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03/7/25   
Often duplicated, never imitated

A Fistful of Tannenbaum Chapter 1: No Mercy

by Red Bagel
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January 5, 2004
Editor's Note: Though literary experts he has consulted insisted his book was unpublishable, Red Bagel believed enough in his work to continue pursuing it. Then, he remembered he was a publisher. the commune proudly presents the Editor's debut novel in serialized chapters.

The morning was dewy outside the window of Jed Foster's palatial estate. The kind of morning where you want to take a beautiful woman out into the grass, strip her clothes off, and make passionate love to her right in the middle of God's outdoors. Or perhaps play badminton. Either one sounded good.

Jed sat at his desk and lit another cigar. He laughed bitterly at the phallic smoking utensil. "These things are going to kill you one day, Jed."

"You're damn right they will," a voice said. It was not the cigar.

Turning his chair away from the window, he saw his old business nemesis Hans "Two-Bit" Reilly. He was a tall man, with possibly a thick head of hair, although most people were not tall enough to see the top and really tell, it may have been thinning up there. The guy had to be, Jesus, six foot or something. Monstrously tall. His eyes were smoky, mainly from Jed's cigar, and his grin was smug and didn't come with a free cup of coffee.

"I'll be damned," said Jed, and so did his mother one time. "I never expected to see you waltz into these doors. I thought the guards at the door would beat you into a senseless pulp the minute you tried."

"Maybe next time," said Two-Bit, to humorous effect. He approached the gargantuan antique desk where Jed sat and put an item on the table. "But not today."

It was a handwritten coupon, good for one free backrub, non-transferable. Jed took it with a start.

"Jesus rides a pony!" he exclaimed. "I never thought I'd see this again."

"It's time, Jed," said Two-Bit, poising his hands on his hips in a way to make him look only slightly homosexual. "You told me to come calling when I was ready to find the lockbox. Well, I'm calling."

Furious-like, Jed wadded the coupon and tossed it out of his hand. He spun in his chair dramatically to face the window again. "Bah! You go head to head with death. I'm an old man now, though keep in mind it's more a self-piteous statement than a reflection of my physique. I'm too old to go treasure hunting with some gaylord who stands with his hands on his hips."

Two-Bit slumped in his spot. "You made a promise."

"That was a long time ago," growled Jed. "Besides, I don't owe you anything."

His jaw all steely, Two-Bit bent to the floor and picked up the coupon ball from off the floor. He presented it to Jed's back like a little origami bird. "I don't mean me. You made a promise to Audreybell. And according to this, you owe her one free backrub."

Jed Foster sobbed briefly, composed himself, and stood. He grabbed a shotgun off the wall that had once been used for hunting and now only came down when kids were jumping around his sprinklers. Like him, it had just come out of semi-retirement.

He pulled back the stock and loaded in menacingly. "Let's ride, Two-Bit."



Next Chapter: Sierra Mist


Quote of the Day
“Fascism is not the devices and mechanisms that force us to our knees, but those who operate in the shadows and convince us "on our knees" is the place we're born. And the first seed of fascism is rent.”

-Crosby in 3F, every first of the month
Fortune 500 Cookie
Today is not your day, buddy—by a horrible bit of luck, your day was exactly six weeks before you were conceived. The good news is you look a lot like William Daniels; the bad news is that doesn't pay much these days. Watch out Thursday, when you're nearly buried in a deluge of Fangoria magazines that have been building up in your closet. Lucky numbers? You want luck? Eat me, sadsack.


Try again later.
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