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CASHMONEYMILLIONAIRE made her way down the street, strolling with a closed umbrella in hand. If an old lady with a large purse happened to pass her she would wack that silly grandma upside the head and go through her purse. Taking anything that was worth anything or if it just appealed to her. Cash was currently up to five dollars, two cat figurines and at least 25 tooth picks. Collecting tooth picks, what a hobby. What a great and torturous hobby. Dread_Pirate_Pickles would understand later the torturous part of that hobby.
CASH had been doing this for awhile and not just to up her count of cat figurines, but to think about how she would perfectly congratulate that Phil_Steak guy. How to precisely honor him, embarrass him and of course, how to terrorize him. Because, lets be honest, this is truly what these sort of gatherings are all about. Bringing up past events to shame the person as much as possible and then to have the whole audience pointing fingers at said person of honor and laughing, snickering and snorting.
For the 65th time that week, CASH found herself on the corner of Decatur street where the crowd was still gathering to honor the main man of New Orleans. If people thought Mardi Gras was a big deal, they had never seen the adoration of a New Orleans Godfather. Their loss. CASH finally had something to say.
Mr. Steak. MISTER CASH MONEY STEAK.
CASH winked.
Phil…where do I even start? This is the real question.
She spun her umbrella. Like magic hands, dramatic effect, but better obviously.
There's really no certain place. One just dives into the deep end of Phil_Steak. This dive is a dangerous one, like a child that doesn't know how to swim properly diving in without a flotation device. When one first meets Phil_Steak you get the same dread feeling of drowning. The realization of lack of air in lungs, not being able to breath water like fishes. Bam! Natural instinct kicks in and you fling your limbs chaotically through the water and someone how push your way to the surface, breaking it and gasping for air.
How is drowning like Phil_Steak? He gets you into trouble.
The first time I met the man was Mardi Gras several years ago. I was drunk, he was drunk. He was giving me that eye. The eye men give hookers. Now, you have to understand, this was literally forever ago. Like, before Phil_Steak was a big name. Anyway, he was giving me the hooker eye and I wasn't a hooker even though I probably looked like one with all those beads around my neck. What do men give hookers. Money. I've always been all about money. It wasn't a hobby I picked up half way through my life like the tooth picks. I was born this way.
Back to the steak and the story. I figured that he could give me the money and I could not give him the hooking. So I let him pull me down a side street and once I stepped into the shadows a bag was pulled over my head. OVER MY HEAD. Long story short, Phil owed some guys money after a big poker game he didn't survive. He's never been a very good poker player and has a terrible poker face. In my drunk state, I hadn't caught on to that yet. He had convinced some thugs that I was a princess from a far away land and I was loaded. If they kidnapped me and held me for ransom they'd get their money back five times more. These guys weren't very smart. It was extremely easy to escape. And after I did I hunted that Phil_Steak down. With the intentions of killing the bastard. Who did he think he was?! Did he even know who I was?!?
When I found him he first pretended like he didn't know what I was talking about. Telling me he had never seen me before. So I put a bag over my head and it clicked. He remembered. Then he told me that if I came to kill him we'd have to do it Russian Roulette style. It was the only way he was willing to go out. Of course I agreed. Some say that was pretty stupid of me. The odds weren't in either of our favors, but taking risks, that's in my blood too.
CASH paused as someone from the crowd yelled out "YOU SISSYS WERE JUST DUELING!"
It was not a duel. This shit was intense. Phil had called his roommate into the living room area of the shit hole they lived in. The roommate took his seat at the piano, like they had practiced this. If anyone at any time came to kill the Steak it would turn into a whole production. I remember thinking to myself that maybe the two were lovers and into that theater drama business. I think I even saw the pianist tear up a bit, lovers for sure.
The menacing music started, I raised the gun, pulled the trigger…..Click. I passed the gun to Phil, we hadn't been properly introduced yet, in my head I was calling him the drama queen. Phil raised the gun, pulled the trigger….Click. I took the gun…Click. He took the gun…BANG. He shot me! The bastard shot me. In the fucking shoulder. Maybe I should consider this a miracle as we were standing probably about seven feet apart from each other and he missed all the places that could actually kill me. I didn't consider it a miracle. I was angry. This was Russian Roulette and the drama queen bastard fucking missed. The roommate hopped from his stool and rushed to my side. Again, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all orchestrated.
The roommate had to drag me out of the apartment kicking and screaming as I kept shouting "REMATCH! YOU OWE ME!!!". I was taken to the hospital, aka, three flights down and in some shady guys apartment who claimed to be a "doctor". The bullet was removed, wound cleaned and infection kept away. The roommate stayed with me through all of this. I didn't know the guy, but I was glad he stayed as this "doctor" had really creeped me out. A day later, Phil showed up with flowers. I threw them in his face. We have been friends ever since. |
