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| Pinched Parifrials |
Local Artist DRH1 has been painting in the Tampa area for the last 17 years. You would think the guy would keep a phone. Or an email address. It makes hymn very hard to find. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about my privacy, But DRH1 is on some othashit. I called the number on his billboard, got one of those answering services doctors used to use before cell phones and left a message. Two days later I got a call on my personal cell. Didn’t recog the number so I didn’t answer it. A little old lady (sweet-sounding) left a message and apologized, said she was trying to call her nephew DRH1. Attempts to call her back failed.
For the next two days I could not shake the feeling that I was being followed. My Cat came up missing. My Chinese knock-off Iphone got hackd. Things in my apartment got moved around while I wasn’t at home.
I was in Ybor and realized I had left my newly replaced Hiphone (they are like $50 bucks apiece) out of my car. As I was getting out of the car, I noticed this veeerrry sexy blond girl in a red dress walking straight towards me. Batting her long lashes at me, she parted her lips to say……
Well I don’t know what she was going to say. I never heard it. In my mind she was about to say: “ Hey!! Watch out!!! Them muthafukkas is about to put a black back on your head!!! And beat you to sleep with a bag of hamhocks!!!!” It wouldn’t even have mattered to me that she forgot to mention that the hamhocks were frozen. Because that’s what happened. Them muthafukkas put a black bag on my head and beat me to sleep with a bag of frozen hamhocks. Damn!
I woke up in a dirty shipping container tied to a chair with socks. By the way the floor kept moving around I could only assume I was in the air. Maybe hanging from a crane. There was candles and urine and surprise, surprise DRH1. This Idiot thinks He’s a Super-Villian and he doesn’t have a clue what an interrogation is. He beat me constantly while he answered my questions. This is what followed:
WarDaddy: Stop Hitting Me!! Why am I tied to this chair?
DRH1: I Thought this was about me. Why we gotta talk about you first? You really don’t want the focus of this…meeting to you, do we? You do want to live I mean leave, don’t you?
WarDaddy: I get it. Owww! So, after making your first public appearance at Gasparilla 06 you passed the chance to really blow up here locally and instead….Please stop hitting me.
DRH1: Oh, I got carried away. Anyway, I kinda fell off the radar. Chasing skirts, you know. Wish I’d stayed a virgin. I would already be rich. Drank a lot. Yeah pretty much nothing. My very real regret about it is why I keep hitting you with this bag of..well, frozen hamhocks.
WarDaddy: Do I Know you? Have I done something to you to make you feel like I should be punished for your..
DRH1: Laziness? Well, no. I gotta take this out on somebody. You’re the only one tied to a chair. Stop crying. Anyway, I managed to lose a bunch of my paintings in the drunken haze after 06. I need your help to get em back. By the way, sorry about your phone. I don’t even know why I did that.
WarDaddy: OHHHHhhh!!!! Stop Hitting me and tell me how I’m going to help you get your paintings back.
Just then the whole shipping container shifted to the side and started to roll over. There was some shouting outside and the DRH1 was winding the hamhocks around his fist faster and faster. He said we would continue this conversation later and took a step towards me. Everything went black.
I woke up on the ground next to my car in Ybor. There was a note pinned to my chest. Not my shirt, my chest. It was a list of titles. Names of paintings. And a promise to get back to me later. I haven’t been sleep since.
To Be Continued
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