My cigarette is about to burn out. One more left in the pack.
I’ll send Benny to get me some more. Darkening already. The house we’re observing is an illegal brothel, if you ask me. A dead give-away. With all the traffic.
I fish for the cig but it shifts out of reach. Come on… Gotcha!
The stylophone cup on the dashboard looks a tiny bit tempting. There’s some black brew left in it. One gulp. Ugh, this tastes like a rat drowned in dishwater… Benny stirs near me. Asleep again. How can someone sleep that much?
The house comes slowly to life. Lights flick on, some rooms, two floor.
I need a stretch. My back is killing me. The car door squeals. The crumbles of dinner falls from my lap.
„What’s it old-timer? Crackin’ somethin’ `portant?“ Benny yawns from the passenger seat. Son of a- you no good small time crook.
„Wanna kiss your teeth goodbye, bucko?“ I can kick his ass anytime. Dozing the whole day, when he should be on the lookout. That blighter said something of a hangover. Hangover, my ass, lazy punk.
He’s stretching in the seat like a cat, letting his joints click. I hate it when he does that. Sounds spine crawling.
„Hey, pop! Perk up. We get some action.“ Putting on his leather gloves he grins from ear to ear. On the other side of the street, a black car pulls up. One that screams, come and get your serving of trouble. Some big fry, huh? A real flashy dude gets out of the car, too dapper for this district.
We wait, till the man goes inside and we walk over.
We’re not even at the porch, as the shooting starts. Shit! Benny kicks the door in, but we’re facing a wall of panic. A human stampede sweeps us out again. A dozen of pant-less, half naked guys bolt headlessly like zebras from a lion attack. I’m too old for this kind of shit.
(to be continued…)