I figured you'd prefer a reference to the Ilmatu rather than a final visit from them, though they're quite nice once you learn how to build cages they can't get out of and what to feed them. For today then, we visit another character I quite like and you like less for probably the last time. He's in a good mood though :)
Winding down "They say that Mad Frankie's winding down his financial activities," said Jenny. She used to be a friend of mine, back in the days when she wore aluminium foil in her hair and hung around on street corners trying to drum up trade. Now she was wearing an Armani suit that didn't fit and make-up that seemed to have been put on a face five centimetres to the left of hers and was sitting in a burnt out Aston Martin. I didn't ask about her circumstances but I was curious as to why anyone would risk saying that about Mad Frankie. "Who say?" I growled. My voice is a mess and should probably be taken out behind the barn and shot as a service to humanity, but it's the only one I've got and so I keep on using it. Behind me I heard one of Jenny's friends throwing up -- I have that effect on people. "They," said Jenny, carelessly. Stupid, I thought. The Anger Management had ears and eyes everywhere, and Jenny thinking she'd gone up in the world wouldn't make a blind bit of difference to them. "The people at Cottenham and Casey." I turned away, broken glass crunching under my feet and the smell of yesterday's beer wrinkling my nose. "Say hello to your mother for me!" yelled Jenny and I ignored her. My mother tried to sell me twice before I was five and eventually abandoned me at a cigarette factory with a sign round my neck suggesting they used me a test subject. If I ever meet her again I won't be talking. I was thinking though. Cottenham -- Cottenham could go hang for all I cared. I'd met her at a luncheon in an art gallery where she thought I was the cleaner and I thought she was an exhibit. You can kind of tell from that that nothing went right from there on out. Casey though; Casey was a 'gentleman' of sorts who did business with my room-mate and if he was talking crap about Mad Frankie then he was pretty certain that Mad Frankie wasn't going to do anything about it. So... maybe it was true? Maybe Mad Frankie was finally winding up his financial operation? The acrid smell of vomit made me veer slightly to the left; Jenny's friends were closer than I'd realised. The dirty brick of the alley's buildings gave way to rainwashed stonework and I came out onto a broader street; the kind where the traffic wardens hurry over to give me a ticket and try and send me on my way. There were trees lining it and a sense that poor people didn't exist while you were stood here. Unlike the rest of the city, where everyone was poor except for Mad Frankie. Up above, in a sky the colour of aged concrete, snow started to fall. "Happy New Year, mister!" said a voice from my waist, and I looked down at the city's shortest traffic warden. "Move, or I'll ticket you!" I grinned, patted him on his head like a chihuahua (watching my fingers; the little ones bite) and staggered off into the night. If Mad Frankie was winding things up I needed to find out why.
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I figured you'd prefer a reference to the Ilmatu rather than a final visit from them, though they're quite nice once you learn how to build cages they can't get out of and what to feed them. For today then, we visit another character I quite like and you like less for probably the last time. He's in a good mood though :)
Winding down
"They say that Mad Frankie's winding down his financial activities," said Jenny. She used to be a friend of mine, back in the days when she wore aluminium foil in her hair and hung around on street corners trying to drum up trade. Now she was wearing an Armani suit that didn't fit and make-up that seemed to have been put on a face five centimetres to the left of hers and was sitting in a burnt out Aston Martin. I didn't ask about her circumstances but I was curious as to why anyone would risk saying that about Mad Frankie.
"Who say?" I growled. My voice is a mess and should probably be taken out behind the barn and shot as a service to humanity, but it's the only one I've got and so I keep on using it. Behind me I heard one of Jenny's friends throwing up -- I have that effect on people.
"They," said Jenny, carelessly. Stupid, I thought. The Anger Management had ears and eyes everywhere, and Jenny thinking she'd gone up in the world wouldn't make a blind bit of difference to them. "The people at Cottenham and Casey."
I turned away, broken glass crunching under my feet and the smell of yesterday's beer wrinkling my nose. "Say hello to your mother for me!" yelled Jenny and I ignored her. My mother tried to sell me twice before I was five and eventually abandoned me at a cigarette factory with a sign round my neck suggesting they used me a test subject. If I ever meet her again I won't be talking. I was thinking though. Cottenham -- Cottenham could go hang for all I cared. I'd met her at a luncheon in an art gallery where she thought I was the cleaner and I thought she was an exhibit. You can kind of tell from that that nothing went right from there on out. Casey though; Casey was a 'gentleman' of sorts who did business with my room-mate and if he was talking crap about Mad Frankie then he was pretty certain that Mad Frankie wasn't going to do anything about it. So... maybe it was true? Maybe Mad Frankie was finally winding up his financial operation?
The acrid smell of vomit made me veer slightly to the left; Jenny's friends were closer than I'd realised. The dirty brick of the alley's buildings gave way to rainwashed stonework and I came out onto a broader street; the kind where the traffic wardens hurry over to give me a ticket and try and send me on my way. There were trees lining it and a sense that poor people didn't exist while you were stood here. Unlike the rest of the city, where everyone was poor except for Mad Frankie. Up above, in a sky the colour of aged concrete, snow started to fall.
"Happy New Year, mister!" said a voice from my waist, and I looked down at the city's shortest traffic warden. "Move, or I'll ticket you!"
I grinned, patted him on his head like a chihuahua (watching my fingers; the little ones bite) and staggered off into the night. If Mad Frankie was winding things up I needed to find out why.
Greg - well I still appreciate you not bringing them around.
And hey, I like Mac just fine! Just as fine as most anybody could, I should think.
Anyway, it's nice to see he's still keeping good company and making new friends.
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