Barbarian Phantasy by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2021-11-06T11:15:36+00:00

What would you say if a flame

Were to blaze in place of fair Kitty

And longing were to bind us again?

My door open for you then, my Piroshka…

2

“42nd open,” blared Attila’s cab radio. “Driver needed at 42nd.”

“42nd,” responded Attila. The dispatcher gave him the address and he was on his way. He dog-eared the graduate school catalog he was looking at before tossing it on the passenger side. It was from the University of Miami. For the past hour he’d been scrutinizing their Ph.D. programs in Astrophysics. His uncle lived in Key Biscayne, less than twenty minutes from campus. And the weather’s so gorgeous there.

His taxi slid to a stop just north of 42nd Street, the doors flared open, two young men jumped into the back seat. “Hell’s Kitchen, mother,” said the man with the pick in his hair.

“Yes, sir,” said Attila. His foot on the accelerator trembled. The cab banked a sharp right.

“Hey, where you going, mother-fucker?”

“Pardon me?”

The young men looked at each other, laughed, and said, “Pardon me, mother-fucker?”

Attila cleared his throat and asked them about time.

“What do you mean TIME, man?”

Attila said he may have to do time and wanted to know if they had ever done time. “What is time like?”

“What you talking ‘bout?”

In the rearview Attila saw one of the men reach for a pack of Kools. The bottom of the package was torn away and the top left unopened to keep lint off the end going into the mouth. That’s when he saw it. The handle of a 45 sticking out of the belt.

“I’d like to buy what’s in your pants,” Attila said with effort.

“Cock-sucker.”

The cab swished past grilled store fronts.

“Right here, baby.”

Attila disengaged his meter, stepped on the brake, then checked his rearview. His hand was on the stick.

“How much you got, turkey?”

Attila thought he heard the 45 cock. The men were halfway out of the cab when he shoved it into low gear. The sudden jolt rocked the cab and ejected the men. The gun dropped to the floor with a thud. Receding in his rearview his passengers lay sprawling on the curb.

Red lights could not stop Attila. He kept blinking, checking his rearview. He had the gun. His spine arched and his heart pounded. If he catches them in bed, that’s the end. The justifiable end.

He slunk up the stairs of their apartment, the gun throbbing painfully in his pants. It was maybe four in the morning. Surprise!

The TV had been left on and squelched like the static of his cab radio. Attila turned up the volume and charged into the bedroom. They were not there. Piroshka and Kitty were not there. He yelled for them. Checked every room, looked across the street and saw the Girls A-Go-Go neon flickering. In sync with the loud drumming in his head. Where could they be? He stumbled into the kitchen. Nothing there but a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. The smell only added to his rage.

Then he saw the note. Kitty left a note on the fridge.

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