A3Writer: F³ Magic Words
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Friday, May 17, 2019

F³ Magic Words


Prohibition had ended, but the Midnight was still a speakeasy. It had expanded to all sorts of vices in the city, and became famous for the only place in the city where hardened lowlifes should share suds with cops taking their weekly bribes from girls on their laps. It wasn’t all the cops, but even the most righteous DA and chief of police wouldn’t dream of trying to bust anyone in this place. Ma had too much muscle in high places.

I walked up to the plain door, and gave the rap. The slot revealed a pair of beady rat’s eyes.
“Bibbidi, bobbidi, boo.” I said.
The slot closed and the door opened. Inside, the beady eyes were set in a pinched rat face on a fat body. Unfortunately for me, I could tell he knew how to carry himself and I’d be on the receiving end of that horsewhip he twirled.
“You packing?” he asked.
I shook my head, having left my piece in my car. It wouldn’t do any good. The Coachman didn’t pack, but there were lots of little rodents throughout the joint that would readily sling lead at me.
I went down the steps and into the club, full of music, dancing girls, the smell of booze, and the bitter taste of regret, the specialty of the house. I passed by the waitresses and cigarette girls occupying laps at table for a spot at the bar.