May 9, 2005: As unofficial political consultant Bob Slotsky lurched into the
Peanut King Brew Barn, he bumped into State Senator Jed Puptue
lurching out. Slotsky lurched because he was dead: Puptue because
he was drunk. "Slotsssi" he slurred, "You look like shhhhht".
Puptue's companion, an up-and-coming young mayor from a burb
town, tittered appreciatively. But Bob Slotsky barely broke lurch
as he headed for the bar. Slaugerton cop Mike Testirolla was
tending. His brother Tony was Brew Barn owner of record. Sal
"Coochi-Coo" Adobo was behind that record. Though a subject of
perpetual federal interest Coochi-Coo had no record. But he
did have a whole lot of HUD bucked property in Slaugerton's
revitalized downtown. Including a piece of almost every bar on
the strip known in college student circles as "Pukeland". Over
the years, Mike Testirolla had moonlighted in most of Coochi-Coo's bars: he knew the tastes of Slaugerton's pols & players.
Without saying a word he hit Bob Slotsky with Bushmill and Bud.
Slotsky tossed back. Testirolla refilled. After half a dozen
Slotsky was feeling revitalized. And started eye-balling the
woman on the next stool. She looked young. But not college
girl. Her clothes screamed government office. Slaugerton was the
county seat: its bars got the public servant trade. As well as
the student crowd from New Jorksacutt State U and the Catholic
college of St. Coochi-Coo. Which had changed its name from St.
Mary's after receiving an awesome endowment.
Slotsky put his hand in his pocket. Feeling for the vial of
date rape drug he always carried in case he got lucky. Damn. Had
it fallen out when he got dumped in the dump? No-- there it was.
He wrapped his fingers around it. Confidently, he leaned toward
Miss Government Office.
"Hiya beautiful - come here often?"
"Maybe too often" came the answer.
When Rep. Puptue said Slotsky looked like shhhhht he hadn't been
just slurring Dixie. It wasn't only the torn clothes and stab
wounds. Bits of dump debris dangled from Slotsky's slip-sliding
rug. Beneath a 5 o'clock shadow his face was zombie white. His
deodorant had given up ages ago.
But Slotsky was a legendary deal maker. After he dropped a few
names of good buddy mega pols, the local police chief and some
pocket pal into her drink, Miss Government Office started coming
around. Her name was Tanitha and she worked in the office of
Slotsky's oldest and dearest: County Executive Frank Tusk.
Slotsky and Tusk had been frat brothers at St. Coochi-Coo. Back
when it was still St. Mary's.
"So baby," Slotsky put his hand on Tanitha's knee, "what say we
blow this joint."
Despite her befuddlement, Tanitha shuddered. Slotsky's fingers
felt like a clump of cocktail wieners from a long gone political
fundraiser. Desperately seeking Dutch courage she took a gulp of
her Cocotini. And tried stalling for time.
"Lemme visit the lady's room firse honey."
Slotsky wasn't buying it. He knew the bathroom had a window.
"You can use the can at my place" he said and stood up. He tossed
a C-note at Testirolla. With a vice grip on Tanitha, Slotsky
headed for the door. Where he collided with Frank Tusk.
"Jeez Bob" said Tusk "You look like death warmed over."
"You don't know the half of it" said Slotsky. He parked the now
sleeping Tanitha in a nearby banquette and proceeded to tell Tusk
how Slaugerton Mayor Terry McConn and local development lovely
Lara Tremor had murdered him-- then dumped his "body" at
the Peanut King Waste Transfer Station.
Tusk was steamed. Bob was his boy. Plus Tusk had brought home the
federal and state bacon for the facility. And used his clout to
steamroll opposition to its location. "It's like they crapped
where I sleep" he fumed.
Slotsky, who hadn't mentioned that McConn and Tremor had spotted
an FBI bug taped to his chest, nodded piously. "You know the
saying-- no good deed goes unpunished."
"I saw McConn's car parked at the Peanut King Motel on the
way over" said Tusk "The two of 'em are probably shacked up
right now in that brand new HUD tub."
An idea struck Tusk. He took his cell phone from his jacket and
passed it to Slotsky. "Why don't you give 'em a little wake-up
call" he said. Slotsky snickered. He and Tusk always enjoyed
pulling fast ones on McConn. Who'd been behind them at St.
Coochi-Coo. Back when it was still St. Mary's.
Slotsky speed dialed Lara's cell. After a few rings she answered.
The hot tub whirred and gushed in the background. "Hello?" she
said. Bob kept mum. Just breathed heavy. "Hell-O?" Lara's voice
started sounding snippy. Like it did when she told old people
their homes were being slated for eminent domain.
"Laaaarrrraa? Itssss Bob.."
Behind him, Tusk smothered a laugh.
To be continued...
Carola Von Hoffmannstahl-Solomonoff
"Even imperfection itself may have its ideal or perfect state."
Thomas De Quincy, 1827
Episodes of Revitalization, My Lovely
Revitalization, My Lovely; Chapter One
Revitalization, My Lovely; Chapter Two
Revitalization, My Lovely; Chapter Three
Revitalization, My Lovely; Chapter Four
Revitalization, My Lovely; Chapter Five
Revitalization, My Lovely Reloaded; Chapter Six
Revitalization, My Lovely Reloaded; Chapter Seven
Revitalization, My Lovely Reloaded; Chapter Eight
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