THE ABCs OF A PECULIAR LIFE // B is for Biff & Bugalugs

Tonight should have been a perfect ten, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t even a seven. More like a three or four really. Not even the brunette with the big tits and long neck from the finest escort agency in the land could change that. She could gob him all she liked but it wasn’t going to make a scrap of difference.

How the hell had it come to this? In a fit of anger, Joe Faust slammed his expensive, gold-tipped pen on the table and shoved the escort’s head aside. It was unbelievable that his business, his pet project, should be falling quicker than a row of dominoes in a children’s bouncy fun castle!

He grabbed his cell phone and hit ‘Redial’. The bastard wasn’t picking up or responding to Faust’s many texts pleading for an audience. He should never have made that deal with such a shady character, especially one that he had yet speak with face-to-face. Faust should have known that he’d get screwed over. God damn it!

Suddenly, there was a click. A suave Voice at the other end calmly said, “I’m all ears.”

Faust blinked in surprise. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get you for the last three days!” He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance and agitation. The time for subtle hints had passed. Shit was about to get real, and a bit of frank talk was what was needed right now.

He felt something closing around his cock again. Faust looked down. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” he bellowed, half to her and half to the Voice. “Day and night I’ve been calling!” He kicked at the escort until she crawled away on all fours to cower between the display prams.

“Remind me, Bugalugs,” said the Voice. “Who are you?”

“You know exactly who the fuck I am!” exploded Faust. “I’m the guy who’s going to bury you unless things change around here!”

There was a slight pause. “Careful,” came a menacing growl.

Faust softened his tone. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m neck deep in shit right now, and I need a bail out.”

“So,” repeated the Voice. “Who are you?”

What? Was he really going to do this now? Was the Voice really going to act dumb and play out this charade? Faust took a deep, shuddering breath, and though he was sitting down he found himself having to lean against the desk for support. He swallowed hard, harnessed his willpower, and said in an almost normal tone, “I’m Joe Faust. I’m the Pram Lord.”

The Voice chuckled. “I’m listening, Bugalugs. What’s your wish this time?” Faust squeezed his eyes shut then blinked them open again. Had the Voice actually chuckled or had it been interference on the line? This call was already doing his head in.

“Do you wish for all women to give birth to only triplets? Do you wish for pregnancy to last a mere two months, thus compelling new mothers to buy new prams before the old ones become vacant?” The Voice went on. “Do you wish to start a fashion for single-use prams?”

Faust kept silent. He was confused. Was it possible? And then the Voice guffawed, causing him to wince. So, it obviously wasn’t interference. He was being made a fool of.

“No, Bugalugs. You can be as materialistic as you wish, but I’m not God. I’m only a modest wish master.”

Faust could feel the rage building.

“A modest little advertising company here or some horrible weather there—this is what lies within my purview.”

That’s it. Faust was going to have to fly off the handle. “I need cash, you bastard, not fucking sleet! Instead of reaming me six ways from Sunday, you could get off your fat otherwordly arse and get me what I actually fucking need, you fucking prick!”

There was a longer pause. Oh, shit. He’d really done it now…

“Do you wish to break the contract?” The Voice was devastatingly polite… and so very cold. “Keep in mind that Mephistopheles Enterprises doesn’t refund prepayments.”

Faust was opening and closing his mouth like a hooked guppy fish. The words wouldn’t come.

“I suppose there is one wish I could make for you… You can consider this a cancellation fee from Mephistopheles Enterprises.” The Voice was downright icy now. “From now until doomsday, you will have only cash in your pockets.”

Something clicked loudly and the line went dead. And then there was another sound. A loud clinking sound. Then another. And another…

Joe Faust woke with a start. A prim and proper lady dressed in black had tossed some coins into an alms box. Was it… Hey! It was in his hand! Did the alms box belong to him? Still reeling in a fog of disbelief, he leaned forward to inspect it. His fingers were gingerly nudging the coins around the edges of the box when he noticed someone else approaching. Who was this now?

Oh my god. It was a brunette with big tits and a long neck. Was she… lactating? There were two ginormous, screaming baby giraffes in the pram she was pushing — a competitor’s brand. Faust tried to recall where he had seen her before, and then she turned for a moment and accidentally biffed him in the ankle with her pram.

Faust grimaced. “Hey! Watch it, sleeper!”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Oh, put a sock in it, Bugalugs. Hire some other prostitute and be rude to her!”

And just as a look of recognition flashed across Joe Faust’s face, she winked and moved on. Stunned, he sat there opening and closing his mouth like a guppy fish, but she had long since vanished over the horizon, never to be seen again.

© All rights reserved 2017

12 thoughts on “THE ABCs OF A PECULIAR LIFE // B is for Biff & Bugalugs

  1. Oh and PS TWENTY THREE THOUSAND FOLLOWERS? HOLY MACARONI T, how the flippin heck did you manage that? Oh and another thing, I read Sin City for the first time ever (yeah I know, SLOW COACH aren’t I?) and I liked it but I kept thinking “Tony could blow this outta the park” so I wanted to tell you that was what I’d been thinking so there.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I wish I knew how we managed it! I suspect it has more to do with Tati’s efforts than anything I’ve done. 😛

      As for Sin City, I confess that while I completely understand why it’s considered a classic, it was never really my cup of tea. Might of had something to do with it being a film noir kinda thing. Technically speaking though, the art is fantastic with its elegant balance of negative/positive areas. Truly masterful!

      One graphic novel I’d definitely recommend that I really enjoyed is Persepolis. Perhaps you’re already familiar with it?

      (Oh, and thank you for your kind words. A guy could get used to such positive reinforcement!) 😀

      Liked by 1 person

    • It wasn’t my cup of tea as much as say, Halo Jones or something else either, that’s probably why I didn’t read it the first time, but I agree w/u that the artwork is fantastic and I thought of you immediately. I will try to find Persepolis. I take any recommendation from you my friend. Ah you have so much positive reinforcement there are so many who really respect and care about you and I am one of those – always will be. Always.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. This reminds me of a story I once heard. That men tend to rate women based on numbers, and women tend to rate men based upon words. So a seven for a man may be a ‘not bad could be better if he lost weight’ for a woman or something like that. Anyway … I was told that if you’re a seven out of ten in the straight world then if you are a gay man you are a five out of ten in the gay world because they’re more particular (and I believe this to be true because damn they look good) and if you are a seven out of ten in the straight world then if you are a gay woman you are a nine out of ten in the lesbian world because they’re all so hideous (and I believe this to be true because damn sometimes when you walk into a lesbian bar you think you accidentally went into the bikers bar instead) and I laugh so hard at that, because it’s both judging and perverse and so true of our stupidity as humans. To even rate someone with a number or a word, and yet so often we do because we’re so removed from the warmth of love and we’re trying to make sense of why everything is so cold. Needless to say I went from being probably about a six in the straight world to a eight in the lesbian world – ho ho ho and it didn’t serve me so well as most of the others were gulp, just not people I’d sit down and have a drink with though I might have had a bar fight with them if they’d asked kindly 😉 (Great post btw)

    Liked by 2 people

    • Oh my lord. What a funny story! How convoluted it can all this rating stuff get, eh? I agree with you, Candice. Why rate someone with a number or a word to begin with? (I reckon you’d win the bar fight though. Why? I’d never want my friend to come off second best.) 😛

      Liked by 1 person

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