THE CAT'S PRIVATE EYE PT 4: A CURE IN HIS PANTS

THE CAT'S PRIVATE EYE PT 4: A CURE IN HIS PANTS

A Story by mark slade
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JOHNNY ZERO, A HEAD IN A SPIRIT CABINET, IS HIRED BY THE CAT MR.LIM TO BRING TO HIM COLETTA BARE, WHO HAS CAUSED JOHNNY CONSIDERABLE PROBLEMS.

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His name was Roberte and his left handed brother was the b*****d that helped push me out of a window. Mind you, at that time I was just head in a spirit cabinet. My spirit cabinet is lost, maybe even destroyed. When I fell through that dark void, I had no idea I would land on someone else body body in a bar in a city called Coma.


I realize why the city is called Coma. Apparently all the inhabitants are deep in sleep. I noticed this when Roberte, a hand without a body, like his brother, took me to the city streets looking for my spirit cabinet.


“Was it always like this?” I asked, my body clutching him close to my chest. The fingers on Roberte moved restlessly.


“As far as I can remember. Although I suffer a lot of blackouts. A malady I have for the loss of my body.”


“How did you get here?”







“That's funny you ask. My brother and I were fighting over a blond. They threw me out of a window.”

Suddenly, I felt a jolt. My spirit cabinet was close. The spirits were out of the box, I could feel it. I told Roberte. We were in front of a disco, and the beats were louder and louder. My eardrums were bleeding. Roberte jumped out of the grip my body had on him. He ran into the disco, lost in the crowd jumping up down in unison.


I followed, calling his name, until I saw Robete sitting at table with a Siamese redhead. She had my cabinet beside her and all of my spirits were dancing around her, enjoying the music.

“These are the Fowler sisters,” Roberte said.


“Hello,” they both said. They were beautiful, both of them, sharing the same body dressed in tank top and mini skirt; and sharing the same tatoos from head to toe.


“They've agreed to sell me your spirit cabinet.” Roberte said, chuckling.


“But it's mine not yours to sell,” I said with sharp tongue.


“Who cares? Your getting it back. But you have something the sisters want.”


“What's that?” I yelled over the loud music.





The Siamese twins stood, walked toward me. They knelt, unzipped my fly. A hand reached inside and produced a long mechanical machine with button that lit up. At the end of this machine was a glass jar filled with stardust. The sisters looked up at me and smiled. Their fingers danced across the colored buttons and a window opened. Their faces were littered with sparkling stardust.


In mere moments, all of their tattoos had disappeared.

They stood, wiped stardust from their lips and kissed me. They tasted like sour apple gum.


“The cabinet,” they both said sitting back down. “And the spirits are yours.”


END OF PART 4

© 2012 mark slade


Author's Note

mark slade
THIS IS DEDICATED TO THE GREAT ARTIST MOEBIUS(JEAN GIRAUD RIP 1938-2012)

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Reviews

This is just another segment of brilliance as far as I am concerned. You have every detail polished and ready for eyes to devour them as though it were soul food. ^^*

Posted 8 Years Ago


great storie loved reading it and thanks for sharing this

Posted 8 Years Ago


There seems to be a thread of reality winding its way in here. I'm starting to think of movies like Cool World and Monkeybone while I read this. This one felt like it had a few more technical notes than the others: some typos, some grammatical issues, but otherwise really good. I will say I was a bit confused, because I think in the last chapter Johnny Zero found himself on a headless body, in the sense that HE, the floating head, became the head for the headless body, but it was a tiny bit unclear. This chapter made me feel more like that was the case, but I'm still a teensy bit confused.

Posted 8 Years Ago



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Added on March 12, 2012
Last Updated on March 12, 2012
Tags: HORROR, SURREAL, EXPERIENTAL, HUMORSCIENCE FICTION, FANTASY

Author

mark slade
mark slade

williamsburg, VA



About
a writer of horror and dark fantasy http://bloodydreadful.blogspot.com/ more..

Writing
THE HIND THE HIND

A Story by mark slade