Master Bastard
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The Saga Continues: Vic Musket Part 3

“Fuck this Taco Bell” Vic thought.  He frequented the bathrooms here and the kids that run the place never fill the soap dispenser.  He was going to have to wash his underwear without it, and that always gave him a rash in the crotch area.  If this place didn’t make such delicious tacos he wouldn’t ever darken the doorway.  With his hastily scrubbed underwear draped over the hand dryer Vic tore into a three pack of tacos, stopping occasionally to hit the button.
He would need the food in his belly to keep him standing, and would need some booze to keep his gun pointing straight.  He pulled the bottle from his jacket pocket and was immediately disappointed to find it was filled with piss.  And maybe some blood.  He poured the whole mess down the sink drain and put the empty bottle back in his jacket.  That sink was doing double duty as a hazmat disposal unit this morning, to his recollection Vic had put spit, puke, sweat, piss and blood down her.  His morning ritual complete, Vic needed some money.
A small boy pushed his way through the big swinging door to find Vic sitting on the floor.  “Got ten bucks, kid?”  Vic asked with a big smile on his face.
Every once in a while God stops shitting on his least favorite people.  Today seemed like Vic’s day.  His ten dollars already converted into cheap vodka, the disgraced detective took the familiar route to the local homeless shelter.  This time he was going to settle a score for the porn shop owner instead of looking for an easy lay and a place away from all these diseased feral street cats.  He headed straight  back to the cots and homed in on his slumbering target.
A sleeping man awoke quickly to the sensation of urine splashing off of his face.  After a few moments of spitting, screaming expletives, then spitting again, the man got a clear view above him.  He would know that cock anywhere…
“Vic!  What the fuck, man?!”  The vagrant shouted.  “Shut the fuck up, Loomis.  This isn’t the first time you’ve had my piss in your mouth.  I am here for Mitch, he said you would know why.”  Vic replied, giving his wang an extra shake for dramatic effect before putting it away.
“You have got to be kidding me, man.  Mitch is convinced I robbed the shop last Tuesday night, But I didn’t fucking rob anything.  Do I look like I have any money?”  Loomis was very defensive, and started to stand.  “So FUCK OFF!”  He yelled and ran.  Vic was hot on his tail and followed him into the abandoned alleyway.
It didn’t even occur to Vic to use his gun.  He just sprinted uncharacteristically fast for a drunk, and leaped onto the man’s shoulders.  He secured a chokehold and took the man down.  “Still got those legs the sailors used to pay top dollar for.” Vic thought.  He was proud that he could still run like a stabbed prostitute.  After he was satisfied the man was unconscious he turned him over.
Loomis’s neck was clearly broken, and he was as dead as a lame pigeon in a closed soup kitchen.  Sure hope this doesn’t fuck up the deal with the porn shop owner…

To be continued…
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