The Angel of Zero City: Part 10

The Angel of Zero City: Part 10

A Story by Andrew Colunga
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An urban-fantasy novella. It is an untold story between the chapters of its parent book: The Gauntlet of Maltese.

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Stage Fright

 

 

Cavan spent hours carefully moving his audience off their toilets and onto the comedy club chairs, with all of their stimulating and restraining devices as well. He took note of their increased breathing and felt jittery all over.


Cavan removed their ball gags and asked each of them what they’d like to drink. To the side by a laptop, Cavan kept a full bar, and he mixed up four drinks: a hard-iced tea for Sigma, straight vodka for Alpha, water with lemon for Beta, and a Jack and coke for himself. Beta hadn’t actually ordered the drink, but Cavan was determined to give him something.


He then lowered the lights, and lit a candle on the comedy club table and moved to his custom sound board. Speakers in the corners of the room played the sound of people chatting and drinking. Cavan whispered to himself, “Knock em’ dead, kid.”


Then Barto Chiklis’s cheery, grizzled voiced bellowed from the speakers, “Alright let’s keep this night moving! Next up is a local comedian, and a longtime supporter of the Funny Bones club. Ladies and gentlemen, rev-er up for Cavan DeMeco!” The recorded audience cheered and faded away, as Cavan slid onto the little stage and took a drink. He fumbled with the microphone and said, “Please, please you’ll spoil me! Wow, hey if you’re all cheering so much already what’s to keep me motivated? You’re making it too easy!”


Alpha and Sigma struggled to laugh, but it wasn’t for the joke or even the fear of pain. They both knew that whoever Cavan DeMeco was he didn’t start experimenting until later in his routine. This had become their lives.


“Hey, if someone drops money on the floor near me and I pick it up, does that just make me a really bad stripper? Sir, sir wait! You haven’t even let me take off my coat yet!”


Sigma was really Allie Cook, a twenty-six year old clinic secretary, who liked hosting jewelry parties in women’s houses. She used to keep track of the days, but after five weeks she lost count. Her parents, friends, the other secretaries, and the women who were waiting on jewelry must’ve started searching for her. For the first three weeks she had hope.


“A friend of mine asked me what my comfort ice cream was, and I said anything but rocky road. She asked me why I didn’t like rocky road, and I said because life is a rocky road! I don’t need it when I’m trying to feel better!”


The rust stripper powered up, and with a button press the spinning disk sunk into Allie’s wound. She couldn’t control her screaming, and it drowned out the end of Cavan’s punchline. Human gristle shredded and flecked Alpha’s face with blood.


The power drill rose, and the pillory strangled Allie as she jerked and shook. Blood beaded down her back and trickled into the crack of her a*s. She sobbed and cried, and tears and drool dribbled into her hard-iced tea.


Cavan felt nervous. They weren’t laughing.


Alpha had been drinking vodka from the bottle with a straw the moment Cavan set it down in front of him. He was hoping to escape to some oblivious state of drunk, and the vodka rasped and burned his throat. His real name was Lee Bui, a junior from the Uptown college who had been attending with an athletics scholarship.


“Boy, I love a captive audience. Hey! So, I’ll never understand people who drive show cars in parades. That has to be as fun as driving in a traffic jam, but with none of the necessity.”


Cavan pressed a button on the soundboard, and two offset pistons fired: one on Lee’s knees, and the other on his ankles. Bones snapped in his legs, and his splints broke apart. Lee screamed from his diaphragm, and his body rattled with pain. His legs broke into an S-shape, and Lee gagged in the pillory as he vomited vodka in a flesh-colored slurry.


Cavan began to stutter, and after his next joke, Beta’s body jittered from the cattle prod but nothing more. To his friends, Beta’s name was Nathan Keflezighi, a Kenyan taxi driver.


“T-tough crowd tonight! Heh-heh. But of course! The Funny Bones audience is the most scrupulous audience in the world!... Hey, you know what I hate? Websites that make me use their own back button instead of my browser’s.” The cattle prod, pistons, and the rust stripper all fired at the same time, but Cavan DeMeco still heard no laughter.


© 2014 Andrew Colunga



Author's Note

Andrew Colunga
This is a 19 part story. All of which are completed and are expected to be posted.

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Added on May 2, 2014
Last Updated on May 2, 2014
Tags: urban, fantasy, urban-fantasy

Author

Andrew Colunga
Andrew Colunga

Los Angeles, CA



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Artist and Writer from LA. http://wonderwig.deviantart.com/ http://wonderwig.tumblr.com/ https://www.facebook.com/GauntletOfMaltese https://www.facebook.com/andycolunga more..

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