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Forward to Deuce’s Wild
This, my friends, is just another piece of evidence that I am capable of losing my mind. But it’s so much more than that, and so much more than just another awful novel written by a fourteen year old insomniac, it’s also...
Uh.
My mind just went blank.
You have in your hands (or on your computer) blackmail material. Feel grateful that this story wasn’t typed out of your fingers at four o’clock in the morning while high on herbal tea. And note that I totally discommend the following – erm – “novel”, if you will, to ANY individual whether friend or foe.
This is a definite “first draft” and it’s barely been touched since November 2004 when I wrote it. I’ve fixed very few of the many grammar mistakes, as well as typos.
A'ight, you've been warned. So beware of the following content because, well, to be blunt with you, it kind of sucks ass.
Peace, love and gossip,
-Meg C Oz-
(Yeah, like a forward would be written this chumpworthy garbage...)
Deuce's Wild
Edan, Tassels and I walked in and stood in awe over how small it was. “This is it?” Tassels exploded. “We came this far for this piece of crap?”
“I guess so,” Edan snickered.
We looked around the house. The main entry way had no high ceiling like we had suspected. Instead it was only about ten feet up. It’s not that his house wasn’t big – just not as gargantuan as we had perceived it.
“Evelyn,” Edan pointed over to a small closet under the stairway. “I think that’s where he kept his goods.”
Tassels strutted over with his dreadlocks flipping over his shoulders. He’s almost seven feet tall with blonde hair that – when he was thirteen – decided to grow out into the do it is now. He has small hippie-esque glasses, – which are actually smaller than mine – semi bad acne and only shaves every three days.
Edan on the other hand, doesn’t look a thing like his older brother. He’s a little over five and a half feet tall and dresses much different than Tassels. More like, Seattle grunge leftover from the 80’s. Kurt Cobain is his idol. And his dark hair is always messy and tossed – most likely because he never combs it. He has a deviant smile and witty brown eyes.
“Here we go,” Tassels said and opened up the closet. Inside, were all kinds of books – from the Koran to stuff by Dale Carnegie, which Edan picked up and immediately said, “I’m burning this,” then casually strode over to a lit fireplace and carelessly tossed the horrid book into the conflagration.
“Good job,” Tassels said then continued, “Okay, first of all, we need to find this guy’s will. Because we all know that he left his fortune to us and not his daughter.”
“The skank,” Edan added under his breath.
“Language little bro. Now, as I was saying, we need to prove to everyone that Melvina shouldn’t inherit what Wallace said was ours.”
“And what makes you say that Wallace put it in here? This is a pretty cliché place to keep a will.”
“No kidding. And guess what?” I said pushing a strand of my brown hair away from my hazel eyes. “He told me he put it in here, Edan. He also gave me this.” I pulled out a small wadded up piece of paper and handed it to Tassels.
“The combination,” he concluded.
“Exactly. The safe is somewhere in there.”
Sure enough, Edan and Tassels knocked over a dusty old dresser where a tiny safe was. I put in the combination in and it clicked – allowing us access to his will.
Inside was....
“What the hell is this?” Edan pulled out a photograph.
“It’s Melvina! That bitch!”
The photo was of none other than our archenemy Melvina sitting cross-legged on a foldout chair outside of a tropical beach house with a smug look on her face.
“What is the deal with that?” demanded Tassels.
“Maybe she took the will?”
“No way. I bet Wallace gave Evelyn the wrong information on this. He probably never wanted us to have anything of his in the first place.”
“Are you two done?” Freda Kelson asked.
“Yep. Thanks for letting us look through your butler’s old stuff.”
“It was...my pleasure.” She gave us an odd look and escorted us to the door.
“It’s a shame he had to commit suicide,” I said heavily, looking out of the car window. We were speeding down the interstate in Tassels beat-up red and grey hatchback.
“I know,” Tassels sighed and pounded on the stirring wheel with frustration.
Edan chuckled from the backseat, “Yeah, but you can’t really blame him for having to clean for Kelson, now can you? The woman weighs at least four hundred pounds!”
“Would you shut up, Edan?” Tassels yelled. “We all know what she’s like. For the love of god...”
“Where did Melvina live?” I asked putting in a Kansas CD.
“Dunno,” Tassels exclaimed. “I think she lived in Alabama for awhile. Maybe she’s still living there now.”
“But she was on the coast,” Edan was confused.
“Yeah loser. There’s a coast in Alabama. They decided to have it there so when the geezers from ‘bama got old, they’d just go south a little and still be in the motherland.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “But how are we going to find out where Melvina is now?”
Tassels laughed nervously. “Well...there’s always Pancrazio.”
“You’d honestly resort to your mob ties?” I said dumbstruck.
“Yeah, actually he would,” Edan said disgustedly. “Do you even know how he met Pancrazio? Tassels used to work in an Italian restaurant. I mean, go figure.”
“As stereotypical as it seems, I think it could work,” Tassels said, obviously annoyed by his younger brother’s comment.
“Hey! Well, you never know...” Edan grinned mischievously. “Ever think Melvina was in the business with Pancrazio?”
I laughed, but Tassels remained silent and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling him so shut up, you guys.”
Eddie Osbaldo and Thomas Lanone were both playing cards at a table located in the back lounge of their boss, Pancrazio’s restaurant. The room was dark and hazy with cigarette smoke. “Who?” Lanone asked.
“You remember Tassels? His appearance isn’t a hard one to forget,” Pancrazio explained.
“What did he do?” Thomas Lanone asked.
“Tassels and his two friends – one of them being his brother, I believe – were willed the entire will of Wallce. Yes, I’m sure you all remember Wallace.”
“How could we?” Eddie murmured.
Pancrazio ignored him, “He has money that belongs to us. And since he willed that money to Tassels and his buddies, that money is now his and he owes us money.”
“So? All we gotta do is get Tassels. That easy,” Eddie Osbaldo said looking at his cards.
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” Pancrazio went on, “because they were just at Wallace’s former home and it appears that his daughter, Melvina, has taken the money. It was supposed to be in a safe, but instead, there was a picture of her. This leaves us to find Melvina and get back our money.”
Thomas Lanone paused, “But what about Tassels?”
“Oh right! He needs passports to get into Barcelona.”
“Why?”
“That’s were I told him to fly into. You see, I told him that Melvina is living at a ski resort in Andorra. Barcelona was the best place he could get a flight into. Only problem is, they don’t have passports, which is why I’m sending you, Lanone, to bribe one of the guards into letting them in. It shouldn’t be too hard.
“Eddie, you on the other hand, I’m sending to Andorra. I want to keep an eye on Tassels and his two friends. I may end up sending someone out there with you to help in case of an emergency.”
“And what are we doing about Melvina?” Lanone asked.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get someone out to her little paradise island,” Pancrazio said, nodding his head. “Anyway! You two need to get to my private hangar pronto! We don’t have much time before Tassels and his friends arrive in Barcelona.”
Tassels grinned. “Oh yeah. He even knew where she was!”
I was stunned. “Where?” was all that I could manage to say.
“We could go there right now and save some serious time, Evelyn,” Tassels said pulling off to the side of the road and picking up a road map off the floor of the car and handed it to me. “You’re navigating, pal. Because if Edan does, we’ll all die and never get to kick Melvina’s ass.”
“Righto. Now where to?” I asked and unfolded the map.
He pointed. “The air port.”
We arrived at the airport about an hour later.
“Where exactly are we going?” Edan demanded.
“Andorra,” Tassels said with a smirk.
“No way,” I exclaimed. “She does not live in Andorra!”
“Pancrazio would beg to differ,” Tassels said walking up to a Spanish airline. “Look, we’ll fly into Barcelona and bus into Andorra.”
“Where’d she to live in Andorra?” I asked.
“Good question, Evelyn,” Edan said. “But I have a hunch it has to do with Pancrazio.”
“That’s bullshit, man,” Tassels hissed.
“Then how else did Pancrazio know?” I said – Edan had a point.
Tassels paused. “Look...dude, Edan, listen. Pancrazio has a huge database of people he used to know. He said Melvina works there and for free lodging and food.”
“I told you she was a skank....” Edan muttered.
“Dude, she’s more than a skank. Use your brain,” Tassels said. “Okay, think we can do all this with just the clothes on our back?”
“No,” Edan and I said on cue.
“Well, too bad ‘cause you are.”
“Do you think all this is worth it?” I asked, still standing in line at the Spanish airline.
“Yeah. Revenge is worth every fucking piece of it,” Edan said sardonically.
“Heh, you’re right little bro,” Tassels said. “We need three tickets for Barcelona,” he added to the man at the desk.
Tassels paid for each of our tickets with his own credit card. “You’d better pay me back or else I’ll kill you two.”
“Okay.”
That could have been taken two different ways.
On our way to the gate I looked back on all that had happened. Wallace committing suicide took us all by surprise. We had known him since Tassels was about thirteen – making me eleven and Edan nine. Tassels and Edan are the two youngest brothers in a Catholic family of eight kids. I was their friend because the three of us liked the same music. And both are families went to the same church, but deep down we are hardcore heretics.
“I’ve never been out of the country,” said Edan amazed.
“Neither have I,” I said and laughed. “And Andorra of all places!”
“Well, I have,” Tassels as we made our way to security. “Back in my junior year, I went to Ottawa.”
“That doesn’t count!” Edan snapped. “Canada’s still on North America.”
“So is Mexico.”
“Yeah, but Mexico speaks a different language.”
“They speak Canadian-French.”
“I don’t count that as a language.”
“Racist.”
“Shut up,” I said. “When’s the flight?”
“Like in two hours,” said Tassels checking his ticket.
“Oh shit!” Edan said frantically.
“What?!”
“We don’t have passports!”
Tassels smirked. “Mob ties aren’t always bad to have, Edan.”
Pancrazio, of course, had to pick him to go to the mountains while they all went to get the money from Melvina. The bastards.
At least Pancrazio was on the ball – a call had been made immediately to one of the security workers in the Barcelonan airport. The boss had told him that if he let the three people he described in – this being Tassels, Evelyn and Edan – he’d buy him a house in Aruba.
The lucky fool, Eddie thought.
Eddie pulled out his notebook and began to write.
