Chapter 1

Edward awoke at 6:00 am to the buzz of an ordinary alarm clock.  He got up and made his ordinary bed then headed into his ordinary bathroom where he looked into his ordinary mirror and assessed the thickness of the ordinary stubble specked on his ordinary face.  Satisfied that he could not go another day without a shave he picked up his razor and got to work.  Splashing water on his face he reassessed his face which was neither handsome nor ugly….just ordinary. 

Everything was just too ordinary for poor Eddie these days.  Nothing ever happened in the thirty-some-odd years of his ordinary life.  Such an ordinary life he couldn’t even say with any certainty what thirty-some-odd years equated to.  Was he thirty-four or thirty-five?  Wait, had he hit the big Four-Oh yet?  Not likely, but still possible. 

Regardless of the number of ordinary years Eddie had in his ordinary life, and the ordinary days, the ordinary hours, the ordinary minutes TODAY was the day something not-so ordinary was going to happen.  Yeah, today.  He says that to his reflection every day and yet every day is exactly the same ordinary day as the one before it.  But today was the day…yeah sure.

Convinced he was going to change his fate with a weightless promise to his reflection, Eddie headed into the kitchenette of his one-room bachelor pad of an apartment.  He pulled the one bowl he possessed out of the dish drainer and one of his three spoons in its mismatched set and poured a bowl of cocoa puffs.  Eddie then went into his fridge to retrieve the milk clumped at the bottom of the jug.  Ugh!  Sour already?  He had only opened it…two weeks ago?  Two weeks already?  Damn.  Into the trash bin he tossed the jug (which needed to be taken out) and proceeded to eat his cocoa puffs dry.  At least he wouldn’t have to dirty his spoon.

Useless, Eddie’s dopey basset hound clambered into the kitchenette looking for his meal which Eddie cracked open a can of dog food which though it didn’t look appetizing to him now, just may at the end of next month when his car insurance comes due.  Hmmm…Note to self: must stock up on spam and EZ Mac before next month. 

 “Good news Useless, you don’t have to share,” Eddie assured his dog as he scratched him behind the ears.

 Useless was just as his name implied.  A rather good example of his breed, he doesn’t fetch, he won’t race or take down criminals and his idea of protecting the home from strangers consists of  blocking the criminals path to the silver (which Eddie had none) by rolling over and demanding a belly-rub. 

Otherwise, Useless was a good dog.  Eddie came by his companion when his tweeker neighbor was arrested for possession and no one came to claim him.  Eddie was just holding him until the neighbor came back.  That was five years ago.  Having a dog wasn’t such a bad thing.  Like having a fuzzy roommate he needs to walk behind with a spade and plastic sack a few times a day.  Hey at least Useless wasn’t a cat.  To Eddie cat’s are for pathetic unattached women who work in book stores and watch soap operas.  Eddie is after all, a pathetic, unattached man who works in a bookstore and watches wrestling.  See there’s a BIG difference.

 Every day Eddie headed off to work in his 1991 Honda Civic.  Not the sexiest ride in town, but Hondas are built to last and this one is no exception.  Hell, it was paid off and that was all that matters.  Besides, the rust added character.  Eddie could probably walk the six blocks to his job at the bookstore, but that would involve…walking, an action sometimes related to fitness which just wasn’t his style.  After all, Eddie’s body was a self-proclaimed work of art.  It takes work to get a beer belly when the rest of your body is so skinny he had to stand in two places to cast a shadow.  Besides fitness often involves getting sun which his pallid complexion wouldn’t take too well.  He has muscle where it counts.  All he really needed was the strength in his fingertips to assist in his online gaming and porn viewing endeavors. 

Ambition wasn’t a strong suit either.  Eddie had worked at the Book Barn since Clinton was in office and his Honda was semi-new.  Who knew how working in retail for so long without being promoted to manager could win him bragging rights, but Eddie was happy with his job.  What other job could he sit around reading paperback novels all day and still get paid?  Sure the pay wasn’t great, but it was enough to keep a roof over his head and food in his and Useless’ stomachs.  He didn’t need much.  Despite the crappy job, beater car and bachelor pad that would send a discerning decorator into convulsions, for Eddie, life was good.  Mostly, he could use a little less ordinary in his life.  Oh…and a girl.

Eddie did have a girl, at least on his Thursday night trips to the hottest strip club in town, Daddy Issues.  Geri “the Cherry” Fontaine was a buxom beauty with a mane of thick hair as red as L’Oreal’s shades get framing a strong jaw with pouty red lips and almond eyes.  Geri’s athletic build and long legs contradicted by her big bosom was enough to supply Eddie with enough wet dream fodder for the whole week.  Of course she wouldn’t be able to tell Eddie from any of the other lovesick creeps that slobbered up her stage whenever it was her turn to dance, but who cared.  The less she knew of him, the less he had to tip.

Chapter 2

“You’re up Ger,” DJ Papsmear yelled in her manly, mulleted way into the backstage area of Daddy Issues.  Lorna “DJ Papsmear” Davey was a large, crude plaid-wearing woman with the inherent pleasantness of wet toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe like a stalker out of the bathroom.  Good thing she can spin.  Geri stepped up to the back part of the stage ready to go on and shot a look of disgust as Lorna spit a gob of tobacco into a plastic cup with remnants of beer and half smoked cigarettes.

“Ready Babe?” she croaked over the loud music of the song finishing up in preparation for Geri’s number.

“Always sweet cheeks,” Geri fluttered her fake eyelashes as she noted Lorna taking an eyeful of her breasts.  She huffed her amusement of Lorna checking her out.  “Easy killer, you know I’m not your type.”

“Can still look, can’t I?”  Lorna chuckled as she switched tracks and prepared Geri’s intro.

‘Not your type’ was an understatement for Lorna.  No one would ever confuse Lorna for being heterosexual, truth was that Geri was only ‘the type’ for a very ‘ahem’ discerning type of Man. 

Geri “The Cherry” Fontaine was born Gerald Lambert of Derville, Wisconsin.  Always feeling like there was something missing from his life, he gave up his football scholarship at the University of Wisconsin to move to the city where he changed his name to Geraldine Fontaine, got a boob job, tucked Mr. Winkey out of sight in a sexy boy short and worked as a topless dancer at the premier club, Daddy Issues. 

Now mind you, it wasn’t quite that easy.  It took years of saving tips as a bartender at a lesser known hole in the wall as well as speech therapy and coaching on “how to be a woman” to rob these poor slobs of half their paychecks, but it was worth it.

Geri gyrated her hips to the music as she removed her halter top which wasn’t really doing anything since you could see her nips straight though it and there is no need for support when your breasts are fake and hold themselves up.  But hey, it got the guys worked up and that’s what brings in the tips.  If only these guys knew what she was packing in her panties tucked away. 

Only Geri’s roommate, Molly knew what she really was.  Well, Lorna knew too.  And her manager.  And all the girls backstage.  And well the cab driver she couldn’t pay last night on her way home though he didn’t seem to mind the extra little somethin’, somethin’.  And Bob, the guy she dated for six months till he got sick of hearing the line that she was saving herself for marriage.  And Geri is sure the mop boy at the Save-Mart suspects something.  And all of Molly’s co-workers.  Oh yeah and you can’t forget the guys she picks up on Craigslist specifically looking for chicks with dicks…but other than all of them her secret is safe.  Sure as shit, these drooling morons in her audience throwing dollar bills at her don’t.

Tossing her long thick mane of yes that is her natural hair – ladies don’t you hate it when a man’s hair is nicer than yours? – Geri pulled her shoulders back and locked out her thickly muscled legs (which she claimed to her adoring audience came from years of dancing rather than years of football.  Thankfully for her, Gerald had never been heavily muscled, well defined but very lean.  Geri’s doctors didn’t have to do a whole lot of work to turn her into a convincing woman, though truth be told most of her credibility came from strip club lighting.  Not that it mattered all that much.  No doctor could give her what defined her as Geri “The Cherry” Fontaine – A spunky attitude and the ability to dance in 6 inch heels. 

At the ending of the song Geri took a gentlewomanly curtsy rather uncharacteristic of a place like Daddy Issues, but it worked for her, then scooped up her tips from the stage (giving her audience an extra eye-full of that pert ass of hers then trotted off to the curtained off backstage. 

Geri counted her tips as she thanked god that Daddy Issues wasn’t the sort of place where tips go into a jar and divided evenly among the dancers.  Geri worked hard to get this sexy and didn’t like the idea of the “ugly girl bell curve”.  If you can’t get enough in tips to survive then perhaps the girls should find another job.  It’s not hard at all to do well in a strip club.  The lighting hides any number of physical imperfections.  All one really needs is a little flexibility, a little on stage personality and a whole lot of confidence.  The obstacle to success in this business is normally either possessive boyfriends or drugs.  Luckily Geri didn’t have to think too hard on this subject.  She had no desire for either.  She also never had to share the tips.

Not that Geri really needed the money.  She was highest paid dancer at the club tip-wise and probably the most frugal by choosing to live with a roommate and had an eye for sales and a genuine love for sewing her own stripper-wear.  But her popularity and income was always chaffing her co-workers vaginas in that she was a man and still more desired than the other’s with their God-given woman parts.  More specifically Geri loved to chafe the asshole of one dancer in particular…Baby Jane.  

“Counting your tips, Darling?”

Speak of the Devil.  Baby Jane was the only person alive who could make such a benign word as ‘darling’ sound spiked with poison. 

“If those men out there knew what you are I doubt you’d be making that much,” Baby Jane said batting her fake eyelashes. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Geri said.  “Might bring in a different sort of clientele.  Besides, looking like a drag queen doesn’t seem to hurt your popularity with the audience.”

Baby Jane snarled an angry look at Geri then stomped off to her dressing table, her open silk kimono-type robe flapping in the disturbed air as she stormed off. 

Jane Archer was an actual woman though her appearance tended to suggest a fallacy remnant of cheese-wiz.   Fake eyelashes, makeup caked on with a putty trowel and hair pieces that could look overdone on RuPaul gave the appearance of a woman that could only look right on a strip club stage or on Tommy Lee’s arm.  Wisping about the backstage area in her panties and bra with a silk robe serving no purpose as it always hung open to show off her figure she sat at her dressing table.  To her credit, Baby Jane was one of the few woman at the club unaltered by cosmetic surgeons, but age was beginning to take it’s toll.  Though she claimed she was only 25, she had been saying that for about ten years and guarded her drivers’ license like the Holy Grail. 

Unshockingly, Baby Jane was highly insecure with herself.  She was the exact stereotype of the sort of woman one would expect at a strip club.  There were lot’s of girls there that just enjoyed dancing, some there because they needed the money, and for some it was a big feminist movement for them to use their womanly assets to make men do silly things.  Think about it, guys would become defensive if their wives asked for cash for the grocery store, yet they think nothing of dropping twice the amount asked on a woman they can look at, but never touch.  A silly thought really considering what sort of unspeakable sex acts most wives will perform willingly.  But Baby Jane was the one woman that made the stereotype stick for everyone.  She never spoke of her past with the other girls, but it was obvious from the way she acted around men that she had not gotten enough male attention at home and reacted with contradictory desperate need and violent hatred.

However, Baby Jane was in complete denial.  So much so that she subliminally broadcast it by choosing her stage name from the most famous daddy issue in entertainment history.  She claimed she picked the name for her love of Bette Davis, but the irony of her naming herself after the vile, attention whore spoiled child character of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? was enough to make Geri laugh so hard she nearly peed herself when they first met.

Considering the sort of man issues and the sense of gaudy style the two women possessed, it seemed Geri and Baby Jane should have been best friends had they not been worst enemies.

Chapter 3                                   

A woman walked up to Eddie’s register toting a novel under her arm.  Eddie noted the cute upturned nose and the long blonde curls pouring down her shoulders.  She had the perpetually listless gaze and stapled on smile of a woman accustomed to being cared for based on her appearance alone.  ‘She is probably a bitch,’ Eddie thought.

She shot him a broader fake smile as she set the book on the counter and began to root through her purse. 

“Patricia Cornwell, eh?” Eddie said making conversation as he picked up the book and scanned the bar code. 

“Uh-huh,” the woman half hearted answers as she continued to root through the bag which despite it’s diminutive size contained half her life. 

“I think this one is about a serial killer.  Well I guess most of her books are,”  Eddie paused hoping the idle conversation would elicit a response.  The Woman continued to root through her bottomless pit of loose change, mascara in every shade of black and used tissues with a rainbow of lip prints and mucous stains. 

“I have always found serial killers fascinating,” Eddie continued.  “The power they have.  You know, to take a life.  No, to completely possess a life, then to snuff it out.”  Eddie focused the intensity of his gaze at the woman obliviously pawing through her purse.  “The power.  It’s like being God.  To think that it’s your face your victim sees just before death.  Your name on her lips, YOU on her mind.  It’s powerful to know you’re the last person she thinks about before her death.”

The woman finally looked up at him.  Still smiling, she pulled out her lip gloss.  “I’m sorry,” she said as she applied a layer on her already over-glossed lips then pulled out her wallet with much less effort.  “What was that you were saying?”

Eddie stood silently for a moment.  “Um, that’ll be $16.95 please.”

The woman paid in cash and glanced another fake smile as she took her receipt and left with her purchase.

Chapter 4                                                                  

The one-sided discussion with the woman at the Book Barn got Eddie thinking.  Though the topic of serial killers had always held a fascination with him, the concept of becoming one had never been a real consideration.  So why now?  The strange fantasy made Eddie realize that though he had always been a regular law abiding citizen he also had to face the fact that he had always been a loser.  With no real past and no prospect of a future, what was there to do to leave a mark on the world?  Serial killers were the one brand of person with a guarantee of being remembered.  Celebrities came and went.  Petty criminals were a dime a dozen and Eddie had no hope of being a scandalous tycoon.  It just made sense then.  At the very least, maybe Marilyn Manson might name a band member after him.  There was only one thing that made Eddie nervous about starting a life of crime.   To be a serial killer – he’d actually have to kill people. 

No way.  This is going to have to require some more thought.  

Eddie sat across the road from Daddy Issues with his lights off watching the dancers head to their cars and hailing cabs.  Most of the girls looked different from the red light coated vixens they were on the stage.  Wearing frumpy sweats and ripped running shoes they had no interest in pleasing men the way they did on stage.  Well, most of them.  Geri came out of the bar in her typical six inch heels, short skirt and a faux fur bolero.  Hair and makeup fresh and styled as if she hadn’t spent the entire night giving lap dances and chatting up customers.  She waved one heavily ringed hand to flag down a cab.  Eddie had never before noticed how big her hands actually were.  He shook off the fleeting suspicion and wrote it off that she was a tall woman so naturally she had big hands. 

Eddie sat back in the car and waited, fantasizing about what he was going to do when he caught her.  Fantasies of him being strong and powerful standing over the frightened and vulnerable woman warmed the pit of his stomach.  Eddie fantasized being able to see himself in her eyes.  Broad pectorals and ripped, washboard stomach he would never have in real life rippled in the reflection of her eyes as he stood over her, dominated her, entered her.  Hmmmm…maybe not.  Perhaps instilling fear into her heart and killing her was enough.  There was no reason to rape her…gotta leave her with some dignity.  This was about domination and power, so is rape…but well…whatever.  Eddie didn’t need to rape a woman to prove he was a man. 

Then there was the messy business of her execution.  Execution.  What a harsh word.  Well maybe he could take it slow.  Fantasize about her cowering in fear as he stood over her.  Baby steps.      

    Chapter 5

Geri stepped into the living room of the two bedroom apartment she shared with Molly. 

“How’s work?” Molly asked wiping the paint from her hands onto the stolen hospital scrubs she wore while painting.  On the floor in front of her was a canvas with an abstract figure on it.  Though the painting looked mostly finished it appeared there was more paint on Molly’s face than on her canvas.  Geri wasn’t surprised that Molly was still up this late at night or early morning – glass is half empty for some – Molly had always kept odd hours and seeing as she worked at tattoo parlor where peak hours are between 5pm and midnight, the shop opening at noon was welcome for sleeping in. 

“Nice kangaroo,” Geri said slumping onto the couch.  “Work was the same.  Same drooling dogs.  Same stripper backstage drama.”     

“Kangaroo?” Molly looked down at the painting.  “It was supposed to be a rabbit.  You know like the poem Tragic Rabbit by Stan Rice?”

“Stan who?” Geri started.  “Anyway you know I don’t read books, girl.”

“I wrote it on the wall of my bedroom in foot tall letters with a sharpie next to my armoire.”

“You own an armoire?”  Geri asked perplexed.

“Ok, it’s a workshop locker, I can’t afford a real armoire, but I keep my undies in it so it’s an armoire to me,” Molly said flustered.  “So anyway work.  Same old dogs.  Same old backstage drama.  Anything else happen that’s at all interesting?”

“Actually yeah,” Geri said.  “There was some creepy guy outside the club tonight.  I don’t think he was there to pick up any of the girls.  Strange thing was…I think he was masturbating.  Strange thing to do really.  I mean the girls come out wearing sweats and their husbands and boyfriends plaid shirts.  I guess some guys have some odd peccadilloes.”

“Well, be careful,” Molly said with concern on her face.  “You never know what sort of crazies are out there.”

“Oh don’t you worry about me,” Geri said as she pulled the gaudy faux fur bolero off her shoulders.  “Guys like that are all look, no touch.  They live inside their heads.  Their fantasy lives are so important to them they leave no room for reality.  Besides, they always lose interest in the end.  You know how it is to be the object of obsession.”

Molly didn’t.  She let the topic rest and went back to priming over the painting evidently of the “Tragic Kangaroo”.  Not to say that Molly was ugly, she really wasn’t.  But she wasn’t beautiful or glamorous either.  At best, she had been called “cute”.  A good contender of the “Inner Beauty Pageant” had it existed Molly was better known for her quirky humor and sweet disposition.  Not traits sought after in a woman when high-maintenance, bitchy girls were so much more desirable.  Molly was more the consolation prize guys settled for when they couldn’t score her sexy best friend.  Unfortunately, though the guys were getting a better deal overall, most could not keep their mouths shut angsting about “the one that got away”.  A girl could only stand to hear so much of their boyfriends cooing over how beautiful and interesting her best friend was – even with Molly’s patience and good humor.  Suffice to say Molly didn’t date much.      

Chapter 6           

 The apartment that Molly and Geri shared was nine blocks away from Body Graffiti, the tattoo parlor where Molly worked.  Though she could have just as easily hailed a cab or bummed a ride, Molly preferred to walk, rain or shine.  She loved to breathe in the crisp, though highly polluted city air and look at the dingy buildings she passed on her way to work.  To Molly, everything was art.  From the graffiti gang symbols on the brick walls to the unfixed potholes in the traffic jammed streets. 

Molly had lived with Geri since coming to the city to get a start on her career in art.  Her ambitions were disillusioned quickly as she learned how hard it is to get recognition as an artist.  That didn’t make much of a difference to her.  She quickly gained an apprenticeship at a local tattoo parlor and had been working there for years.  She loved tattooing as much as she liked being a mixed media artist so it worked out in the end.   She had been living with Geri as long as she had been in the city.  It didn’t take her long to figure out what Geri was though it didn’t matter anyway.

Molly stopped to pet the mangy dog eating out of the garbage and sniffed deep the smell of the hotdog stand and she waved a greeting to Ahmad, it’s proprietor (though it always perplexed her that an Arab would run a stand selling pork – though it was quite possible that he had switched them out with tofu-dogs.) 

Molly couldn’t even bring herself to get upset at the protestors outside the abortion clinic.

“Ma’am, do you love unborn babies?” a heavyset woman grabbed her arm as she passed.

“I do,” Molly said beaming a smile that could warm the chill off the polar ice caps.  “Marinated in a nice white wine vinaigrette it’s almost like eating prawns!  Have a nice day Ma’am!”

The woman let go of her arm shocked as Molly went on her way. 

Even the suicidal man threatening to jump off the overpass down the road from Molly’s route couldn’t bring her down.  It’s going to be a good day! 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Molly here to spread her sunshine to all the world,”  Carl the local bum smiled his toothless grin at Molly, his dark brown lined face collapsing into familiar folds of a man who smiles frequently despite his downtrodden existence. 

“Hi Carl!”  Molly beams her smile at him.  She reaches down to hand him a foil covered paper plate.   “Geri and I had pizza last night, here’s your share.  Hope it’s not too greasy.”

“Bless you darling,” Carl said accepting her offering.  “Your sweet smile is more than enough to brighten my day.  You don’t have to feed me too!”

“But if you don’t eat the leftovers, I’ll be tempted to eat them and get fat!” Molly chirped.

“Wouldn’t want that,” Carl continued the conversation they had nearly every day.  “Well I’ll help you out then and remove the temptation.”

“You’re a peach Carl!”

Molly shot one more smile to her homeless companion and headed around the corner to the stairway leading up to the 2^nd floor landing where the tattoo studio, Body Graffiti was located.   She stopped before opening the door to the stairway to take one last look at the sign her boss, Troy had gotten her to design the previous month.  Though it was quite impressive, it was a result of what happens when an employee asks her boss his opinion while he was busy with something else.  Molly would never admit it, but this was a strategy she used to get him to agree to anything.   As a result, the sign was bright purple with bold yellow lettering and a big octopus just underneath the lettering with a teddy bear in one tentacle and a creamsicle in another.  The sign didn’t make much sense, but it certainly caught the attention.  As much as Troy hated the sign, he had to admit that it brought in a lot of clientele.

“Morning Fat Man!”  Molly chirped at the big man making notes by the register.  She quickly pecked him on the top of the head and headed to the back of the shop.

“Mornin’ Molly,” He responded, ignoring his pet name.  After all, who could get mad at someone as sweet and friendly as Molly?   

Troy Browning had been tattooing for fifteen years.  He had taken over the shop after his predecessor, also the man who trained him retired.  Troy was a big man, heavily muscled and carrying a little more around the equator than was probably healthy for a man in his forties.  Adorned with a massive amount of ink from all different themes he was the image most people get in their mind when they imagine a tattoo artist.             

Despite the scary appearance most people who knew him could attest to his teddy-bear personality.  Not the least his two employees, Molly and Tigo. 

 Troy had a good life.  He had his own tattoo parlor, two great employees, and he was one of the few local businesses that wasn’t suffering from the recession.  But like so many in this city of failed dreams, Troy wanted more.  His entire life he had been an avid reader of the books in his mother’s collection.  His father had told him that reading was for sissies and encouraged him to instead help out fixing up motorcycles instead.  Troy enjoyed motorcycles, but every night he would sneak away a book from his mother’s collection and read under the covers with a flashlight.  Each night he was whisked away to lands beyond the Pennsylvania suburb to sail with pirates and ride through the England countryside with gallant knights.  It was only natural for him to grow up with the ambition to one day be a writer.  The only problem:  All his Mom’s books were put out by Harlequin Romance and so Troy’s ambition was to be a giant tattoo clad man who wishes write romance novels.  Not exactly winning respect from the guys at the biker bars.

“What’s in the satchel?” Tigo sashayed out of the back room.  A tall, gangly man with wild hair styles that changes every six months like clockwork and an adoration for vintage t-shirts three sizes too small to show off his little bitty pot belly, Tigo was the normally the life of the party.  Tigo’s specialty was body piercing.

“I’ve been working on a project,” Molly enthusiastically said.  She opened the satchel and pulled out the canvas she had been working on the night before.  She had tried again on Tragic Rabbit v2.  “I figured during our slower hours I could work on it in the back room.”

“Let’s see it,” Troy said always eager to see what she came up with even after the revealing of that damned octopus. 

Molly grinned and she flipped the canvas over to proudly reveal her work. 

“Wow, that is some chinchilla,” Troy patted her on the back approvingly. 

“It’s a rabbit,” Molly squeaked.  “A Tragic Rabbit.  Stan Rice’s Tragic Rabbit.”

 “Oh yeah?” Tigo said trying to comfort her.  “I think it’s gorgeous.  Especially drawing your inspiration from steamed rice.  I mean I’ve seen some interesting stuff in my mashed potatoes, but nothing that could inspire this!  Good job!”

Tigo pecked Molly on the cheek and got to work organizing his needles in preparation for the first customer.  Molly headed straight to the back room to prime over her painting and start again.

Troy had brought Tigo in to do body piercing when he realized his competitors were getting ahead by including other body alterations to increase business.  It made sense since the majority of their business came from college kids treating their educational experience like a trip to Las Vegas (oh you know the saying – “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” right?).  Most wore tongue piercings and butt tattoos like battle scars to commemorate their youth and stupidity.  Troy often wondered how many parents knew they were paying 15 grand a year so little Johnny could learn to flip quarters into beer glass and little Susie could learn to perform fellatio properly without gagging.  Oh well, surely little Susie’s Daddy can find out all about his daughter’s learning experience while watching Girls Gone Wild late at night when the rest of the family had gone to sleep. 

Enough griping.  Troy was a purist as far as tattooing was concerned.  He truly believed that tattooing was an art, not an act of rebellion.  But what could he say?  For every hundredth kid coming in for a skull on an upper arm or a butterfly on her lower back there was maybe one request for a full arm sleeve depicting The Last Supper.

Chapter 7  

Eddie’s heart pounded as he watched for the women to leave through the back door of Daddy Issues.  His palms sweat as he thought about what he was going to do.  He never wanted to hurt anyone, really but did he really want to live this?  No goals, dreams or excitement?  Maybe this was a bad idea, but he just felt he needed to do this.

“It’s now or never,” he whispered to himself as he got out of the car and walked over to the shadowed stairway near the door.   He pulled on the ski mask and waited.

As luck would have it, his intended target, the stripper with the bright red mane who called herself Cherry came out of the club alone after all the other girls were out of sight.  Eddie fell into step behind her, taking quiet steps to avoid detection.  When she was 5 paces from Eddie’s car, he quickened his pace and grabbed her. 

“What the Fuck!” she hollered as she struggled with Eddie. 

“Don’t struggle with me,” Eddie said lowering his voice so it wouldn’t be recognizable.  “I’m armed.”

“My tips are in my purse, just take them,” Geri said as she continued to struggle as he dragged her to the car.  She stomped her 6-inch stiletto heel into her captor’s foot sending a sharp shooting pain up Eddie’s leg.  In retaliation, Eddie slammed her into the side of the car smashing her elbow into the back passenger side window sending safety glass spilling across the seat.  Geri howled in pain.

“I wish I didn’t have to hurt you,” Eddie said looking down at Geri.  “I never wanted it to be like this.”

“Great,” Geri said.  “Then let me go – We’ll both be happy!”

Eddie had left the trunk of his car unlatched but down so it could be easy to get open while he struggled with her.  He kicked the trunk open, but while his weight was shifted to one leg, the stripper took advantage and hooked her foot around his supporting leg sending them both falling.  There was a sickening thunk as Eddie’s head hit the bumper of the car. 

Geri felt her captor go limp as she sat up and looked around.  She stood up and saw her captor lying on the pavement. 

“Great, now what?” Geri asked out loud.  She kneeled down next to Eddie and felt his carotid artery for a pulse.  Satisfied he was still alive, she felt the back of his head to assess the damage.  He wasn’t bleeding, but there was a good sized bump already starting to form. 

“Now what am I supposed to do with you?” Geri asked rhetorically.  The man moaned as he came around.  It was likely he had a concussion and even though he was coming around, it was unlikely that he would be alert for a while. 

Geri considered her options.  She hated cops so going to the authorities was out of the question.  If she left him there, it wasn’t likely that he would learn anything from this experience.  Geri thought for a moment then smiled to herself as she considered a third option. 

Geri grabbed Eddie from the back around his chest to pull him up and over the side of the trunk.  She clumsily dropped him into the trunk and then picked his feet up and tucked them in too.  She rooted around in his pockets till she found the car keys and slammed the trunk shut with him in it and got into the driver’s seat. 

The ancient Honda coughed as she started up, but purred nicely once the engine warmed. 

“Where should we go, Trunk-Boy?” she asked as she adjusted the seat and mirrors.  “I think it’s a nice night to just drive.”

Chapter 8

Eddie awoke in the dark, cramped trunk with a splitting headache.  It was dark and he couldn’t move much.  It didn’t take him long to figure out he was in his own trunk.  He fumbled around in the dark, hoping to find a trunk release, but his car was too old to have that safety feature.  The only thing Eddie knew for sure was that someone was driving his car somewhere, but he didn’t know if it was the stripper or if she had gotten someone else to do it. 

Terrifying fantasies of what his captor was going to do to him swirled through his brain.  He imagined his car being pushed into a lake with him in the trunk, or perhaps driving out to the middle of nowhere to be shot in the head execution style.  Either way this was not going to be pretty. 

Eddie wasn’t sure whether it was the panic of being in an enclosed space or the fumes leaking in from his exhaust, but he couldn’t catch his breath.  As more scenarios of his impending doom raced through his mind, he slowly lost consciousness again.                    

Wind blowing through her hair as she sped along the interstate with her attacker in the trunk, Geraldine felt powerful beyond anything she had felt before.  Beating her attacker had proven she was not the weak, defenseless little boy she had been told she was growing up. 

“Take that, Dad,” she muttered to herself as she changed lanes to get around the grandma-mobile in front of her.  Taking that lane change easily, she sped past four more cars in the middle lane.  

Red and blue lights flashing in her rearview mirror was a testament to her pushing her luck too far.

“SHITFUCKBALLS!” she muttered as she pulled to the shoulder and sat in wait as the burly motorcycle cop dismounted and sauntered to her driver side window.  “Take a deep breath, girl, you’ll be fine.” 

“Do you know what I pulled you over for ma’am,” the trooper said gruffly as he scanned the inside of her vehicle, letting his reflective sunglasses linger on the soft curves of her breasts.  That was a good sign. 

“Why no, officer,” Geri responded in the sweetest voice she could muster pushing her chest out to invite more gazing.  “What have I done to attract your attention?” 

“You were driving in the carpool lane, Ma’am.”

Geri shot a glance at the road lying before her and took note of the diamonds painted on the pavement she hadn’t noticed before.  ‘DAMN IT!'

“That lane is for vehicles with two or more occupants only.”

“Oh of course,” Geri’s voice was dripping with sugar.  “I was counting the unconscious man in my trunk.”

“Very funny Ma’am,” the motorcycle cop responded with a stereotypical lack of emotion.  “I’m going to let you off with a warning.  Don’t do it again.” 

The cop took another hungry glance at her bosom then retreated back to his motorcycle. 

Geri breathed a sigh of relief then started her car back up. 

“Feminism be damned, these tits were well worth the investment!”

Chapter 9           

Eddie awoke to a pressure on his chest.  Panic seized him as he remembered as a child having pneumonia and not being able to catch his breath.  What was worse, were his hands and feet were tied up.  Unable to breathe to call for help he struggled against the restraints. 

‘Ok,’ he thought to himself.  ‘No sense in panicking.  That will never get you out of here alive.’

Eddie opened his eyes slowly and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he realized he was staring straight into a pair of eyes.  At first he couldn’t make out what sort of monster was sitting on his chest but before long he recognized that it was biggest freakin’ housecat he had ever laid eyes on.  Explains why he couldn’t breath. 

“Ok,” Eddie strained to speak, “Kittie, I think we can come to an agreement here.  You get off my chest and I won’t kill you.  In fact if you chew my restraints I will score you some grade A catnip.  I’m not talking the Petco shit your crazy bitch owner get’s you.  I’m talking the pure shit imported from Columbia.  I’m talking the stuff Octogenarian grandmas go missing to smuggle into this country.  Deal?”

The monster of a cat purrs a satisfied response but makes no move to comply.  Looking at the cat Eddie figured him to be about 25 pounds of fluff and grit.  He was a long haired mink point cat with a menacing pair of unmatched Blue and Yellow eyes.

Eddie realized that he wasn’t going anywhere as long as the beast was holding him down, he resigned himself to observing his surroundings to search for a way out.  Sun was peeking up through the drapes making his surroundings clearer and giving him a better idea of the time.  The meager light coming through the single bedroom window showed no signs of bars on the window.  Good, that would probably indicate that it was an emergency escape window, common for most of the older buildings in the low rent neighborhoods.  This is an excellent sign.  He can get out of the building without entering any of the other rooms, therefore without alerting any of the other occupants. 

 He struggled for a moment testing the weaknesses of the restraints.  About then he realized he wasn’t wearing any clothes…or perhaps a minimum of clothing.  Maybe a little setback, but surely his clothes are nearby.  But he isn’t totally naked.  Eddie squinted his eyes to see what it was that was covering what little that was covered.  Were those lacy panties?  As he shifted to see past the behemoth on his chest the cat shifted to regain balance pressing underwire uncomfortably into his chest.  Underwire???  Was that a demi bra???  It sure was.  Oh god his captor was cruel.  Leaving him here dressed in a lovely Demi bra and matching V-string panties (lingerie vocabulary courtesy of Victoria’s Secret catalogs – not that he ever bought anything, not as a gift for a special lady or for his own little fetish needs – but the catalog came in handy in a snap for ‘ahem’ other needs) so that if he were to figure out how to get out of her snare, he wouldn’t out of embarrassment.  What a time to have a sloppy bikini line!

Eddie was yanked uncomfortably back to reality by the creaking of the door opening.  Before he could think, a slender young woman with dark hair came in chatting up a storm.

“Have you seen my silkscreen shirt – you know the one with the long sleeves – I wanted to wear it today, but I can’t seem to find it – It’s supposed to be a little chilly-“

The girl stopped quick upon seeing Eddie and to his chagrin the cat jumped off his chest startled exposing Eddie in all his humiliation. 

She opened her mouth to say something then stopped short.  “I am sooo sorry, I didn’t know Geri had anyone over!  My Bad!”        

The girl rushed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. 

‘Great,’ Eddie thought.  ‘There was my chance.  I bet she didn’t know her crazy bitch roommate was holding me captive.’ 

The door opened quick only a crack for the young woman to shout through.  “Oh and I’m not judging you either, I respect your decision to live an alternative lifestyle.”

The woman slammed the door before Eddie could call for help.

“And I also respect your preference for Geri’s type,” the girl cracked the door again to say and slam it shut again.

“Wait!” Eddie yelled. 

The door cracked again.  “I forgot…sorry.  Crazyface, come here!”  The cat trotted to the door and slinked through the crack before the door slammed shut again.  Eddie didn’t even have a chance to call out.

“Fuck.”

Chapter 10           

Molly cracked open the can of cat food and scooped a little bit into a bowl for Crazyface to eat.  The behemoth of a cat quickly scarfed up the bowl and looked up at her mistress lovingly.  Molly stroked her cat heavily and Crazyface rolled onto her back exposing her belly.

“How about that, Crazy,” Molly said to the jelly-limbed fuzz ball.  “Not used to Geri having anyone over.  What do you suppose that is all about?  A little odd that she would leave him tied up like that and then just leave.  Oh well.  Our girl sure can be an odd one.”

After feeding the cat, Molly plopped down on the floor in front of the canvas.  With seemingly random yet oddly precise strokes of the brush a form slowly started to appear on the canvas.  A strange thunk sounded in Geri’s room followed by the telltale rooting through drawers.  After a few minutes the bedroom door creaked open and the man she had encountered earlier emerged slowly wrapped in a blanket from Geri’s bed.

 “Um, excuse me, miss?”  Eddie asked shyly.  “You wouldn’t happen to have anything I can wear?”

“Sure,” Molly perked up.  “I have lots of clothes you could wear.  Geri’s not much on unisex clothing, I know.  She’s gotta always be sexy.  Now me I go to the grocery store in my pajamas.  So what’s the deal with you and Geri if you don’t mind me asking?  You know I’m totally cool with you no matter what your deal is.  Any friend of Geri’s is a friend of mine.”

“Um, it’s a long story,” Eddie said nervously.  His head dropped to the floor where Molly’s painting sat waiting for her to get back to it.  “Nice donkey.”

Molly huffed in frustration.  “Rabbit!  It’s a Rabbit!  Tragic Rabbit!  It’s not a Tragic Donkey!  Not a tragic Kangaroo!  Not a tragic Chinchilla!  A Tragic Rabbit!”

“Oh,”  Eddie said.  “Like the Stan Rice poem.”

Molly stood there too shocked to speak.

“Yeah I see it – Caked ears like rolled corn” Eddie quoted.  “Yeah that’s a really good interpretation of the moodiness in Stan Rice’s work.  I like it.”

Molly was aghast. 

“I work in a bookstore,” Ed explained.  “I’ve probably read every book in there.  I kinda like his wife, Anne Rice.  Some of racier stuff under her pseudonym is pretty hot too – not that I’m into that sort of stuff.  I mean…uh you know.”

“Oh my God,” Molly exclaimed.  She rushed to Eddie and planted her hands on either side of Eddie’s face.  “You’re so cool!  Most of Geri’s guys are total creeps but I like you!  Stay for breakfast will you.  What do you want?”

“Um…nothing,” Eddie mumbled through lips pursed by the way Molly squeezed his face between her palms.  “Actually some clothes would be nice."

“Oh yeah,” Molly said enthusiastically, green eyes sparkling.  “I totally forgot you were naked.”

 Ten minutes later the Eddie was in the kitchenette hunched over a stack of homemade blueberry pancakes telling Molly the story of how he ended up in Geri’s underwear tied to her bed.

“So you tried to kidnap Geri, but she locked you in the trunk instead?”  Molly exclaimed over the stack of blueberry pancakes she prepared for herself and Eddie.  “That’s hysterical!  You told me it was a long story, you didn’t say anything about it being funny!”

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle as he took a forkful of pancake and dipped it in the spillover of syrup on his plate.  He had been reluctant to take this weird woman’s invitation to stay for breakfast, not to mention semi-suicidal.  Heaven only knew where Geri had gone off to.  Was she getting the police?  Was she bringing her Columbian Drug Lord boyfriend to beat him senseless?  Was she digging a hole in the desert to dump the garbage bags filled with his dismembered body parts?  None of those ideas seemed all that likely.  The police would have arrived by now, Molly suggested Geri didn’t have too many male friends and the closest desert was on the opposite side of the country.  Still, there was no doubt in Eddie’s head that if Geri came home and found him eating pancakes with her roommate rather than tied up in her underwear on her bed there was going to be hell to pay.  However, by the time Ed had gotten into the clothes Molly had given him she had already finished cooking the first stack of pancakes and it would have been rude to refuse…isn’t it?  Besides she had expensive taste with REAL maple syrup.  How could he resist???

“That still doesn’t change the fact that I kidnapped your roommate and last time I checked that is still a highly illegal,” Eddie sighed regretfully.

“Yeah and you failed so she kidnapped you,” Molly said cramming the soft blueberry mush into her mouth. “It’s the same damn thing if you ask me.” 

“Not quite,” Eddie said.  “I don’t think the police would agree.”

“Oh, whatever!” Molly dismissed his worries.  “If she wanted to call the police, she would have done it by now.  Besides that’s not like her.  She was probably just going to thoroughly humiliate you then douse you with whiskey and dump you in a public place in women’s underwear.”

“Does she do this a lot?”  Eddie gasped.

Molly shrugged off the last question reluctant to answer.  “The fact is that Geri has the attention span of a guppie.  Show her something shiny and she’ll totally forget she’s pissed.  Besides Geri’s a Midwestern boy.  You know how those guys are.  They beat the snot out of one another and boom!  They’re automatic friends.”

“I would hardly consider Geri the Tomboy type,” Eddie said unconvinced. 

“Tomboy?” Molly said raising her eyebrows.  “No I meant real boy.  You didn’t know that?  You realize that waist up is all tits and pouty lips, but the plumbing is all man…and let me tell you I’ve walked in on her…she’s quite well hung.”

“Geri?  Is a man???”  Eddie sputtered. 

“Yupper,” Molly proudly announced.  “Didn’t you say you stalked her?  What kind of stalker doesn’t even know the gender of their stalkee.  Buddy boy, you have a long way to go before you become a real serial killer.”

“I’ll be honest, I’m thinking the serial killer lifestyle might not be for me,” Eddie paused.  “A man?  I’ll be damned.  Can’t believe I missed that.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Molly said.  “She makes her living fooling lustful men.”

“Actually I don’t feel bad,” Eddie said.  “It’s a relief to know that a woman didn’t overpower me and stuff me into a trunk.”

Eddie froze as the door to the apartment swung open and in sauntered the ever-flamboyant Geri Fontaine.              “You won’t believe the traffic out there it’s crazy!”  She automatically started in as she shut the door behind her.  “It took me a full 30 minutes to get a cab to stop for me and that’s quite a feat considering these tits.  Then can you believe today of all days all the stores downtown are having sidewalk sales and Molly, baby you wouldn’t believe some of the great sales I found.  I got this hot little teddy number from my favorite lingerie shop it’s soooo cute.  Oh and I got you a new silkscreen blouse…I accidentally stretched yours out.  Oh and I picked this up for you too.”  Geri pulls out a children’s picture book from one of her bags and hands it over to Molly.  “It’s a picture book of rabbits so you know what one looks like.  And I was at Olivia’s café and ran into Elaine from Daddy Issues.  She’s doing good.  Her live in boyfriend is making her crazy but at least he’s not molesting her dog like her last boyfriend.  Who’s this?”

“Eddie,” Molly said nonchalantly.  “You had him tied up in your bedroom.”

 “Fuck,” Geri said.  “I forgot the whiskey.”   

 Geri huffed around the kitchen stealing a bite of pancake off Molly’s plate.  “Do we have any of those Coronas left over from when Tigo and Troy were over last week?”

Eddie quietly backed out of the kitchenette as Geri and Molly preoccupied themselves with searching for some sort of alcohol.

“No,” Molly said.  “I think they drank it all.  There may be some Tequila left over from my birthday party.  Check the top cupboard.”

Eddie continued to slink to the door, stealthily opening it without notice. 

“I already checked for that,” Geri said.  “Maybe we could douse him in mouthwash.”

“I don’t know,” Molly said.  “I could always make a quick run to the liquor store and…”

The two women looked around them finally noticing they’re captive had escaped. 

 Once safely in the hall, he ran down the stairs and raced out to his car.  Realizing that Geri must still have the key, he had to hot-wire his Honda (thanking his shiftier older brother for that information) and took off like a bat out of Hell. 

Chapter 11     

Edward awoke at 6:00 am to the buzz of an ordinary alarm clock.  He got up and made his ordinary bed then headed into his ordinary bathroom where he looked into his ordinary mirror and assessed the thickness of the ordinary stubble specked on his ordinary face.  Satisfied that he could not go another day without a shave he picked up his razor and got to work.  Splashing water, he reassessed his face which was neither handsome nor ugly….just ordinary. 

He fed his ordinary dog, ate his ordinary cocoa puffs and went off to his ordinary job in his ordinary car.  Never again was he going to try anything crazy to make his ordinary life something it would never be.  Eddie was through with excitement and more than ready to go through his ordinary routine as he had done for decades with a renewed appreciation for his ordinary life.

FIN - For Now