1.12 – Player 0 – Valhalla

69B front doorValhalla walked as fast as her high heels could go. “Girl, I don’t see what the big rush is!” She was wearing a girdle and wearing five inch heels. They had been running since she had met Barbie at the subway station. “Honey, I’m tired and need a fucking drink. I could use a bump too, I mean really girl.”

“I need to make sure that he’s okay.” Barbie ran as fast as she could, her sensible kitten heels clicking on the pavement.

Valhalla was sure they looked fabulous: Two hot ho’s going out for a night on the town. Still, her tits were flopping all over the place. Why did she wear the sand bag tits?

“Who for fuck sakes girl?”

“Justin.” They turned onto their street. “I need to see if Justin’s okay.”

“But why, honey? I thought you hated that fuck? My god, girl, can I have a vodka when we get to your place? And you’re going to miss winning the Cabaret Drag Competition at Swindles Bar and Grill. Honey, after we’ve worked all this time! Girl, the crown!”

“This is more important than some fucking crown. Justin has stuck with me through thick and thin, even through all of this. I have to see if he’s alright!”

Valhalla put out her hand and grabbed her arm. “Listen Barbie, I need a breather girl. The cute shoes are never the walking shoes. And I’m having trouble breathing.”

“I told you not to buy that leather girdle, it was too tight, girl.”

“Shut the fuck up, honey. Who’s the drag mother here? Who’s chased your ass since Bank and third? I don’t do that for just anyone. And my purse is heavy for fuck sake.”

“You shouldn’t bring so much with you. What if a cop stopped you?”

“Honey, I don’t care about no fucking cop.” She let her bag slip off her shoulder and it landed with a thud on the pavement. Amidst the compacts of make up ranging in every colour and several packs of cigarettes were bags of pot, little vials of white powder, baggies of another powder, bottles of pills and little vials filled with blotters.

“Put it the fuck away, girl! What if someone saw this shit? Are you fucking crazy?” She bent down and put all the pills and other drugs back into her bag. Valhalla bent and helped her.

“Honey, it’s not like I have a choice. I have to make money to look this fabulous! It’s not cheap, honey! How do you think I can afford it? You may shop at Sears but I shop at real stores! I order my shit online girl!” She picked up her bag and swung it onto her shoulder. “I didn’t hear you complaining the other night when you had a bump off the back of the mother fucking toilet!” It occured to Valhalla that her voice was becoming deeper and she cursed herself. She had been taken voice lessons, too. And now here was Joe Shumaker again, under the mask. Valhalla shoved him back and let out a small sigh. “I mean, fuck honey!”

Valhalla stood and flipped her hair back. Toss toss. “I mean, if you don’t want my help, honey, just say so. I’d be happy to take my shit and my sexy ass elsewhere, girl.”

“Oh, honey, don’t say that. Look, we’re almost there. Just around this corner a bit. I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“You may be fine with being an ordinary Drag Queen honey, but I’m the Drug Queen. I got everything that everyone needs. It’s why I have so many friends.”

“You have friends because you give people drugs.”

“Don’t knock it, besides girl, it’s how we met. Now would you want to take that away from me? You’re my only girlfriend.”

“Oh come on!” Barbarella said. “We’re almost there. Just let me see if Justin is okay and then we can go.”

Valhalla grimmaced. “Okay girl, fine, don’t get your panties in a bun.”

The made their way down the street and turned the corner, coming upon the front of the building. The apartment building had always creeped Valhalla out, given her a bad juju vibe. She didn’t know if it was the people that lived in the building or the structure itself, it’s front covered in a few windows, it’s walls made of old red brick. The roof of the two story building had peaks and gables that reached for the sky. When she visited at night, like this time, the peaks and gables always reminded her of bats, their dark shape ready to swoop down.

She followed her gaze to where the gable bats would fly and saw another dark shape on the lawn. After a few seconds, Valhalla knew what it was: it was a dead body. Valhalla looked closer and saw the blood. “Oh my fuck honey, who is that?”

“I think that’s Colleen or Carlotta of something. She was a snippity little bitch. Horrible make up and no fashion sense.”

“Fuck honey, what’s she doing on your front lawn? Who the fuck killed her? What the mother fuck is going on here, honey? Since when did you live in the ghetto? What the fuck is this honey?” She took a breath. “Fuck me, I need a cigarette and a martini.”

“Oh my god! Do you think something happened? Justin? Justin!”

“Fuck honey, be quiet! Someone will hear you!”

“I don’t fucking care! You have your drugs, but he’s my meal tickt. Honey, if I lose him I’ll have nothing! His little stories are all that pays for anything. He owes me.”

“How do you figure that?” Despite the dead body on the front lawn, she had to ask.

“He writes romance novels and makes money off of them!”

“So? What the fuck girl, please. You totally need a bump, I mean, really.”

“So? He’s writing about the sex we could be having! Imagining us. I read a few of his books. I recognized myself in a lot of them. He’s making money off of my dick! He owes me!” Barbie said again.

Valhalla looked at her friend and, for the first time, wondererd why she was friend with her. “I don’t get it. You used to be good with him. You had sex all the time, you got along well. What gives honey? Do you need a bump that badly? I got poppers, too. Those are my recreational drugs.”

“I can’t lose him! You don’t even care, do you?” She turned back to the apartment doors and started screaming Justin’s name again. Personally, Valhalla thought that whoever had been on the phone had scared her friend shitless. She really wanted a fuckining cigarette.

“Alright already for fuck sakes, you don’t have to fucking lose it. Here-“ And she threw open the front door to 69B, stepping in with Barbie close behind her.

Three things happened at once: they hears snarls and growls coming from the hallway as black shapes moved towards them. From two apartments down, Valhalla saw things that looked like rodents, but kept changing shape, like smoke. What frightened her most were the glowing red eyes. Standing in front of an apartment door was an older woman. She was banging on it.

“Please let me in! Please! Diane! Are you there?”

“Lady, what the fuck is going on here? Who the hell are you?”

“Oh god, now there are men dressed as woman out here! You have to help me! They’re horrible! My god, what the fuckety fuck shit balls is going on Let me in!”

Valhalla pursed her lips. “Oh no you didn’t. Honey, who is this bitch anyway? Did she just say what I think she said?“ She held up one chubby taloned finger. “And bitch, you need to work on you need to work on your potty mouth, cus that shit ain’t  right. Just who do you think I am? You can’t talk to a lady like that.”

The woman gave her a fearful glance. “You’re a man in a dress.” She whispered.

“Bitch, I am not a man, I’m a hundred percent woman, here me roar!”

The apartment door, number 104, opened and a stern woman in a long flowing robe made from many layers of gauze stood there. “Moira, get in here. You guys as well.”

Behind them, the shadows that had been watching them began to move with lightning speed towards them. Valhalla didn’t need to be told twice. She went inside the apartment. The first thing she noticed were the cats. They were standing around the circumference of the apartment, every nook and cranny. Some stood in the window, some in the doorways. There were more along the wall. They stood in a complete circle.

What was odd about this was that they were still and they were quiet. She had never seen a cat do either at the same time. It was just a fact of life. She loved cats and knew they always made some noise, be it purring or meowing. These cats stood as quiet as little statues.

“Honey, that is some fucked up shit. They’re beautiful, but do you mind if I roll a joint? Don’t worry, I promise I’ll share.” She started looking in her purse for the baggies.

About Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson an award winning, number-one bestselling author. He writes in many different genres. Learn more at www.jamiesonwolf.com
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