Part 2 of 2
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Tonight, PI Mulligan Smith learns that not every legend has a happy ending.
The Skinner Co. Network
175 - Mulligan Smith and The Family Legend, Part 2 of 2
[music] Welcome to Flashpulp, episode 175. Tonight, we present Mulligan Smith and the Family Legend, Part 2 of 2. [music] This week's episodes are brought to you by the Shrinking Man Project. [music] Doc? Laura, hi. Oh my God, I almost didn't recognize you. You've lost so much weight. Oh, thanks. I've been working on it. You look great. What's your secret? You know, everyone keeps asking me that. I'm just doing it with diet and exercise. The only real secret seems to be getting your head on straight before you get started. I actually started a podcast about it. About getting your head on straight. Sort of. It's about my weight loss and about the ways that people trip themselves up with the attitudes that they have going in. I do episodes every week talking about what I've had to deal with and every couple weeks I throw in some philosophy. The idea is to help someone else figure out what they need to do to make it work out for them. That sounds pretty cool. What's the podcast called? It's called the Shrinking Man Project. The URL is TheShrinkingManProject.com. I'm trying to keep it simple. Well, it certainly seems to be working for you. Flatter. More. More. 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, P.I. Mulligan Smith learns that not every legend has a happy ending. Mulligan Smith and the family legend. Part Two of Two. Written by J.R.D. Skinner. Art and narration by Opoponax. An audio produced by Jessica May. ♪♪ Mulligan had the flu and was feeling less than enthused about the hours he'd spent pacing the cement sea of megastores and fast-food islands. It was on the shabby ashore that he finally found the 13-year-old he was looking for. The boy had set himself at the entrance of a gas station, with his wheelchair blocking access to a metal shelf selling blue windshield washer fluid. On his lap was a sturdy but transparent plastic sack, filled with chocolate bars and topped by a small donation box. Few people seemed to be paying much attention to the lad, however, as their eyes were largely on the G-stringed picketers across the street. While a well-toned man in a bowtie and shimmering speedo spoke to the crowd regarding pay rates, the white teddy-wearing protester closest to the street utilized her time by waving a laminated sign, "Hunk if you love lap dances," it read. Noting the youth's distraction, Smith used the opportunity to skip the inevitable charity pitch. Sad truth regarding the business? You can generally tell a female stripper's age by how large she's been forced to increase her implants. Not her fault, really, but it's a shame that the investment is usually all they have saved up to that point. There's no real retirement plan for a peeler. Hmm, maybe the strike will help? Well, Seth, they claim it's for tips, but people in the nose say the whole thing is just a PR move by management. The teen's eyes widened at the mention of his name, but Mulligan continued before any response could be made. "I've come about your brother. Your mom sent me." "Hmm, what's wrong with Kurt?" "Nothing new. I'm mostly here considering the "prostituting via Facebook" thing." The sitting figure said nothing. "If you have his login info, you need to tell me," said Mulligan. Seth remained silent. "If not his password than anything. Regular John's, friends, victims?" "Kurt can take care of himself," the boy replied, shrugging. "Listen, this isn't a clever cat and mouse bit. He's been missing for three days, and he's probably in serious trouble. I'm not judging his industry of choice, but the truth is, while his methodology has allowed him to stay freelance and avoid some face slapping, many of his clientele remain in the closet, can suffer a lot of self-loathing, and maybe unstable." "Do you know who Kurt is?" said Seth, his cheeks aflame. "He's the son of Bobby Sweet. Dad once spent seven days straight in a whorehouse, getting free service because he'd convinced him he was a cop. He only got busted because an actual five-o walked in for his monthly appointment. You don't even want to hear what Granddad or even great-granddad got up to. Kurt's a sweet. He'll be fine." Smith cleared his throat. "That may be how they tell it down on fourth, but I've heard your pops was busted, that time, by an ornery mute, after he had an undercover cop badger game turn against him." "Hell, I've probably seen your old man more than you have. Used to come around to my grade school pretty regularly when I was a kid, giving a talk as a part of his parole conditions." Back before he started going in for longer hauls. By the end of Mulligan's delivery, the boys' eyes were raging slits. "What, she send you?" he asked. "Your mom isn't trying to control you. She sent me because she's had the good sense to get away from the bloody sweets in their family legend." "You do understand what a legend is, right?" "A tale to explain something otherwise unexplainable?" "In this case, due to a reluctance to speak the truth on the part of the person who understands the reality of the situation." Seth's mouth was a thin white line. "You want your brother's death to be just another part of the legend?" asked Smith. "Fuck you!" was the immediate reply. But after a pause, it was followed by... "Dollar sign, then big money, all one word, with the O being zero." His username's his email address. "Color, she worries," said the PI, even as he was moving towards his herself. "And get the hell out of that chair and stop scamming people's change. Otherwise, I know an ordinary mute, who's got nothing better to do with his days than follow you around." Flashpulp is presented by http colon slash slash Skinner dot FM. The audio and text formats of Flashpulp are released under the Canadian Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 2.5 license. [Music]