Man\'s Best Friend - Intro
#1 of Man's Best Friend
Intro!
"It's just a game," I assured, flashing the prostitute a disarming smile. "C'mon, babe. Just play along, and you know I'll make it worth your while." Doubtful, but I'm a good liar. He trusted me.
"O-okay. Yeah, that works," came the reply, the little bunny's toes dancing and scrabbling for purchase on the grimy hotel floor. He laughed. A very nervous, unconvincing giggle. I couldn't fault him for it. "You're pr-pretty kinky, big dog. First time I've ever been hung before."
'Last time too,' I thought, but didn't say. Just broadened my smile, and stepped back to regard my own handiwork. The rabbit dangled precariously from a makeshift noose, attached first to a hook that at one point supported a ceiling fan, and tied at the other end to the leg of a hefty couch. Fortunately, this kid didn't weigh very much.
"You'd be surprised, kid." I sauntered around behind him to test the hold of the rope used to tie his hands. I'm no boy scout, but it'd hold up. "What's your name?"
"Steven."
"Steven what?" I asked, smugly amused that this queeny little whore hadn't changed his name to something more fitting.
"Steven Tyler." ...of course. I rolled eyes, my amusement faltering and being replaced by something more like annoyance. Despite my malamute genes, I've always been something less than good-natured.
"Well," I started as if making some grand proclamation. "Steven Tyler. If nothin' else, ya've got yer namesake's big, fuckin' mouth." He looked as if to protest, but I covered his lips. "Ain't got time for it. Say goodnight, kid."
The change this wrought in the prostitute was tangible. His eyes widened almost to the point of popping out of his skull, his long ears pinned back against his head, and even with just my mitt on his mouth, I could feel his whole body tremble and vibrate with manic terror. I was immediately tenting my jeans.
I had to pull my hand away to finish the job. As soon as I did, though, I'd regretted my lapse in judgement. His muffled whimpering was infinitely preferable to the blubbering that ensued.
"P-please, don't, don't do this - I got kids! Three of 'em!" Bullshit. I stepped back, no longer in his peripheral vision This isolated his most dependable sense, leaving just his ears to exaggerate my motions. When he realized his offspring ploy hadn't fazed me, he started in again. "Fuck, goddammit, please don't kill me. Please..." The last syllable trailed off. He was crying now.
"What a big heart I have," I crooned to myself, oblivious to any such pleas and platitudes. "The better to love you with." Slowly, deliberately, I lifted my boot, pressed the sole against the couch, and pushed. An inch or two was all it needed, and the rabbit suddenly found his feet dangling, and his air supply alarmingly low. He wasn't heavy enough for the pressure to break his neck, so it'd be a slow death. I didn't have the time, nor the patience to watch.
"Little red riding hood," I continued my song, hooking an arm around the struggling kid's waist and rummaging in the far pocket of his skimpy butt-shorts. "Even bad dogs can be goo-oood." Soon enough, groping resulted in the money he'd charged me for the night. Thrifty as any heir to any crime ring, and still humming, I pocketed such and turned to leave the hotel room.
Down the stairs, and out the side door so as to avoid any small talk with hotel staff. They'd find the body the next day. I didn't care. They couldn't trace it to me, and even if they did, all but the most ambitious lawmen knew that I was untouchable. An iron wall of lawyers, alibis, and innumerable favors to be cashed in on kept me out of the relatively minor trouble I had a habit of getting into. Tissimo had ensured that I'd be well taken care of.
I didn't feel guilty for what I'd done to the boy. He didn't matter to me. At the time, I doubted he mattered to ANYONE, save his crackwhore mamma. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and he'd chosen the wrong guy to make a night with. Wasn't my problem.
While I traversed the mean streets of Manhattan, however, alone save for the lazy patter of rain on pavement and the cancer-stick blackening my lungs, I didn't think too much about the rabbit. I thought about Tissimo. Far from the first time, and further still from the last. He'd died in bed, snoozing, nearly three months prior. Perhaps too merciful of a death for a crime lord of his stature, but nature's funny that way. I still hadn't gotten over it. The old 'yote saved my life, took me in, and showed me a home when I had nowhere else to go. As would any doggie, I gave him my love, protection, and above all else, my loyalty. I adored him for it. In a twisted sense, he was everything to me.
I knew it was coming. His death wasn't a sudden one. Cigarettes will always get you in the end; I was actually trying to quit, myself. Losing the most important person in one's life, though, is never easy. Dog, or not, it isn't a very conducive atmosphere for big league moral decisions like that. I was miserable. Worse still, I was lonely. Lonely enough that I didn't realize how bad off I'd become. Ever the pragmatist, though, Tissimo had taken care of everything. Provided I behaved myself in a reasonable fashion, I'd never have to worry about money again.
Unfortunately, I was far from reasonable. Between my growing drug habit, and my penchant for gambling, I'd already blasted through the majority of what was left to me. I'd sold control of the drug ring, as well, which reduced my hand in the crime industry to occasional trafficking, and bodyguard work. This latter wasn't getting me much business anymore, though. Despite my competence, I was a mean-spirited drug addict that often posed a significant threat even to my client.
"You're everything a big, bad dog could want." Over the next hill, without knowing exactly where I was going, I caught sight of my favorite bar, and immediately turned in that direction. A seedy little joint, but not stylish enough to attract the business of the underworld bigwigs I was associated with. Or used to be, anyway. Small time criminals would probably recognize me by appearance alone -- I'm not exactly what you'd call inconspicuous -- but I've never worried about them. Still, I fingered the butt of the piece, a birthday present from Tissimo, tucked into my jeans as I walked.
I didn't know what God had in mind for me that night. I couldn't have known; and while I'm wholly aware of how close I am to turning this memoir into an enormous cliche', I feel it needs to be said. I didn't realize it at the time, but now that I'm looking back, my life changed that night. For better or worse.