Night of The Hoover - Part 2

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Nighthoover Graphic by Greebo T Cat

Chapter 2

Drawing myself back to the present, I opened my case, and drew out some clothes and swiftly dressed, carefully checking my '45, before casting my mind back to the previous evening.

Joe's had been dark, it was always dark, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it was dirtier than usual, much much dirtier.

And then suddenly I remembered, I remembered what had happened! That fuzzy barkeeper hit me on the head with a frying pan! Smiling like a maniac too, with those red ears and sharp eyes, or was it the other way around, eyed ears and red sharps?

No, that couldn't have been it. That Semchevsky must have slipped something in my drink when I was playing pick-a-boo with his little girl Megan. That was probably why it turned all green and fizzy.

I took out the '45 again and checked the ammunition. Four slugs missing. Did I do the job or didn't I? Or did I forget to reload after the last job? I've been forgetful about things like that since the last time I had a run in with some of Semchevsky's usual goons. I never knew a haddock could do that much damage to the back of a head. Did I reload or not? I remember getting back to the office that night. It was supposed to be simple snoop and snitch job... a jealous husband as usual. Unfortunately for me, she was cheating on the sap... with Harry the Hammond Organ... Horrible rat that one. Just my luck the dame didn't like him smokin' in the room so he walked out and caught me peekin' before I could duck behind the corner. He would have beaten me to a pulp if I hadn't finally managed put a slug in his hip. I was just happy I was still wearing that disguise from the fancy dress party my secretary made me go to. There was little chance he would recognise me wearing gold lameƩ and a Morris maniac marzipan minolta mini skirt... actually, now I came to think of It, I didn't even know where the mini skirt came from.

I looked over the table, and eyed Pottsy through half closed eyes, she certainly was a strange sheep, like they used to say in my parts back then. And what kind of name is Pottsy anyway?

As I thought back I started wondering whether there was something wrong with my memory. I just couldn't remember how I got to that table with Pottsy, or who she was, or if this was a table at all or just a random collection of pieces of wood. Maybe I was still drugged. Yeah, that must be the answer. That would also explain why her earrings kept talking to me.

Night of The Hoover Archive

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09.09.04 Front Page

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