Part 1 of 1
The Skinner Co. Network
205 - Mulligan Smith and The Drunk, Part 1 of 1
(upbeat music) - Welcome to Flashpulp, episode 205. Tonight we present Mulligan Smith and The Drunk, part one of one. This week's episodes are brought to you by the after movie dinner podcast and blog. It's like a very nice place. How jolly. Let's find a place to see it. Shall we, Marjorie? - A lot. - Man alive. - Hey, yes. What would Sir lack to order today? Well, I'd like a podcast. - Uh-huh. - All about film, I think. - All right. But it has to be a conversation. - Hey, yes. Something I can get involved in. - Okay. With a nice healthy dollar book comedy on the side, I think. And does Sir want fries with that? - Yes. - I'm Ketchup. - Oh, and Charlie? - Yes. - Bring me a wheel of cheese. - There's a fin in it for you. - Very good, sir. - This is the after movie down in podcast. Only a hundred calories, cage, free cone, fed and perfectly yo' getting. It's everything you want in a film show, plus condiments. - Wait, August, just go to the AMD podcast. vlogspot.com website. Oh, our tunes today. (upbeat music) - Flash Pope is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to 10 minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight, private investigator Mulligan Smith finds himself in the cold. With an unusual drinking buddy. Mulligan Smith and The Drunk, part one of one. Written by J.R.D. Skinner. Art and narration by the Pope and Acts. Audio produced by Jessica Minney. (upbeat music) (upbeat music) - It was the third Tuesday in November, and Mulligan's tricell was frosted with a night left in an open air payload. He'd wasted his evening anticipating a man who hadn't arrived. In truth, Smith had never been sure Darren Lennox would come to Odoyles, but he knew it to be a preferred late night hangout of Lennoxes, and the detective was in need of a short conversation with the man. Unfortunately, a previous altercation had banned Mulligan from the All Night Eatery, so he'd had no option but to walk the road or perch in the alley that made up the block's only storefront gap and wait in the chill dark. Now Mulligan's rasping pupils winced at the morning sun, and the cold wicked along his fingers and into his forearm as he struggled with his keys. The numbness that had stiffened his limbs during the vigil went out, and he dropped the set with a jingle. As he stooped to collect the ring, a single, braying laugh came from the distant sidewalk. Ha! The PI spun. Don't you think it's rude to verbally mock strangers in public? Don't you think it's rude to look like a moron in public? Slurred the bottle waving drunk. I would take a poll of the surrounding area, but it seems that I'm solely in the company of my moronic peers, which certainly wouldn't provide a solid sample base. You think you can talk over my head? I may be drunk, but for all you know, these are exceptional circumstances. "I usually wouldn't tease a 10-year-old," said Smith, his hands now warming in his hoodies' pockets. "But perhaps you're right. "Perhaps these are exceptional circumstances." The boy in the crisp school uniform raised a paper bag bottled to his lips and smiled. After he finished his gulp, he said, "You've got a taser? "I've been here since seven. "And I went to work. "Notice you stomping along the road. "You a detective or something?" Tamping down his aggravation, Mulligan stretched. He considered his conversation partner. "That's an interesting question, isn't it?" said Smith. He cleared his throat, taking the child's stance in. "You need help at home?" "F*ck no," the boy replied, Mulligan nodded. "Guessing my occupation is a lot of logic to leap," said Smith. "But maybe not for someone who's heard about a snoop "in a black sweater poking around "with a picture of Darren Lennox in his hand. "You have something you want to tell me?" The boy tipped his container without result, then staggered to a trash can. "First find me some London dry," he said. "Hell no. "Look, I'll give you 20 bucks. "I just use it to get someone else to buy it anyhow, "but whatever. "Dad gave me 50 for lunch and I stole another 50 from mom, "so I don't need cash. "What I need is gin." Mulligan lowered his head and shuffled between feet while he mauled his options. "What's your name?" he asked. "Lucas?" "Well, Lucas, you make a fair point. "Let us stroll to yonder boozery." With that, Smith began walking, pacing himself at a speed a little fast for the boy's short legs. Before his companion could complain, he pointed at the sharp-lined uniform. "You're pretty far from Ashbury Academy." "My class is all start late," replied the Lush, as his feet dragged over the pavement. No one ever notices that you're tanked. I like to read a lot. I do okay. They never see me anyway else, so they don't know to believe differently. Oh, it's got scope. Your parents? Jesus, they both figure out my young rascal or whatever. Hello, maybe they don't know how much I take in. They believe me over the occasional (beep) I mentioned something. Sure, said Smith. So, into power rangers or what? "Shut up," Lucas replied, but they both grinned at the comment. They traveled the rest of the distance in silence. The automatic doors had just been engaged as Mulligan stepped onto the shop's plastic mat and the glass slid away as he entered. Lucas was content to wait outside. When Mulligan returned, the boy was quick to break the seal on both the bottle and his silence. "After a long draw," he said. "I like to wander downtown when no one is home. I get to know some people. Darren's been buying for me for months. He used to sell weed over by the Mull bus stop. I told him I narc on him if he didn't. I think he would have anyway. He sort of became friends. A few mornings ago, I saw him coming by. It was super early for him. Usually he's only here in the evenings and he was with his girlfriend. They were shouting at a cabbie. They got in with him. They were still arguing. Suddenly this other guy I've never seen before comes jogging out of the McDonald's and hops in the passenger seat. There was no more fighting. They left in a hurry. Friendsies, asked Mulligan, smirking and motioning through the bottle. The boy extended it happily. Smith said, "He can remember the name of the cab company. "I could probably learn where they went." Then he took a sip of his own. "It was a bluebird taxi," Mulligan nodded. "In returning the gin to its owner, "he overextended his grasp, knocked the boy's hand "and dumped a sizable portion of the liquor "down the ashbury emblem, and onto the carefully pressed shirt." "F***," said Lucas, "I can't go to f***ing school like this." "Mmm, probably shouldn't head home either," said Smith. Realization dawned on the youth's face as he noted Mulligan's smile. "You said you were my f***ing friend!" The boy shouted. "I am." The PI reached for his cell phone as he mentally thumbed through his contact list. He had many friends, in fact, including some reliable ones who worked with child protective services. (suspenseful music) (suspenseful music) 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 Freesound 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. (orchestral music) ♪ Sunday through me, my hours are stumbled ♪ ♪ Here is the shadows I live with are stumbled ♪ [MUSIC PLAYING] (upbeat music)