WPCA - Junkie

The parody of intelligence keeps talking. I watch him blather on and on about something I'm in no way interested in. His mouth is moving, but my ears hear the Charlie Brown "wah wah wah" of "Adultspeak." Testing what little patience I have, I know that much. Doesn't help that he's talking in some badly formed accent that I just couldn't give a damn about -- telling me all sorts of things. Bits of wisdom designed to illuminated the dark recesses of my mind. Give me purpose. I have a purpose, and I don't need some jacked up idiot in a pinstripe to tell me what it is. Gimme the gun, I'll get the job done.

He laughs. His flunkies laugh. I throw up a basilica of deferent contempt, with teeth glaring in a half grimaced-smile of polite hatred. Get on with it. And then, as if the God of all gods answers my prayers and grants a miracle,-

"-so, here-," he says, and I'm paying attention now as a ginger-haired boy tosses up a case on a table and flicks the tabs so the top can flip open. He swivels it in my direction and my eyes gloss over it, drink it in. Yes, I think as my saliva glands begin to equate what's in front of me to a steak. Blabber-mouth continues his little song-and-dance- "-it is. Fine piece of military hardware. But you only get it 'cause we want-"

"-I know what you want," I say cutting him off and flashing the picture of the man on some steps with his wife and two kids. "Family job. Done deal. Just gimme the goods and it's a done deal."

He shrugs, laughs -- the flunkies laugh with him.

"What's a man to do? Okay, it's all yours. Have fun."

He knows when to take his exit. Makes it stage right, taking his bunch of groupies with him. I'm cackling in my head at this point, eying up the hardware. Biotech enhances, top grade. It's like a black mans spinning rims. Pimp your ride? Son, how about we pimp that body of yours and turn it into the kind of lethal weapon that make action movies so good?

It's a bunch of hypodermic needles -- long ones. Stab 'em in all over. Three for my spine alone. Gonna have to find somebody to do that one. Maybe I shouldn't have sent Carl away so fast. Could've gotten one of his floosie puppets to do it, before I broke his neck. Time to get down to business. This is gonna hurt.