the second sight episode 23

THE SECOND
SIGHT

Chapter 23

Location: lust-ful li-pS

There is a giggle behind him, and a face pressed itself against his back.

He smells the perfume then, and then he relaxes as he recognizes the sweet scents of VERONICA, one of the hottest stri-ptease dancers in the club.

VERONICA

(voice muted)

Hello, handsome. Never knew you can be so ticklish. Missed you, Yaw Boat, you sweet devil.

Boat turns, stepping out of the circle of her arms.

She is in a white mini-skirt and a halter top with no br@, her n¡pp|es sticking out, pushing the fabric invitingly.

She has beautiful br£-$ts, and she is amazing in bed, one of the sweetest. Normally Boat would have greeted her with a long sweet ki-ss as his hands maul her br£-$ts, but that night he didn’t even dare touch her.

Hanging from her ne-ck is a black, tadpole-like horror. Its tail is wound around her ne-ck, and its scaly, disgusting body is splashed across her br£-$ts and belly whilst its stunted head is buried de-ep between her thi-ghs.

She steps forward and links her arms around his ne-ck, her br£-$ts firm against his che-st.

VERONICA

(huskily)

I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart.

Boat ha-rdly hears her.

A yellow glow fills his vision and he pushes back a bit and looks down.

The head of the ugly demon has come out of her thi-ghs, and it is regarding him out of a black face entirely taken up by a single, hu-ge, jelly-like yellow eye fixed on the points of its chin.

Disgust rises up in Boat, and might have shown on his face because Veronica pulls back slightly, her face going dark momentarily.

VERONICA

(sharply)

What’s wrong, Yaw? Why do you look like that?

Boat for-ces out a wan smile.

BOAT

Sorry, love. Haven’t been feeling well lately.

She comes close to him again, her eyes once more filled with lust.

VERONICA

Poor sweet darling!

Mercifully, the black disaster sli-ps effortlessly off her ne-ck and floats lazily away, still upside down.

It reached one of the glas-s booths and dra-pes its tail around the ne-ck of the semi-nak-ed girl who is gripping her br£-$ts and gyrating sensuously. The demon’s head goes between her thi-ghs, and creeps upward.

Boat looks away, sickened to the core of his depths.

VERONICA

My shift ends in thirty minutes, darling boy. I’ll join you upstairs immediately I’m done. Save some white flour for me, please. I’ve missed you so. I’m going to blow your mind tonight, baby. I want to screw you all night long!

She clamps hot, hungry li-ps on his and ki-sses him ha-rd, her right hand dropping to caress the front of his trousers.

Boat shudders with sudden disgust, and his br@in reels with the impact of his thoughts. If this had happened only a few hours ago, he would have carried her upstairs immediately and fulfilled her every wish.

Now he has seen too much, and I has been throu-ghtoo much. There is no s-×ual urge left in him. He is drained, both physically and emotionally, and his libi-dois at an all-time low.

She steps back with a luscious sigh finally, and he almost cries with relief.

She lets him go reluctantly and walks toward one of the discs, already peeling off her halter top and tossing it to a jeering fat man whose face is contorted severely by a multi-coloured ugly suc-king something out of his right ear, its pudgy fat legs wriggling with great enjoyment.

Boat watches, and a miserable sigh escapes throu-ghhis li-ps.

The elevator takes him to the first floor.

He is sweating, and feels oppressively hot and weak.

He cannot wait to get the hell out of that place.

Control and patience have sli-pped out the backdoor somewhere, and he is seeing the face of insanity more and more with each pas-sing second.

He will not be surprised at all if he suddenly stri-ps nak-ed and dances samba in the street. Madness is beginning to seem like a sweet release, a blissful land of no return where he can drool and do tap-dancing forever without caring about the scary things his poor eyes are seeing.

The elevator opens unto a sleek corridor, wide enough to admit a truck, and exotically decorated with plants, soft lights and life-like nu-de models in outrageous poses. It is, according to Bob, the Corridor of Lust. He claimed that he got a ha-rd-on each time he hit that corridor.

Room 012, found at the end of the corridor, has always been reserved for Boat. Once upon a time he plied his drug trade in that room, rented for him by Bob.

That is the room he sold the cocaine, and tonight he would have sold fresh cocaine there, but no more. He is just going to refund their monies, and then he will go home and wait for his father.

Faint music drifts from the floor above.

Boat knows that the casino is in full flight, and gambling is the king of the night.

As he is opening the door to Room 012 a couple come down the stairs. They are the weirdest couple Boat has ever seen.

Drugs has reduced them to skeletons, and their clothes hung on them like tents.

The woman has once been a famous singer, but now her voice is shot to hell. Her nose is hu-ge and constantly bled; Bob used to say cocaine has opened a harbour in her nose. Her wide mouth is garishly made, and she has front teeth the size of baby elephants.

The man is said to be from a royal family, and is wealthy, but there is nothing royal about him now. He looks as if he can die any day.

The weird thing about them is that they bear an uncanny resemblance to each other. They could have pas-sed for twins.

Boat had sometimes argued with Bob about it. Bob believed that they are indeed brother and sister, caught up in the taboo game of incest, and just pretending they are man and wife to hide their incestuous blasphemy. That always got a mad cackle out of Boat.

Remembering one of those occasions suddenly, Boat is suddenly as-sailed again by sadness at Bob’s violent and totally avoidable death.

The woman inhales de-eply on a long, thin cigarette and blows out a thick cloud of smoke. She sp-ots Boat, and bore down on him like a hawk which has sp-otted a crippled chicken.

Her extra-long fingers goes up, her li-ps stretching open in a smile which had been alluring and s-×y once, but which now looks like the business end of hell.

Rosy and Freddie, they are called, and people pretend to like them because they are loaded, but in reality they freak everybody out.

They are, of course, part of Boat’s clientele … or used to be.

ROSIE

(in a dry hoarse voice)

Hello, Boat-Love! I’ve waited so long for you. Did you bring us our honeycombs?

Boat looks at her with total disgust.

Life was like that sometimes.

Cocaine is eating her heart out and killing her each second, and what name does she call it … honeycomb!

She moves close to Boat, and she is inches away from touching his face when a bubbly demon explodes off her face and leers at Boat.

Boat is caught unawares, and he is not prepared for it.

He is just looking at her and thinking his thoughts in a cool sort of way, and for a moment, a brief relief-filled moment, he has forgotten about it all, about the little uglies destroying his peripherals, and suddenly this ashy smoky demon is shooting right out of her face and almost reaching out to touch him.

It is bulgy, like some inflated thing, although it looks rotten, and terrible yellowish-pus leaks out of cracks in its face, its octagonal pink eyes creeping with tiny, horrible mosquito-like creatures.

A fat, cylindrical tongue shoots out of a round mouth filled with long, white hair-like structures, and lic-ks Rosy’s hu-ge nostrils with slurping enjoyment.

The tongue shoots towards Boat’s nose, and as he reels backwards with disgust and fear it dawns on him that this particular despicable demon likes lic-king noses.

Boat’s momentum makes him hit the door, and it swings open.

Rosie’s momentum carries her forward towards Boat with Nose-lic-ker demon still trying to lic-k his nose.

Boat side-steps and out of fear he cli-ps her on the side of her head, not too ha-rd but enough to redirect her rush, and she cries out with pain and goes sprawling into the room.

Boat doesn’t hit women, and he hates guys that are violent to women. It is not his intention to hit her head, but that thing …that ashy demon with its octagonal pink eyes and bloated tongue filled him with panic.

That damn ashy turd was bent on lic-king his nose, or doing something worse.

It didn’t retreat and show reverence to him like the other uglies did; that ashy turd was intent on getting its damned tongue somewhere inside his nose, and it freaked him out, and he hit out as a reflex!

Freddy, her husband, cries with horror and rushes to his wife’s side, gathering her into his arms. He looks up at Boat, and shockingly Boat sees tears glittering on the man’s eyelashes.

FREDDY

(heartbroken)

Rosie, darling sweet pawpaw! Are you okay? Why did you hit her, you f*¢king bastard?

Boat ba-rely hears him as his horrified eyes fix themselves on that bloated ashy demon.

That vile thing is je-rking spasmodically with obvious relish, its disgusting tongue lapping the woman’s nostrils first, and then it directs its tongue into Freddy’s nostrils, drilling de-ep, lic-king ha-rd.

Vomit rises up in Boat’s throat and he I turns a disgusted face away from them and heads for the safe in one corner of the room.

Never in his life has he seen anything so disturbing, so disgusting and so vulgar!

f*¢king demons, he thinks viciously.

He inputs the combinations on the safe and picks up a ledger. He opens it, traces the names to see Freddy/Rosie, looks at the amount entered, and then he counts out money from the safe.

BOAT

(thickly)

Here, take your money. I no longer sell coke.

FREDDY

You f*¢king bastard!

Rosie’s face changes into a terrible palsy pallor.

ROSIE

(hoarsely, scared)

What did you say? No, no, no, Boat, you can’t do that to us. No, you can’t-

Her voice trails off as phlegm and blood suddenly gush out of her nostrils. Her narrow shoulders slump, and she begins to weep uncontrollably.

Freddy is still sitting on the floor, glaring up at Boat.

FREDDY

You f*¢king bastard!

Boat wonders if he has gone catatonic, fixed in position so that all he can remember is a little stupid phrase like ” you f*¢king bastard”.

They sicken Boat, all of them!

But the real catch is that no one sickened him more than himself. Things have gone round, and the shit has hit the fan.

Disorder has come to town for the Halloween, and he is its first unwilling victim.

He gives them their money and firmly make them go out; she is weeping uncontrollably now and more blood drips from her nose. It seems that nose-lic-king demon has really gone a bit too far.

Boat closes the door, picks up his ledger and a pack of white envelopes, and begins to count out monies, stuff them in envelopes and writing the names of the people on it.

There is really a lot of money in there and it will take him quite some time to refund all that.

He sighs, and settles down to do it.

It takes him a full hour to refund monies back to his former clients who are in the club that night.

He keeps the rest in the safe, to be refunded another day.

Some cried, some gave vent to vituperations and blackmail and threats. Boat doesn’t really care.

He is well past that point where human emotions bothers him, especially drug addicts.

He is cruising in his own kind of madness, and doesn’t give a damn what people feel about him … especially drug addicts.

Exhausted physically and emotionally, he is locking up the safe for the night when the door opens, and Veronica walks in.

She stops just inside the room and smiles seductively at him. Boat stares at her, expecting a hideous creatures to begin shooting out of her body, but nothing happens.

She is now wearing a knee-length leather jacket, leather boots with spiked heels …and she looks stunning as ever.

She reaches out and turns the key in the lock.

Tbc…