Elephant Vice by Chris Meekings

Author:Chris Meekings [Meekings, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Eraserhead Press
Published: 2015-10-22T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Benny had watched Van Gogh all day and then all evening, following the detective as the crazed Dutchman roamed the streets of Maybe Beach. The Dutchamn spent most of the afternoon ducking in and out of convenience stores, leaving with bottles in various brown paper bags. Benny kept a discreet distance on his high octane sink. The water kept his legs cool, and his feathers neat and slick.

He pulled a small bag of krill from under his biker jacket. He snuffled his beak into the baggie, hoovering up the small crustaceans. Their delicious prawney flavour danced across his tongue, and then the kick of the **** within.

He knew it was stupid to take it, but they played on his mind if he didn’t eat them. He skin would itched, and he couldn’t concentrate. So, he’d had to have some, just so he could do his job and follow Van Gogh. It was necessary really, when you thought about it.

The **** really began to take hold. He felt the susurration of the wind around him. Time seemed to slow, or perhaps his brain sped up, he didn’t know.

Benny saw the light of the evening around him, glimmering and glittering like a kaleidoscope. He saw the ripples in it, the movement of the people as they pushed through the light.

Up ahead, he saw Van Gogh’s drunken stumble through the gorgeous beauty of the world. The detective’s echoes vibrating through the space-time which Benny was able to see.

Benny remembered Zukko’s instructions well, “Find Van Gogh, kill the elephant but bring Van Gogh to me, alive.” And Benny had been the lucky one to find the Dutch detective as he roamed the downtown streets of Maybe Beach. Now, if only Benny could find the elephant and kill him, then he could bring Van Gogh in and get some reward from Zukko—maybe a lifetimes amount of krill.

He huffed deeply in the baggie again. The **** flashed through his system, filling his nerve endings with fire and his brain with visions. His right eye slowly morphed into a security camera, as the **** took its toll. He heard the buzz as the camera lens zoomed in and focused.

Benny continued to trail the drunken detective as the Dutchman swigged from a bottle of something brown in a paper bag. Benny was quite impressed, Van Gogh had been drinking what was probably Peach Schnapps all day. It was a wonder he was still standing let alone drifting along like a wind blown scrap of paper down the street.

Slowly, Benny edged the high octane sink down the residential street. Van Gogh accosted a waste bin, kicking it several times and shouting “Vuile kanker-hoer!”. The insane detective fell to his knees uncontrollably sobbing, “Ik hou van jou, Ik hou van jou. Waarom Paulus? Waarom hem, je godverdomme gratenkut!” The detective began to vomit on the street.

Benny parked the sink and ran across the road to the phone booth. He slipped several coins into the machine and dialled Zukko.

“Hablar,” came the gruff voice of Zukko.

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