Martoons

Cast of characters

Dame

Max

Miss No

Fred

*

The toothpick-dropping woman in the next booth saw that all the mini spears had been collected by the kind gentleman crawling around.

He’d even neatly placed them back in their little plastic barrel-shaped case.

Via a friendly nod she wholeheartedly thanked him – all the while still in her crouched, legs-locked-up position.

Dame picked up on her nod’s sub-text – “Thanks. Now would you kindly be on your way so I can resume a normal body position? I’m very vulnerable as is.”

Like a good little boy, Damion quickly stood back up and grabbed his groceries.

But, he figured, since he was already down here at the phones and all stirred up from those legs and truncated skirt, why not give Max another try?

* How will the phone call with Max go this time? *

He fished out some change and got through to his gangster acquaintance in the two old ladies’ restaurant.

“Just wondering Maxy, has anything changed since I called earlier tonight?”

Negative.

“Has anyone cancelled out on Coffee Lady so that I might be able to book an hour or two on this joyous, most special Christmas evening?”

Negative.

Dame shuffled uncomfortably. “Well that’s okay. Another of your female service providers perhaps? Suppose I shouldn’t be so picky.”

Negative.

Dame realized he’d called Max at a bad time. A voice in his head said get the hell off the phone.

“Okay Maxy sorry to bother you brother and I’ll let you go but don’t forget about New Year’s Eve.”

“Remember I’ve already booked that one hour – sixty steamy minutes of platinum service with The Coffee Lady.”

Max answered only with silence and a roll of the eyes, then hung up. Dame fled the booth into the fresh air. It had been getting stuffy in there real fast.

He’d wasted Max’s time but at least the rebuff got his mind off girls now and onto food. His tummy rumbled.

The last thing he’d eaten was that greasy gut-bomb of a burger and that turned out to be a rental.

He snuggled his grocery bags like babies to his chest, picked up his pace and headed back up to Go’s pad.

Time for a feast!

*

 Miss No was in a cab speeding away from Mr Go’s funeral pyre. “Rotary – pali!” she ordered the cabbie.

Complete paranoia had overcome her.

Police and detectives would undoubtedly be knocking on her door sooner rather than later.

She had to get back to her office and Central, grab that séance kit under her desk, and toss it right off Go’s little smoking balcony into the dumpster.

She shuddered at the thought of investigators finding the portraits of the North Korean leaders!

* Do you think they might? *

*

Yeah, that’s it, Fred reassured himself, I’m just going to get a massage.

His hostess’s drab nightgown was looking better in a new angle of light – it was actually a fairly colourful housecoat with a funky, exaggerated military pattern on it.

She was sumptuously slim and had a thick, shiny mane of long black hair, which she was presently brushing.

Fred became mesmerized by the extended, thorough and slow strokes of the brush down her luscious hair.

He started to tingle all over.

Hmmm. It has been a long time. I’ll go for the massage first and then … well, who knows what will happen? Maybe this will evolve into a full-out biology class.

He could feel his attitude transforming; his confidence heightening. And why not go out with … a bang? 

He shook his head and chuckled at the brutal, tasteless choice of words. In the big scheme of things, what did it really matter anyway?

After what Mr E had told him back at the old sisters’ restaurant, Fred’s hours in Korea were numbered.

* Will Fred stick with  just getting a massage? Or will he go for more?… *

*

Tomorrow: Coffee Lady transfixes Thomas.