I feel like...

coughing up my skeleton and hanging it up in the closet for a while. I'll put myself back together for important events, but in the meantime I'm just bored.

It's hard to see someone you love pissing and shitting their brain away on drugs and booze and losing their grip on reality. I mean, yeah, I get it. Reality is shit. Play a video game. But the rest of the time I'm not really interested in having a conversation with your fucked up subconscious. Some times it's good to have a clever filter between thoughts and actual verbage.

Moderation is my new religion. Actually, it's not new at all. I'm just giving it a title. I'm constantly striving to find balance, or health. Either one really. Ever play the Sims? Yeah, I like to keep all my bars in the green. And I suppose it's a good thing that I have this inborn need to care about other people's green bars. But, to be honest, I'm beginning to think I don't give a smoldering shit. I could give a fart, though. I could at least manage that. But I'm tired and I don't have the energy lately. Wagh.

Please hold the life lessons, I'm just venting. But maybe a side of prayer for Fuck-head Boozer. May they get a firm grip of a piece of reality that they can actually stomach. Amen.

Update:
Oh, and sorry for the meager posting. This Maiden doesn't feel like doing... anything. I hope I find my gusto soon. I also quit nursing Gremlin a little while ago and I think my hormones are so wacked that I have a testicle growing in my armpit and the only food that sounds good to me is a large stuffed-crust pepperoni, olive, and jalapeno from Pizza Hut. Oh, and if Husband even thinks of trying to knock me up again I'm reporting him for spousal abuse. I'll come up with the bruises somehow. Hell, I'd even shoot myself in the foot. Fuck breeding.

Hush, Now

It's quiet.

She stands in the middle of the room and turns slowly. The room is small and the walls feel like they're getting closer, but it's an illusion. It has to be an illusion. The floors are tiled black and white and there's a dried up stone fountain attached to one of the walls. She whips her head around, her long dark hair flushing out, and she looks over her shoulder. The silence is causing her to be edgy and paranoid. She looks up above and the walls seem to go as high as she can see. Somehow, though, there was a bright natural light as if the sun were shining through a window. There were no windows. Old vines crept up the stone walls and entangled the still fountain. She put her hand to her throat and swallowed nervously.

She crouched down and placed her palm flat on the tiles all the while twisting and looking over her shoulder, above her, and everywhere at once. She felt a subtle vibration and placed her second hand on the floor to get a better feel. There, on her hands and knees, she broke the silence with a furious shout. She pulled all of the energy in the room into her core and tucked her head in low, protectively. She released the energy and a low rumbling blast erupted all around her in a circular manner. Where the tiles had laid beneath her there was now a shallow crater with cracks branching outwards from her shaking body. The fountain that had been on the wall lay crumbled on the warped floor. The walls, though, were the same as before.

She slumped the rest of the way to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees and took low deep breaths, recovering from the power she'd spent. She stared vapidly at the walls that had taken no damage from her. She resigned herself to her captivity.

For most of you...

This is all you get. Part of the Gremlin's birthday get-up.

This music makes me cry, and I ain't a pussy.

Well... maybe I am.

Now hear this (once you get through the quick interview in the beginning):


I've been going through a major Bon Iver phase lately and my good friend just emailed me the link to the above video. It was her first introduction to his music and, wow, what an introduction. Anyways, here is the recorded version of the first video.

Enjoy, and if you get a chance to hear 'Wisconsin' do it. That song moves me more than Ex lax. I wasn't able to find it online because it's a bonus track on the disc. And, well, I'm lazy.

This has reached a new level of awesome.

I am posting this from my iPhone right now. Technology is so yummy. All of you should go sell your firstborn or sexual favors to get one; trust me, it's worth it.

I'm tired, the in-laws went home a little while ago and it's time for Maiden to snuggle up with her new best friend and dream sweet dreams. Alas, I just had the strange thought that this little device is slowly taking over my mind and soon Apple will own my will to live...

I guess that doesn't sound so bad, at least it comes with perks. But just to be safe I won't sleep with the new phone too close to my head tonight.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Yep, it's one year old today. There is a tutu, there will be a cupcake all over the face, and there will be BBQ. No, I'm not going to BBQ the baby... Although I'm convinced that it's first birthday is meant to celebrate the fact that I haven't eaten it yet. I'm pretty sure it's made of cotton candy and confetti sprinkles on the inside.

Mmmm, baby.

The Gremlin will be referred to as 'it' until it proves itself human. It worries me.

One last bad poem.

I miss you so much, dad
You're breaking my heart
I never thought it would hurt this bad
To forever be apart

Ever since I could write
I wrote you bad poems
For birthdays and father's days
And welcoming homes

But I never did think
That my last poem to you
Would be written with ink
Splattered with tears and snot, too

I hope you are happy
I hope you are free
I hope there's no pain
That you're thinking of me...

Your grand-baby is beautiful
She would have loved you
Her joy is unceasing
She's starting to walk, too

I miss you so much, dad
I want it to end
I want to know you more
Yet time just won't lend

A dime for your thoughts?

So I just heard that my little sister, Natty, got a dime stuck up her nose the other day and the turds in the ER couldn't get it out so they had to go to a nose doctor. By the way, who grows up and says "you know, I think I want to be a nose doctor." OBGYN's I get, most of 'em are men and they're paid to be professional muff-divers. But nose doctor? Get a real job.

Anyways, I can't help but wonder what my dad would have done if he were still around. Maybe let her leave it up there for a while and convince her that she would now be spending the rest of her life hearing the words: 'spare some change?'.

I'm such a nosy bitch.

So I've been going through the papers that I've collected, weeding out the things that Bane wrote creatively vs randomly, and I came across some old e-mails that he'd printed out. The person he was corresponding with is apparently an old friend of my families that I don't don't know. Or maybe this person is family. Anyways, I was all curious about this person so I googled the name and their website was the first to pop up. Interesting...

So I continued on with my sooper dooper investigative skills and found an e-mail under the 'contact us' section. Yeah, that was hard work right there. Technology these days makes everyone a private dick, in more ways than one.

In a moment of boldness I decided to e-mail this person and get some first hand information about the juicy details I'd been reading about from ten years ago. Sure I could just talk to my grandparents, but I prefer to go to the source. But to make this whole situation even more fantastic, I can't sign into my e-mail all of a sudden. Does Bane not want me to contact this person? God?

My e-mails just down, fuckheads, quit reading into it. But maybe... just maybe...

I'm only here because my server's down...

There's a T-shirt, but I refuse to buy it and stoop to that level of nerd-dom.

I put my kid down for a nap and all I want to do is sign on to play WoW, kill some shit, stay distracted, talk to my brothers. But no, those motherfuckers created a new patch that is going to take THREE goddamn hours to load. I'm just in a huff.

Come on, you nerds that are lurking out there, you know you want to start an Alliance character on Silvermoon and add Beerplsty to your friends list. 1g goes to the first reader that psts me! Or if you prefer Horde go to Lethon and add Eatkittens. I know you're out there.

Sorry for writing about all this fluffy 'who gives a shit' stuff. I don't touch politics because I'm yung and dum and I fear I'm way out of my league with this crowd. I'll just read all of your blogs and learn me something. Whether you're right or wrong, or stupid, I'll decide for myself.

I'm finally ready to start typing up my dad's random shit that he wrote. So here goes. Wish me luck.

Oh, how I love metal...

Let me count the ways:

1. Metallica concert in a couple of months.

2. Big Marine brothers to watch my back.

3. Leaving the Gremlin with a baby hungry mother of older children that misses the little Gremlin stage so much that every time I see her she pees a little at the idea of watching my superior child.

4. Having a beer or two (*Cough* yeah right...) and not remembering any of it.*

5. Worshiping at the alter of James Hetfield, the sexiest old dude out there. Husband has known from the start that he will always be 2nd in my heart.

*This may not occur if I can practice good self control. But, really, who wants to do that?

Yeah, I can't wait.

Damn people...

Wanting to socialize and 'be there for me'.

Um, I'd rather just blog and play video games. I'm really not in the mood to get all drunk with you so that you can draw some emotion out of me because you think it would be good for me to talk about all that's happened lately. I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. To. You.

I can't tell if last night was a social dinner with friends, or a sneak attack on my spirituality. And then I have to wonder, do Mormons feel a need to bring even Christians into their faith? Greedy bastards. You are not the only answer! It's just too roundabout for my taste. So there's this Joseph Smith guy... ok. And at some point you get to wear fancy underpants? Well, that sounds kind of fun, but no thanks. The Christian faith is way more of my style. I only have to believe in one guy, well that would be God. And I only have to accept His love and forgiveness...? I'm a pro at that by now. Sounds like this one doesn't really require a lot of me, I'll take it!

I prefer to fear the Almighty in my own lazy way.

Anyways, now we have people coming up to stay with us for the weekend, and like I said, this is really going to get in the way of my video games. But I'm a closet nerd so I have to suffer quietly and sneak off to bed early and snuggle up with my lap-top in the dark.

Bitch, bitch, bitch...

Time Flies When You're Having Babies.

Gremlin will be One Year Old on the 16th and I can't believe how fast this last year has gone. The little bastards really do suck the life out of you, eh? She's at the stage where changing her diaper is an impossible feat without putting her in restraints and dosing her with a sedative. I've had to stoop to bribing most of the time. I just want to understand her thinking somehow. Wait, you WANT to have shit in your pants for a while longer? You like the way it squishes? Hmm, well I want you to be happy, honey, but you need to realize that you'll probably get a rash and your ass-cheeks will fall off. No one will ever love you, then.

The other night I was changing her diaper and poo was everywhere yet she still thought it was a good idea to try to twist away from me and flee, naked and poo covered, into the other room. I held tight to my little buckin' bronco and threatened 'hold still or I'll punch you in the face'. Oh gawd, did Husband ever flip. 'Did you just threaten to punch a baby in the face?' 'Yep, and I'd do it again'.

My favorite is when she's throwing a full-force shit-fit (literally) and I hold some thing shiny in front of her and she immediately goes quiet and her eyes get big and she says 'Oh wow' and grabs the pen, cell phone, keys, whatever I've grabbed desperately. Then I know I have a thirty second window to do my thing before round two starts.

Babies are such a pain in the vagina.

Pac-Nor-Wes

Cuz it's kewl to abbrvte things, right?

I figger most of you bastards already know the region I live in from reading Bane and all of the post-Bane... posts. But the weather fucking sucks here, and daddy would not approve of me letting on where you MIGHT be able to find me. Bitch, please. Come to my home, just give me a reason to put a bullet through your insignificunt skull. I've been waitin' for a good fight for a long time and I'll take what I can get.

Oldest Brother jokingly referred to me as 'Scrappy-Doo' because when we go out on the town and have a few drinky-poo's he observes as I calm-cool-collect attempt to egg on any one I can. I'm re-dick-less-ly good looking, though, so no one will mess with me because they're too distracted by my eye-balls. It's a vicious cycle, I want to kill, but no one will give me a good reason because they're too busy worshiping me.

Anyway's, I'm going to go play WoW now. Those of you nerds out there that know what I'm talking about also know why I might disappear for a little while on Nov. 13th.

Your thoughts?

Update:
I just busted ass about six times in a row with the same consecutive sound every time and Husband was aghast.

I explained to him that I just choked a gerbil to death with my anus and he had to hear the suffering last words of the poor creature.

That's how I roll.

Warning: It's not what you think.

“Mommy,”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m hungry.”

“I know, baby.” The tall, dark woman gripped the collar tightly with her left hand. The massive Rottweiler pulled against the tension reactively. She shifted her gloved fingers beneath the collar to get a better hold. Leather creaked in the silence as she raised her right hand and placed the barrel to the beasts head. “Don’t look, baby, I’m just going to help him take a nap.”

“I don’t want to put Chief to sleep, mommy, he’s such a good boy.”

“I know baby, but he’s going to look out for you in a different way now.” With that she nodded to the little girl, motioning for her to turn away. She pressed the barrel more firmly to the wiry fur and winced as she pulled the trigger. There was a muted sound of compressed air against metal and a sudden whimper as the dog slumped to the ground. “Eat, baby.”

“But he’s dead.”

“He’s just sleeping, you’ll be fine. You’re going to help him take the best nap he’s ever had.” Her voice was stern, yet reassuring. It wasn’t just a promise, it was a command.

The little girl reached up and wiped a tear away. She leaned down and gently stroked the animal’s ears. “I’m so sorry, Chiefy.” With inhuman speed she struck the animals neck with her tiny sharp teeth and fed until the animal stopped breathing completely. She threw herself on the body and sobbed until the dark woman pried her off and held her in a loving embrace.

“Mommy’s going to make sure you never have to go hungry again, baby. I hope you can forgive me for this someday.” She ran her hand down the back of the girls head as she pressed her face to the woman and stifled her crying in an effort to be tough. The woman held her child tenderly and stared down the dark corridor, solemnly swearing to herself that she would make a better life for them. She heard the sound of footsteps marching in unison a mile away. She weakly stood up with the child in her arms and ran in the opposite direction of the footsteps echoing in her sensitive ears. She knew she had to eat soon, or she wouldn’t be able to protect her little girl.

These are a few of my favorite Bane's.

I know, enough with the Bane-posts already. Well, fuck you, I'm coping.

I couldn't sleep because I kept having images and memories of my dad when he was alive and also when, well, he wasn't. Fuck this.

Anyways, one of my favorite memories was when we were at home almost ten years ago and he threw this little number on the stereo:

Part II

And I danced to the beat around the house like a damn fool, especially during the drum solo, and he followed me around playing air guitar. It was the first time I'd ever heard this song, and he played it loudly and everyone else in the house avoided us like we were crazy street people that didn't know the date or current president. Not all memories were as sweet as this.

One of my last memories was when I was in town and I knew he hadn't been feeling well. This was in August. I left the Gremlin to sleep at the grandparents house and Mrs. Bane and the two younger kids were out of town on a road trip. I went over to the house and watched the Sarah Connor Chronicles with dad. I didn't really care about the show; I just wasn't that impressed. But dad loved it, and I was just happy to spend some time with the man. I did that a few nights in a row and we just sat there quietly enjoying each others company. Neither of us were much for talking, we did most of that online if we felt the need. Every time I saw him I wondered if it would be the last, but I was also in denial. I thought he was too young to go, and that he could get better and suddenly find a physical vitality to match his inner vigor. This, my friends, is what we call the 'denial' stage.

I've come to realize that I started going through the '5 stages of grief' long before my dad ever passed. But now I have the fun ones such as 'depression' and 'anger' to deal with. 'Acceptance' has been an underlying tone for this symphony of destruction, but that doesn't mean I'm at peace about this. Compare this to saying 'I accept that my foot's on fire, but goddammit-IT-HURTS-LIKE-A-SON-OF-A-BITCH!'

Another one of my favorites was on Halloween when I was probably about four years old. Now, picture this, I was a little fuzzy-headed blond-haired big-blue-eyed creature that most people would have wanted to hug and squeeze. But Bane only saw another victim for his... humor. That night he went around the house closing all of the blinds and locking all of the doors and explaining that tonight was the night that all of the cannibals and zombies came out to eat little children and set fire to those that would oppose them. We were living in a college town at the time and every time drunken students yelled outside my window I had visions of people violently eating each other and waving their torches like savages. Ah, memories.

There are so many stories to tell, and I think I'm on emotion overload. Which reminds me of the time Bane told me he was concerned that I might be a sociopath. He said he'd seen some things in my behavior that were red flags. Now I can look back and see that in some strange way he might have been hoping/dreading that he wasn't alone.

As hard as he tried, even if indirectly, he was never alone. He was so loved. Goddammit.

Akin to growing up with Bane.

I can joke if I want to.

The Funeral.

It was beautiful and somber. Quiet and short, a no-bull-shit occasion. Bane received military honors, the flag was presented to Mrs. Bane, the guns were fired, the people cried. Damn guns woke up a napping Gremlin, too. There were long stemmed deep red roses in glass vases with big black satin bows. And my dad, who was once larger than life sat in a box on a table, dwarfed by the folded American flag. I was already pretty cynical, but seeing the end of life in such a manner has only made me more staunch. The people you love, to include yourself, are all that matters. Everyone else that is just there as an on screen extra can go suck a dirty twat. Eww, sorry. Gremlin, once awake, was waving and smiling and squeaking at everyone. It was such a stark contrast, the pure joy of a new life and the wicked dread of a life lost.

I'm so sick of saying goodbye. This has been the hardest pill I've ever had to swallow. When I see Bane again, I'm going to kick him. And I can just picture him recoiling and yelling "Ow!" with a grin on his face. His parents, my grandparents (duh), made a poster board with pictures of Bane throughout his life. There were a lot of pictures of him taking bites out of birthday cake with who ever the lucky birthday gremlin was. But the one where he looked the happiest and most devious, the one that captured Bane in his essence, was the picture of him hunkered down behind a .50 cal. Most of us (the Bane brood) had never seen the picture before and it was heartwarming to see him look so happy.

I had always wanted to be close to Bane, yet he was a pro at pushing those closest to him away. Yes, this is the time where I list my regrets. Now, shut up and let me pout. As I was saying... Long before I ever started blogging I use to scan Bane's blog to see if he mentioned me. I wanted to know he was proud of me, and that he thought of me. Of his four older children I am the youngest and only girl. With father Bane and three older brothers I'm pretty sure that means I was screwed from the start. And of course now that he's gone I'm hearing from everyone how proud he was of me and my little family. Fuck, that's just great, can I have my dad back now? I could care less if he thinks I'm a shit-scuff, just give him another chance. No? I thought so. Bastards.

A full dose of Betty.

I've edited and rewritten a couple things in this story and added another piece. I'll specify further down where the newest part is.

“I never claimed to be a lady. Now give me my gun and clear out so I can finish taking this shit.” Betty Hazard was a dangerous woman. “And don’t even think about lighting that fucking cigarette, the air is so goddamn thick in here you’d likely kill us all.” Harry handed her the long rifle and left the room as quickly as if his ex-wife were in the corner waving legal papers at him. Betty kicked the bathroom door shut. Her legs were like James Bond, as dangerous as they were sexy. She perched the stock of her gun on her thigh, leaning the long barrel up against her shoulder. The thin strap of her tank-top slid down to her elbow as she reached back to flush.

Betty chuckled at her own joke as she swiped her cigarettes off of the counter and lit one while the gun rested in the crook of her arm. She didn’t really care what Harry did as long as she got a moment alone. She inhaled the smoke, savoring the moment, and opened her mouth just slightly. She enjoyed the way the smoke drifted upwards in front of her. People thought she was just being cunning when she told them her name. With her black, wavy hair and red lips and a name like ‘Betty Hazard’ people thought she was full of shit. Not anymore. She leaned the rifle against the wall and shimmied her stockings up under her skirt.

She stepped over to the sink and leaned towards the mirror above it. She opened her lips wide to inspect her teeth and rubbed the smeared make-up out from under her eyes. She was tired, but she had a job to do.

“You can do this.” She confided to herself. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve had to kill one.” She listened to Harry pacing outside the bathroom door. With a strengthened resolve she stuffed the soft pack of smokes into her blouse and snatched her gun from its resting place.

When she walked out into the main room Harry paused his pacing and shot Betty an impatient glare. “Can you hurry the fuck up, Betty? I want to get this guy out of here; the others are going to come after him soon if they sense we still have him.”

“Your fly’s down, Harry. Could you stop being such a slob?” She strode across the room and came to a stop in front of a door. She breathed in and placed her hand on the door knob. In one fluid motion, Betty opened the door and aimed her rifle at the creature chained to its chair in the center of the dark room. She fired a slug right through its forehead by way of introduction.

“Aw, fuck me, Betty! Was that really necessary?” The creature hissed as it tried to pull its hands up to inspect the wound but came short when the chain snapped taut.

“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that…” Betty pulled an empty chair in front of the creature and stomped her boot onto it, leaning her rifle across her lap and cocking her head to one side while she watched the creature. Its human shell began sliding off of the head revealing a black void in the shape of a man. The darkness coming through threatened to suck what light there was out of the room.

“What were you going to do with that little girl?” Betty asked.

“Why, you jealous?” The creature was turning into a mess, the head of its human shell slid down to the shoulder of the shadowy form. As it spoke the contorted mouth still moved in unison to the thing’s voice. Betty let loose another slug into the creatures’ groin. The thing writhed in the chair. If it’d had a face of its own it would have been lost in pain.

“I love that you guys feel human pain while your shell is still attached. It’s like a small gift from the On High.” With that Betty reached her hands forward and grasped the things black head. She stared into the void and forced her fingers into it. Black ooze gushed out and dripped down her forearms. The thing quaked in its seat, the torment so deep that it couldn’t make a sound. Betty’s fingers searched for her prize. When she felt something cold and round she pulled her hands free creating a sucking sound and spurting black ooze from the newly created holes in the sides of the things head. She held her prize up in front of her and inspected it with a growing smile. Satisfied with the kill she opened the satchel that hung from her belt and dropped the cold black orb. It made a dull sound as it settled against others of its kind.

***

The thing crept through the shadows on the wood flooring on all fours. It knew she was here, it could sense it. The thing grinned in the darkness anticipating the mayhem it would bring down. She’d been killing it’s kind for too long. It was time for her to get what she had coming. The thing pulled the shadows in around it like a loose cloak as it cautiously crept forward. It could always call on the darkness, the element from which it was wrought. A thin stream of putrid saliva dribbled down the things chin and it pulled it’s forearm up and wiped the drool away with a sneer.

Closer.

She would belong to it soon. She would learn firsthand how it meticulously went about it’s evil tasks. She would learn to appreciate how talented it actually was. The thing crept up to the foot of the bed and took a quiet, purging breath. It hated having to breathe, reminding it of the confines of the body it took on. But it needed a solid form to complete it’s task.

It gripped the footboard of the bed and leaned back a little only to lunge upward on to the mattress. It’s eyes grew wide and time stood still as the details of the situation sunk in. She wasn’t on the bed. It heard the resonant sound of metal against metal as what sounded like a chain slid down and thumped on the floor. It was her. The thing froze in it’s attack as a look of confusion stole it’s face. She was supposed to be where it had sensed her. She always kept her filthy satchel that carried the essence of it’s ilk. She never let it out of her reach and it could sense it’s defeated brethren calling out to be restored. It looked down and saw the satchel on the bed.

She was sitting in a chair close by. She had a boot propped up on one armrest as she leaned on the other. Her lovely face that it had so wanted to destroy rested idly in her upturned palm. In her other hand that lay casually across her waist it could see light from the window glinting off of a heavy chain. It slowly crouched down and gripped the leather strap of the satchel as it let out a low guttural growl. The whole time it kept it’s empty eye’s on her. She silently returned the glare.

It made the move to attack, pulling a wicked curved blade from it’s belt with one hand while desperately clutching the coveted satchel in the other. It let out a deep cry that seemed to have an unearthly quality as it slashed the blade toward her ivory throat. Without standing she whipped the chain forward with such swiftness that the thing expected should be impossible for a pathetic woman. The chain snapped itself into place around the things arm before it could make an evasive move. She smiled as she heard it’s bones popping and snapping from the shoulder down to it’s wrist and hand. Before the thing knew it she was up out of her seat forcing a cold steel barrel into it’s mouth breaking several teeth and forcing it backwards onto the bed. It tried to mumble threats out past the barrel but the waiting bullet had no capacity for sympathy.

With her knee on the things chest and a sturdy grip on the chain around it’s arm she pulled back the hammer and silenced the already stifled voice. The human head shattered around it’s host and she released the chain so as to free up a hand to execute the final move on her prey. She plunged one hand into the blackness in front of her and, like so many times before, dark ooze spurted out as she groped for the essence. The thing shuddered one last time and went limp as she pulled out the cool, dark orb. She pried the human fingers off the strap of her satchel and lifted the flap to lay evil to it’s resting place.

Betty stood back and wiped her hand clean on the chest of thing resting on her bed. She took in the mess on her silk sheets and kicked the thing on it’s shin. “You bastard, now I have to burn the sheets as well.” With that she turned away from the mess and walked out of the room, flipping lights on as she went. She headed out to the kitchen and whipped the refrigerator door open. Bottles clanged together in the door and she reached down and picked one out. She closed the door and pulled off a magnet that spelt out ‘El Paso’ and the ‘o’ was a wide bottle opener. She’d picked it up as a souvenir while doing some hunting in the area.

Betty was a Shade huntress. The Shades had one purpose in this world and that was to spread evil like a cancer. And they were good at their job. She was better at hers. She opened the bottle and raised the cold drink to her lips and pulled in a deep swig of beer. The cold liquid ran out of the corners of her mouth and streamed it’s way down her chin and between her breasts. She slammed the empty bottle down on the counter and wiped her lips with the back of her hand, stifling a belch.

New stuff.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” She stared down at the countertop and spread her hands on the edges to brace herself.

“We need to talk. You’ve been tempting them to come after you in your home. You’re being reckless. I need you to stay alive so that I can do my job and get the hell out of this place. Whatever you may think of me is of no consequence to our predicament. We are bound by duty. I’d put a bullet in that pretty head of yours if it would make my life easier, but that’s not the case.” He sat on her couch in the darkness, facing away from her. His bulk made the couch look like it was intended for a dollhouse. His hair was as silver as the custom .45 tucked in the front of his pants, and his face was creased and fearsome from a very long life of being the source of fear.

“Gee, Harry, you sure do know how to sweet talk a lady.”

He laughed and Betty couldn’t help but think of a bear being tickled with a razor blade. “You’re no lady, Betty.”

“Well, while you’re here why don’t you help me create some fireworks? You’d make my life a whole lot easier. That fucker’s in there bleeding through my sheets and I can’t lift it by myself. That’s the price you can pay for stinking up my couch.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” Harry slapped a large hand on his knee and rose from the couch like a monster from the sea. “You got a spot in mind?”

“I thought we’d go watch the sun rise.” She grabbed her long black coat off the back of a chair in the kitchen and strode back towards the bedroom. Harry sauntered into the kitchen behind her and helped himself to a beer of his own. He chugged it with ease and belched out the words ‘Fuck me’ and slammed his bottle down beside Betty’s empty. He chugged one more beer and snuck a shot of whiskey from his flask. Before he could return it to his coat pocket Betty was already back from the bedroom and snatching the flask from his hands. She took a drink and handed a nearly empty flask back to Harry.

“Shit, you’d think I’d pulled a bouncy ball out in front of a retard. Only whiskey’s not as cheap and you’re more of a dumb-shit than a retard.” He laughed, or coughed razor blades out of his throat, Betty wasn’t sure which. He finally tucked his flask away and helped Betty carry her burden. Her soiled sheets were wrapped around the decaying body of evil like a turd burrito and Harry held the torso while Betty guided the feet through her doorway and into the open space of the warehouse.

She had taken over the empty warehouse outside the city a few years back and turned the foreman’s offices into her apartment. She had windows overlooking the gaping void where men had once worked on classic cars. She liked the idea of men sweating over muscle cars. When she found the warehouse those men we lying dead all over, hanging from car hoods, legs stretched out and rigid beneath tons of metal. She’d thought it looked as if the cars had gotten hungry for blood and demolished the humans that had been tinkering with their guts. She cleaned up the bodies and the blood and added her own touch. She left some of the cars in their place and planted cameras in various vantage points. From her apartment above she was able to see every inch from every angle, inside and out.

She never cared about what had happened to the men in the warehouse, she just saw a freshly vacated building and an opportunity. People were always killing each other and Shade’s were always behind it. She was more concerned about the main source of the problem, and not so much the symptoms.