Part 1 of 3
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Tonight, Will Coffin, urban shaman, and Bunny Davis, mouthy drunk, find themselves considering a case of arson.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP256 - Coffin: Dealing, Part 1 of 3
[♪♪♪] Welcome to Flashpulp, episode 256. This evening, we present... Coffin. Dealing. Part 1 of 3. [♪♪♪] You know what's really wrong with Joss Whedon's television shows? They end. Fortunately, Strangely Littoral, a Whedon-verse fan-picked podcast, is there to catch you when you find yourself lost and alone after a serious finale. Find Buffy, Captain Mal, and all your favorites at http/www.strangelittoral.com or search for it in iTunes. [♪♪♪] [♪♪♪] [♪♪♪] [♪♪♪] 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 Shaman, and Bunny Davis, Mouthey Drunk, find themselves considering a case of arson. Coffin. Dealing. Part 1 of 3. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, Art and Narration Biopopanex, and Audio-produced by Jessica May. [♪♪♪] [♪♪♪] Beneath the unyielding white glow of a streetlight, Will Coffin surveyed the charred remains of his favored eats and treats. He wore a scowl on his face. "This is getting to be a bit frustrating," he said. Bunny pulled her coat tight against the chill air and snorted, but he continued. "This is the second store I've had burned to the ground." "Yeah, I'm sure Lauren, either shopkeep thinks it's a f***ing tragedy that you've got to find a new bench," his companion replied. "Now let's get gone. This call is penguin s*** and I'm out of booze." It was Coffin's opinion that it wasn't just the lack of liquor that made her surly. She'd seemed aggravated since the previous evening, when he'd pressured a reluctant informant with an afterlife of eternal drowning. The fire sirens, which had broken their daytime slumbers, had done little to better her mood. Although neither had realized the reason for their clamor until they'd awoken to the evening news. The discovery had spurred him to the phone, and before he had finished making his calls, Bunny's vodka had run dry. We all cleared his throat. "You can head on the dorsets and get a drink if you like. I have an appointment." "Ain't you threatened enough, folks, this week?" "Do I look like I'm about to start a fight?" he replied, as he returned his hands to the crossbar of the empty baby carriage. The creaking buggy, which he'd finally managed to borrow from a woman three floors below their own, was at least two decades old. It's not that kind of meeting. His tipsy friend couldn't help but smile. "Ah, yeah? Hope he also brought some scissors. If you got a hot date with a fucking mummy." Coughton was still considering his response when round bundle, nearly the size of a great dane, came trundling from the shadows beyond the now single-walled portion of the alley. Its gray fur was mangy and unkempt, and its white muzzle was stained with muck and dirty water. At first glance, it was only the double tail, an immense size, which set the raccoon apart from its mundane brethren. "Oh, Willow, how's tricks?" it asked. Sim is always replied coffin. "So I'd hear about your inferno," said the animal. His whole place has taken a dive in the last 300 years. "Wasn't shit all here 300 years ago," interrupted Will's roommate. "Exactly, my point, madam," nodded Beast. His black eyes sparkled in the streetlight, and his rodent-like hands worked excitedly at his whiskers. "I don't believe we've been introduced. One aim is pissky." "Great," said Bunny. She began picking at her teeth with her tongue. The four-legged bandit gave the woman's unbrushed hair and fry grease-stained jeans. Another long look, then asked. "You won't leave your fellow behind, tip a bowl of three. I have a mountainous stash and a culvert on the fossil at a ten. I saw from mattress, too. Maybe you won't want to come back, though." "I ain't getting any closer to his bed than I am to yours," replied the drunk. "But at least he's human." "Exactly," said the former forest lord, as he stretched out his sighs and let a trill roll into his voice. "Look at me. I'll show you. It's all magic." "Get any nearer and you'll think you were talking about Bob-fucking-burger." "Anyhow, man," said the masked entity. As he redirected his attention on coffin, he got a little something extra you could spare. I'm pretty hungry these days. "What happened to Corder's body?" asked Will. He was saturated with mystic juices. He should have lasted you at least a year. "Mmm, temptation's a rowdy mistress. I was a bit greedy." There was a silence, which coffin broke by muttering. "Junkie." The unnatural creature reared. "Don't choke down the me lunch, me. I know your wife," Will's jaw tightened, and his right hand slipped into his jacket's pocket. At the sight, Pisky raised his paws and retreated a step. "Hey, I am cranky, and I apologize. There's a long trip here. I spent partly afternoon napping on a warm-up, but the maintenance guy happened to come around to bugger with the heating equipment. Now I've got an empty belly and a kinkin' on neck. Forgive my crusty prattle, and let's get down to business." Cough and shrugged. It's a tense time, all around. I originally called you here because I needed a favor. I have an address that requires looking into. Why not just shut up your ghosts? It's government property, and they try to keep the murders off the grounds. Besides, you still owe me for Corba, and I need to keep it quiet. Quiet and dead folk. Interesting. First, though, we have a new priority. You're going to lead me to whoever trashed my place of business. Come on now. That's a long walk out in the open. With a smile, Cough and gave the ancient pram a squeaking shove. You bastard, said Pisky with a lick of his lips. The shaman knew he'd complied to the indignity, however. They'd both inhaled the stink of the occult that the arsonist had left behind, and the raccoon was hungry. ♪♪ 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 skier@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. ♪♪ ♪ Sunday is gloomy, my hour is not stumbled ♪ ♪ Here is the shadows I live with are stumbled ♪ ♪♪