2-17: The Long Night
The guard began to writhe in ecstacy and a wet patch blossomed at his crotch as Donnie watched.
‘Effective,’ he said, glancing up. Madame Pink had disappeared. There was only one place she could have gone, so he stepped over the line and into the French sector, then around the corner.
‘You should not have followed me,’ said Madame Pink and the air-pistol rose in her hand.
‘Wait, please,’ said Donnie raising his outstretched hands in — he hoped — a placatory way. She shot him anyway and he ducked back behind the bend while pulling needles from his hands. Little drops of blood leaked from the tiny holes they left. He thought Acupuncture wasn’t supposed to draw blood and as he looked up, stared into the cold albino eyes of Madame Pink who had stepped around the corner and poked the pistol into his hip.
‘Oh! That tickles,’ Donnie jerked away, slapping down instinctively at where the pistol had pushed at his skin. The gun clattered down onto the bitumen and bounced once before going off again on auto-fire. The hapless guards shins were shot full of needles which caused an explosive evacuation of their bowels. The smell was appalling.
Donnie decided that the checkpoint was definitely off tonight’s menu, despite there being a rapidly cooling chicken breast burger sitting on the bar waiting for his return. He would have to disappoint it this time around and stood toe-to-toe with Madame Pink instead.
‘I need to ask you some more questions,’ he said.
‘You do not,’ she replied. ‘Questions are a sign of an enquiring mind of which you do not possess.’
‘Payment then,’ said Donnie getting to the point.
‘Already deposited into your account. You can check.’ She lifted a slim black internet phone for him to take and witin moments he had confirmed the existence of a sizeable sum of money in his account. He decided at once to get one of these phones with some of the cash, even if it meant he had to mortgage his soul for two years. It wasn’t like he was using it for anything in particular.
There are a few ways to describe one's self when effectively trying to mask the fact that you're a complete hermit and spend your entire existence behind a computer screen sipping hot tea and eating cakes. The first would be to suggest that you're somewhat introverted and avoid coffee. Another might be to suggest you're a fan of Apple Macs but are cutting-down from the 6 you used to have to an even two (Macbook and Mac Mini in turn). Finally you might choose to say that despite the massive pay-drop, this writing thing is quite a lark isn't it? Not to mention enjoying the creative life a lot more than mindless tedium in corporate jobs, working the 40 hour week to the drumming of endless meetings and political intrigue that would have made Machiavelli blush and hand his pen over to the corporate slugs that run companies these days. Enough said really.
