Trocadero pt.II Salvation at the End of the Line

I am not given to subtle action or subtle re-action. Basically, I just jump in. I throw all the cards up, if you will, and watch to see how they land. Here's what happens next...


Peter, well known to the crowd, haunts the club tonight too. He cuts quite the figure in this place used to glitz. He is a straight shooter. At least he appears that way. He wears the years like the 3-piece Armani and the tri-tone shoes he normally sports. He dresses the part. He never looks out of place. His style is impeccable. He doesn't seek attention. Rather, attention seeks him. Tonight, though, is different. He sits near the kitchen with Ginsburg, reading and comfortably spooning Borscht. Tonight the huddled masses seem to not notice him


"Hey, Allen" he whispers. "Have you ever heard of this Bukowski guy? He sounds kinda seedy."

"No future," says Allen, "Just drunken dejection and rejection. A hollow canoli with no cheese"

"But what about McClure?"

"If you know Gaelic, you're fine. Me? I still struggle with Yiddish. Go figure."
**********************************
"I know I've seen that face somewhere," The Pig ponders to himself. "Maybe down in Mexico or, perhaps, a picture up on somebody's shelf." Patrushka had left to powder her nose with Claudette, who had snuck in during Calloway's last number. "Why does he look familiar?" he ponders.

But then the crowd began to stamp their feet and the house lights dimmed. In the darkness of the room, the weird and glorious future began to settle into the Pig's mind.

"Maybe I'm a story teller," he ruminates. "Maybe I'm not just another parking bumper," he laughs surreptituously. "I see the northwest passage, mountains and snow. I see Sacajewea. I see a beat cowboy named Tutman struggling to be heard."

"Hey! What did you put in my tea?"

Is there more? There oughta be.
*********************************

The phone rings at 828 Milwaukee Street. It's a friendly call, but the Devil none the less.

"Wassup?" asks Leo, predating the phrase by a good generation at least.

"Have you considered the deal yet?" Scratch asks with a chuckle.

"Um, yeah. Can't do it."

"I figgered. You don't seem the type anyways. Get a better offer?"

"Nope. Just thought my eternal soul might come in handy one day. Besides, I'm like my dad. I never get rid of nuttin'.

"Ok, kid. Gotcha. Just don't forget that you know where I am when you need me."

'Need him?' Leo thinks to himself. 'Last thing I need is him'

Is there more? Of course... just not yet!