“the most dangerous man in the world” (Noir fantasy)
April 4, 2007

Continued in PART 2, then PART 3)
The place had that tavern reek of pipe smoke, manure and hard ridden country girl gone to seed. Still, it had a lowlife charm that suited me, and the rotgut ale had enough kick to take a few miles off the serving wench. I was only occasionally drunk before noon; the shit stinking Ogre across from me was one hell of an occasion.
“….I need it out before the dead moon waxes”
He had a voice like a bruise: blood tinged and black around the edges. His snarl was burred by the saw toothed rasp of cats tongue on bone; dragging shreds of meat from broken teeth. I’m sure there were words pouring out of that bear trap jaw, but I’ll be damned if I heard more than half of them.
“So this is a service you can provide?”
It wasn’t; but there was something compelling about the way his muscled bulk filled a bench made for five…put me in a more accommodating state of mind than usual.
“Sorry chief, you’re selling ugly and I ain’t buying. I’m a retrieval specialist, not an exterminator.”
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His long cruel hands, knuckles sunken to the wrist, drummed impatiently at the table between us.
“ I had a fever dream. The elders gathered and spoke your name over a pile bones: they said you were the most dangerous man in the world.” Fucking inbred Ogres.
I took another swallow of piss water ale and tried think of some way to bridge the cultural divide facing us.
“Look, I had a dream once where I was knocking out the walls of a castle with my ten inch battering ram cock…I still woke up swinging a short sword and laying in the gutter. Lesson learned (aside from put your cock away before you pass out in the gutter), dreams don’t mean shit.”
The Ogres fist sized eyes narrowed into matching stab wounds. The hairs on my back raised when his hand dropped below the table. They rose higher still when it returned with a hefty, judgment impairing sack of coins clutched in it.
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“ My great grand father dug that cave with the bones of his victims and the sweat of his brow. My father tortured my mother into marrying him there. I need it back and it back and I’m willing to pay.”
What can I say: I’m a sucker for a pretty face and sob story. I forced my eyes up from his bulging sack and tried to play it cool.
“Probably a lot peoples memories in that cave.” An ironic smile twitched the corners of my mouth. “ Maybe I could take this on…out of respect for local history. I’ll need half up front and a few days to get a crew together.”
The ogre glared, then shifted a portion of the coins into a smaller pouch.
“You get a quarter up front, and one day to get ready before I come looking for you”
I sucked back the rest of the rotgut to squash the high pitched whine of reason trying to fight it’s way to the front of my skull.
“Good enough. I’ll meet you by the western road around sundown tomorrow”.
I often wish I was smarter.
(to be continued HERE in PART 2)







April 4, 2007 at 1:39 pm
“ My great grand father dug that cave with the bones of his victims and the sweat of brow. My father tortured my mother into marrying him there. I need it back and it back and I’m willing to pay.”
What can I say: I’m a sucker for pretty face and sob story.
AJ, you are such a romantic. Damn near puts a tear in my eye.
April 4, 2007 at 1:54 pm
What can I say: I’ve got a poets soul. Fucking poets
can’t gamble for shit.
April 4, 2007 at 2:26 pm
That was fun.
April 4, 2007 at 2:51 pm
I’m wagering that you’re going to get your ass kicked somehow.
April 4, 2007 at 3:20 pm
I forced my eyes up from his bulging sack and tried to play it cool.
I’m fairly certain I’ve read this in another story of yours, somehow different from this one.
April 4, 2007 at 3:49 pm
I forced my eyes up from his bulging sack and tried to play it cool.
Guess he had some serious junk in the trunk.
April 4, 2007 at 4:47 pm
You’ve outdone yourself again, sir.
I’d bow before you but I fear it dangerous.
Excellent composition.
April 4, 2007 at 5:11 pm
Thanks Wiggy; though I do it mostly my own shallow ego gratification… and as part of my parole plea bargain for burning down that library.
April 4, 2007 at 5:12 pm
“Guess he had some serious junk in the trunk.”
Junk in the front my friend, junk in the front.
April 4, 2007 at 6:34 pm
“and as part of my parole plea bargain for burning down that library.”
Ok, if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times, just because the kids were reading books, doesnt mean you can call a children’s hospital a library.
April 4, 2007 at 6:59 pm
I am so cracking up here.
April 5, 2007 at 11:13 am
man, now I want to get the RP group together again.
Just maybe this time we don’t make my character immortal because that turns him into an asshole.
Who knew?
April 12, 2007 at 10:18 pm
Hey AJ
So, when were you in Seattle?
This is the Famous Fremont Troll- and what’s funny is I like to drive by it reallllyyyyy slow after my friends and I have been out ( Please Meet Ms Designated Driver of the Pacific Northwest ) and when one would freak out and start screaming about the Monster Under The Bridge I’d say… ” what monster? “-
Wished I’d had this story to toss in- oh wait the weekend is coming up- ah ha!
amm
True Story.