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Night Places

Charls Carroll

Night Places

I was sliding in and out of her on the first class long ticket the deepness of it the steepness of it she was calling for it all aboard the slick track tunnel that never hits the end unless you stop thinking of baseball. We both reached our destination sooner than the train stop. I was on my way to meet a specialist that Hogue and Malone had highly recommended for quiet infiltration and gentle neutralization when I ran into my old friend under me right now on the train ride over and we decided to catch up and reconnect our close relationship. She lurched suddenly and growned when she rolled off away from me. What’s wrong? I asked her, what are you dead? My mourning was fast and great as was my shock. Bang Thing, almost the last of The Inside Girls, either died of natural causes in the stabbin’ cabin or far more nefarious calculations turned our homecoming from what only a moment ago was a reminder of our deep mutual respect for one another into an ugly scene of a cold steel beam on the winter jobsite.

My culpability in her death set me off into a sightless beastine rage after which I woke up in the cocktail carriage walking on my hands doing my absolute with my feet to funnel enough scotch up my throat to bash a bat of rebar to a horse’s back. Bouncing off my hands I became the horse when I crashed through the door out the train no thang running on all fours the rest of the way to my next meeting giving me enough fresh air to decide how serious the woman was whose apartment I had just come from stumbling into after being tripped by a dainty nude leg stuck out the doorway too eager to run her apologetic mouth by way of reconciliation. I should have pulled her pins off and beat her with them as I know better now the baggage that came along with the gliding she dispensed unmatching blowing.

On my way to the gun store to pick up a serious order of grenades I’d be using in the future to blow people to pieces, I stumbled upon the view of a bare body with legs in the doorway of an apartment ahead of me on the left. I tried to walk around them but they went long for a quick second and got in between my feet, tipping me over onto the sidewalk. Reaching for my heater in case bodies needed to be riddled with jokes only I would find funny, I found staring up at me a delightful creature that commenced inside me a throbbing wanting need to find out what she was all about that the ole’ game of in and out would be indispensable at 3-D mapping the hinterland within that is to be my new abode for the next 30 minutes or so. Already I was bent back in half the wrong way cajoled smoothly entering the apartment wherein every room the bedroom, then shutting the door to prepare myself comfortably to make her my castle.

Heavy hands made my pants lead waders to the floor almost through the boards while I was still taking off my hat. Her mouth rolled over my hammer with such vacuum for a second I thought I was stabbed out through space, whatever that is, a hole in a starship, pointed in the direction of that which commands the most pull. I took a nearby phonebook to her head but those don’t mean nothing to a blower at its best. The back and forth set a breakneck pace she’d soon need a roll cage for though I resolved right then to first stay on my feet and second not to be drained dry for the rest of the day as my business as always pressed harder than the ultimate sucking.

—Give it! she gasped in between her face railing and swimming the butterfly at The Y olympic size with one quick second to catch her breath.

—I appreciate the hospitality miss, but you’re not stealing my vitamins.

A sudden knock at the door queued a prime opportunity to set her hair on fire with my lighter to whiplash bash her off the vacuum trance. I scampered in 6 inch steps with my pants at my ankles across the room and cold shouldered myself through the locked door, picked up the laden slack, and belt-tricked up leaving the thirsty boiler behind me unfilled as I rolled myself thus free into the outside fire. Thankfully I ran into Smitty during my fixing.

—What the Hell Chundoan, it sounded like somebody was cleaning a pond in there, I had to see for myself if you were hosing out granite.

—Slavery never ended, this lady was in the fast lane to sizzle my balls. I’d be walking on my knees right now hadn’t you arrived as a midnight guest. That’s all you in there Smitty, here, take my hat, the lights are off, go back in and catch the second half of that swinger. Hell on knees and one hole of a mouth, just be careful you don’t get your bag blasted, balloon man.

—I’m on it. I’m in on it.

He ran back in quick as I was shutting the door, pants in a pile over his shoesies and ready to see the act through. The pool girl must have slimed something on my pump that somehow got in Bang Thing. A poisoned revenge for the next lady that I battered down. Revenge though? Anybody who’s anybody knows women don’t like women as men like men but this seemed a ludicrous timebomb for even the most jealous mistress among us. Anyway, I needed to get back on the train over to the museum to meet my contact and hope the crew don’t recognize me, this was an impossible hope as we’ve all known each other for years for what seemed like thousands of years.


I could sense a female. Immediately gauging the push and pull of the near future mixing our proximity from that of relative distance to a closeness impossible to measure even by microscope. I took a look around to make sure I knew where I was. On orders to meet a woman who was also a member of The Inside Girls, the infamous team of hardcore operators, skilled in obtuse warfare and a fancy way of suppression specializing in quiet and comfortable neutralization at the Museum of the Mud and Filth of Scientism. I had come up to the entrance of the giant stupid cube ignoring the admissions fee as it was not real to me. I ain’t payin you, shit fool, I chuckled to the psycho looking guards who beckoned me in the knowing I was clearly a maniac bent on getting my fill of science for the day. The dim gallery was lined with periwinkle gold dance poles along easter camo walls. Hard on the eyes I wanted to doze is town. On the poles in frozen pose sordid glass remembrances of the science and scientist maniacs who rebuilt CRISPR which was and always has been used to design the test tube freak pharaohs that still plague the world today like no-cock roaches. Luckily each sculpture still retained the original’s thought patterns and they heard me out while I jeered but I wondered if they consented to their destiny being smelted in half the justice of the next world.

I reverse flew out in a frenzy after I saw what was eyeballing the wall’s atrocity and returned back in backwards. I was taking a gamble coming in hot but I needed to see if it would lead somewhere sliced. Hunched out on another tanic gamble, I lit 20 a-class cigarettes half-way through my now smokey b-line to the dark lady browsing to give her a taste of my irrefutable tone with a few happy slaps. She had something good about her and I wanted to see if I could jostle it out. Her skin was pitch black and I mean night. Her elevated attitude as I was sure would soon to be displayed did not disappoint one bit. I spun on my heels to face her. Deadpan smiles and tears of hidden delight were pouring down my face as rivers of sweet. Force though it may be by, must needs I scream to release my throttled mirth? What was bubbling up was true and inconvenient although deeply bidden in the Right World where everything serves to make The Laugh Hit Home. This got her attention. With a wild haste she spoke through her astonishment.

—I’m not black.

Not even God saw that one coming. I had to roll that snake off me before I chuckled and let it spit back at her.

—Excuse me miss?

I moved in with a swollen giggle-ridden face full of eyes closed casually as in a deep sleep.

—Oh, I didn’t realize you had your eyes closed, she said.

—Pardon me mam, there is something in both of my eyes.

—What’s wrong with your face?

—I just woke up.

—Are you okay?

—No. I whimpered.

She gave that some air as she considered clarifying the position of being one who looks such as she.

—There was an accident. They tried to make me invisible.


I was dead still needing to stifle a serious glee. She however hammered on.

—Are you high?

—Excuse me?

—I said are you high?

For a second I made myself forget the situation to squeeze out the rest of its zest. Time for the switcheroo before I forged onward for the gas.

—Am I high?

—Are you high? she repeated plainly.

I was starting to flip out now.

—Are you?

—Are you? she pressed.

—Yes but I’ve got lots of extra cigarettes and I’d like you to have a few while I sort out the agenda of this evening’s business.

—Thank you. You must be the one who was foretold by Hogue and Malone.

—Here I am. Let’s roll.

We strolled nice a bit to find someplace more private.

—Obviously you must be Nightmode, about whom some have quibbed “lights out to nightmares,” very nice to meet you. I was instructed to smoke you out for a hasty and rich enlistment for a moderately dangerous situation on our hands.

Said operation comprised itself of one part infiltration, two parts recovery of a stolen item, and three parts master coffin maker. A lone island off the coast of some rathole resided a member of The Death Club who had let his guard down recently by stealing sex from someboby’s wife. We had to get it back. Myself stood with Hogue and Malone, my employers general, back at the office building up a fast plan to wreak maximum havok.

—What must take from this scrub besides the light in his eyes? I had asked Hogue after laughing through the ultimate damage course we were preparing to lay upon this sweetboy’s doorstep.

—The smile on his face, he replied through a giant grin. Still beats me how the man could speak without his lips touching. This indicated to me he was speaking from a place deep within himself and he was real serious so I got my hat and coat on ready to make hast to continue sewing the necessary pieces to move forward with my usual wreckless disgression. On my way I passed by Malone who was grinning a burning grin that knew so much, he looked like he wanted to burn in Hell. On went I to the place of meeting.

—I’ll do this job with you but first I gotta make sure you’re on the level, Nightmode said and got to moving. She made that direct slide over the same way I was, automatic and greedy. Us both submitting to a divine movement that is a pathway executed in unison willfully feeding on red vibrations hot flash demanding an act in accordince to the natural law and machinery that governs this entire dimension where cunt is currancy. Nightmode dropped the sledge of night washing over me a drop the slam magnet nobody on Earth could stop. Slowly at first followed by quickness of anticipation I began testing her interior to see if she had what she took. The walls were closing in on me. As it turned out she was black on the side blacker even and it was not an unpleasant experience. Her all fours were all tens on her back laid bigtime flat on the floor doing angels without the snow. After a little bit of the thing I was coerced by force to stuff a sock in her mouth as I didn’t need undue assassinations under my belt if security were alerted to the mayham playing out in the room beside them. It is well I didn’t go too hasty with my hydrolics, hencewise you know how goes the geyser of completion that puts a man soon to bed. I still had it in me. My wits and energy were required to endergo rightly the upcoming jaunty operation and what was needed was the vitality to fashion and invitation those poor souls intent on resisting our swagger to their own private gas chamber, without the gas without the chamber, excepting the bullet kind.


—I’m on the level. Now get ready for action.


Night time on the island we treated the tares set upon us as lower than lobsters, exterminating them and depotheosizing them in the hopes that Hell would be filled by the time our own reckoning came. I killed the engine on our boat and we skated in when the moon was right as not to come back from all the shooting to find our way out was nowhere. She ran up ahead and danced up the two spotlights perched on towers in casual surveillance. There weren’t as many people posted as I had assumed, must have been a holiday. It was good and dark and Night has a way of creeping up on you so it was easier for her to catch the men patrolling the compound off guard and put them to sleep smartly in the shadows. Me on the other hand went in trucking because I had to be loud. Those lights were the first to go on my list, the only task left on it now was kill. It didn’t take long till the lights were off and men were asleep all around me by their posts, they looked like they had their minds blown by Nightmode’s Tightness, a move that took no prisoners.

The break lasted only a second when I flew her unseen like she was made out of paper while flailing, a ragdoll over a fence towards men roused by the scuffling that lucky for us saw only two eyeballs rushing in on them out of thin air as she landed with a straddle around one man instantly rendering him robbed of his violent impulses by waves upon waves of soothing relaxo while the other man she kept occupied with the nimbly hands of a woman who knows how to stop a man in his tracks. She works fast and she works right, not the last pigging I saw that night.

Our spent hosts were never a match for a refined demonlian team such as ourselves so we ran forth through the gates into the penetrated compound that hid our target. Hallways of nobody and doors to nowhere because I knew at the end was the special room where our man could have still been sleeping his last sleep or if he was up should be tying a noose for himself, useless as I was willing to bring him back from the dead just to kill him again. A metal door signified the last line of defence on either side of which stood sleeping robots. Not even electronics could resist Nightmode’s creaseless nubility.

I gave the door the special knock Malone had instructed and our man inside opened it quickly, hoping facing him would be the exact somebody who wasn’t me. It was me though. He raised a revolver so I pulled him out and in the dance of it cleaved his shooting arm off with a downward chop of my hat followed by headbutt to his shoulder that detached the other arm holding daisies strangled in the fist, and flattened him on the ground with a refrigerator, now he’d been hit by a house. The sheer velocity of it enabled this dandy hat trick. If anything at all in the world flies at you fast enough it’ll kill you. Though he didn’t die yet. His eyes told me a hurried story of defiance which was rich because his body was useless except its faculties of expression while being on the beating end of a mean pummelling. He began puking.

—Get your act together Simpson, I’m gonna make you a mop! I yelled then I flipped him upside down and turned him into a mop with a rabid windmill. He needed to be better as a mop so I grabbed the nearest broom to skewer him, running him across the floor with easier management from the ridigity of his transformed mechanics. He tried to get some of his final spewing all over my new coat so habit took me to a place of pulling out the automatic already firing as I pulled it out of my holster blasting full Pussy Simpson with so much lead you could have used him as a pencil for writing its own obituary in permanent red ink.

—No more pussy for playboy, I told him. Annihilation is his future now, I told myself.. I made sure this by dumping 50 grenades I had cooking down his drawers and dropkicking him back into his safe room and closing the door. I couldn’t hear any explosions because Nightmode and I were laughing way too hard to notice anything but our realtime descent into hilarity and completion that called for a unique celebration on the boat shortly afterwards culminating into explosions of our own.

After I got back from the island to my own neck of the woods, I drove back over to the blower furnace to check if she gotten too involved with my business as was healthy for her. The sun was coming up now golden and bright on the East Side out beyond her apartment which was distinctly known to me as a place where sex happens. The lights were on and somebody was home. A somebody that better not have had anything sideshow to do with the untimely deletion of Bang Thing. I opened and shut the door, then walked through it, whipping off my belt smoking all the cigarettes in the world.

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