Coming Awake Like a Jungle Cat
Latigo Flint comes awake like a jungle cat might--alert, dangerous and screaming. If anything moves, Latigo Flint bites it, then he yawns and licks himself for a while.
(The hookers know to leave before dawn.)
There are those who wish Latigo Flint harm. It is a fact Latigo Flint must never forget. See, Latigo Flint is the quickest quickdraw the world has ever known. Latigo Flint can draw his six-guns so fast that somewhere Doc Holliday's headstone wiggles a bit in applause.
Though it isn't much use in this digital age to be known as the quickest gun in the world, it is nonetheless magnificent and also quite sexy. Unfortunately because of that, it is a title many would like to claim for themselves, which involves killing me messily. (Of course.)
In addition to coming awake like a jungle cat--alert, dangerous and screaming--Latigo Flint sleeps like a wary otter... which is kind of like how jungle cats sleep, except warier--much, much warier.
Latigo Flint is careful to never establish any sort of pattern for assassins to exploit. One time Latigo Flint ate a fancy dinner in a laundromat and washed his clothes in a lobster tank. (You don't even want to know what he swapped the restroom with that day.)
Often when Latigo Flint is walking down the street he will suddenly tuck-roll and start shooting back the way he came. (Taking care not to strike puppies or children, as that tends to piss people off.)
Latigo Flint isn't really reading his newspaper--he's thinking of ways to kill you, should you go for your gun.
Sometimes Latigo Flint runs sideways for long periods of time--much longer than anyone would expect. If a hidden gunman is trying to draw a bead he’ll keep thinking that any second Latigo Flint is going to stop running sideways, but Latigo Flint doesn't stop, and then eventually he turns the corner and is gone.
Latigo Flint knows that if anyone was hiding in that dumpster, they are surely dead by now.
Latigo Flint always makes waiters sip his drink before handing it to him. If they hesitate they get hurt. If they refuse outright they die.
Sometimes when Latigo Flint sees a woman on the street he'll pretend they're old friends and rush her into a tight embrace.
"Ma'am." Latigo Flint will whisper in her ear. "I may have been followed. Please describe everyone you see behind me, leaving no detail out."
You'd be surprised how many women are willing to help. Surprised the number is so low, that is.
(Latigo Flint has practically developed an immunity to mace. Pepper spray still makes him sneeze though.)
Latigo Flint counts footsteps in the dark. He always knows where the ushers are.
Latigo Flint sees you there, he's just pretending not to for advantage.
Some of these may not be true--to further confuse my adversaries.
Each night Latigo Flint dreams you kill him. And he's stronger each morning for it.
(I know very well which shadows hang strange, but shoot into all to be sure.)
posted by Latigo Flint @ 12:06 AM
12 comments
12 Comments:
Do you remember the girl at the check-out last time you bought groceries? That was no ordinary check-out girl.
Do you remember the smiling waitress at the coffee-house? That was no ordinary smiling waitress.
Assassins come in many forms. Often they are unlikely characters, the last ones you'd expect: outwardly charming but morally ungrounded. Sometimes they may even be very pale and from Outer Hebrides of Scotland, although I can't believe THAT. The Orkneys - now that's where all your top assassins come from. Kill your granny soon as look at her, would these Orcadians. Abominable lot they are, murderous loners to a man/woman/child - you read correctly - there are child assassins too, mainly used for early morning jobs. Care must be taken when dealing with such a people, but their work is the finest in their field. Noone can make it look like suicide or an autoerotica accident better than an Orcadian.
Oh, and that pleasant librarian lady, the pale one? Also, no ordinary pleasant librarian lady.
Trust noone, my friend. And sleep with your boots on.
I love you, Latigo Flint, and would never kill you.
Never.
Not unless some paid me a lot of money.
Do you know anyone with a lot of money?
I'll have to take "stalk Latigo Flint" off of my "things to do before I die" list.
You are the grin in the dark, after all.
I once saw a jungle cat wake up next to an otter once, it was not something I would care to see again.
I cad g lie quiet, but I never sleep, and I am under G still and always.
Latigo Flint isn't really reading his newspaper--he's thinking of ways to kill you, should you go for your gun.
I'd like to say that I could read the newspaper and think of a way to kill somebody, but I often get distracted by the Jumble puzzle on the comic strip page. So, most of my killing thoughts happen alone in the dark.
And, yet, I am without gun.
I come awake like a very slow, vaguely irritable, possibly constipated wombat.
Will you still be my friend?
Paula comes awake at two in the afternoon, immediately cursing at the time. But she slept so late hoping for a dream of Latigo Flint, and does not regret it really.
Child assassins for early morning jobs? Seems quite implausible, unless it's on Christmas Morning or they're killing their own hug-over parents...only the Orcadians, I suppose.
His nerves are steady, his reflex steely.
Intriguing, as usual.
One that is not true is that part about the newspaper. You can't really read, can you?
(Shoot the guy who is scanning the paper. That's Latigo Flint.)
I know how you feel comrade of the shadows, I just throttled a kitten, I thought she was a familiar sent by the witch upstairs. Turns out the "witch" was a harmless old lady who died three weeks ago. No one discovered the body until yesterday. It had been half eaten by rats.
Fuck it! I shouldn't have throttled that poor plaintive mewling kitten. Fuck it.
I remember all those girls Problem Child Bride. They smiled, but coldly, and in a way that wasn't really a smile. I declared war on the Orcadians the day they got to Michael Hutchence.
I cherish your love Mary Lewys, but it's an uneasy joy and I glance over my shoulder constantly. For while I don't know anyone with a lot of money, I know they're out there.
Yes Trevor Record, I am the Grin in the Dark, aren't I. Thank you for remembering.
One note--you don't necessarily need to remove it, you could just put it last.
(Eh, eh? Know what I'm sayin'?!)
Sweet Grublygold, you yet live!
(I see you weeping over the body of another dead otter. And it absolutely ruins me.)
Too many savage things happen alone in the dark Amandarama, that's what I think.
Of course Greta--vaguely irritable wombats and jungle cats make the best of friends--I saw it in a Disney movie once.
In your dream was I crouched, snarling, at the foot of the bed Paula? 'Cause that's how I've greeted every morning for about a week now.
Hello Ghost Dog. I know, that seemed unlikely to me too. But if the Problem Child Bride says so it must be true.
Sweet Sharon. How are you? Don't forget "loins twitchy".
Spoken like a true newsman Old Hoss. You know better than most how unreadable the rags are.
No use crying over throttled kittens Helga Von Porno--you'll know for next time. That's all any of can learn from acts of misguided savagery.
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