Part 2 of 3
Read the full text, as well as the show notes, at http://flashpulp.com
Tonight, Will Coffin, urban shaman, and Bunny Davis, his temporarily sober roommate, find themselves abandoned by a talking raccoon.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP257 - Coffin: Dealing, Part 2 of 3
[music] Welcome to FlashPulp episode 257. This evening we present... Coffin. Dealing. Part 2 of 3. [music] You know what's really wrong with Joss Whedon's television shows? They end. Fortunately, Strangely Literal, a weed-inverse fanfic podcast, is there to catch you when you find yourself lost and alone after a series finale. Find Buffy, Captain Mal, and all your favorites at http/www.strangeliliterol.com or search for it in iTunes. [music] [music] FlashPulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight, Will Coffin, Urban Shammon, and Benny Davis, his temporarily sober roommate, find themselves abandoned by a talking raccoon. Coffin. Dealing. Part 2 of 3. Written by J.R.D. Skinner. Art and narration by Opoponax. An audio produced by Jessica Moon. Their final destination was a blue two-story house, standing beside an industrial tool rental warehouse. Beyond the shop ran a double set of disused rail tracks and a thicket of trees. Despite the location's close proximity to the heart of the city, Bunny felt oddly isolated. Their guide was the first to break the silence. "Well, here we are," said the two-tailed raccoon, "but this is why they pay you the big bucks, yeah? So I'm off to feel my stomach." Bunny, increasingly sober and increasingly annoyed at the time and distance she'd invested in the venture, turned to the blanket-wrapped arcane animal. She'd refused to push the baby carriage throughout the lengthy walk and had instead insisted it be Coffin's duty alone. This ain't a pain, Jab, and I'm betting the person, or thing, or f*cking singing frog, or whatever, looking as sh*t on Will's day is going to be expecting us. Exactly, so I'm off to check your post office. "I thought you were off to get some food," asked Coffin. "Yes, well, the important part is that I'm off." With that, Pisky nimbly lowered himself in the buggy and moved over the shop's sidewalk hugging strip of white shrouded lawn. His long-fingered hands found traction on a pipe running the height of the building, and the snow-filled gutters creaked briefly as he hoisted himself up onto the roof's slip, then he cleared the edge and vanished into the arriving dawn. "God, I'm a damn four-legged junkie," said Bunny. Every meth hat I've ever meant has been the same way. There was a guy in my old building who'd constantly ask me for money while digging in his face with one of his little screwdrivers, like you get in a set of five? Anyhow, I actually gave him a few bucks here and there, but he caught Tim taking a swing at me once in the lobby, and just walked away like he hadn't seen shit. Coffin had stepped away from the cart and towards the house. Those poor bastards are a special group," he replied. "They're picking because the meth thins the veil. They can feel the tiniest of carwick spawn trying to birth just under their skin." "You can't take how they behave personally. They're mice in a trap. They came in just wanting a little cheese, but they'll gnaw a limb off if it'll give them a bit of relief." "Now let's go say hi," Bunny lingered, but briefly, "Jesus, that's a hell of a door," she noted as she joined Will at the slab. It was unlocked. Coffin, uninterested in knocking, pushed at the handle, only to be surprised by the double beep of a security system, acknowledging his entrance. Pretty g*mn damn fancy pants for this neighborhood, muttered the drunk. The hall lights automatically brightened, revealing a pair of spotlessly maintained bicycles, and beige walls covered in a collection of unframed paintings. The floors were hardwood, and the rug inside the door bore the embroidered face of Mr. T. "Your tongue by the eats and treats was torched by a f*ckin' hipster?" Bunny asked in a whispered tone. The living room shelving was filled with vintage stereo equipment, and a floor was dominated by a bright red couch, on which sat a gaunt man of unusual height. His hands rested behind his head, and his jean-clad legs stretched out over the low coffee table. Bunny's eye, his askew lips, made it look as if he were caught mid-cough. A string of bloody mucus on the man's pompous mirth t-shirt led Coffin to realize the unmoving form, had been affixed to the wall by a single nail, which extended from the back of the corpse's throat, and threw both his palms. Will frowned. From his jacket's right hand pocket, he produced a silver chain, linked to an elaborate hook. Then, from the depths of his coat, he produced a pistol. "Hold this," he told Bunny, as he passed across the weapon. "F*ckin' right, I will," she replied. The kitchen was worse. Three cadavers sat around the bamboo table. A brunette woman with swept bangs had been left flat-pommed, with a metal stud capping each knuckle. Her sneakers were stapled into a flirtatious game of footsy with her bald, bespeckled companion. His head, however, was bowed, as if at prayer, and his fingers tightly interlocked. The last of the group, a slight man with a mop of blond hair, had been positioned into a game of solitaire, in progress. Each card's face was pierced, and held flat by a nail head. Pinged fabric revealed the points at which the party had been pinned to their chairs. "This isn't the occult," said Coffin. "These are just dead people. Let's get out of here, and call the cops." As they passed through the living-room, they discovered that the couch now carried a second occupant. "Hello there, friend," said the heavily tattooed woman from beneath her bed-y page bangs. "Name's John Coyle, you're expected." Flashpulp is presented by Flashpulp.com, and is released under the Canadian Creative Commons' attribution non-commercial 2.5 license. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to skinner@skinner.fm or the voicemail line at 206-338-2792, but be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the Free Sound Project, found at freesound.org. For a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them, please check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening, if you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. (upbeat music) [MUSIC PLAYING]