Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

64 - LIKE A FLY ON THE WALL

[Just because you might not have been there doesn’t mean it really didn’t happen.]

As the taxi sped away with the newest employee of Broken Heart Park, Inc., Maggie returned to her bedroom.  She made the bed, picked out her ensemble for the day and prepared to take a long, hot shower.

Luxuriating under the pulsating spray, Maggie suddenly realized that the newly designated Park Manager had used her favorite friend-on-a-rope to wash himself with.

She thought to herself:  Well let him, he won’t be around forever, or even for very long, if everything goes as planned.  She enjoyed a private laugh.

She turned her full body under the rhythm of the pounding water and was almost lost to the world as she began to lather herself furiously when, suddenly, the figure of a woman appeared through the transparent shower curtain.  In a flash Maggie reached behind a pile of soap in the dish and pulled out her silver snub-nose revolver with the sure-grip mother-of-pearl handle.  She always kept it ready for such emergencies.  In a sweeping move she flung back the curtain.

“Freeze!”

Maggie pointed the gun directly at the face of the young creature with the heavy blue eye shadow, mini-skirt and fluffy blond hair.  Maggie knew immediately this was no lady.

“Drop the knife, bitch!  And I mean right now!”

The Minister’s Son let the butcher knife fall from his trembling hand.  He stared in shock and terror.  Not at the gun, or Maggie’s angry face, but directly at her soapy femininity, round and pink and glistening in the steam.

“Well, well, well,” Maggie laughed to herself, all the while keeping the gun trained on the boy as she walked.  “Into the bedroom, now!” she ordered.  She pointed with the business end of the gun, “Now, now, now!  Okay, get down and reach under the bed.  You’ll find a roll of duct tape.  Get it, and pull off a long strip.  Then, turn around and lay face down on the bed.”

Her commands were so matter-of-fact the boy began to believe she had done this before.  As always, the Minister’s Son did exactly as he was told.

Maggie climbed naked on top of the boy, moistening him with her wet body.  She pinned his arms back and wrapped the tape tightly.  She tethered his legs and ripped off a nice fat strip of tape that she placed across his painted lips.  In no time the would-be assassin was trussed like a holiday ham.  He was so compliant Maggie began to believe he might have done this before.

Leaving him wild-eyed on the bed, Maggie rummaged through the boy’s purse and found his cell phone.  She hit speed dial.

“Philpot?  Gato here.  Maggie Gato.  I’ve got something that belongs to you.  What?  Your little catamite, that’s what.  What?  What’s a catamite?  Google it.  Listen Philpot, just meet me in my office in twenty minutes or I bitch slap your little girlfriend and drop him off at a remote truck stop.  Got it?  Good.  See you there.”

Grasping the boy by the elbow and pulling him up to his feet, Maggie barked, “Better hop to it!”  Her eyes smoldered fiercely.  “And let’s just see what your boyfriend thinks about this!”  She walloped the boy across his face with such violence it left a raspberry welt flooded under a mascara stream of tears.

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