Dark Chronicles of a Creative Mind (chapter 2)

“Boy would you listen to the lungs on him. Woooo weeee”, the first face in front of me said. His face was smooth, covered in the start of a beard. Complexion was brown; he had a smile that normally would make any woman swoon from the sight of it. It was like Negan from the ‘walking dead’ and the singer Ronald Isley had gone into the oven together, and this man was the product. His hair was slicked back, processed like the Fonz. He had a singsong kind of voice, as if was singing to you instead of talking.

 From the way he leaned in, I could notice he was wearing a black leather biker jacket, with a white t-shirt underneath.

“Now son, I’m going to ask you to refrain from screaming. And if you refuse, then I’m gonna have to close that pretty little mouth of yours with some good hard wood.” He holds up a baseball bat covered in barb wired to my face.

At this moment, I wasn’t sure what had stopped me from screaming. Not sure if it was because I believed he would hit me, or the fact of how he worded said threat.

My eyes met with the eyes of the second face that was before me. The second face, was covered in white faded make up, smeared blotchy black mascara around the eyes and smeared red lipstick around the lips. His hair was shoulder length, black with minor green highlights, grungy like he was pioneer of the Seattle 90’s grunge scene.

“You forgot to say ‘no homo’”, the second face said in dark monotone.”

“You forgot that I don’t give a flying filthy fornicated Frisco Bay fuck”, the first guy said with a warm pleasant neighborly smile.

They both step into the spotlight, and they begin to argue among themselves. All I can do is sit there, listening to the vulgar ways in which they threaten to kick each other’s ass.

The first guy was on scenario number twenty, of how he could introduce the second guy’s rectum to his baseball bat. The second guy was in the middle of his reply-when the eerie music stopped-and suddenly the whole room filled with light. Both men seemed to lose interest in the ‘who has the biggest dick competition’, and began circling the room mumbling to themselves.

With a better view of my surroundings, I didn’t feel as uneasy as before. What was once a dark, lifeless, and echoing tomb of a room was now a very spacious executive office. This place was completely loaded, like someone enjoyed the finer things in life.

The walls were a dull crème and beige mixture. The office had an art deco feeling to it. A few flush soft looking leather couches. Fancy glasses tables, expensive looking art on the walls-the floor was made of marble. Ten feet in front of me was a hand crafted wooden desk. On it was a state of the art flat screen all in one computer along with a few expensive looking ink pens.

On my right, there was nothing of any significance. Just wall with fancy art work hanging. On the left of me, there was a heavily stocked walk around bar. Appeared to have any and every poison you could think of to wet your whistle. A few feet from the bar was a door, and judging by what I could see-the only visible exit.

Both of my captors went silent, and stood at attention when they heard the doorknob turn. Seconds later a rather well dressed gentleman walked in. From what I could see of this new person, especially his suit, he had expensive tastes. This had to be his office.

He stops by the bar, pours himself a drink. The ice cubes clinks around his glass, as he grabs what will be his poison of the moment. The liquid courage from the bottle flows smoothly submerging the ice cubes. He stops looks at me, grabs another glass-repeats the same ritual.

Walking toward the three of us, he stops directly in front of me. Attempts to offer me a drink, but sees my dilemma.

“Gentlemen, this is no way to treat our esteemed guest. Please.”

He sighs and the two henchmen move. The wanna be grunge rocker uncuffs me, as the guy with the bat retrieves a chair for the player added to this game of mystery.

“I’d like to apologize if my boys here have roughed you up” he says, while handing me the drink.

Taking the drink, I’m hesitant about drinking. We watch each other, he crosses his leg in a nonchalant manner. He drinks, swirls the ice around in the glass making a dull clinking sound. The liquid fire is a bit more powerful than he thought. Exhaling he smiles, while readjusting himself in his seat.

Now that he was within range, I could get a good look at this new guy. To say he was sharp would be an insult. Mr Mystery had a cocoa complexion, and was dapper as hell. This guy was casket ready. You could kill him, and put him right in the box and have service right then and there. His hair was cut into a low bald fade, perfect lining. Cleaned shaved-with a mustache. He smiles at me with teeth white as an angels robe, and nods his head.

Not a single flaw on his custom made navy blue suit. If he worked at Subway he could cut sandwiches with the crease in his pants. The watch he wore was platinum, the face was fancy-yet plain. The cuff links were solid gold. Everything about this man said he was the boss.

“Now I’m sure you’re wondering by now why you’re here”, the mystery man said smoothly.

He paused; I became brave enough to drink from the glass he handed me. As I drank, he smiles and nods-gives a few adlibbed encouraging words. He joked with his two henchmen. The more I looked at him, and listened -he sounded like Denzel Washington.

“Now where are my manners? What kind of a host would I be-and not make introductions.” He takes a long sip from his cup, before motioning to my right. Looking in that direction, I see the grunge rocker has taken a seat on the arm of one of the couches.

“That is Mr. Oker. First name Ledger, his middle initial J. But we call him “LJ” for short. LJ nods at me as he adjusts his cufflink. His weren’t as fancy as the man of mystery’s were.

 As he runs his fingers through his rock style haircut, I notice his attire. Black dress pants, red dress shirt-and a black vest. In the pocket of the vest, I could see a chain-he digs in the pocket to reveal a pocket watch. He stares at the timekeeper, and shoots a glance back to the mystery man.

“And to the left we have Mr. Ronald Isley Negan. “

My focus shoots to the left. The leather coat wearing henchman now dons a pair of sun glasses, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“Don’t look so glum my man, you look like you need a little sunshine.”

In a singsong voice, he gives a command. Moments later a few of the office panels posing as walls, begin to change colors. Sort of like how those UV lens for glasses change appearance. The kind that get dark when you’re outside-and pose as sun glasses, and go back to clear lenses indoor.

“Now ain’t that some cool shit for your ass. Man come here kid and look at this view”, he says waving his hand at me.

I make eye contact with Mr. Mystery. Soon as he walked in the door, I had came to the conclusion he was the head man in charge. Not wanting to make a wrong move, I raise my eye brow my way of asking if it was ok to move. In return he nods before taking another sip from his glass.

“Now my friends call me by my initials R.I.N”, he says while putting his arm around me like we were new bffs.

“Rin? Like in the dog ‘Rin Tin Tin’?

He pauses, and for a moment, I see a spark of fire in his eyes. The grip his hand had on my shoulder, suddenly tightened.

“You know the last man that called me that?”

I answer confused, “No I don’t. And don’t you mean ‘do you know what happen to the last man that called me that’ “

Rin looks at me for a moment, and then over to the man of mystery. A moment of deathly silence ensues before he busts out into a dry hearty laughter.

“Well la-dee-dah. Woooo, we got ourselves a little English major here huh? A mister smarty pants. Mr. in order for a sentence to be grammatically correct, the subject and verb must both be singular or plural.”

He grabs me by the back of my neck, forces me to look forward. My eyes take in the view. We had to be at least one hundred feet in the air, maybe more. Once the fear of being put through the glass had subsided, I noticed the beautiful city below was Chicago.

Rin continues his diatribe.

“As I saying the last man that called me by that name. I tied him up, fucked his wife-and made him watch.”

“Really?”, I asked with nonchalant interest.

Rin grins at me, “Actually I made a home-made video…”

Mr. Mystery cuts off Rin’s statement, by clearing his throat. The man in the navy blue suit stands up, fixes himself another drink and joins me at the window.

“Last but not least, my name is Alonzo Xavier Styles”, he says walking past me as he makes his way to sit behind his desk.

“So what is it that you want with me? And why am I in Chicago.”

“Well, actually you’re not in Chicago, you’re in your mind. And outside that window is what Chicago looks like to you”, Alonzo says while lighting a cigar.

For a moment I look around, I attempt to digest all this.

“So is this like a dream or something. In my mind? So which means I can do anything.”

“Just about kid. This is all your creation”, LJ said with a snicker.

“If what you say is true, if this is my mind-I’m a bit disappointed” I reply in between sips of my alcohol.

“Why” asked Alonzo.

“I expected it to be a whole lot dirtier.”

All three men look at each other and laugh. They laugh hard at my ignorance.

“Oh this kid here boss, he’s most definitely the right guy for the job”, Rin says while slapping me on the back.

Alonzo nods as he swirls the liquid courage around in his glass. Looking me over one hard time, he swallows the last of the fire in the glass and stands up.

“Rin, LJ, clean him up. The works. After that you know what to do. Have him back here and ready and presentable by 9 pm sharp.”

With that said, the man in the navy blue suit took his leave. I was alone once again with his minions. Thing one and thing two. It was like being left alone with Lurch and Gomez from the Addams family.

Rin begins dancing a jig in place as he hummed, as LJ puts on a suit jacket.

“Come on sunshine. Man we are about to fuck some shit up-I tell you what. But first things first.”

Suddenly everything went black, and I lost consciousness.

One thought on “Dark Chronicles of a Creative Mind (chapter 2)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s