Mister Sandman Ep. 05

All characters are adults.

*

Joe Hooker rolled up Willie Jackson in old carpet and hauled him to the county incinerator where he was cremated with the other rolls of carpet and floor pads Joe pulled up back at the hotel. Next Joe went to the Greasy Spoon Diner for lunch, his waitress was a young wife and mother named Gwen. After he ate he took Gwen home with him and fucked her in the ass.

Gwen looked to be twenty-four, five-four, and around one-fifteen. Her light brown hair was cut short and she had no tits to speak of. Gwen was wholesome looking, like Carol Brady, rather than pretty or cute, and she never asked for a dime, for the sex, but he gave her four fifties from the roll he carried in his pocket, which she didn't protest. She wanted to sleep when they were done, the semen seeping out of her hole looked like Elmer's Glue or maybe cinnamon roll icing. Little spurts came out in time with her pulse.

Gwen lived in the Bush Gardens public housing project, Joe took her home before her old man, Elwood, got off work at his security guard job. Her breath smelled like cock when she kissed Joe good bye.

Reverend Hal and a squad of gorillas greeted Joe when he arrived back at the hotel. Joe had never seen Reverend Hal before. The man looked like a cross between Little Richard, the singer, and Maxine Waters, the politician. The gorillas all looked like Mister 'T'. Joe was surprised anyone wore Marcel waves in the 21st Century but Hal's mop coulda been an expensive rug. Hal extended a hand for Joe to kiss his ring. The diamond was huge.

"Kiss the man's ring, chump," one of the gorillas said to Joe, then made a move to frisk Joe but backed away when Joe pressed the tip of a knife against the gorilla's public area. The gorilla looked at Hal for guidance and Hal shook his head. The gorilla stepped back.

"What can I do for you?" Joe asked.

"I'm Reverend Hal and I came by to see what's goin' on down here; there's talk. I just might be interested in a good investment."

"It's not my place," Joe said.

"But your name is on the deed," Hal replied.

"Maybe, but I don't own it," Joe reminded Hal.

"Then tell me what the plans is," Hal asked.

"I was told to restore a small portion of the building?"

"What portion?" Hal persisted.

"This lobby, the bar, a few rooms; that's about it."

"I was told you're a pimp hiring whores for this place," Hal said.

"You were told wrong," Joe replied.

"I don't think so. They ain't much goes on in Old Town I don't know about, so I want you to go with us, to talk more about this place and what's happening," Hal said.

"No, bad idea, I got nothing to tell you, and I ain't the one to ask," Joe said.

Hal nodded to his gorillas and one of them died before he lifted his foot off the floor to move on Joe, slaughtered when gun fire erupted from the main staircase. Hal and the others fled lickty-split. The stranger with the pistol walked up to Joe smiling and sapped him unconscious.

Joe awoke stretched out atop his hotel bed. Mike Glinda sat in a chair smoking. "You were out longer than I expected," Glinda said, "some people are ham fisted and lack the professional's deft touch for the work."

"Tell me about it," Joe rubbed his head.

"You hurt Reverend Hal, he won't take his lumps and move on. I expected the police would be here by now, and now I expect Hal will wanna handle things himself. You look for it, too," Glinda warned Joe.

"Who were the men I saw?" Joe wondered.

"They don't exist just like Hal's people don't exist, none of them were ever here," Glinda said. "Oh, I almost forgot, but this place needs to be ready for guests in four weeks. Find a name for the bar."

"I already got one, "Joe said.

"Don't keep me in suspense," Glinda said.

"Que Madrazo," Joe said.

"I assume it means something significant?" Glinda asked.

"It's what's Spaniards say when people collide and a mess results."

"You mean like, WHAT THE FUCK?" Glinda asked.

"No, it's more like when you invite the Queen over for tea and your dog humps her leg," Joe replied. "Unexpected and embarrassing."

"Whatever, at least the lights are ON now." Glinda pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to Joe. "These ladies are interested in our enterprise. Interview them and work something out that humors them and benefits us."

Joe opened the envelope and dumped the contents onto the bed. A brick of hundred dollar bills was in the paper. "For your recent work," Glinda said. "Oh! If it's possible to trim Reverend Hal's tree some more, do it."

Later, at the trailer, Joe showered. When he returned to the bedroom he saw Chenille in his bed beneath the sheets. "You gotta lock the door, love, cuz you never know when the wrong dog's gonna come through the door," she said. She rose up to sit. "Gimme that towel and lemme dry you."

In another, better, part of town Dashanique Brown lay on her bed with Bud Jones the husband of Dashanique's neighbor and best girl friend, Camille Jones. When Bud was home he often came over to help Dashanique make it through the night. If Camille knew she kept it to herself.

Dashanique married Marcus Brown two years earlier just before a drunk tee-boned Marcus' antique MG. Her black Adonis was left with brain damage and paralyzed from the waist down. Marcus spent his days eating bowls of TRIX and watching the Cartoon Channel. If he had known Bud was fucking Dashanique he couldn't have cared less. Dashanique felt serene and full, the semen leaking from her ass looked like Elmer's glue against her dark skin. She'd miss Bud while he was off to Afghanistan with the Marines.

"I gotta get up," Dashanique said.

"What for?" Bud asked.

"I got a job interview in two hours," she said as she pushed herself up off the mattress.

"You hard up for money?" Bud asked.

"Not at all, but with you gone I'll climb the walls if I don't have something to keep me busy," Dashanique replied. "Wanna join me in the tub and clean my best places?"

"I'll just try and make them dirty again," Bud said. Dashanique offered Bud her mouth to kiss, her breath smelled like cock but he kissed her anyway.

"Remind me to give you a snowball next time," she thought out loud.

"Baby you got me confused with those half-sissies you see."

Reverend Hal had more sponsors of his church than any race car team in the world. Hal's National Alliance to Praise God and Hail Caesar Ministry owned or controlled most of Old Town, and Dashanique went to its main office for her job interview. Her contact was a large young man named Benjamin Jakande who looked like a football player with a voice that was a perfect match of Barry White. Dashanique was wet almost from the first of the interview.

"May I call you 'Dashanique'?" Jakande asked.

"Of course," Dashanique replied with a smile.

"The Reverend and I assessed your resume and application exhaustively, and are confident you will perform better than we expect, and the Reverend authorized me to offer you the position if we agree on a salary," Jakande proposed. "How much salary are you wanting?"

"Uh, I was hoping for fifty or thereabouts," Dashanique replied.

"If I offer you one hundred is that enough to cover overtime that comes along?"

"That's good," she said, "but I'm not sure what it is you want me to do."

"The Reverend values versatility almost as much as duty, and your work can take many forms, depending on what he needs. You'll find yourself managing important projects, schmoozing national and world leaders, or even making photocopies if the need arises. HR isn't my normal work. The Reverend feels that assignment diversity helps employees understand our mission much better."

"I understand," she smiled.

"Good! Now what I need you to do is step next door and complete all these benefit and legal forms, and bring them back when you're done. If I'm not here leave them on this desk and report back for work Monday morning at eight o'clock. Any questions?"

"What if I have any questions?"

"You shouldn't have any, but it happens, so put your question on paper and clip the paper to the forms, or bring the question to work Monday, okay?"

"Thank you so much!" Dashanique beamed.

"See you in a while, then!" Jakande shook her hand.

The pile of forms was think and required about an hour to complete. She had one small question, wrote it down, and took the paperwork back to Jakande's office. In his office she heard whispering and other soft sounds, and walked across the office to a small room to see if Jakande was around. There she saw Jakande with his cock impaled in her neighbor Camille. Camille's face had a dreamy aspect as Jakande fucked her about one hundred miles an hour, or so it looked to Dashanique.

Jakande turned his head to look at Dashanique, "See you Monday."

After Chenille dried Joe's body to her satisfaction he returned to the hotel to check on the progress of the restoration work. More lights were ON, the bar floor was covered with new carpeting, and the public restrooms had new toilets, sinks, urinals, stalls, and mirrors, plus the old floor tiles were gone and replaced with vinyl. He was surprised to find Jehmu and her friend, Megan, in the bar cooking spaghetti.

Neither woman acted different but didn't volunteer any explanations for their awol status when Willie came calling. Joe didn't ask and started to walk away. "Where you going?" Jehmu caught him before he vanished. "Supper is almost ready."

"Sit down!" Megan pointed to a booth. Joe did as he was told while the ladies set the table.

"Where'd you find all this stuff?" Joe asked, referring to the bowls, forks, spoons, plates, glasses.

"We went shopping at every thrift store in the county," Jehmu said. "It's a start."

"Then we bought some groceries," Megan added. "We wanted to bake some bread but don't know how, so we bought a loaf."

"Is it okay?" Jehmu asked.

It wasn't okay but Joe gave it a thumbs up as he chewed.

"How come you don't say much?" Megan asked.

"Cause my mouth is full," Joe answered.

"No! You hardly never talk," Jehmu replied.

"I dunno, I s'pose I spend too much time thinking then spend too much time doing," Joe replied. "Don't nobody much care what I think, anyways."

"Sure they do, say something!" Jehmu insisted.

"Okay, did Megan buy any clothes while you were out?"

"Is that all you got to say?" Jehmu frowned.

"Did she?"

"No!" Jehmu replied. "We spent our money on all this stuff."

Joe pulled his roll of cash from his pocket. "Then you two need to go shopping once we clean up the kitchen." He handed Jehmu a fistful of fifties. "You know what to buy."

"Then what?" She asked.

"Then go back to the trailer," Joe said.

"We can't stay here?" Megan wondered.

"It's not ready to live in," Joe lied. "Too much work is left to do. And take a taxi when you go shopping."

"Why?" Jehmu asked.

"To carry all your stuff in," Joe explained.

"Will you be at the trailer later?" Jehmu asked.

"It's likely," Joe said.

It was well after midnight when Joe's phone rang. He turned on the lamp and opened the phone case. The number wasn't familiar to him. In the background he heard females crying and the sound of slapping, then a male voice spoke, "Are you listening to your friends? We have them." Joe shut his phone case disconnecting the call. His phone chirped again within a few minutes.

"Asshole! You better listen up," the caller demanded. Joe hung up the phone.

The third time the phone rang Joe did the talking. "Tell Hal to come here if he wants to talk." Joe hung up on the caller.

Three hours later two carloads of thugs parked close to Joe's trailer park, most carried Louisville Slugger baseball bats and hammers. They stayed out of the drive and crept to the trailer through the backyards. At Joe's trailer one group went to the front door, the other group went to the back door, and both groups jimmied the doors open and went inside. Joe's bedroom door was shut and they crept down the hall to his bedroom excited and grinning.

The first half stick of dynamite blew out the bedroom door and the wall the door was attached to. To be honest the dynamite destroyed that end of the trailer. The lone survivor ran to the front of the trailer in time for a 2nd half stick of dynamite to wreck that end of the place. Two crawled out before fire engulfed the rubble and consumed it. Joe, already outside, next paid a visit to the parked cars, and took care of business before fleeing.

Mike Glinda, Joe's "Fairy Godmother" was waiting for him at the hotel. Glinda was about the size of Francis Dolarhyde with a soft Michael Jackson voice and a tomb where his heart should be. Glinda wasn't fond of the Fairy appellation, and Joe had no good clues as to who Glinda worked for though it seemed the organization was spooky, and Glinda always seemed to know what was up before anyone. Glinda was sitting in the dark smoking a cigarette. "Our patrons prefer you clip Hal's wings rather than kill him. Turn back the clock to the time when he pushed dope near the schools and sold tickets to heaven to imbeciles. Many feel he's flying too high and such a parasite he's worse than a tank of leeches. On the other hand you'll invite everyone who matters to pull your eyes from your skull if you inconvenience or annoy Hal."

"What about our plans?" Joe asked.

"We don't want our fingerprints on anything, you understand," Glinda said. "And no spectacles that stun teevee viewers; pluck Hal's ticks one at a time. Follow me? Don't be surprised if the FBI moves in with you and follows you around after tonight."

"It'll make it harder for Hal to move against me, too," Joe replied.

"The FBI will look the other way for Hal," Glinda said. "And if they find no evidence of anything they'll make it up and influence everyone to swear it's Gospel. It's like being Jesus of Nazareth when Hal betrays you to the Romans."

"And you'll crucify me if I refuse," Joe thought out loud.

"Doesn't take many beatings for you to catch on," Glinda said.

Joe's phone rang, it was Andrea. "Hello?"

"How are you at emergency dental work?" She asked. "I got some cavities that need filling. What will it cost me?"

"Breakfast," Joe replied.

"That's fair, tit for tat. Where?" She asked.

"The diner down the street, you know which one?" He checked.

"Yes. See you there," Andrea cooed.

Joe got there first and ordered coffee. The teevee was ON and the President was talking from the Oval Office, explaining how she and the Congress made a treaty with the United Nations to make South Florida a United Nations Protectorate jointly administered by Canada, North Korea, ISIS, and Cuba. "An experiment in one world government, we're all excited," the President beamed.

TO BE CONTINUED