mom. OK MOM, if you absolutely need to stop by," he yelled. He had a story: His parents had caught a sideshow and insited on stopping by on the way home. Perfect. He danced out the door, phone to mouth, easy on his heels. "Yes MOM, I'M HOME ALONE, SO IT'S OK TO COME WHAT THE FUCK?!" He dropped the phone. Ari was spread eagle on his leather sofa, naked.
"Get a load of me!" Lenny whimpered. He wished he could delete himself. His heart pumped louder.
"Oh my god." She drained him further:
"I know you've wanted this for months. All that in-office flirting really made me horny. I made a bet with my girls that I could wait until our third date, and I'm about to lose. Do whatever you want to me. I'm yours."
"I...uh..." Remembering the story, he exclaimed, "My parents are coming over. Right now. You heard me on the phone, didn't you?"
"So be a minuteman! I hate protecting myself, and I'm sure you do too, but I'm running popout blockers, so we're good. I'd love to meet your parents. Do they look like you? "
Oh my god, this is going to be harder than I thought. "I'm sorry, you gotta go. My parents will be here any second; they're just down the street." He sliced open his wallet, shaking. "Here, I'll give you money to wherever you want to go. And I've got bugs."
"Stop playing hard to get -"
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he cried, abject desperation finally vocalized.
Ariana stood up. Her lids narrowed. "Well well. Somebody's got a temper, don't they?"
After she dressed and departed, Lenny spent a good half hour sterilizing his cow carcass with every cleaner under the sink.
©M.F.Lemoine
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Metal Parade, Inc. Part 2
Lenny blew through the door on a mission to the urinal. Ant was leaning over the reception desk, speaking in a low voice. Oh shit, Ant's tryna do Shehera! He tried not to giggle. Headset still on, he feigned a phonecall and listened in:
"Dear, you've got to buck up! Let me forewarn you: Don't talk to anyone. Just do what you're supposed to and that's it. Stay out of the gossip. These guys are all lowlifes. Ever hear what they say out in the yard?"
"I try to avoid going there as much as possible."
"Good. They're out of control, all of them. It's a madhouse! As far as I can tell, they're beyond saving." He shook his head in dismay. "They're far beyond saving."
"What about the girls?"
Ant's eyes bulged. "Those cunts?! They're savage! Anything Esmerelda sees or hears the whole sweatshop will know about in five minutes."
"A fire alarm?"
"Exactly." He grinned, ready to dine. "But don't worry; me, I don't talk to no one."
"What's Ariana's deal?"
"Ariana? She's a Xana - matrix! She's like Ms. Pacman, chompin pills all day! And the way she throws herself at Lenny?" He shuddered theatrically. "Yiiick!"
"Wow. Marlene?"
"Marlene," another dismayed headshake. "One happy hour she got drunk and started talking..." He scowled. "Toiletface. Just the other day she started mouthing off to one of my boys, and I go up to her and I says, 'You're a fraud of a woman.' She's a trucker."
"Thanks for the info."
"Yeah, just think about the future, ok?"
Lenny ran over as soon as Ant was out of sight, bursting with amusement. "What's he tryna do, tell you not to talk to anyone? Hahaha pssh, come on. I know what he's up to." Lenny honed in, ominous. "You know about him and Johanna, right?" he muttered. A Girl Friday.
"Yeah, Esmerelda told me. Sex in the champagne closet, right?"
"Right." He glanced around nervously. "But you didn't hear it from me. Just watch out for him, ok?" He reverted back to amusement. "Tryna tell you not to trust anyone but him! Haha! Please!"
Len felt a warm trickle down his left leg. "Anyway I'll see you later!" he shouted, running full speed to the men's room.
With grand aplomb entered Dan Shamooger, Chief Executive Coxcomb. His concerted effort at regal gait made him look like a constipated robot. He swept the serfdom with darting scans; eyes averted downward, lest he bow his rigid chin. He never connected with the peons who hailed him, fixedly penurious in warmth. Who could blame him? He was not programmed with kindess.
"DAAAAAAAAN!" Sam, head of metalcrunching, tottered over in haste, papers flying. He was damp and quivering. "This is big man this is REALLY big! I've got Repar on my ass, and that bitch from Meglatron keeps trying to half the deal-"
"Yeah ok," Dan recoiled. "Why don't you go have a puff, and then we'll talk about it, okaaay?" His whine was slightly more musical than Art's.
"Yes sir!" Sam dutifully rushed out. Haha, what a little bitch.
Sam blew through the lobby, slamming the elevator "down" button repeatedly. He jounced as if waiting for the toilet. Scanning Shehera, he blurted, "Hey Shehera!" Her eyebrow lifted. In a broken whisper he proclaimed, "I'm gonna RAVAGE you!" and ran into the elevator, finger slamming the "door close" button 100 times.
Down at the yard, everyone was taking turns ingratiating the little prince. Not bothering to get up, Lenny whooped, "HEY SHAMU SHAMU! WHAT'S NEW?!"
"Lenny, my boy," he grunted awkwardly. "Shammopin up that metal! Sup. Dawg. Keep it movin. Aaayites."
Len had to smile. How cute. In his past few years at MetalParade, Inc., "Shamu" had become his best friend. What a great guy. What an honest to god good person he is. Look at him, he's so fancy, with his Tiffanarium cufflinks, fluffin his tail. He got no wrinkles in his armor, no scratches on his boots, no dust on his cap... He sighed. He got swagger, he got sheen, he got enough bread to own his own kingdom, and he big enough to mount any bitch he wants. Sigh. Man oh man, I want that.
"EY LEN! GET Y'ASS IN HERE, NOW!" Ant barked. Feeling privileged as usual, he stood and shimmied to Dan's lair.
"Yes Dan?" he asked softly as Ant slammed the door.
"Len, sit down." Dan, in a typical snit, made no eye contact. His body faced Ant." We wanna talk to you about some things." He clasped and lifted his hands. Laser beam eyes sharpshot Len. "We're a little concerned about your allegiance. You seem to be floundering a bit lately."
"Yeah!" Ant stung. "We used to see you at 6 or 7 every morning. Now you don't slobber in until 8:30, 9. What gives?!"
"Oh...uh," Len's mind scrambled. "I...I'm not sure, sire. I guess I just feel tired." Fuck! Why the fuck would you say such a thing, Rico! Stupid idiot! Wartime was ostensibly at 9AM, but the phalanx were expected to arrive at least an hour early. Even larger mammals got in at 6.
"YOU'RE TIRED?!" Ant crawled forward. "Tireda poundin dough?! You're our biggest breadwinner since that nitecrawler sonofabitch Jim left, and now you're TIRED of it?" He turned to Dan in mock disgust. "Unbelievable."
"NO!" Lenny rushed to his own defense. "No sire, no, that's not it at all!"
"Then why'd ya just say it?"
"I..." Come on Rico, come on. "What I meant to say was that I've been polishing the spear in private these days. You see me take my hit list home every night. And I always labor on Saturday. Even Sunday! I polish my spear every morning," he became jovial, "only lately I've been doin it in my PJ's!"
"Yeah, well DO IT HERE!" Ant was livid.
"Yeah, we agree that you need to be in at 7, latest," Dan commanded. "You have to set an example for all the other dregs." He sterilized his throat with lighter fluid. "One more thing." His face crumpled grotesquely. "Please stop calling me 'Shamu.'"
"Man, I'm just playin wichu. You know, cause Shamu, Sham-"
"I know." Dan wizened. "But we're trying to keep things professional around here, okaaay?" Ant squirted bile. Dan looked away. "That's all."
Ant flung the door open, abruptly supportive. "Hustle baby, HUSTLE! KEEP IT UP! GO OUT THERE AND GRAB US SOME METAL, BOY!" He smacked the broad of Len's back.
"Another six droppings this week, okaaay?" Dan shouted. "You're my man Len, wha-wha-wha!" Len cantered to his cave, gallant and bubbly.
Sven raced away from Marlene's pit, culpable as hell. Yard relations were the professional kiss of death at MetalParade. Marlene shook nervously. Man, why she care about that shit? She know she too fine to get fired. Besides, Len laughed, everyone already know about that shit with Sven thanks to Esmerelda! I bet she just want to fuck Shamu or something. Hell, I would if I were her! Despite her temper with the laborers, Marlene was downright obsequious towards The Coxcomb. Sven never seemed to mind.
Len laughed again. She must not know what her boyfriend do after work on Friday. Or sometimes Wednesday, or Tuesday, or Sunday. Man, dawg likes Blissed Out more than me! Blissed Out was an "erotic services" company that Len/Rico patronized on a regular basis. It was the one place that he could forget about the yard. He started going there after receiving a 100 dropping gift certificate from Shamu, after himself making a 100,000 dropping deal for Metal Parade. "Now this only covers basic services," he remembered Dan saying. "Give her 50 droppings if you want a spearpolish. but don't say 'spearpolish'. Say 'bonus'. She'll know what you mean."
And thus began his relationship with Jaja. Sweet, sexy, foreign Jaja. His muse; his motivation to keep laboring. She never smiled unless he paid her, but from the neck down she was hot. He remembered the first time that they met. He introduced himself as "Rico," and felt blissed out the minute she slammed the studio door. He asked if she had any friends that would want to join in. "NO!" she answered brusquely.
So hey lay there, waiting for something besides elevator music to entertain him. He gave her a 50 dropping note. "Thaaahnk you." She grinned voraciously.
Still nothing. After a few minutes, Len hazarded, "Um...don't I get a bonus?"
"FOR 50 DROPPINGS?!" Jaja was furious. "Give me hundred droppings, and I see!" So he handed over another hundred droppings, and got about literally seven minutes in heaven. Afterwards, she growled at him in her native language until he handed over 150 droppings more. "Thaaahnk you." She smiled, almost warmly, and then kicked him out.
He was hooked.
Len looked forward to his bathroom breaks. One could almost say he had a fetish. Besides Blissed Out, it was the only other place in the world that he could forget his troubles. He trotted down the promenade and swung open the gate to heaven number two. He entered his favorite stall.
SSSSNORT! SSSSNORT! He heard next to him. Giggling, he asked, "Who's there?"
"Uhh! It's me, Sven!"
"Yo, what up stallion? What you doin in there?"
"I have a cold!" he replied nervously.
"Haha, YEAH RIGHT!" Len shot back. He flushed. That small tornado was music to his ears. SSSSNORT!
Exiting the muckroom, he heard females prattling. Tiptoeing quietly to their sewer, he listened:
"UUUUGH! Do you know how much IRON Sam gave me today? And this dress totally makes me look fat."
"I know. Terrible, isn't it? And they'll mine us to death to hoard 30,000 scrapmetals by not hiring another cruncher.
"What a dick. I can't believe Shehera flirts with, like, Sam."
"Yeah, that's gay. Everyone likes Ms. Congeniality because she's a phony."
"Did you see her outfit today? She looks like a bum."
"I think she's a psycho."
"Did you see Esmerelda's outfit today? She looks like Michael Jackson without the white glove!" They tore into laughter. "What is she trying to do, compete with Shehera for office wierdo?" That virulent laughter again.
"Ohmigod, this is like corporate high school. I'm loving it."
"I know. Hey, why does it stink in here?"
"Because women are unclean and stupid!" She became angered.
"Yeah, I second that. Women, are worse than men!"
Lenny was in pain from containing his laughter. These dumb bitches are crazy! All they do all day is sit around, shittin on themselves in the bathroom. Nasty! Haha, and they wonder why we play them!
Footsteps down the hall startled him. "HI SHEHERA!" Len shouted as he fled, laughing maniacally. Shehera entered the sewer.
Ariana glanced at Marlene in amusement. "Seeya later," she muttered, making a swift exit.
"Ohmigod, she is so annoying! Thanks for getting rid of her!" Marlene exhaled.
"Yyyeah, you're welcome," Shehera replied tepidly as she washed her hands. "Damn exploding pens." They shared a laugh.
The truculence broke to reveal gentle caring. "So how are you today? How do you like it here so far?"
"This is the most twisted place I've ever worked at. What the hell?! It's like 'Boiler Room' come to life!" Shehera was candid. Too candid.
Marlene's face twisted in painful depression. "I hate it here. Do you know what Ant did to me today?"
"What?"
"He made me spin around in my new dress so, 'I can see your ass.'" She covered her face in shame.
Shehera was robbed speechless, save for, "Report him."
Marlene looked up in fear. "No." She bowed again. "What could anyone do? It's my word against his. His. I'd either get fired, or he'd make my life a living hell till I quit."
"Then you could press charges."
"On THIS place?! Are you crazy? Besides, no one wants to hire a woman who's pressed charges like that before. It would end up punishing me more than him."
Shehera welled in empathy. She scrambled to break the silent desperation, and changed the subject. "Can you tell me if what Esmerelda told me is true? It sounds bogus, but at the same time I wouldn't put it past these scumbags."
"What now?" Marlene queried in dread.
"She said that Dan's cousin Karl owns a brothel. And that Dan's father..." As they walked out, she whispered, "...is some kind of international loan -"
"SHHH!" Three creatures swam out of the elevator. A malevolent looking Wayne Newton flanked by two neanderthal cronies. "Ohmigod, hitmen."
Seeing them frozen at the end of the hall, the Wayne character walked over. "Hello ladies!" His convivial, relaxed greeting echoed down the tunnel. He shook their hands. "I'm Nick Shamooger, Dan's father. Nice to meet you both!" One would never guess. Summoning his grunts, he entered the yard.
Shehera turned to Marlene. "Woah. That was unexpected!"
Back at the desk, Shehera toiled away on Infochat. Phonecalls to the company were an annoying disturbance. Preventing a virtual argument with her beau was the real work.
Lenny whistled, circling the watchtower. "Fucking vulture," Shehera snarled under her breath. "Nosy swine."
She then thought of a few questions that she wanted to ask. "Hey, Leeeen..." she smiled widely. "Can I ask you a question?" Shehera knew how to pour on the saccharine. It was her job, after all.
"What?! Wassup?" Len smiled in return, eager for some gossip.
"Metal Parade - what do they do exactly?"
"Oh, that's easy! Iron resolution and forwarding to people who can't use regular vaults. Haha, the metal freeze is makin me rich!" He was proud of himself.
"What about all these other companies that get their dung here?" She shuffled through the mail. "MetalParade LLC, MetalCarnival Worldwide, InExtreMissive, Inc., and Extirpay International?"
"The first two are just aliases. We all have them. My clients call me 'Rico'." They laughed. "InExtreMissive, Inc. deals specifically with...well, let's just say, they're taking alot of property off of people's hands. They're run by Dan's cousins."
"And Extirpay International?"
"That's Dan's father's company."
"And they do..."
"I have no idea!" Lenny laughed again.
"Probably ruin people's lives somehow," Shehera slipped. Lenny laughed even louder.
"Girl, you are funny as hell!" His gaze turned seductive. "Hey Shehera...wanna come to my crib and smoke a few after work?"
Shehera was disgusted, yet smiled. "I'll have to get back to you."
©M. F. Lemoine
"Dear, you've got to buck up! Let me forewarn you: Don't talk to anyone. Just do what you're supposed to and that's it. Stay out of the gossip. These guys are all lowlifes. Ever hear what they say out in the yard?"
"I try to avoid going there as much as possible."
"Good. They're out of control, all of them. It's a madhouse! As far as I can tell, they're beyond saving." He shook his head in dismay. "They're far beyond saving."
"What about the girls?"
Ant's eyes bulged. "Those cunts?! They're savage! Anything Esmerelda sees or hears the whole sweatshop will know about in five minutes."
"A fire alarm?"
"Exactly." He grinned, ready to dine. "But don't worry; me, I don't talk to no one."
"What's Ariana's deal?"
"Ariana? She's a Xana - matrix! She's like Ms. Pacman, chompin pills all day! And the way she throws herself at Lenny?" He shuddered theatrically. "Yiiick!"
"Wow. Marlene?"
"Marlene," another dismayed headshake. "One happy hour she got drunk and started talking..." He scowled. "Toiletface. Just the other day she started mouthing off to one of my boys, and I go up to her and I says, 'You're a fraud of a woman.' She's a trucker."
"Thanks for the info."
"Yeah, just think about the future, ok?"
Lenny ran over as soon as Ant was out of sight, bursting with amusement. "What's he tryna do, tell you not to talk to anyone? Hahaha pssh, come on. I know what he's up to." Lenny honed in, ominous. "You know about him and Johanna, right?" he muttered. A Girl Friday.
"Yeah, Esmerelda told me. Sex in the champagne closet, right?"
"Right." He glanced around nervously. "But you didn't hear it from me. Just watch out for him, ok?" He reverted back to amusement. "Tryna tell you not to trust anyone but him! Haha! Please!"
Len felt a warm trickle down his left leg. "Anyway I'll see you later!" he shouted, running full speed to the men's room.
With grand aplomb entered Dan Shamooger, Chief Executive Coxcomb. His concerted effort at regal gait made him look like a constipated robot. He swept the serfdom with darting scans; eyes averted downward, lest he bow his rigid chin. He never connected with the peons who hailed him, fixedly penurious in warmth. Who could blame him? He was not programmed with kindess.
"DAAAAAAAAN!" Sam, head of metalcrunching, tottered over in haste, papers flying. He was damp and quivering. "This is big man this is REALLY big! I've got Repar on my ass, and that bitch from Meglatron keeps trying to half the deal-"
"Yeah ok," Dan recoiled. "Why don't you go have a puff, and then we'll talk about it, okaaay?" His whine was slightly more musical than Art's.
"Yes sir!" Sam dutifully rushed out. Haha, what a little bitch.
Sam blew through the lobby, slamming the elevator "down" button repeatedly. He jounced as if waiting for the toilet. Scanning Shehera, he blurted, "Hey Shehera!" Her eyebrow lifted. In a broken whisper he proclaimed, "I'm gonna RAVAGE you!" and ran into the elevator, finger slamming the "door close" button 100 times.
Down at the yard, everyone was taking turns ingratiating the little prince. Not bothering to get up, Lenny whooped, "HEY SHAMU SHAMU! WHAT'S NEW?!"
"Lenny, my boy," he grunted awkwardly. "Shammopin up that metal! Sup. Dawg. Keep it movin. Aaayites."
Len had to smile. How cute. In his past few years at MetalParade, Inc., "Shamu" had become his best friend. What a great guy. What an honest to god good person he is. Look at him, he's so fancy, with his Tiffanarium cufflinks, fluffin his tail. He got no wrinkles in his armor, no scratches on his boots, no dust on his cap... He sighed. He got swagger, he got sheen, he got enough bread to own his own kingdom, and he big enough to mount any bitch he wants. Sigh. Man oh man, I want that.
"EY LEN! GET Y'ASS IN HERE, NOW!" Ant barked. Feeling privileged as usual, he stood and shimmied to Dan's lair.
"Yes Dan?" he asked softly as Ant slammed the door.
"Len, sit down." Dan, in a typical snit, made no eye contact. His body faced Ant." We wanna talk to you about some things." He clasped and lifted his hands. Laser beam eyes sharpshot Len. "We're a little concerned about your allegiance. You seem to be floundering a bit lately."
"Yeah!" Ant stung. "We used to see you at 6 or 7 every morning. Now you don't slobber in until 8:30, 9. What gives?!"
"Oh...uh," Len's mind scrambled. "I...I'm not sure, sire. I guess I just feel tired." Fuck! Why the fuck would you say such a thing, Rico! Stupid idiot! Wartime was ostensibly at 9AM, but the phalanx were expected to arrive at least an hour early. Even larger mammals got in at 6.
"YOU'RE TIRED?!" Ant crawled forward. "Tireda poundin dough?! You're our biggest breadwinner since that nitecrawler sonofabitch Jim left, and now you're TIRED of it?" He turned to Dan in mock disgust. "Unbelievable."
"NO!" Lenny rushed to his own defense. "No sire, no, that's not it at all!"
"Then why'd ya just say it?"
"I..." Come on Rico, come on. "What I meant to say was that I've been polishing the spear in private these days. You see me take my hit list home every night. And I always labor on Saturday. Even Sunday! I polish my spear every morning," he became jovial, "only lately I've been doin it in my PJ's!"
"Yeah, well DO IT HERE!" Ant was livid.
"Yeah, we agree that you need to be in at 7, latest," Dan commanded. "You have to set an example for all the other dregs." He sterilized his throat with lighter fluid. "One more thing." His face crumpled grotesquely. "Please stop calling me 'Shamu.'"
"Man, I'm just playin wichu. You know, cause Shamu, Sham-"
"I know." Dan wizened. "But we're trying to keep things professional around here, okaaay?" Ant squirted bile. Dan looked away. "That's all."
Ant flung the door open, abruptly supportive. "Hustle baby, HUSTLE! KEEP IT UP! GO OUT THERE AND GRAB US SOME METAL, BOY!" He smacked the broad of Len's back.
"Another six droppings this week, okaaay?" Dan shouted. "You're my man Len, wha-wha-wha!" Len cantered to his cave, gallant and bubbly.
Sven raced away from Marlene's pit, culpable as hell. Yard relations were the professional kiss of death at MetalParade. Marlene shook nervously. Man, why she care about that shit? She know she too fine to get fired. Besides, Len laughed, everyone already know about that shit with Sven thanks to Esmerelda! I bet she just want to fuck Shamu or something. Hell, I would if I were her! Despite her temper with the laborers, Marlene was downright obsequious towards The Coxcomb. Sven never seemed to mind.
Len laughed again. She must not know what her boyfriend do after work on Friday. Or sometimes Wednesday, or Tuesday, or Sunday. Man, dawg likes Blissed Out more than me! Blissed Out was an "erotic services" company that Len/Rico patronized on a regular basis. It was the one place that he could forget about the yard. He started going there after receiving a 100 dropping gift certificate from Shamu, after himself making a 100,000 dropping deal for Metal Parade. "Now this only covers basic services," he remembered Dan saying. "Give her 50 droppings if you want a spearpolish. but don't say 'spearpolish'. Say 'bonus'. She'll know what you mean."
And thus began his relationship with Jaja. Sweet, sexy, foreign Jaja. His muse; his motivation to keep laboring. She never smiled unless he paid her, but from the neck down she was hot. He remembered the first time that they met. He introduced himself as "Rico," and felt blissed out the minute she slammed the studio door. He asked if she had any friends that would want to join in. "NO!" she answered brusquely.
So hey lay there, waiting for something besides elevator music to entertain him. He gave her a 50 dropping note. "Thaaahnk you." She grinned voraciously.
Still nothing. After a few minutes, Len hazarded, "Um...don't I get a bonus?"
"FOR 50 DROPPINGS?!" Jaja was furious. "Give me hundred droppings, and I see!" So he handed over another hundred droppings, and got about literally seven minutes in heaven. Afterwards, she growled at him in her native language until he handed over 150 droppings more. "Thaaahnk you." She smiled, almost warmly, and then kicked him out.
He was hooked.
Len looked forward to his bathroom breaks. One could almost say he had a fetish. Besides Blissed Out, it was the only other place in the world that he could forget his troubles. He trotted down the promenade and swung open the gate to heaven number two. He entered his favorite stall.
SSSSNORT! SSSSNORT! He heard next to him. Giggling, he asked, "Who's there?"
"Uhh! It's me, Sven!"
"Yo, what up stallion? What you doin in there?"
"I have a cold!" he replied nervously.
"Haha, YEAH RIGHT!" Len shot back. He flushed. That small tornado was music to his ears. SSSSNORT!
Exiting the muckroom, he heard females prattling. Tiptoeing quietly to their sewer, he listened:
"UUUUGH! Do you know how much IRON Sam gave me today? And this dress totally makes me look fat."
"I know. Terrible, isn't it? And they'll mine us to death to hoard 30,000 scrapmetals by not hiring another cruncher.
"What a dick. I can't believe Shehera flirts with, like, Sam."
"Yeah, that's gay. Everyone likes Ms. Congeniality because she's a phony."
"Did you see her outfit today? She looks like a bum."
"I think she's a psycho."
"Did you see Esmerelda's outfit today? She looks like Michael Jackson without the white glove!" They tore into laughter. "What is she trying to do, compete with Shehera for office wierdo?" That virulent laughter again.
"Ohmigod, this is like corporate high school. I'm loving it."
"I know. Hey, why does it stink in here?"
"Because women are unclean and stupid!" She became angered.
"Yeah, I second that. Women, are worse than men!"
Lenny was in pain from containing his laughter. These dumb bitches are crazy! All they do all day is sit around, shittin on themselves in the bathroom. Nasty! Haha, and they wonder why we play them!
Footsteps down the hall startled him. "HI SHEHERA!" Len shouted as he fled, laughing maniacally. Shehera entered the sewer.
Ariana glanced at Marlene in amusement. "Seeya later," she muttered, making a swift exit.
"Ohmigod, she is so annoying! Thanks for getting rid of her!" Marlene exhaled.
"Yyyeah, you're welcome," Shehera replied tepidly as she washed her hands. "Damn exploding pens." They shared a laugh.
The truculence broke to reveal gentle caring. "So how are you today? How do you like it here so far?"
"This is the most twisted place I've ever worked at. What the hell?! It's like 'Boiler Room' come to life!" Shehera was candid. Too candid.
Marlene's face twisted in painful depression. "I hate it here. Do you know what Ant did to me today?"
"What?"
"He made me spin around in my new dress so, 'I can see your ass.'" She covered her face in shame.
Shehera was robbed speechless, save for, "Report him."
Marlene looked up in fear. "No." She bowed again. "What could anyone do? It's my word against his. His. I'd either get fired, or he'd make my life a living hell till I quit."
"Then you could press charges."
"On THIS place?! Are you crazy? Besides, no one wants to hire a woman who's pressed charges like that before. It would end up punishing me more than him."
Shehera welled in empathy. She scrambled to break the silent desperation, and changed the subject. "Can you tell me if what Esmerelda told me is true? It sounds bogus, but at the same time I wouldn't put it past these scumbags."
"What now?" Marlene queried in dread.
"She said that Dan's cousin Karl owns a brothel. And that Dan's father..." As they walked out, she whispered, "...is some kind of international loan -"
"SHHH!" Three creatures swam out of the elevator. A malevolent looking Wayne Newton flanked by two neanderthal cronies. "Ohmigod, hitmen."
Seeing them frozen at the end of the hall, the Wayne character walked over. "Hello ladies!" His convivial, relaxed greeting echoed down the tunnel. He shook their hands. "I'm Nick Shamooger, Dan's father. Nice to meet you both!" One would never guess. Summoning his grunts, he entered the yard.
Shehera turned to Marlene. "Woah. That was unexpected!"
Back at the desk, Shehera toiled away on Infochat. Phonecalls to the company were an annoying disturbance. Preventing a virtual argument with her beau was the real work.
Lenny whistled, circling the watchtower. "Fucking vulture," Shehera snarled under her breath. "Nosy swine."
She then thought of a few questions that she wanted to ask. "Hey, Leeeen..." she smiled widely. "Can I ask you a question?" Shehera knew how to pour on the saccharine. It was her job, after all.
"What?! Wassup?" Len smiled in return, eager for some gossip.
"Metal Parade - what do they do exactly?"
"Oh, that's easy! Iron resolution and forwarding to people who can't use regular vaults. Haha, the metal freeze is makin me rich!" He was proud of himself.
"What about all these other companies that get their dung here?" She shuffled through the mail. "MetalParade LLC, MetalCarnival Worldwide, InExtreMissive, Inc., and Extirpay International?"
"The first two are just aliases. We all have them. My clients call me 'Rico'." They laughed. "InExtreMissive, Inc. deals specifically with...well, let's just say, they're taking alot of property off of people's hands. They're run by Dan's cousins."
"And Extirpay International?"
"That's Dan's father's company."
"And they do..."
"I have no idea!" Lenny laughed again.
"Probably ruin people's lives somehow," Shehera slipped. Lenny laughed even louder.
"Girl, you are funny as hell!" His gaze turned seductive. "Hey Shehera...wanna come to my crib and smoke a few after work?"
Shehera was disgusted, yet smiled. "I'll have to get back to you."
©M. F. Lemoine
Monday, November 1, 2010
Metal Parade, Inc. Part 3
Lenny spun around in his chair repeatedly. It was 4PM, yet far from quittin' time for him. He dreaded the thought of another 13-hour day. Since he had 0 deals so far, he knew he'd be there all night unless he made the magic happen, fast.
Rrrring! Rrrring! *Tap* "Helloooh?"
"Hello, can I speak to Ms. Mary Bourgeois, please?" he asked pleasantly.
"Speaking."
"Hello, Ms. Bourgeois! My name is Rico Jameson. How are you today?" he asked with a smile.
"Good, yourself?"
"I'm doing wonderful, thanks for asking!" Lie number two. "Ma'am, I'm calling today to offer you a GREAT opportunity: complete metal resolution!" Lie number three. "We can slice your negative metal in half with just a few easy steps! Now, you'd like to purge yourself of negative metal, wouldn't you?"
"Who wouldn't?"
"Exactly! So ma'am, if you don't mind me asking...how much metal are you interested in purging, right now?" A long silence. Damn, fuckin phone went dead again!"...Ma'am? Are you still with me?"
Another long silence. Lenny, desperate, waited. She finally piped up with, "Can I ask you something?"
He didn't like the tone of her voice. "Of course!" he replied with enthusiasm.
"Is 'Rico Jameson' your REAL name?"
"Why yes! Yes of course it is!" Lie number four. Another disconcerting silence. "...Ma'am?"
"I don't believe you." She sounded angry.
"We-hell-"
"You sound like an D-list porn star!"
"Woah, ma'am! Take it easy!" He was mock offended. "I'm just trying to save you some iron, that's all!"
"Oh, sure you are! Sure you are! I should totally trust you, 'Rico!'" You're my knight in shining armor, come to save me from my metal woes! HAH! Deceptive little scum!"
"Ma'am, hear me out-"
"YOU people are the lowest form of life possible. Vultures, and not in a good way! You prey on the desperate, for WHAT? For a fucking mercedes?" His own pictorally emerged. "You see people drowning, dupe them into grabbing your line, and then bleed them to death once they're on your deck! Tell me, is your mother proud of herself for raising a financial executioner?!" He choked. His mother was dead. "Oh, wait! Am I being too harsh? You're 'just doing your job,' right? Come on, no one buys that excuse. What you are doing is devastating desperate people. Do you know how many broken families, homeless people, divorces, illnesses, homicides and suicides are due to the economic graves that you help bury people in?! You're SICK! FUCKING SICK, AND YOU DESERVE THAT FATE YOURSELF!" Lenny gasped. "Excuse my anger. You think I'm some crazy bitch, don't you?" He did.
"Ahh..." Len warbled, terried. Out to catch The Big One, he now found himself on a Nantucket Sleigh Ride to the bottom of the sea.
"What happens if the people you rob and bury underfoot exhume themselves one day? The 'poor people' that you screw over and make fun of can do much more than you think. Strength in numbers, and their ranks are swelling thanks to assholes like you. This is not funny, trust me. Disparaged people are angry, and they're everywhere. That's right, keep bloating the lower classes, keep tempting fate. Things are falling apart, and it's shitheads in institutions like YOURS who are responsible! None of you are indomitable. None of you. I'll see you at the guillotine." SLAM!
For several minutes Lenny listened to the dialtone, thoroughly stultified. "Oh my god...I can't..." His mind imploded. Ms. Bourgeois' harangue sent a lightning bolt through his skull.
"Lenny?! What the fuck is ya problem?" Ant barked.
"I just...Sorry Ant, I don't feel so well all of a sudden. I need a minute."
"Minute's up bub! Get back to work! I'll keep you here till 10:00 if I have to! Ahahahhaha!"
Lenny stared back, empty. Motherfucker's crazy.
"EARTH TO LEN! WAKE UP, STUPID!" Ant hollered in his face. "Jesus, you look like you just saw Art naked!" Everyone who wasn't on a metalcall yelped.
"He'd probably enjoy that," Art sneered. More whoops.
Lenny jumped up, knocking over his chair in an explosion of pent up rage. Even Ant felt a little threatened. "Man, I'll cut your fucking head off," he spat, nose to nose with Art, who stared back at him like he had just heard a bad joke.
"Get out of here, Len," pumped Ant, reclaiming his authority. "Go to lunch, ok? Better yet go see a psychiatrist, ya schitzo!"
Lenny trudged away. "Hold it!" yelled Dan from his personal portal. "Lenny, we need to talk." For the first time ever, Shamu sounded upset with him. Is this because I almost ripped open Art VanDeLye? Whatever, man, Dan knows me. He'll understand.
Dan slammed the door. His face was flushed. Lenny never saw this side of him before. He rose his weightlifting-inflated arm and struck the side of Lenny's head. "What the FUCK did you think you were doing, letting that cunt talk you down like that?! You gave her the entire conversation!" Oh my god. He was listening in! I'm done. "I've heard women on their first day do better than that!" (There were two saleswomen. How they survived the salesmens' perverse inferno, no one knew.) "But from YOU, Lenny? My star quarterback? Totally unacceptable." Dan zoomed closer and sneered. "If you get off on letting bitches push you around, fine, but DO IT ON YOUR OWN TIME! When you're in this yard you represent Metal Parade, and Metal Parade listens to no one and nothing but METAL! Your function is to buy and sell, and you do whatever it is that you have to do make a fucking deal, ok?! Flatter people, commiserate with them, tell jokes, lie to them, I DON'T CARE! But don't you DARE waste my time!" This can't be happening. This isn't real. "You came in second in metalgrabbing last year, so this time I'll look the other way. But if it happens again," he cracked a small grin, "I'm feeding you to Ant. And it'll be messy." Lenny was speechless.
Dan collected himself, fixing his collar and smoothing his hair. He patted his face with a cosmetic blotter. "Now, get out of here and go to lunch."
For the first time in over a year, Lenny was about to cry. Walking towards the exit, he tried to act natural. "Well, it looks like you're doing a wonderful job holding down the fort!" Old Nick told Ant.
"I try to keep these clowns in line, " Ant smiled arrogantly. "Keep'em out of Dan's hair."
©M. F. Lemoine
Rrrring! Rrrring! *Tap* "Helloooh?"
"Hello, can I speak to Ms. Mary Bourgeois, please?" he asked pleasantly.
"Speaking."
"Hello, Ms. Bourgeois! My name is Rico Jameson. How are you today?" he asked with a smile.
"Good, yourself?"
"I'm doing wonderful, thanks for asking!" Lie number two. "Ma'am, I'm calling today to offer you a GREAT opportunity: complete metal resolution!" Lie number three. "We can slice your negative metal in half with just a few easy steps! Now, you'd like to purge yourself of negative metal, wouldn't you?"
"Who wouldn't?"
"Exactly! So ma'am, if you don't mind me asking...how much metal are you interested in purging, right now?" A long silence. Damn, fuckin phone went dead again!"...Ma'am? Are you still with me?"
Another long silence. Lenny, desperate, waited. She finally piped up with, "Can I ask you something?"
He didn't like the tone of her voice. "Of course!" he replied with enthusiasm.
"Is 'Rico Jameson' your REAL name?"
"Why yes! Yes of course it is!" Lie number four. Another disconcerting silence. "...Ma'am?"
"I don't believe you." She sounded angry.
"We-hell-"
"You sound like an D-list porn star!"
"Woah, ma'am! Take it easy!" He was mock offended. "I'm just trying to save you some iron, that's all!"
"Oh, sure you are! Sure you are! I should totally trust you, 'Rico!'" You're my knight in shining armor, come to save me from my metal woes! HAH! Deceptive little scum!"
"Ma'am, hear me out-"
"YOU people are the lowest form of life possible. Vultures, and not in a good way! You prey on the desperate, for WHAT? For a fucking mercedes?" His own pictorally emerged. "You see people drowning, dupe them into grabbing your line, and then bleed them to death once they're on your deck! Tell me, is your mother proud of herself for raising a financial executioner?!" He choked. His mother was dead. "Oh, wait! Am I being too harsh? You're 'just doing your job,' right? Come on, no one buys that excuse. What you are doing is devastating desperate people. Do you know how many broken families, homeless people, divorces, illnesses, homicides and suicides are due to the economic graves that you help bury people in?! You're SICK! FUCKING SICK, AND YOU DESERVE THAT FATE YOURSELF!" Lenny gasped. "Excuse my anger. You think I'm some crazy bitch, don't you?" He did.
"Ahh..." Len warbled, terried. Out to catch The Big One, he now found himself on a Nantucket Sleigh Ride to the bottom of the sea.
"What happens if the people you rob and bury underfoot exhume themselves one day? The 'poor people' that you screw over and make fun of can do much more than you think. Strength in numbers, and their ranks are swelling thanks to assholes like you. This is not funny, trust me. Disparaged people are angry, and they're everywhere. That's right, keep bloating the lower classes, keep tempting fate. Things are falling apart, and it's shitheads in institutions like YOURS who are responsible! None of you are indomitable. None of you. I'll see you at the guillotine." SLAM!
For several minutes Lenny listened to the dialtone, thoroughly stultified. "Oh my god...I can't..." His mind imploded. Ms. Bourgeois' harangue sent a lightning bolt through his skull.
"Lenny?! What the fuck is ya problem?" Ant barked.
"I just...Sorry Ant, I don't feel so well all of a sudden. I need a minute."
"Minute's up bub! Get back to work! I'll keep you here till 10:00 if I have to! Ahahahhaha!"
Lenny stared back, empty. Motherfucker's crazy.
"EARTH TO LEN! WAKE UP, STUPID!" Ant hollered in his face. "Jesus, you look like you just saw Art naked!" Everyone who wasn't on a metalcall yelped.
"He'd probably enjoy that," Art sneered. More whoops.
Lenny jumped up, knocking over his chair in an explosion of pent up rage. Even Ant felt a little threatened. "Man, I'll cut your fucking head off," he spat, nose to nose with Art, who stared back at him like he had just heard a bad joke.
"Get out of here, Len," pumped Ant, reclaiming his authority. "Go to lunch, ok? Better yet go see a psychiatrist, ya schitzo!"
Lenny trudged away. "Hold it!" yelled Dan from his personal portal. "Lenny, we need to talk." For the first time ever, Shamu sounded upset with him. Is this because I almost ripped open Art VanDeLye? Whatever, man, Dan knows me. He'll understand.
Dan slammed the door. His face was flushed. Lenny never saw this side of him before. He rose his weightlifting-inflated arm and struck the side of Lenny's head. "What the FUCK did you think you were doing, letting that cunt talk you down like that?! You gave her the entire conversation!" Oh my god. He was listening in! I'm done. "I've heard women on their first day do better than that!" (There were two saleswomen. How they survived the salesmens' perverse inferno, no one knew.) "But from YOU, Lenny? My star quarterback? Totally unacceptable." Dan zoomed closer and sneered. "If you get off on letting bitches push you around, fine, but DO IT ON YOUR OWN TIME! When you're in this yard you represent Metal Parade, and Metal Parade listens to no one and nothing but METAL! Your function is to buy and sell, and you do whatever it is that you have to do make a fucking deal, ok?! Flatter people, commiserate with them, tell jokes, lie to them, I DON'T CARE! But don't you DARE waste my time!" This can't be happening. This isn't real. "You came in second in metalgrabbing last year, so this time I'll look the other way. But if it happens again," he cracked a small grin, "I'm feeding you to Ant. And it'll be messy." Lenny was speechless.
Dan collected himself, fixing his collar and smoothing his hair. He patted his face with a cosmetic blotter. "Now, get out of here and go to lunch."
For the first time in over a year, Lenny was about to cry. Walking towards the exit, he tried to act natural. "Well, it looks like you're doing a wonderful job holding down the fort!" Old Nick told Ant.
"I try to keep these clowns in line, " Ant smiled arrogantly. "Keep'em out of Dan's hair."
©M. F. Lemoine
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Metal Parade, Inc. Part 4
Esmerelda paced down the hall, avoiding ironcrunching, visibly tense. After 4 cups of coffee she was finally lucid. "Sheheeeera!" she trilled.
"Hey girl!" Shehera greeted warmly. "What's up?"
"Oh my god," she rushed. "They kept me here last night till...guess?"
"7:30? Again?"
"9!" she bulged. "I didn't get out of here till after 9:00! Can you believe it?! Metalcrunching is making me insane!"
"Yeah it is! Are you at least getting extra credit for your sweat?"
"NO! According to Ant, 'No overtime, kid. Ya paycheck is what it is.' Fucking dicks! I can't ironcrunch anymore. This pit is taking over and ruining my life!"
"Dude, that's not even legal. You should turn them over to the Smithguards."
Esmerelda pondered this. "Nooo!" she gasped.
"I can't stand it! Everything in this pit runs on garbage and intimidation. It's my second week, and already I'm sending out smoke signals to get the hell out of here."
"Yeah me too," though she'd been there for six months. Her hate quickened. "Whatever you do, don't talk to Ant. He's a rat!"
"How so?"
Esmerelda fumed. "The other day I was talking to him about that fight with Marlene.." She never exhumed the reason, but the previous week Shehera witnessed Esmerelda, standing in the causeway between the frontpit and the yard, screaming, "FUCK YOU MARLENE, YA STUPID WHORE!" as did three shocked clients. "...you know, because Ant's good for advice sometimes. He's blunt." Blunt, or habitually obtuse? Shehera pondered. "Later that day, I heard him telling Dan everything." She growled. "He's a RAT!"
"Ugh." Shehera was disgusted. Not a rare sentiment at Metal Parade. "Awful. I wouldn't worry about it, though. As long as it doesn't interfere with business they can't hold it against you." Esmerelda looked dubious.
The mail came. The usual assortment to and from nom de guerres, plus a letter addressed to Dan from the Head Smithguard. Esmerelda gasped. "Wonder what that is?!"
"Karma?" They chuckled apprehensively. "Oh, we can dream, can't we?" Shehera exhaled. "Wanna walkabout while I unload this junk?"
"Sure!" And they were off.
The minute they entered the yard, Ant rose above the din: "Watch it, Marlene. I'M the driver. You? You're my mule. Remember that." Esmerelda, who discreetly savored Marlene's humiliation, beamed triumphantly along with the grunts.
After delivering the loads, they headed to the dump. "They MUST get off choking on this, don't you think?" Esmerelda posited. "The taste of iron can't be that good, can it? They could be dregs at regular yards if they wanted! It's sick!"
"The grunts, yeah. There's obviously something wrong with someone who stays in a place like this by choice. Anyone with any self-respect at all would avoid this place like a biohazard unless they were desperate." Shehera washed her hands.
"Fucking metalfreeze!" Esmerelda blurted in anger as she slammed down her purse.
"It's a shame, really. Most of these dregs would be pretty cool if they weren't career con artists. I feel dirty just directing traffic in this gilded trash heap. Every other phone call is an angry victim of iron loss! I'm sick of having to cover for people like Len."
Esmerelda gasped. "Oh my god, I meant to ask you! Did you fuck Lenny? I heard that you went to his hole after the final whipcrack yesterday." Lenny aint so discreet after all.
Shehera let out an angry belly laugh. "Hell, NO!" she snarled.
"But you did go to his crib? Cause he was bragging to the guys that you did."
"Yeah."
"Why?" Esmerelda squirmed. "He's creepy and he smells wierd."
"Check it out - he invited me over to smoke under the pretense of 'just friends'. Under the same pretense, I accepted. He's nice enough. Decent sense of humor, sometimes. Why not? Obviously I suspected a hidden agenda." She became austere. "But he invited me as a FRIEND, and I hung out as a friend. Nothing more. If he's mad that his little after hours bait-and-switch scheming didn't work, then fuck him!"
"Woah," Esmerelda replied, digesting the logic. "Well...I guess that makes sense."
"Shehera flashed a sly grin. "It's no big deal. Thinking he can mine women like he mines customers...nope! It didn't work, so he's spreading a rumour about himself that it did to LOOK like a stud. What a dumbass!" She dried her hands intently. " And besides, what kind of loser has to try and trick a girl into fucking him anyway?! There are millions of horny women in this city, and if he can't find even ONE who ACTUALLY likes him, than he should go buy a hooker with all that 'bling' he brags about constantly. Whatever. I just played a player, that's all." She cackled. "Ant's right about one thing: They're beyond saving." She mocked his headshake. "They're far beyond saving."
"Yeah, girl," Esmerelda said warily. "Just be careful, ok? You don't want to get sucked into stupid games with guys on a vendetta. It won't work." She sighed. "Don't become counter-predatory. You're better than that."
Shehera mulled it over. "Your right. I've got better things to do than get sucked into idiotic games. What the hell was I thinking?" She continued to rub her hands raw. "And god, now everyone thinks I fucked...Len!" She grimaced. “This nuthouse is warping my mind.”
"I know you didn't," Esmerelda consoled. "And Len lies so much that most people probably don't even believe that you hung out with him after hours!"
"You think they care about what's true? These gossips will believe whatever entertains them the most." She grabbed a light, becoming flippant. "Oh well! Speaking of smoke, lets go out for some," adding in mock drama," '...for tomorrow, we may die!'"
"Or this landfill will finally get shut down by the Smithguard!" And they shared a nervous laugh.
They waited for the elevator. "It's too bad that the institutions designed to protect us dregs mirror the boiler rooms that pay them off. We're all screwed." Shehera panicked inside after blurting that out, afraid that she had just signed her own pinkslip. Sam was behind them - uncharacteristically silent - the entire time. Another spy for Dan, I suppose. As much as she hated Metal Parade, she DID need iron, after all.
Esmerelda met her friend's gaze, making light of the tension. They giggled at the absurdities, just short of tears.
©M. F. Lemoine
"Hey girl!" Shehera greeted warmly. "What's up?"
"Oh my god," she rushed. "They kept me here last night till...guess?"
"7:30? Again?"
"9!" she bulged. "I didn't get out of here till after 9:00! Can you believe it?! Metalcrunching is making me insane!"
"Yeah it is! Are you at least getting extra credit for your sweat?"
"NO! According to Ant, 'No overtime, kid. Ya paycheck is what it is.' Fucking dicks! I can't ironcrunch anymore. This pit is taking over and ruining my life!"
"Dude, that's not even legal. You should turn them over to the Smithguards."
Esmerelda pondered this. "Nooo!" she gasped.
"I can't stand it! Everything in this pit runs on garbage and intimidation. It's my second week, and already I'm sending out smoke signals to get the hell out of here."
"Yeah me too," though she'd been there for six months. Her hate quickened. "Whatever you do, don't talk to Ant. He's a rat!"
"How so?"
Esmerelda fumed. "The other day I was talking to him about that fight with Marlene.." She never exhumed the reason, but the previous week Shehera witnessed Esmerelda, standing in the causeway between the frontpit and the yard, screaming, "FUCK YOU MARLENE, YA STUPID WHORE!" as did three shocked clients. "...you know, because Ant's good for advice sometimes. He's blunt." Blunt, or habitually obtuse? Shehera pondered. "Later that day, I heard him telling Dan everything." She growled. "He's a RAT!"
"Ugh." Shehera was disgusted. Not a rare sentiment at Metal Parade. "Awful. I wouldn't worry about it, though. As long as it doesn't interfere with business they can't hold it against you." Esmerelda looked dubious.
The mail came. The usual assortment to and from nom de guerres, plus a letter addressed to Dan from the Head Smithguard. Esmerelda gasped. "Wonder what that is?!"
"Karma?" They chuckled apprehensively. "Oh, we can dream, can't we?" Shehera exhaled. "Wanna walkabout while I unload this junk?"
"Sure!" And they were off.
The minute they entered the yard, Ant rose above the din: "Watch it, Marlene. I'M the driver. You? You're my mule. Remember that." Esmerelda, who discreetly savored Marlene's humiliation, beamed triumphantly along with the grunts.
After delivering the loads, they headed to the dump. "They MUST get off choking on this, don't you think?" Esmerelda posited. "The taste of iron can't be that good, can it? They could be dregs at regular yards if they wanted! It's sick!"
"The grunts, yeah. There's obviously something wrong with someone who stays in a place like this by choice. Anyone with any self-respect at all would avoid this place like a biohazard unless they were desperate." Shehera washed her hands.
"Fucking metalfreeze!" Esmerelda blurted in anger as she slammed down her purse.
"It's a shame, really. Most of these dregs would be pretty cool if they weren't career con artists. I feel dirty just directing traffic in this gilded trash heap. Every other phone call is an angry victim of iron loss! I'm sick of having to cover for people like Len."
Esmerelda gasped. "Oh my god, I meant to ask you! Did you fuck Lenny? I heard that you went to his hole after the final whipcrack yesterday." Lenny aint so discreet after all.
Shehera let out an angry belly laugh. "Hell, NO!" she snarled.
"But you did go to his crib? Cause he was bragging to the guys that you did."
"Yeah."
"Why?" Esmerelda squirmed. "He's creepy and he smells wierd."
"Check it out - he invited me over to smoke under the pretense of 'just friends'. Under the same pretense, I accepted. He's nice enough. Decent sense of humor, sometimes. Why not? Obviously I suspected a hidden agenda." She became austere. "But he invited me as a FRIEND, and I hung out as a friend. Nothing more. If he's mad that his little after hours bait-and-switch scheming didn't work, then fuck him!"
"Woah," Esmerelda replied, digesting the logic. "Well...I guess that makes sense."
"Shehera flashed a sly grin. "It's no big deal. Thinking he can mine women like he mines customers...nope! It didn't work, so he's spreading a rumour about himself that it did to LOOK like a stud. What a dumbass!" She dried her hands intently. " And besides, what kind of loser has to try and trick a girl into fucking him anyway?! There are millions of horny women in this city, and if he can't find even ONE who ACTUALLY likes him, than he should go buy a hooker with all that 'bling' he brags about constantly. Whatever. I just played a player, that's all." She cackled. "Ant's right about one thing: They're beyond saving." She mocked his headshake. "They're far beyond saving."
"Yeah, girl," Esmerelda said warily. "Just be careful, ok? You don't want to get sucked into stupid games with guys on a vendetta. It won't work." She sighed. "Don't become counter-predatory. You're better than that."
Shehera mulled it over. "Your right. I've got better things to do than get sucked into idiotic games. What the hell was I thinking?" She continued to rub her hands raw. "And god, now everyone thinks I fucked...Len!" She grimaced. “This nuthouse is warping my mind.”
"I know you didn't," Esmerelda consoled. "And Len lies so much that most people probably don't even believe that you hung out with him after hours!"
"You think they care about what's true? These gossips will believe whatever entertains them the most." She grabbed a light, becoming flippant. "Oh well! Speaking of smoke, lets go out for some," adding in mock drama," '...for tomorrow, we may die!'"
"Or this landfill will finally get shut down by the Smithguard!" And they shared a nervous laugh.
They waited for the elevator. "It's too bad that the institutions designed to protect us dregs mirror the boiler rooms that pay them off. We're all screwed." Shehera panicked inside after blurting that out, afraid that she had just signed her own pinkslip. Sam was behind them - uncharacteristically silent - the entire time. Another spy for Dan, I suppose. As much as she hated Metal Parade, she DID need iron, after all.
Esmerelda met her friend's gaze, making light of the tension. They giggled at the absurdities, just short of tears.
©M. F. Lemoine
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Metal Parade, Inc. Part 5
Shehera glided and galumphed through work, ostensibly in a haze. Everyone assumed she was perpetually high. The office aberration, her whole constitution was outre - especially in a metalcrunching environment. Jim, her favorite miner who had fled the previous week, used to joke, "Commune's that way, m'dear. Boy, you're really lost if you've ended up here!" A Stockade causalty, he fled Metal Parade after his last big deal. He had saved up just enough metal to survive as an ascetic for a few years, living his dream of becoming a full-time painter.
He confided in her one day on a smoke break: "After the Stockade cracked, I lost everything. I lost my chariot, had to break my lease on Plantation Ave. and move in with my brother and sister-in-law, sold basically everything..." He sniffed. "...but the worst part was...was losing my friends. Or rather who I thought were my friends. It was devastating, to be honest." His head shook in residual bitterness. "I get ejected, and suddenly they don't know me from Adam. Since I'm not in the field, I'm out of the gang. Buncha jerks." He inhaled. "I should've seen it coming, though. Down at the Stockade, everything is metal. And everyone. However these were men I confided in; men I thought would be there for me through tough times, as they always had. We spent so much time together over the years that I considered them brothers. Hah! If you can't make them metal, they don't give a damn whether you're doing great or about to slice your wrists. They're too busy drowning in booze and powder, getting clam-" He flustered. "excuse my language - collecting toys to outdo eachother with, showing off their trophy families, taking their mistresses on lavish vacations..." His eyes cast downward in shame. "Story of my life. My former one. I guess everyone's just doing the best that they know how to, but it still hurts sometimes. So many years I could've been making art, desecrated because I flushed myself into a sewer of metal. And when it was all over, I was broken. I had a whole life, an entire identity, deleted before my very eyes. Nothing left but static."
He looked outward. "It was a blessing. A genuine blessing. I had so much to unlearn. After the pain of loss eased, it was liberating! This time next month, I'll be living my life as it was meant to be lived." He shined, irreducibly content.
"That's inspiring," Shehera mused.
" Sorry. You didn't come out here to hear the sob story of an old man," he muttered sheepishly. "Although I'm sure you'll hear many more sad and disturbing things in this purgatory.”
Shehera hesitated. "How exactly did you end up at Metal Parade?"
"An Ad on Bob's Mess," he laughed. "Go figure. My prayers to reputable companies all went unanswered. My iron was dangerously low, and I needed some fast. Who ends up here otherwise?" They laughed. "How did YOU end up here?"
"A friend."
"A friend?!" Jim repeated sarcastically. "In this place?" They laughed.
"My old driver was a monster, and old co-dregs unsociable. I needed a change."
Jim looked alarmed. "You sure this isn't the same cheese, different mousetrap?"
"Oh." Shehera ruminated for a moment. "Well, metal is metal, right?"
"In the short term...yes." Jim was uneasy. "But you can't be in a pit like this for too long without it messing with you. This kind of environment will distort your outlook, your values..." He puffed harder. "Metal is important; you HAVE to have metal. But you also have to have a purpose outside of yourself. Otherwise the excess metal turns you into an overgrown infant, living only to satiate every little impulse and urge. Look at most of these miners: no goals. Just delusions of becoming a millionaire."
Shehera chanced to ask him, "How long have you been doing this for?"
"I've been in ironwork in some form or another for over 25 years now." He angered. "It's all I know how to do to make metal in this mess of a society. As for this place..." He drew a breath. "Metal Parade has been, in 26 months: long hours of torture, a lot of good luck, a lot of holding my tongue, and I'm DONE. Pimping out metal brings out the worst in everyone involved." Shehera cringed, thinking of how many people Jim must've screwed to earn top commission. "The thrill of the catch is a trap. 'Get the metal, and get out!' That's been my philosophy here." He looked at her in gravity. "Don't you get stuck."
She laughed. "Never!"
Shehera stamped out the butt. She welled with compassion. "Good luck in the City of Love. I'm glad you're finally free."
"Thank you," Jim replied quietly, and grinned. Bowing nobly as he backed away, his last words to her: "I'll see you on the Seine."
©M. F. Lemoine
He confided in her one day on a smoke break: "After the Stockade cracked, I lost everything. I lost my chariot, had to break my lease on Plantation Ave. and move in with my brother and sister-in-law, sold basically everything..." He sniffed. "...but the worst part was...was losing my friends. Or rather who I thought were my friends. It was devastating, to be honest." His head shook in residual bitterness. "I get ejected, and suddenly they don't know me from Adam. Since I'm not in the field, I'm out of the gang. Buncha jerks." He inhaled. "I should've seen it coming, though. Down at the Stockade, everything is metal. And everyone. However these were men I confided in; men I thought would be there for me through tough times, as they always had. We spent so much time together over the years that I considered them brothers. Hah! If you can't make them metal, they don't give a damn whether you're doing great or about to slice your wrists. They're too busy drowning in booze and powder, getting clam-" He flustered. "excuse my language - collecting toys to outdo eachother with, showing off their trophy families, taking their mistresses on lavish vacations..." His eyes cast downward in shame. "Story of my life. My former one. I guess everyone's just doing the best that they know how to, but it still hurts sometimes. So many years I could've been making art, desecrated because I flushed myself into a sewer of metal. And when it was all over, I was broken. I had a whole life, an entire identity, deleted before my very eyes. Nothing left but static."
He looked outward. "It was a blessing. A genuine blessing. I had so much to unlearn. After the pain of loss eased, it was liberating! This time next month, I'll be living my life as it was meant to be lived." He shined, irreducibly content.
"That's inspiring," Shehera mused.
" Sorry. You didn't come out here to hear the sob story of an old man," he muttered sheepishly. "Although I'm sure you'll hear many more sad and disturbing things in this purgatory.”
Shehera hesitated. "How exactly did you end up at Metal Parade?"
"An Ad on Bob's Mess," he laughed. "Go figure. My prayers to reputable companies all went unanswered. My iron was dangerously low, and I needed some fast. Who ends up here otherwise?" They laughed. "How did YOU end up here?"
"A friend."
"A friend?!" Jim repeated sarcastically. "In this place?" They laughed.
"My old driver was a monster, and old co-dregs unsociable. I needed a change."
Jim looked alarmed. "You sure this isn't the same cheese, different mousetrap?"
"Oh." Shehera ruminated for a moment. "Well, metal is metal, right?"
"In the short term...yes." Jim was uneasy. "But you can't be in a pit like this for too long without it messing with you. This kind of environment will distort your outlook, your values..." He puffed harder. "Metal is important; you HAVE to have metal. But you also have to have a purpose outside of yourself. Otherwise the excess metal turns you into an overgrown infant, living only to satiate every little impulse and urge. Look at most of these miners: no goals. Just delusions of becoming a millionaire."
Shehera chanced to ask him, "How long have you been doing this for?"
"I've been in ironwork in some form or another for over 25 years now." He angered. "It's all I know how to do to make metal in this mess of a society. As for this place..." He drew a breath. "Metal Parade has been, in 26 months: long hours of torture, a lot of good luck, a lot of holding my tongue, and I'm DONE. Pimping out metal brings out the worst in everyone involved." Shehera cringed, thinking of how many people Jim must've screwed to earn top commission. "The thrill of the catch is a trap. 'Get the metal, and get out!' That's been my philosophy here." He looked at her in gravity. "Don't you get stuck."
She laughed. "Never!"
Shehera stamped out the butt. She welled with compassion. "Good luck in the City of Love. I'm glad you're finally free."
"Thank you," Jim replied quietly, and grinned. Bowing nobly as he backed away, his last words to her: "I'll see you on the Seine."
©M. F. Lemoine
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