21 Tales by Dave Zeltserman

Author:Dave Zeltserman [Zeltserman, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Crime, Mystery & Crime
ISBN: 9780982843604
Google: IsXTcQAACAAJ
Amazon: 0982843607
Publisher: New Pulp Press
Published: 2010-10-14T11:00:00+00:00

Man Friday

Man Friday is the sequel to Money Run, and starts with Toni having flown the coop with the all the ill-gotten gains from Money Run, and our hero, Pete Mitchel, finding himself down and out in Miami. Ever resourceful, Pete will find a way…

Pete Mitchel instinctively rolled to his side when he felt the wetness splash on his face. Even in the semi-dream state he had drifted into, he found himself wondering why it tasted so much like stale beer.

Before his unconscious mind could put two and two together, he found himself jerked off the park bench and kicked in the gut. As he lay on the dirt ground, dazed, gasping for air, he slipped an eight inch switchblade from his pants pocket and had it pulled open beneath him. Standing over him were two punks, both grinning. Neither of them had seen the knife.

The larger of the two punks poured more beer on Pete. He looked like a Nazi. His neck redder than a strawberry and thicker than Pete's thigh. Short thick blond hair stood up like a brush bristle from the top of his head.

"We don't like bums in our town - do we, Rat?" he jeered. His mouth was big and pink and filled with bad teeth.

Rat, his associate, chortled in response. He was a fat, sloppy punk with reddish greasy hair and bad acne. Snake tattoos ran up both arms. "That's right," he joined in with a squeaky voice, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "We smash them up, right George?"

"That's right," the blond punk, George, agreed. "It's disgusting how they come into our town expecting to sponge off of us good folk. Nothing but cheap garbage. Makes me sick to my stomach."

Pete braced himself. He sat up slowly, keeping the knife hand behind him. With a quick sweep of the blade and a little luck he’d be able to sever arteries in both punks’ legs.

George edged closer. His features darkened. "Now," he said. "If they were gainfully employed, or at least willing to become productive members of society, that would be a different story."

Pete closed the knife with his thumb. "You got a job for me?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

George nodded. "Yeah, I do. How does two hundred dollars sound?"

After thinking about it, Pete told him it sounded fine. The fat, sloppy punk, Rat, offered a hand which Pete ignored. He stood up slowly, his stomach tight and sore from the kick he took. The two punks got alongside him, sandwiching him, hanging their arms loosely around his shoulders. Their body odor was stifling. It had been two months since Pete had outwitted himself and lost forty grand to his fiancée, Toni. Since then things had gone from bad to worse. The last three weeks he had been living off the streets of Miami, unable to raise the bus fare to get back to New York. He prayed he didn't smell like these two.

The two punks led him out of the park. As

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