The Best Rapper Ever

The Best Rapper Ever: Another Discussion between Dublin & DJ Undacut

U: Why you calling this "Another Discussion"?
D: We're having a discussion.
U: We never had one though.
D: We're having one now. Who's the best rapper ever?
U: Probably Lil Weezy.
D: Really?
U: He's the hottest right now.
D: That's not what I asked.
U: Okay, so the best. In all time?
D: Yes.
U: Probably Nas.
D: Hmmm. He's great. The best though?
U: Who do you think?
D: Well, I'm thinking Ice Cube maybe.
U: You're just being sentimental because you grew up bumping that shit. Cube fell off man. His got super wack in his later career.
D: I hope you're not saying that because of the movies. "Are We Home Yet?" Whatever it's called.
U: I'm not an idiot. I'm talking about the music man. If we were counting the movies then you would be a straight sucker for even saying his name.
D: Nas is inconsistent too. He did pretty bad stuff there for a minute. He was Nas The Ultimate Consumer Rapper for a couple albums.
U: Plus Cube is a biter. You know that right? (Dublin shakes his head) He stole that hook from Cypress Hill, that's common knowledge.
D: What hook?
U: I forget. But people also say he went down to the Good Life and stole styles from them too.
D: What are you talking about?
U: I'm talking about Da Lynch Mob. Remember the album "Gorillas in the Mist"?
D: Sure. I remember that whole "boom, ping, ping" song.
U: Exactly. Who does that whole "boom, ping, ping" thing sound like?
D: Who does it sound like?
U: Who from that whole Good Life, LA Underground scene does that sound like? (Dublin shrugs his shoulders) Volume 10! That Lynch Mob shit sounds just like Volume 10!
D: And you're saying that's because Ice Cube went down to the Good Life and stole Volume 10's rap style?
U: Hell yeah. I can prove it. Did you ever have Hip-Hopera(a great album Volume 10 put out)?
D: It had Pistol Grip Pump right?
U: Yeah. Remember the line Volume 10 does? "I hang with my dogs, f__k a gorilla." That line is about Ice Cube and Da Lynch Mob.
D: Oh come on.
U: I'm dead serious. This shit is real man. I'm not an idiot.
D: Regardless, you bring up The Good Life and I have to say that I'm changing my vote for the Best Rapper Ever to Myka 9.
U: He's too crazy for me. I mean, his delivery it just super nuts.
D: It's not just his delivery that makes him the best. He's a great writer too. I was listening to his album It's All Love/American Nightmare a week or something ago and that is a great record. It's all stream of consciousness underworld shit. It reminds me of reading a James Ellroy book or something.
U:I've gotten nerdy with some of this stuff but you just went beyond nerd into ultra geek super mode. F'real.
D: Well, I'm sticking with Myka 9. He's the best.
U: You know, this whole thing is stupid. You can't say who's the best. I said Nas today but tomorrow I might say Pharaoh Monch.
D: He's great too.
U: See! You can't just say who's the best. The next day I might say Treach. You say Myka 9, what about Acey Alone?
D: Right.
U: I might even say Dublin one day.
D: Sure. Thanks.
U: Then I'll bump the Black Album and I'll say Jay-Z
D: You don't need to. Doesn't Jay-Z say he's the best in every single song anyway?
U: I guess he thinks if he says it enough people will start to agree with him.
D: He is good.
U: But not the best. Me and you can at least agree on that right?
D: Sure.

Taken from a transcription by Peggy Menchstone on 09/4/11

Part 9: PB James and The Noxious Neighbors

The Noxious Neighbors Part 9
At first he thinks it’s the exhaustion causing him to hallucinate. The room is getting darker and darker. A vague blackness is building towards the center and the threads of the carpet are standing up on end. He blinks and there are two bright spots that are growing and glow amongst the dark abyss like red hot coals suspended in air. He doesn't recognize that they are eyes until he realizes they are looking at him.
The darkness falls and forms around the eyes and while the chant hums through the door the shadow begins to take form. A head takes shape behind the eyes and a body below it. PB sees the form of a man with two bright red eyes that stare unconscious from the center of the room. PB sees the man coming alive as the eyes spark awake: it scans the room and PB can feel it looking at him.
He knows there is no reason to try to find a weapon, this thing is not of this earth and it is quite possible there is no defense. He steps back towards the door. The shadow is between him and the window. It is at least eight feel tall, its head cramped up against the ceiling. Its eyes burn and PB feels a terror like he had never felt before.
The mouth opens below the eyes and the shadow screams. It's the scream PB heard the first night he moved in. The shadow shakes its head violently like a bull about to charge. It is backing up against the far wall and PB steps back as well, closer to the door. He can hear Lord Zaldig's voice in the hall, crying out over the rest, the words ugly and breathless.
The shadow screams again and brings its head down. Loose papers from some of PB’s boxes fly around the room and circle the shadow. The eyes are getting brighter and the whole body of the apparition seems to expand and deflate like its breathing.
“Call it off Zaldig!” PB cries through the door.
“Never! You will pay for your resistance and your meddlesome tom foolery!”
The shadow is gathered on the far side of the room, its form complete and defined in front of the plaster wall. PB steps back a few more steps and has nowhere go, his back is to the door. The shadow retracts inward, like it’s taking a deep breath. PB reaches back and slowly unlocks the door. He keeps his hand on the knob and the shadow’s eyes burn blood red. It lunges forward at the same time PB hurls the door open and the world is drowned by a flash and a deafening scream.


He awakes and chokes on the smoke. Both he and the door were blown out of the way into the kitchen. The door lies on top of him, half of it singed. He pushes it off and crawls under the smoke to the main room.
The whole apartment is engulfed in fire. The orange and yellow flames eat hungrily at the walls and carpet and along the edge of the ceiling. What used to be the hall between the two apartments is now a horrifying inferno and there are no signs of any of the cloaked followers of Zaldig or the shadow itself.
PB is choking and all he can do is jump up in desperation and run blindly for the window. The smoke pumps into his eyes and throat and the tongue of the flames licks at his face and arms. He crashes head on through the window and for a moment there is peace as he falls through the open air of the late summer evening.
He lands on the cement below awkwardly and his right leg goes crunch. He rolls along the cement and howls in pain as the glass from the window rains down around him. The left side of his face feels like it’s on fire. All he sees is red as he reaches down and feels where the tibia bone in his leg has punctured through the skin.
The fire is devouring the whole building. He drags himself away as the staff from the Peruvian restaurant stream out into the parking lot along with a crowd of patrons who stare on in terror as the last of the roof implodes and the flame engulfs the entire building. PB goes in and out of consciousness as fire trucks appear and there is water and flashing light everywhere. Police are motioning for the crowd to move back as passer by’s and neighbors join the throng.
Nobody seems to notice PB lying there. The fire men run by lugging hoses and oxygen tanks and paramedics look after a woman who is having a panic attack. The little dog she was walking watches the proceedings calmly. PB just lies there by himself until Officer Timmons and Officer Schelznek are standing over him.
“How are you doing there guy?” Schelznek asks and PB’s not sure if he’s alive or dead or dreaming.
“There’s people in there,” he manages to cough out and points up to the inferno.
“Not that we hear. We heard from the fire guys that they got everybody out of the restaurant,” Timmons assures him.
“Not the restaurant. Upstairs!”
“Don’t you live up there?”
“Yes, but I_”
“Take it easy guy, your probably just in shock,” Timmons pauses and studies the crumbled figure on the ground below him “Man, how did you even get down here?”
“I jumped.”
“I don’t think you’re going to be able to move back in,” Schelznek informs him.
They all look over as the far wall of the building collapse sending a fire ball up into the sky and over the heads of the watching crowd.
“Yeah, I don’t think this place is gonna work out.”
“Just take me to this hospital,” PB mutters
“Oh man, look at his leg! Brent, look at his leg! Man, that is horrible. That is really bad.”
Timmons is pointing with one hand and tapping his partner on the shoulder with the other. Schelznek takes out a smart phone and snaps a photo of the exposed bone.
They finally put PB on a stretcher and load him into an ambulance. He’s sharing it with the old woman who had the panic attack. She’s medicated and sleeping soundly in the stretcher next to him. They pump PB’s vein with something to dull the pain as well and he begins to fade out. He is finally going to sleep. He is finally getting to rest.
“The guy with the leg laceration is out,” the paramedic in the back yells up to the two in front.
“Okay. Keep him on the whole way and make sure the lady’s heart rate is steady until we get to Brookside. Also I think that we should a keep an eye out for- HEY!”
The ambulance halts suddenly and the paramedic in the back is jolted into one of the supply panels.
“What the hell?” he growls.
“Sorry Lance. Some bald asshole walked out in front of us. Creepy looking jerk too. Has an ugly handle bar mustache.”
The ambulance pulls away and continues towards the hospital. The bald man makes his way across the street and disappears into the bushes on the other side.

THE END

Be sure to catch the next adventure in “PB James and The Man at the Top”. Starting on September 19th here on Dublin’s World.

Furlough Film #2: The Killer Inside Me

(Every furlough day Dublin and Robert Fong get together to view a film and have a discussion about it. The following is a transcript of that discussion. SPOILERS abound.)


D: The Killer Inside Me? That’s great. I read the book.
R: Good for you.
D: It’s by Jim Thompson. He wrote the books The Grifters and The Getaway too. Have you read any of his stuff?
R: You know I don’t like that s__t.
D: What? Crime novels?
R: Books. Magazines. That kind of s__t.

(They watch the film)

D: Huh, kind of a strange ending. I don’t remember the book ending like that.
R: That was some ill s__t. I was f__king tense the whole time.
D: That’s how I remember the book being. Very tense. It’s like a Crime and Punishment from the 1950’s.
R: When did the book come out?
D: In the 50’s. Like I said.
R: That s__t came out in the 50’s? Damn. It was kind of gnarly when he beat up Jessica Alba.
D: Man, she sucks by the way. Don’t you think?
R: She’s f__king hot.
D: Sure. But I’m talking about the acting. She really isn’t good.
R: She’s just as good as the main dude. You know, Ben Affleck’s little brother.
D: Casey Affleck. No, I think he was much better than her. He’s a good actor.
R: Dude, his voice. It always sounds like he’s going through puberty. It’s cracking and high all the time.
D: That can be annoying. But he’s good, he makes it work. To be honest, when I saw he was playing the Killer I was kind of surprised. I didn’t see it. At least I didn’t picture the character that way when I read the book.
R: How did you picture him?
(Dublin thinks)
D: Rick Perry. That’s how I pictured him. Just like Rick Perry.

R:What’s up with Kate Hudson? Is she getting fat or what?
D: I’m not sure if she’s gained weight but she seemed kind of stiff and not very good.
R: I agree with you there.
D: The whole movie she seemed preoccupied or something.
R: Maybe she was tripping about how much weight she’s gained.
D: The rest of the cast was really good. All the supporting cast. I like that guy Simon Baker.
R: Yeah, he was in a Zombie movie I think.

R: You know this movie was pretty controversial when it came out?
D: Because of the violence?
R: Yeah, especially towards women.
D: That’s true. There are two long scenes of him beating women aren’t there? Pretty horrible.
R: They premiered it at Sundance and somebody told the director—Hold up I got the quote right here. They turned around and said to the director: "I don't understand how Sundance could book this movie! How dare you? How dare Sundance?”
D: Wow. I can see people tripping out about those scenes.
R: And what was up with it? When he capped dudes it was no big deal. They barely showed it. And then when he kills a woman it’s with his bare hands and goes on and on.
D: You know, that’s kind of why I was impressed with the movie.
R: You’re a sick f__k.
D: Seriously. The book disturbs the hell out of you not just because of the violence he inflicts on these two women but because of the trust. You know what I mean?
R: Naw.
D: These women trust Ford. They think he loves them. In a sick way he does love the Jessica Alba character. But then he’s suddenly killing them and they’re finding out what he really is ands that’s what’s f__ked up. He’s a psychopath.
R: That’s true. When was the book written?
D: 1952.
R: 60 years old and the s__t is still disturbing. Jim Thompson is off the hook.

September 7th 2011

Part 8: PB James and The Noxious Neighbors

The Noxious Neighbors Part 8
PB can see right down the barrel of the shotgun. He can see the darkness in the tunnel and waits for the fire to flash out and bite him. Someone gets out of the passenger seat of the Lexus but PB doesn’t look over. All he can do is stare down into the darkness.
“Why you asking about a girl?”
PB looks over at the man who has left the car and is speaking to him. The man has a thick neck and tattoos along the collar of his t-shirt.
“What do you mean?”
“Why you asking about a girl man?”
When the man with the thick neck repeats the question the rest of the passengers exit the car including the one with the shotgun, a skinny little guy with a dark soul patch that sits flat below his mouth. PB looks at the skinny man’s eyes and then back into the barrel and into the darkness.
“I was just trying to figure out what is happening,” PB says absently and the thick necked one drags a large revolver from the waistline of his pants and points it directly at PB’s head.
“You are stupid,” the thick neck says “And so dead.”
“Stop!”
The waitress from the restaurant has joined them in the parking lot and as she approaches them the heels of her shoes make sharp cracks against the pavement and the men look at each other uncomfortably. She speaks to the thick necked one in Spanish and he lowers the gun. She walks passed him and stands directly in front of PB, her big brown eyes probing into his face.
“Who are these guys?” PB asks.
“Do you know Lupe?” she says, slapping his question away.
“Who’s Lupe?”
“Our cousin from El Salvador. She was attacked last night and taken up into the hills.”
“Do you know where she is?”
The skinny man with the soul patch pulls back the pump on his shotgun.
“Why you want to know? Who are you?” the girl demands.
PB tells them everything. He describes the light and the sounds that came from behind his neighbor’s door. He tells them of following his neighbor up into the hills and of the people in cloaks that murdered a goat in front of him. He talks about Lupe and how he fought the people with cloaks using a large tree branch before he and Lupe escaped and Lupe disappeared.
“She’s not in no danger,” the girl says “She’s already on a plane back home. She got in a car that was running and came back to my house and I helped her ditch the car this morning.”
“That was my car,” PB points out.
“That piece of shit?” one of the men says and flexes his chin in the direction of PB’s old Honda.
“These people, these freaks, they grabbed Lupe off the street and put her in a van,” the girl explains “They said they would kill her to raise a demon.”
One of the men laughs but PB keeps his composure and nods wearily.
“They’re a bunch of dungeon and dragon nerds but they mean business. They tried to kill me today,” he mutters.
“Lupe heard them keep saying that they needed the blood of a fertile woman to raise the demon,” the girl say and the wonder and fear mingle together in her voice.
Her brother and his friends chuckle and light up various cigarettes and sticks of rolled up marijuana.
“We’re going to find these fools and smoke they ass,” her brother growls.
The men get in the car and drive off with a screech, bass and smoke drifting off in their wake. PB unlocks the door to his own car and gets in.
“You saved my cousin’s life,” the girl says to him through the window.
“No problem,” PB replies and pulls out of the parking lot.
He heads down San Pablo towards home. All he wants is to get some sleep. He has been in a never ending nightmare and his entire body can feel the toll. His ribs are bruised from being punched. His back is sore from falling off a subway platform. He wants to close his eyes and forget the last twenty four hours.
He pulls up into the parking lot behind his apartment. He knows he won’t be able to sleep with Owen across the hall. He’ll grab a few things and get a motel and bring Ellie if she’s willing to go. He approaches the building and can see the light still on in his window. He trudges up the stairs and doesn’t take his eyes off the neighbor’s door as he unlocks his own and slips inside the apartment.
The boxes still sit on the carpet with the mattress pushed off to the side. Everything is very still.
“Ellie?”
The door across the hall swings open and PB turns to see her standing in her own apartment, posted like a statue down the hall. Her face isn’t blank anymore, there’s a strange tightness around her eyes and mouth but it’s hard to make out in the semi darkness.
“Come here,” she says.
“Is everything alright?” PB asks and steps through the threshold.
“Come here,” she repeats in her flat empty voice.
PB takes a few steps in, slowly, cautiously. Ellie doesn’t move, she just stands there, and as he gets closer PB can see the tightness in her face is clearly fear.
He stops short before the bedroom door to his left and a shadow flashes across the wall as the blade of the Great Shadow sword swings down through the door way. PB falls back, the blade barely missing his face. Jerry the long hair steps into the hall, his crimson cloak billowing out behind him. He lifts the sword to take a second blow. PB is sprawled out on the floor and he pushes himself back, sliding along the rug.
The blade comes down beside him, dust and carpet flying up into the dim light. The narrow hall of the apartment is full of cloaks now, Jerry in front with the sword, the rest of them bringing up the rear. Ellie is obscured by crimson.
“Destroy him!” a voice cries out and PB knows it is Lord Zaldig.
Jerry has brought the heavy sword back up to his shoulder to strike again. PB can see that the long hair is out of balance. PB lunges forward, throwing himself into Jerry’s gut.
One cloak crashes into another cloak and they’re all falling back. The hall is a crimson wave and PB is riding on top. He swats and slaps at Jerry and then staggers up, back pedaling out of the apartment. The whole group is cursing and struggling to get up, their heavy cloaks slowing them down to slow motion. PB is already in through his own door and has it locked before they gain their footing.
He scans the empty studio for a weapon of some kind. It’s just boxes and cheap carpet, nothing to swing. Someone is throwing themselves against the door, the hinges stretching. He goes to the window and looks down. It’s not that far but it’s too far. He’ll survive, sure, but something is going to break and when it does, what then?
“Mr. James?”
There is no more commotion behind the door. It is eerily quiet and still.
“Mr. James? Are you there?”
It’s Zaldig’s voice, that deep obsidian voice that enunciates each word with a slithering of the tongue.
“Mr. James, I know you are there.”
How does Zaldig know his name? What does the bald bastard want?
“We do not need to break this door down Mr. James. There is no need. You will come to us.”
PB spots the empty bottle of tequila sitting on the carpet. He plucks it up by the end and turns towards the door.
“How’s that Zaldig?!” he says.
“The great shadow will bring you to us.”
A low hum begins to come from behind the door and PB takes a few steps back. The hum grows and then nine voices are speaking a grotesque and unintelligible language and the volume is slowly rising until it sounds like they are in the room, chanting the words.
The lights in the apartment dim as the volume of the chant increases and PB feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Continued in Part 9

The Adventures of PB James: The Noxious Neighbors Part 7

The Noxious Neighbors Part 7
The whole world is blinding light and deafening rumble and PB is watching his own death approach. The squealing of the breaks makes his blood run cold and he looks away, not willing to watch the impact of the train head on. He spots the crevice under the platform when he turns his head. Without thinking he has launched himself over the tracks and into the tight space between the platform foundation and the tracks.
The train is rushing by and PB can’t breathe because of the dust and fear in his lungs. His whole body is shoved up against the dirty cement and the force of the passing train tears at his back. He’s relieved that death is relatively painless and then realizes he has dodged the train and is very much alive. The rumbling and the squealing die down. The train has come to a complete stop, trapping PB between the tracks and the platform.
He hears a few cries, a woman desperately screaming, and then every now and then the murmuring of a voice and footfalls above him on the platform. He lies there for twenty minutes until the train slowly eases down the track passed where his is pinned. A rescue worker drops down along the track and spots PB lying stiff and dust covered. The paramedic hollers up to the platform.
PB is arrested by BART police and then handed over to city cops who drive him to the local station. He is held in isolation for three hours until an on-call psychoanalyst makes it over to give him an evaluation. They meet in a blank white room on the third floor and the analyist introduces himself as Dr. Fischer. Dr. Fischer looks over his reading glasses at his subject and speaks from a dry mouth surrounded by a salt and pepper beard.
“Do you ever feel depressed Mr. James? Do you ever feel like life is just not worth living?”
“No.”
PB tries to take the edge off his tone but he’s very tired and hungry and his patience is used up.
“Do you ever have thoughts of ending your life? Maybe something comes up-“
“Look, I didn’t try to kill myself. It’s just like I told the cops: there was a man with a gun on the platform, Lord Zaldig, and he-“
“Lord Zaldig?”
“Yes, and he was coming at me with a gun. So I was stepping back-“
“When did you first see Lord Zaldig Mr. James?”
“Up in the hills. He was leading some people in some sort of ritual that involved killing a goat and then they were going to kill a girl. I filed a whole report on it. You can ask the cops.”
“And this is the first time you ever saw Lord Zaldig?”
“Yes.”
“The police said the person at the service booth never saw anyone like who you describe.”
“So what? Those people are morons. They’re sitting there yakking on their cell phones when old ladies are getting robbed by teenagers.”
“Has Lord Zaldig appeared to you before? Maybe when you were a child?”
“When I was a child? What the hell—“
“Have you had some emotional trauma lately Mr. James? Something significant?”
“Are you kidding? All I’ve had is trauma lately. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Maybe you had a break up? With someone important to you?”
“Sure I had a break up. Who gives a shit? This is serious.”
“Sometimes we can’t tell when we’re affected by something like that. The wound is too deep for us to respond in an emotionally mature way. We lash out or maybe we try to harm ourselves.”
“You’re a quack.”
A couple of cops take PB back to a holding cell and he sits there for an hour. He paces the cell. The girl from the night before may still be alive but for how long? He decides that he must get out of there by any means necessary. They bring him back to the interview room and another analyst is called in. This one is an older woman. She sits at the table, stone faced and over weight.
“How are you PB?” she asks.
“Fine. But I do think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”
“How’s that?”
“This whole falling in front of the train thing.”
“Yes. Dr. Fischer says in his report that you claim there was a man that pushed you on to the tracks?”
“He didn’t push me. In fact he doesn’t actually exist. May I be honest with you doctor?”
“Please.”
“I simply fell. I don’t know how else to put it. I was thinking about something else and next thing I know I’m down on the tracks. It’s embarrassing.”
She scrunches up her face until the doe in her cheeks is expanded out. She looks for the truth in the bags under his eyes.
“So you made up this thing about a Lord Zoblad because you were embarrassed?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She leaves him in the room by himself for some time and then an officer comes and escorts him to a clerk who explains he will probably receive a fine in the mail from Bay Area Rapid Transit.
He leaves the station and the sun is starting to go down. He runs into Officer Timmons and Officer Schelznek on the steps.
“You’re the one with the car right? The one who said some cult took it up in the hills?” asks Timmons.
“That’s right.”
“You’re in luck bro. They found it earlier today, we just got the report. No damage either. They didn’t even take the catalytic converter. You probably can still pick it up at the garage if you hurry.”
PB thanks them, goes back inside to pick up the proper paper work, and catches a bus to the north side of town where they are keeping the car in a lot. The owner of the tow company is just shutting down for the night and PB has to plead with him to get his car out before the gate gets locked. He wins the man over but not before paying $150 for the few hours the car sat in the lot.
He drives down San Pablo Ave, relieved to push an accelerator again. He goes through a Jack in the Box drive through to celebrate with a vanilla milk shake and slurps at it with all the windows down. A street light shines off a bald man’s head from the sidewalk and PB chokes on his shake and some of it spills down the front of his shirt.
He pulls over and searches between the seats for a napkin. He comes up with one in the door pocket and begins to clean the spill. He notices a logo on the paper. It reads “Flores Familia” and he remembers a restaurant by that name a few miles from his apartment that he has never been to. He wonders how the napkin got into the car. He studies the logo, a bandito with burritos in his holsters instead of guns. He decides to go by.
Flores Familia is over half full when he arrives and he lingers near the long bar with the wood paneling in back. He doesn’t know what he expected. People are filling the room with pleasant conversation and filling their bellies with beans and rice and meat. He orders a margarita. He sips and the events of the last few days play through his mind. He can still hear the cries of the dying goat in his mind. He can still see Lord Zaldig raising the dagger above his head in the moonlight.
PB is half way done with his drink when he sees a waitress make her way along the tables. She is familiar and he realizes she has a striking resemblance to the captured girl from the night before; very similar eyes with the same nose and shape and rounded face. It’s not the girl though, very close, but not the same one. He wonders if it’s just the exhaustion messing with his mind. He approaches her as the waitress heads back towards the kitchen.
“You look very familiar. Do you have a sister by any chance?” he asks.
“I don’t got no sister. You don’t know me,” the girl snaps and her brown eyes flash at him.
PB finishes his drink and goes out into the parking lot, puzzled and not sure what to do. He is almost to his car when the Lexus with the tinted side windows pulls off of the street. He doesn’t notice it until it stops next to him and the shotgun barrel is sticking out the back window directly at his head.
“See you in hell puto!” a voice says and PB waits for the flash, too tired to try to duck this time.

To be continued in Part 8.

The Adventures of PB James: The Noxious Neighbors Part 6

The Noxious Neighbors Part 6
PB is desperately trying to rip the big man’s hands from off his neck. They are falling back until they are across the carpeted floor of the book store and PB feels the wooden counter top smash into the small of his back. It hurts and he can’t breath and he claws at the big man’s face. Someone grabs his right hand and another his left, allowing the big man to step back and get enough space to shove his fist into PB’s gut.
PB is on his knees and seeing nothing but red. His lungs are crying out in vain and he heaves and puffs and tears are streaming down his face. The big man has made his way around and he grabs PB by his arms, forcing him back to his feet.
“It’s him! From last night!”
The big man’s voice is high, almost squeaky, and PB doesn’t regret hitting him in the head with a tree limb.
“Who?” the bald one asks and he steps closer, staring into PB’s face with squinted eyes.
“The one from last night. The bastard that stopped the shadow ritual. It’s him!”
PB is getting his breath back and he can focus again. There are four of them all together. Owen is standing by the book cases, a dull uninterested look on his face. PB can’t see the big guy because he’s behind him and has his arms pulled together. He can feel the man’s breath on the back of his neck. There’s another one standing to the side, a man he doesn’t recognize with long hair and a band t-shirt. The bald man stands in the center of the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Who are you?” the bald man asks and runs pale fingers with long finger nails through his handle bar mustache.
“A guy. I’m just a guy,” PB spits out hoarsely.
The bald man looks at the long hair and the long hair steps forward and puts another punch firmly in PB’s stomach. PB is seeing shots of light and the room has gone pink again. There is bile in his throat and he wishes he had never moved into that apartment or even into that particular town.
“Why did you interfere with the raising of the great shadow?” the bald man asks. He waits behind the mustache and everything about the man makes PB’s skin crawl.
“Where’s the girl,” PB forces out and the words are barley a whisper but still hurt in his throat.
“We ask the questions my friend,” the bald man replies.
The long hair makes his way forward again but the bald one holds up his hand and stops him in his tracks.
“Do not hit him again brother. I fear that he will keel over and vomit all over the carpet,” the bald one commands.
“Yes Lord Zaldig,” the long hair replies and steps back to his position.
PB is grateful that Lord Zaldig called off the punch and he can tell from the bald man’s face that he knows it.
“Why are you here my friend?” Lord Zaldig asks.
“I’m not saying anything until you tell me where the girl is and what you have done with my car.”
Zaldig runs the nails through the mustache again and then points towards the long hair.
“Jerry, get me the sword.”
The long hair walks around the counter and into a backroom. The rest remain silent. They all stare at PB and PB tries to stare back with as much defiance as he can muster. Jerry walks back out carrying a long medieval sword in both hands. He brings it over to Zaldig and places it in the older man’s hands ceremoniously.
“This is the sword of the Great Shadow. Do you like it?” Zaldig asks PB slyly and the lips surrounded by the mustache retract into a hideous smile.
PB is about to reply when the door to the store opens and an eleven year old kid walks in. The boy strolls around the books shelves and directly into the ongoing interrogation.
“Do you guys have the whole Harry Potter series in paper back?” the kid asks and scans the room through thick glasses, waiting to be helped.
“The door is not locked?” Zaldig mutters accusingly at the big man as he lowers the sword to the side. He turns towards the boy “Young sir, we are closed at this moment. I believe we can get the collection put together for you if you can come back another time.”
Zaldig has placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and is leading him back towards the door. Jerry the long hair is staring at PB with a look of impending violence and PB very much hopes that Jerry was one of the people wearing a cloak that got hit with the tree branch the night before.
“Loki? Do you have your key?” Zaldig calls from the front of the store.
The big man grunts at Owen and Owen steps forward to take over as PB’s keeper. The big guy let’s go of PB’s arms and it is like being released from a vice. PB can feel the blood begin to flow through his veins again. He feels his head start to clear and immediately he throws himself against Owen, pushing the other man back into Jerry. PB is around the counter before either of them has regained their footing and he is through the back room and into the alley behind the store before any one has made chase.
His lungs are burning and feel like they are full of hot liquid. He doesn’t see the garbage cans or stacks of cardboard boxes that he is dodging; he only sees the mouth of the alley that leads to the street. He hears a cry behind him and glances back to see Jerry and Owen bursting out of the back door in pursuit. He is going to beat them and PB almost smiles before he sees that the big guy Loki take position at the alley’s entrance.
The big guy has spread his arms like he is preparing for a large affectionate hug. PB enters the radius of Loki’s extended arm span and the big man brings them together, forcing his prey towards his chest. PB let’s the arms close in around him and then throws his foot up into Loki’s crotch. A high cry emits from Loki’s lips with a gurgle and the giant crumbles to the cement at PB’s feet.
PB throws another kick to the big man’s chest and then he is out in the open, dodging pedestrians and tearing across the street in hopes of losing the remaining pursuers. A car screeches to a stop in front of him and another honks but he is oblivious in his desperation. He wants a cop but comes to a train station entrance first and ducks down the stairs to take refuge below.
He’s slowing down at the foot of the stairs and tries to catch his breath, the sweat dripping off of him and soaking through his clothes. He goes through the turnstile and down to the platform. The station is desolate, only a few scattered figures waiting for a train. He scans for a police officer of some kind and pulls his phone to call 911. There is no reception in the underground station and he curses as he walks off the adrenalin.
He can a hear a train making it’s way down the tube in the distance and decides he will get aboard and escape downtown for the time being. He is relieved to have made a decision and leans against a pillar to wipe the sweat off his fore head and out of his eyes. Now that his breathing has slowed and the adrenalin is draining from his blood he can feel the fear making its way to the surface. He hadn’t had a chance until this moment to realize how terrified he is.
The terror is in his arms and hands and stomach but then shoots up into his throat when he sees Lord Zaldig approaching from across the platform. The bald man has donned his long black rain coat that flaps around his legs as he walks. PB is sure the coat is simply to hide the blade of the shadow sword and he pushes himself away from the pillar and circles towards the platform’s edge.
He will simply make like he’s getting on the train and then break for an exit. He can jump a turnstile. Maybe the booth operator will notice and call the police. The cops will come and arrest the bald man. They will free the girl from where these fiends have her prisoner. They will locate and return PB’s car.
He continues to step backwards but keeps both eyes on the bald man who approaches slowly, slyly. Lord Zaldig’s mouth stretches back into a terrible smile again and his hand silthers its way out of the coat slowly, slyly. The approaching train is blaring its horn from down the tube and PB’s heart skips a beat and a half when he spots the gun in the bald man’s hand.
The scrapping of the train’s wheels along the tracks is gaining in volume and Lord Zaldig is extending the gun with the long silver barrel towards PB. PB is stepping back, back, back along the platform. He is anticipating the bullet coming out of the gun. He is waiting for the flash. He will drop then he will roll and he will get away but he has run out of room to retreat and he falls helplessly backwards after stepping off the platform.
He falls into the dirt and grime between the tracks and the whole world is filled with the deafening roar and the rumble of the approaching train. PB is shocked and confused and can’t understand where he is. All he sees is the bright light of the train as it bears down on top of him.

To be continued in Part 7

The Adventures of PB James: The Noxious Neighbors Part 5

The Noxious Neighbors Part 5
He is through the gate and up the stairs and it is clear that the screams are coming from the neighbor’s apartment. He tries the knob and the door swings open, revealing a laundry room that leads out to a hall way. The screams come rushing back, close now. He throws himself down the hall and he’s briefly in a small living room before finding himself in a bedroom with Ellie standing pushed up against the wall. She stops screaming the instant he enters.
“What the hell is going on?!” PB demands.
Ellie’s face is white as a sheet and all she can do is point into the closet. He makes his way across the room and over to the closet door. There is a box lying on the floor of the closet and inside is a dead raccoon.
“God damn. You’re boyfriend is into some sick shit,” he says.
“I don’t know what do.”
She leaves the room in tears and PB is left with the box and the raccoon. He puts the top back on the box and joins her in the living room where she is lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers.
“I knew I noticed a smell but I wasn’t sure,” she says “This morning I couldn’t stand it. It was horrible. I thought it was in the kitchen but then I really started looking-“
She trails off and takes a deep hit of her cigarette. The smoke and the crying have combined into hiccups which come out as little squeaks between drags. PB leaves her there on the couch and returns to the bedroom where he retrieves the box. He takes it behind the building and disposes of it in the dumpster. He returns to the apartment and Ellie is still pale but much more composed.
“Do you know what Owens’s involved in?” he asks her.
“No.”
“It’s not pretty. It’s some sort of gang led by a bald psychotic. They almost killed a girl up in the hills last night.”
“What girl?”
“I don’t know. A Spanish girl. They were going to kill her and Owen was involved.”
He expects her to ask how he knows this but she just lights another cigarette. He’s still exhausted but his own mind is asking a million questions.
“Did Owen come home last night?” he asks.
“I didn’t know he left. I was at work.”
“Where is he now?”
“At work I guess.”
“Where’s that?”
“Downtown Berkeley on Shattuck. It’s called The Hobbit Hole.”
“Does he have an older friend that’s bald?”
“He has friends on the Internet. Not one’s I’ve met.”
Part of him just wants to go next door and go to sleep but a bigger part of him is curious and an even bigger part of PB is scared. The fear won’t let him rest and he knows he has no choice but to go where the fear demands.
“You said the Hobbit Hole right?” he asks and heads to the door without waiting for an answer.
“Wait!” Ellie is on her feet and is stubbing the cigarette out “Can I stay in your place? I don’t feel safe here.”
He nods and lets her into his apartment which still sits neglected and full of boxes. He leaves her there and catches the train a few blocks away. He gets off at Downtown Berkeley and makes his way up out of the subway station. He only walks two blocks before spotting the Hobbit Hole.
It is a tiny books store in the mid way point of a block. He stalks it from the other side and observes the windows with the books and the green door and the wooden sign with the little gnomb painted on it. He crosses the street at the next block and slowly makes his way back to the store, entering through the door.
Business seems to be slow, besides PB there is only one other customer in the store. PB makes his way through the rows of book shelves and spots Owen standing behind the counter reading a magazine. PB makes as if he is browsing and looks over the titles on the shelves. It all is mostly comic books and fantasy novels. He makes it to the well stocked occult section before he hears the door swing open and a fourth person enter the store.
He peers over the shelves and spots the bald man with the handle bar mustache make his way up to the counter. He is no longer in his crimson cloak; he floats across the wooden floor in a black raincoat even though there are no clouds in the sky outside. The bald man consults quietly with Owen and then Owen is coming around the counter and making his way towards the occult section. PB feels all the muscles in his body tense up.
“Excuse me.”
PB is acting like he is engrossed in the titles on the shelf and doesn’t turn to look directly at Owen.
“Excuse me sir. We’re going to be closing for lunch. Feel free to come back after 1pm and make a selection then.”
Owen speaks flat and dull, like a robot. PB nods and follows the other customer out the door. He makes a right to get back to the train and almost walks head first into another pedestrian. He steps back to apologize and looks into the face of a giant, bruised along the right side where he was hit by a blunt object the night before. PB is looking into the giant’s eyes and he sees the spark in the pupils when the recognition hits the other man’s mind.
PB is thinking about which way to run when the giant’s hands are around his neck and he is being shoved through the door way and back into the store.

To be continued in Part 6.