Lenny Bruce was still balling Josephine Baker in the cloakroom, so Monk had to string out his first set. I didn’t mind. Patience is the only virtue a bounty hunter like me needs. Che, the bartender, leaned over and poured another double laudanum, waving off my green. “Venceramos, baby,” he smiled, “…on the house.” It had turned out to be a long run on an uncertain contract, but the light at the end of the tube had finally brightened. Chiseling bullshit down to sugar for as long as I have, you get ulcers on your soul. Painful. Now the word had led me to The Threshold, nastiest dive in Sodom City, but a sure bet for a money shot.
Showtime! I spotted Miles Davis checking in with the hostess by the foyer. I knew he only came down here to see his boss… and I also knew that it was his boss, Don John Pauly Dos, who could lead me to my boy. As the consigliere passed through the room, I made like Quasimodo and studied my knees. Miles and I had never quite met, eye to eye… Miles never meets anyone eye to eye. Still, at this late stage I was taking no chances.
As he approached them, the maroon velvet drapes to the back room opened like magic. Miles melted into the black beyond. I figured that the curtains had been drawn from behind by the infamous Lon Chaneys, always present, never seen. The only magic involved was how fast this father and son combo could make anyone disappear. If I were going to collect my “ticket”, I’d have to get to Don Uno. To get to him, I’d have to go through the Chaneys. I wasn’t sweating it. I’ve retired more goons than Pompeii has pebbles.
Monk segued into “Tunisia” as Bird returned from Nodland, sliding into his seat on The Night Train Express. I got up from the bar, leaving a pair of Howards for Che, and made a Moses through the sea of smoke. If God was dead, I’d find Him… and bring Him back… and then…
Fat City.
Scurvy Bastard is a frequent writer/poet for Mystery Island Publications and Black Shark Press. For an upcoming collection he has been selected as one of the 13 Knights Of The Apocalypse.
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21 Responses to “THE THRESHOLD • by Scurvy Bastard”
Comments
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September 18th, 2007 at 1:36 am
Good, crisp writing, S.B. The Raymond-Chandler-on-acid style pulled me in and led me through so quickly I didn’t know what to expect.
September 18th, 2007 at 3:48 am
I was totally lost. But that’s the reader, not the writer, I’m sure. Interesting style of writing at least.
September 18th, 2007 at 4:06 am
Nice read!
September 18th, 2007 at 6:23 am
My favorite entry so far. Loved the style and noir voice and invocations of all those characters. Wow.
September 18th, 2007 at 6:37 am
It’s amazing to me that as soon as someone says they didn’t get a story, someone else will chime in and say its their favorite. We tried to select the widest possible variety of stories for this reason, and I’m glad we succeeded so well!
We selected this piece because the writing is so stylish and so much can be read between the lines. We’ll be seeing more from Scurvy Bastard in the near future (I hope!)
September 18th, 2007 at 7:03 am
Thanks Jordan (I hope so too)…
The Threshold was written for a very close friend of mine during his final days… Phil DeGuere was a brilliant writer/director/producer responsible for The Twilight Zone, Max Headroom and many other unique projects. This piece was a mini-homage to his special light.
September 18th, 2007 at 8:10 am
Love noir–loved this tale.
September 18th, 2007 at 8:57 am
Nicely done!
September 18th, 2007 at 9:02 am
Great story from a great writer.
September 18th, 2007 at 9:09 am
Good one, Scurv. You’re one of our favorite writers at Mystery Island. Thanks for keeping good stories alive.
September 18th, 2007 at 9:38 am
Da amn BAstid you sure knows a heap of words fancy ones two but my greed for your prose understands no restraint MORE MORE MORE bravo SB
big hugs
September 18th, 2007 at 9:43 am
TWILIGHT OF A NOD NOIR
Dead hipsters, waiting on Miles, and Don One’s in Limbo. This Bastard has written quite the Opus Dei in the Afterlife.
We dig it.
September 18th, 2007 at 10:00 am
I’m not sure where the story is. A lot of name dropping, for certain, and the styling is fine but a point to the words would be better. Didn’t get it, sorry.
September 18th, 2007 at 12:18 pm
Brilliantly captured an entire zeitgeist and mindset. All me senses were brought present to that moment. Well crafted and beautifully written.
This is the very best of all the offerings I’ve ever seen here. I’d love to see more from this very talented writer.
Thank you for bring us the fabulous work of Scurvy Bastard.
Great stuff!!
September 18th, 2007 at 12:21 pm
Brilliantly captured an entire zeitgeist and mindset. All of my senses were brought present to that moment. Well crafted and beautifully written.
This is the very best of all the offerings I’ve ever seen here. I’d love to see more from this very talented writer.
Thank you for bringing us the fabulous work of Scurvy Bastard.
Great stuff!!
September 18th, 2007 at 12:24 pm
We have accepted a few more noir pieces in the same flavour as this, including “Break” by Bill Vernon, upcoming on Oct 21st and Dreaded Conversation by Walter Giersback on October 15th.
Thank you for your comments. They really help us in picking upcoming stories. We keep all of your feedback in mind!
September 18th, 2007 at 3:20 pm
BRILLIANT! one of the more literary, and at the same time, underbelly of
the beast, pieces I have ever read. Mr. Bastard has a true talent and has
DEFINITELY seen the other side of this life.
September 20th, 2007 at 7:51 am
THE FLESH HOLE
A momentary dyslexia had me thinking the story was called, “The Flesh Hole,” when further misapprehension of a “dive in Sodom City,” evoked an open bar of analingus, where the LONELIEST Monk could find comfort food.
“Pardon me, Padre, is that MONK eating your ass ’round midnight? Well, he needn’t.”
I’d been in some MUFF dives before but the Chaneys, pere et fils, were not alone and, Jack Lord knows, two Lons don’t make a right, brother. Not even where the Everlys, Phil and Don, are cruised by Genet and his toady, Capote.
Good thing Scurvy Bastard was on the case. If a para-deity WERE dead, yet about, Bastard would suss it out. And then …
Bat Guano.
Crazy, man …
September 22nd, 2007 at 11:25 am
Allusion-heavy pieces are always going to lose a few readers through confusion and missed references, but the stylish noir voice here was too good to pass up. And the allusions here are very clever.
October 19th, 2007 at 6:17 am
[...] The Threshold [...]
October 24th, 2007 at 3:48 am
Name dropping…frames of reference…you set the reader up for dark camp. Totally satisfying SB. Visual, jaded and lovely.