Bazooka 12 (Updated)

Walking into Ricardo’s “shop” was like walking into a medieval witchdoctor’s hut─

“I don’t think they actually had those…”

“Whatever,” I waved a hand. What I hoped weren’t dead things hung from the ceiling while certainly dead things sat in rows of jars on high shelves. An unidentifiable species of large bird perched on a willow stick in a corner, glaring down at me with an evil eye. “Hello…?” I called in barely a whisper. Clearing my throat I straightened my spine and called out louder.

“So you are the one who is having the identity crisis.” Behind the counter piled high with papers and merchandise sat a weathered looking man, smoking a heavy cigar. He blended into his environment exceedingly well. Looking at me through the purple smoke the man looked amused at my wide eyes.

Nervously I laughed. “Identity crisis? The only crisis I’m having is being empty handed.”

“Don’t pussy-foot around,” Ricardo said. “I know all about you. Shorty was in a bit ago. Such a nice girl. Told me about this “lame-Jane” fool everyone was after on account of you and Mike having the same name. And now Georgie-boy has sent you to me. What luck.” Over my head the sound of flapping wings made their way to his side. The giant bird, carrying the charisma of ten Godfathers, doubled the pressure you only feel when under a critical gaze. Swallowing, my mind blank, I stood in the shop without a single idea of what to say. Ricardo looked me up and down and took a long drag from his cigar. “You’re the most pathetic looking piece of blubber I have ever see. You wanna be a bounty hunter?”

“Yes. No. Not really, but yes.” Ricardo appropriately raised an eyebrow at my answer. “I don’t want to be a bounty hunter, but I’ve been told, rather convinced, it’s the only way to keep random people from attacking and arresting me.”

“Annett got to you?” He smiled.

“And Shorty.” I admitted.

Ricardo took a drag from his cigar and shook his head. “Forgive my age, but I’m having trouble wrapping my head around all this.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“No offence guy, but I don’t think you have what it takes to be a bounty hunter.”


Holiday Post

‘Tis the season! This week we get two new (sorta?) posts. I went back and redid Bazooka Part 12 because I didn’t like the way it came out the first go-around. Part 13 (new) will be posted shortly after.

There won’t be any updates next week as Thursday is Christmas! In other news Hanukkah is well under way and holiday festivities are taking over. Regardless of what you celebrate, if anything at all, I hope you have a good rest of 2014. After today there are 13 days left of the year. Make them count!

Always sincerely,


Bazooka 13

“I sympathize with your predicament, I do. But maybe just leave it to the professionals?” Ricardo offered a shrug. 

“The professionals are to ones I’m trying to─ look.” I leaned onto the counter and pleaded with my hands. “I don’t know of anyone I can rely on. I feel like the whole world’s out to get me.”

“That sounds like every person’s complaint.”

“I’m serious,” I said.

“So am I.” He said.

“That’s not fair.” I argued.

“Yeah, actually, it is. Listen up kid, there’s a reason you were sent here to me. Nobody moves without my say-so. I’m the king-pin. I am the one and only. I am the end all be all of bounty hunting and there’s a reason for that.” 

“So you really are the only broker in town?” I asked, sad defeat was nigh.

“Yes.” He responded almost bored.

“Just give me a chance.” I begged.

“Every other person and their mom is after Mike. What makes you think you’ll get him?”

“Sheer desperation.” I answered honestly. “It’s all I got.”

“It’s a start.” He snorted. The man looked long and hard at me, judging my worth by every blink I took and every line in my skin. He turned, opening one of his many filling cabinets and riffled through the papers. I was so excited I almost jumped for joy but stopped myself just in time for him to turn back round. “Here’s one we just got in.” He threw a file at me. I caught it just in time and opened it. Line after line of boxed info read out to me, making little sense, but there was a picture and what an ugly mug it was. “His name is Greg, but he goes by the name of Bulldog. God knows why. Dude’s wanted for petty larceny and public intoxication.”

“Nothing too difficult?” I asked, willfully.

“He’s diabetic and in a wheelchair.” Ricardo sassed. “He lives with his mom but she don’t want him no more. Lazy ass, her exact words were. She’s going to take his wheelchair and leave him for vultures to peck at. So no, nothing too difficult. You want the big dog?” Ricardo suddenly jabbed me in the chest. “Prove yourself first.” 

“Oh sure.”

“Reward’s $50 dollars.”

“That’s it?”

“I don’t run a charity house.”

“I have to get this guy.” I said seriously, looking at Ricardo. “I have to get Mike. He’s ruining my life and no one is stopping him. I have to do it.”

“I know.” He said, folding his arms. “But emotions pay for jack around here. Buck up kid. You got work. I’m going to send someone with you. Pete to be exact.” He motioned over his shoulder.

“The bird?” I asked. The grey feathered mass cawed at me.

“My partner. He’ll help you more than most men, trust me. It’s this or nothing. Take it or leave it.”

“No gun?” I asked.

“Get out.”


Hey guys, I wanted to let you know there will not be a new post this week. I’ve been working on a short story collection and finally! finished it early this morning (1am I think?). Next comes the query letter. We’ll see how far that gets me.

Now that the bulk of the work is done hopefully life will settle down a bit and a new post will be up next Thursday. Hope everyone has a good rest of the week!


The Exorcist Chronicles pt. 9

“Thank you so much for your cooperation. It wasn’t easy, but we did it.” Lucy said, standing in the front doorway of the hotel.

“That sounds like a cheesy tag line.” Lizzy chided.

“You’re acting was impeccable by dear,” Lucy applauded.

“Thank you.” She beamed.

Mr Pringleberry stepped forward and shook her hand. “I cannot tell you what it means to me. Imagine, my humble abode having a reputation of possession. Ha!”

“I still don’t see why I couldn’t be there.” Timmothy sulked.

“My dear, we were performing an exorcism,” Lucy reasoned. “We needed to convince the demon we really meant him harm. We couldn’t have done that if you were right there asking him if he wanted a sandwich.”

“Maybe someday you can sit in on a demon ousting. Someday.” Mr Greensly appeared alongside the others, followed by Miss Brown.

Noticing her, Lucy smiled. “Hello Miss Brown.”

“It’s Trudy,” she said, reaching out to take Lucy’s hand. “Just Trudy.”

“Trudy,” Lucy said. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said, her broken arm already in a cast and sling (what a hospital visit that was). “Thank you for helping me. I don’t really remember what happened, but everyone here seems to agree you are the hero.”

Lucy laughed nonchalantly. “I was just telling everyone I couldn’t have done it alone. Honestly, demons don’t have backbones so it wasn’t difficult to scare the one inside you to death. Then our little Timmothy brought in my defibrillator to bring you back, not the demon crowding you out.”

“Such a strange method for a priest.” Mr Greensly snidely remarked, folding his arms with an air of good-humor.

“Thus why I am not a real priest, only a consultant. Because I have my own methods…” Putting on her sunglasses Lucy raised her keys and unlocked her car with a beep. “And now I must be going, as I am sure you all have to, sooner or later.” All the others nodded and mumbled about places to go and things to do. “Then I shall be off. It was fun.” With that she turned on her heels and left the porch.

Watching the black car barrel down the dirt driveway the others felt varying degrees of melancholy. Gradually everyone left the entranceway, leaving only Mr Pringleberry to cast a glance one last time before closing the door.