SNUFF (h.s.)

Chapter 01

He didn't say a fucking word while she was fooling around and the regular guests went along. Not a fucking word. She'd be smarter if she'd opened a pub for the old crocks. These fuckers were sitting there all day doing nothing and they always demand to have the last word. Harry said that to her once: "You'd make more money if this place was a pub and you were stuffing them with weird shit", all she did was smile while wearing her regular puff sleeve tops with those tiny myriad flowers and her cleavage wide open. He fiended for her tits 'cause she was a fine chick and she knew it. But who could hit on her in there? She was a tough bitch to fall for some coyness but that's another story.

It rained at dawn, now there was a peculiar cloud cover. Harry wore his purple glasses; this fucking glare pissed him off. The weather was as annoying as the porno bitch. He could still hear in his head her voice repeating the irritating groan endlessly like a tiring ringing in his ears. Her voice was like this sudden pitch you hear all over from broken loudspeakers. She'd stay in his head all day along with his bad luck to remind him of his misery. One more cig would be ideal. The kiosk was closed because Clairie was religious and she had to go every Sunday afternoon to the church and he had to wait until nine. Jesus would be happy if she did a good deed and opened it earlier.

He walked towards his damn car; he sat it and banged the door. At least it didn't stink of mold or piss in there after all these times they had snatched it but had the kindness to return it. Not because they liked Harry – that's for sure. Lady-Marina passed by. Harry was checking her out every early morning while she was pegging her clothes on the plastic strings that stick out from her little balcony and he could take a good look of her big tits inside her loose robe. She'd be twenty or something years older than him but she was one of these women whom you never get bored of fucking nor do they turn into raisin beldams. They just grow old like all of us because there comes a time when you feel tired. Anyone who hasn't got their pockets full grows tired. Harry believed that deeply. He respected those who walked with their head up. Lady-Marina had an erotic walk. He whistled and she turned around with an attitude 'cause she was sure as hell she'd look straight at his pretty little face.

"How's it going, man-child?", she took a quick look at the betting shop and then turned back to him, "Your pockets are empty again?"

"Don't worry.. it wasn't your rent", she moved her hand scornfully.

"Leave it, Harry. You already owe me a quarter but I can't throw you on the street, can I?", she couldn't.

"May I give you a lift?"

"With this?", the color was a little faded and scratched with some dents here and there but it wasn't junk.

"I bet my caddy is like those land yacht limousines you used to take rides on the wild side, huh?"

"I don't think you've ever seen a limousine in your whole life, boy", Harry took his hand out of the window and knocked his car with pride. 

"My clunker's better. Don't you forget that!", it wasn't much but it was a rough car and even though it had a load of years on its back it slided just as well with its firm tailfins.

"How long do you have it?"

"I grew up in here, Lady-Marina"

"I hope it lasts but I doubt it"

"It'll last"

"I can take you home"

"I'd say you better go find your girl"

"Alright.. if you say so"

"Man-child..", Lady-Marina whispered, he turned to face her and his gaze went straight looking for her cleavage, "Long gone are the days when I used to ride cars with boys"