All characters and events depicted herein are obviously fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Skinny emerged from his reverie and went back the notes and documents.
Tuxedo Bruce was in here too. Just last weekend, the former minister of treachery was writing in The VOICE about Skinny and his flogging blog. Barefaced shamelessness. Tedz was in on this, the Choiseul side of the dirty dealing. Skinny made a note to cross reference this with what was in the report on corruption in town and village councils. And another note to publicly hold Tux hostage. The scribbled ransom note said:
“Dear Snakedog, I dare you to write one more article about me and my fucking blog. In fact, I dare you say anything in the media for the rest of the year on ANYTHING. ANYTHING AT ALL. You better go home to the casino where you belong. Enjoy your money. You are not the issue here. Not yet. So behave. And no more communications between you and Creature. The convention is over. You’re out of politics. Do NOT make me go Spider Jerusalem on your stupid, greedy, lying ass. And from now on, every time I slap you in my blog, I expect a thank you note. I am your last line of defense right now. Do not fuck with me. Love and kisses and hugs and pisses, your new best friend, Skinny.”
Of course, Tuxedo Bruce wouldn’t know who Spider Jerusalem was. But he knew what Google was. And Google was a good friend of Skinny’s. Google would tell Tux about Spider Jerusalem.
“The investigation was done by the Department of State and the former PM was kept abreast on all matters,” the documents proved. “However they chose not to rendition the Creature on grounds of not damaging US/SLU relations.”
Which means Kentoni knew. He had to know. Kentoni had promised for years to destroy the Creature. But he did not. He let Creature rampage his way into government. And then, when he got back into the PM’s chair, Kentoni just sat on the intel. Last year, the spooks approached him about Creature.
“I’m not getting involved,” he told them. “But any intel you have to share…”
|Who the hell do you think it is|
Now the spooks suspected him, too. Well, maybe not suspected. They just couldn’t understand him. Skinny realized that maybe Creature really did have something on Kentoni. The two of them were cancelling each other out. Which left Creature free to do as he pleased. And everyone else to suffer the consequences. Bastard. If he didn’t do something, then St Lucia was really fucked because his new political rival, a rich kid named Fown Bill was hell bent on selling every piece of prime crown lands and beaches to foreign investors and bringing St Lucians back to the plantation where they belonged.
“So, no help from you then, eh, Kentoni? What are you waiting for? Another election? You want to save this for another election? Well, so much for that, unless you’re calling elections next week. With any luck, you’re going to try to kill me too instead of just bringing the truth to light. And it’s not too late for you. But I guess you know what you’re dealing with. Fine. I won’t rely on you. Hopefully you’ll come to your senses. Hopefully, Woz will contact me on your behalf. If not, this could turn bad. Right now, I don’t know – you could be the kind of guy who calls Creature for comfort, instead of doing something right. Ah well, when you do, I’ll know. God guide you, comrade.”
The documents showed that the Bulldog, the secretly gay former Prime Minister, had let Creature use government stationary to get visas for his gangsta dogs and his police wolves. Just last Sunday, Bulldog lost the contest for leadership of the party. The power he once controlled through his puppet had evaporated. He didn’t see that Skinny had predicted that Fown Bill, the quarter-black rich boy who liked to think he was white, would crush Bulldog worse than Old Man Foxy had crushed Lulu Loush in February 2005. After Skinny published the Lucian Scarface story, THE AUDACITY OF DOPE, Creature still couldn’t accept that Skinny was the kind of guy who might lie with his mouth, but never, EVER lied with his fingers. Or his dick.
NEXT: SINCE SUNDAY (or YOU MUST BE ASKING YOURSELF HOW I KNOW ALL THIS)