Part 1 of 1
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Tonight, Private Investigator Mulligan Smith is given a lesson in temperament by his friend, Billy Winnipeg.
The Skinner Co. Network
165 - Mulligan Smith and The Favour, Part 1 of 1
[Music] Welcome to FlashPulp episode 165. Tonight, we present Mulligan Smith and The Favor, Part 1 of 1. This week's episodes are brought to you by the FlashPulp Facebook page. It isn't secret, but it's relatively safe. To join, search in Facebook for FlashPulp, find the link at flashpulp.com or direct your browser to http colon slash slash bit.ly/cbkyv2. [Music] [Music] [Music] FlashPulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in modern age. Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings. Tonight, Private Investigator Mulligan Smith is given a lesson in temperament by his friend, Billy Winnipeg. Mulligan Smith and The Favor, Part 1 of 1. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, Art and Narration by Opoponice, an audio produced by Jessica May. [Music] The only light in the tercel came from the dash panel's green glow. Billy Winnipeg shifted into seat, the fifth time in a two-minute span. "Listen," said Mulligan. "If you want to ride along, fine, but sit still already, every time you move I think he's here." Smith had perfected his hush on hundreds of similar watches and bristled at the interruption to his semi-comatose slurpee sipping. "I can't feel my thighs anymore," Billy replied. The PI took a long haul of his drink, eyeing the rain as it collided with the windshield. "So," asked Billy, "Uh, this guy we're waiting for. Big dude, anger issues. Will he have a gun on him? He's got a weapon, maybe I should wait over by the bus stop. Pop him one in the nose before he realizes what's happening." "Whoa there, Charles, Bronson. We're not here to start a fight. He's not some crazed meth dispensing satanist. He's a pot dealer, and we're here to do him a favor." The radio whispered a bombastic ad for a carpet liquidator. "Do a favor for that sorta guy," said Billy. "It's likely to come back to grab your ass and call you sunshine." "What does that even mean?" "Well," replied Winnipeg. "When I was seventeen, we moved from the town and grown up in. I wasn't pleased about the whole thing, having to leave my friends just the end of high school." Well, I mean, pretty close to the end, me and my compadres were, you know, studying at our own pace. But, anyhow, the thing I knew I'd miss most was a girl named Candice Harrison. Herz was the first boob I ever touched. We never really dated, but we got friendly when we were twelve or so, and hung out on and off until I left. The groping was probably a lot more special to me than it was to her. I happened to know I wasn't the only person who could say the same. It wasn't her fault, though. Her dad had a mouth like a rabid hobo, and I think she just wanted someone to care for her. The worst part was that it happened behind the town's public pool maintenance building the day before I was going. I spent long months in Iroquois Falls wondering if maybe something would have come of it. Billy stretched, rearranging his posture. Three years later I bought a car, just a beater, drove at five hours a year, though. I mean, I told myself, man, everyone else, that I was doing it to meet up with old friends or whatever, but I was always really just hoping to see her. I was pretty excited by all the landmarks I recognized. The convenience store I used to go to for candy and to stare at the covers of dirty magazines. A park where a firefighter died saving people, and they built this statue everyone said is ghost lived in. Even the house where the old lady had thrown a rock at me once after I did a bad job of cutting her lawn. Well, like I said, I was getting my hopes up. I drove by her parents' place, and there she was, standing outside. Sometimes she got an older faster than me. Still, well, it doesn't matter, because her boyfriend or fiance or whatever was with her. They were arguing. She said, "Get out of my parents' house and never come back." And all hell broke loose. When he hit her, I came in throwing punches like clean Eastwood Chuck's bullets. I had him apologize before he passed out. I went ahead and cleared his throat. He rolled down his window. I was trying to impress her, I guess. Thought I was doing her a favor. She deserved better than that, Jackal. He didn't press charges, and neither did she. And I even went to visit him in the hospital. Gave him the "you ever lay a hand on her again" speech. Truth is, I kind of overdid it. And he ended up getting fired from missing shifts at the particle board factory. He used the whole thing as, like, a life-changing experience, saying he was a different man. He realized what a bastard he'd been. Blah, blah, blah. And would you please take him back. Hmm, should you believe them? I figured if I wasn't going to get her, I could at least take the credit. We had a quiet dinner while he was floating around on morphine. And she kissed me in one she should have when I dropped her off at her parents' place. She jumped out too quickly for me to do anything about it, though. The next time I saw her was two years later. We'd sent a few e-mails, but neither of us were terribly great at writing. And we just kind of...stop. Mom would ask me to go get this ugly chair or friend was giving her. And she'd rendered me this sweet van, which is good because my view could die by then. Anyhow, with everything that had happened, I convinced myself I shouldn't feel weird about dropping in. A lumbering city bus squawked to a halt at the curb, throwing a fan of water onto the sidewalk no more than 20 feet from the parked car. Maligan nodded for his friend to continue. When I got there, just after lunch, all I found were two drunks and a black eye. Cab hadn't even warmed up from the air conditioning before I was back behind the wheel. Went five blocks through the furniture in the rear and then drove 'til nightfall. Smith set his hand on the door handle, and Winnipeg delayed him. My point is, maybe if I'd stayed out of it, if he'd kicked her ass, then run away. He would've left, and her life would've been different. Or mine. You gotta watch your favors. Zipping his hoodie, Maligan rubbed at his chin, that exited the vehicle. As he prepared a speech on how disappointed the boy's mother would be when she knew of his nocturnal activities, the PI approached the 14-year-old who'd stepped down from the public transport. [Music] 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]