dr. doooom's answering machine

Two hours later, he was still trying to put things together in his head. He’d found nothing more of interest in the house. He was enough of a pro so that no one should know he’d been there. First the connection with the girl from his dream, now Ms. Psycho-sexy pops up in the picture. What was the connection?

MosBurger. Quite the little invention. A hamburger with some kind of onion-laden chili sauce spread all over. Apparently from Japan, a large influence in Waikiki consumerism. Dark wolfed down the remainders of his junk food and went out into the warm night air for a stroll among the tourists.

Hawaii was a fun place. Put you in a very mellow relaxed mood. Trouble was, he couldn’t get too relaxed. People were still after him, he could smell it, like a fox smells the hounds. They’d lost his scent but the hunt was far from over. He wondered how Tony had fared, if they’d caught up with him, if they were even after him. Maybe it wasn’t so much about the little bookkeeper, but more about him. Maybe some nut he’d rubbed the wrong way was looking for payback.

No. He had a strange gut feeling it was all tied into Chan. There was a lot of circumstantial evidence but no proof, but he just knew he’d find some answers on this island. And the picture with the girl from his dream. Who was she?

Dark needed a distraction. Way too much thinking was going on.

“Cigarette?”

Dark spun around, and where, he could have sworn, no one had been standing, a wiry, long haired, asian man stood, holding out, of course children, a Marlboro Light. The man was smiling at him, his long, not even close-to-full, mustache blowing in the wind. “They’ll kill you, but everyone dies some day, yes my friend?”

“Who the hell are you?” Rion didn’t like people fucking with him. He especially didn’t like it when he thought people were fucking with him, but he wasn’t quite sure.

“Call me Sammy.” With that he flipped the cigarette through the air, caught it in his mouth and lit it with a zippo. The zippo had a picture of She-Hulk on it. “My friend and I were wondering the same about you.” Standing behind Sammy, leaning up against the Prada display case, was a mammoth Polynesian guy with a t-shirt that read: “Hawaiian Built.” The big guy winked at him. “We were also wondering what’s your interest in the Chinese grocery business.”

Now Dark was pissed. These guys obviously knew he’d paid Robbie Chan’s house a visit. What the fuck, had he gone amateur in only 36 hours in the tropics? “All right smart guy. What?”

“Meet us in room 736 at the Princess Kaiulani tonight at 2 am, and we’ll take you somewhere you can find some really interesting shit about that asshole. But try not to stumble around too much before then. Honolulu is a city with eyes, haole, and ears, and the aina no appreciate overstep da aloha, dig?”

“Whatever.” With that, Dark walked away.

He walked straight to his hotel room, packed his bag, went downstairs, and flagged down a cab on Kalakaua. “The airport, please.”

About an hour and a half later, Dark stepped out on the departures area of Honolulu International. He handed the guy five bucks and walked into the concourse. Delta Airlines. Good as any. Scanning the monitor for departures, he saw the next flight out was to Seattle. He had switched cabs seven times on route to the airport. Walking between buildings, crossing busy intersections, going through apartment complexes in between cab rides, making sure no one was tailing him.

He was clean. He booked a ticket on the Seattle flight, which boarded in twenty minutes, paid cash, and went towards the gate. He used a new identity, Patrick Monahan, this time, one he’d picked up in Vegas about two years ago. Won it at a roulette table from a one-eyed drunk named Mac.

Through security alright, he went to take a piss. Coming out of the bathroom, he went to go wander through the shops for a while. Post September 11, the secured area of an airport was just about the safest damn place in the world. Dark milled around for a while, and about 30 minutes after his flight had left, he headed for the exits. Getting out of the secured area, he quickly headed downstairs to arrivals, walked outside, flagged a cab, and told him to drive for Turtle Bay, which was a resort nestled at the northern tip of Oahu. Stay up country for a while, lay low, hopefully shake whoever these fucks were that had smelled him out already.

He’d underestimated the locals, apparently. Typical mainland attitude. Wouldn’t happen again. Next time he ran into Sammy and his big buddy, it would be on his terms.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Posted 2:39 PM by Alfred

off-wing opinion captures perfectly in so few initial sentences what the thoughts are regarding the lakers right now, those that love them, those that hate them, and the battles raged amid the emotions between. Ok maybe not that last part but the overall spirit of it. Maybe. Whatever.

Hmmm. What a load off ass crap. But que sera sera, better team won, may they for eternity burn in hell. But not, gotta give it up, whatevs, why am I talking about it. Bleh. Go clippers.

So like this one phone number I keep calling is always busy. I’m wondering if I should call 911 maybe they’ve fallen and they can’t get up. And you know what that means. Yah, we go over there & steal all their stuff.

So, fuck, anything I could write is shadowed by how much the lakers suck.

But I’m glad a great guy like rasheed could finally win a title. Cuz, you know, he’s not really such a total asshole. He’s just INTENSE.

Ah, he’s prolly man of the year, I’m just a salty old rube.

I don’t know why I let it bother me so much, I’m a clipper fan dammitt, but growing up in la, you just don’t know, growing up with magic and the whole nine yards, five titles in one decade, even if you weren’t really paying too much attention. (which I wasn’t, I know, the horrors, I was, hold your breath, watching cartoons, and or, fuck, who cares) but the lakers permeate, and when they get on a roll, like this whole shaq kobe thing, it seems like density, I mean destiny.

But apparently it’s not and it isn’t.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

Posted 5:11 PM by Alfred

Lakers are going to win this game.

Quote me on it. Well, you don’t have long as the game is in like one hour and I don’t have delusions of my own fame that anybody gives a rat’s ass in intestinal hell to know about it, but I bet $10 on the game strait up lakers and either I am dumb or a hidden genius and I like to delude myself (hmmm) further and think that I am the better of those two.

Monday, June 14, 2004

Posted 2:48 PM by Alfred

Now there is something ultra serious and ultra insane in someone’s main vein that you absolutely positively have to know about or else the ramifications will be almost as rambunctious as the supposed diaries of the really old skool hardy boy mysteries, the secret file wherein nancy drew showed up and they went up to this old dark castle and tripped out on mushrooms for like 3 days strait, and it was like, not to get all desultory, but total orgy style, except it’s all implied, none of it is actually said that it happens but you know that it happens you feel it seeping up from the floorboards and that just makes it more effectatious in more than one way if you catch my saying. So anyway, it’s like hardcore in lacking the core, or rather, embracing the core, of the situation by scratching the details.

It is whut we are sorely lacking as a society today. And I’m not even going to run down the list and pros and cons and that was then this is now or shellack the unshellackable cuz it’s been done a thousand times and you’ve heard it all before and what would I be besides just some other schmuck with a new dye job reading the morning sport report over a loud speaker when in actuality digressing all the events of the day monopoly contests won and lost, the tribal report from the plains of Africa, cheetahs like clicking speed dial in mid stream of consciousness, all connected, all the time, no need ever worry about can’t get a hold of aunt Shirley she’s right here on your speed dial, sir, no seriously sir, it’s, it’s ok. Really. I’m with you. We can get through this. The other side is good too, granted, it’s not this side, but this side, was it really that great, I mean, besides more from beyond sentimental value, I mean, on an international scale with all things being equal would it really have measured up. Isn’t it time we got on with things?

But that’s the point, it’s not time, it’s time to nostalgia away and live for the day, oh, holy shit, I’ve just disintegrated whatever the fuck this was into some bullshit mosaic cliché’d out piece of nouvea rich trash. Apologies all around. And beers, but I can’t have one cuz I’m on that thing, you know, that shedule, that inane dillio that hooks it all up like it says but that doesn’t come through with the real tastie freezes. And it ain’t what you think or maybe it is, and yes I’ve said that before, it frees me of all absolvement if and when any charges are brought on anyone, including me, cuz I’m in it for myself, ya see? Don’t like it, well then hit the bricks sister! What is this, charades with uncle Charlie, get back in your room and cry to your mommie! Uh, ok what am I talking about there? Oh yeah, my diet.

The Divine Wind