Part Three Of Three
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Tonight we bring you the final entry in Mulligan Smith and the Digital Digit. In this episode Mulligan comes face-to-face with Peter Richards' blackmailer - as well as a fist.
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018 - Mulligan Smith and The Digital Digit: The Irritable Pornographer, Part 3 of 3
[music] Welcome to FlashPulp episode 18. Tonight's story, Mulligan Smith and the Digital Digit, part 3 of 3, The Irritable Pornographer. This episode is brought to you by Little Wing Children's Things. Founded by a stay-at-home mom, Little Wing produces a wide variety of handcrafted items, including cloth diapers, slings, and bibs, all made with a philosophy that minimizes mess and maximizes environmental friendliness. For product and ordering information, search for Little Wing Children's Things on Facebook, email Little Wing Children's Things, all one word at yahoo.ca or locate the show notes at skinner.fm for the link. Little Wing Children's Things, providing the tender softness you want cradling your beloved kinder as you haul the needy bugger around. [music] FlashPulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. 400 to 600 words brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight we bring you the final entry in Mulligan Smith and the Digital Digit. In this episode, Mulligan comes face-to-face with Peter Richards' Blackmailer as well as a fist. Mulligan Smith and the Digital Digit, part 3 of 3, The Irritable Pornographer. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, Art and Narration by Opoponax, an audio produced by Jessica May. [music] It was late on Friday afternoon, and the warmth of the sun on Mulligan's face had him longing for a nap. This doesn't look much like a computer server room. He said, shading his eyes and inspecting the view of the city through the sliding glass door. Or, for that matter, a porn set. Mulligan had found the office in a repurposed three bedroom condo on the ninth floor of a building, whose interior was largely made up of mirrors, fake marble, and senior citizens. "We don't have any servers on site. We host internationally. The bald man in the white and black buttoned down shirt replied. This is our space to operate the front end. Do design work. Host meeting greets. You gotta love the view." All of our shoots happen off-site though. It's more organic. Bet you can meet and greet a lot of folks at once on a couch like that. Mulligan replied, turning back to the former living room. "Hey, we're a respectable organization. My models are classy. In the pinup tradition. None of that video with twenty pounds of rubber and a camera in their colon or anything. The desk had been set up to dominate the room, and Theo Melto, the bald man, spoke from deep within a heavy leather chair behind it. "We?" "Well, I'm the executive staff. I pay the talent and write the checks for the wardrobe. But I have five models working for me, and a tech monkey who looks after the servers. Does the site design and such?" Melto leaned forward, stroking his salt and pepper beard. "You said you were an investigator. I figured you wanted to ask me about one of the ladies. A couple of years ago I had a girl whose dad sent a guy out from Ohio to come track her down after she'd run off." "Fine. I'm a businessman. I'm more than happy to help you out. But you gotta understand that I can't give out the real names of the girls to just anyone. And there's also the expense of losing a valued employee to consider." Mulligan unthinkingly jingled a clasp of a zipper and nodded throughout the man's speech. As Melto finished, the PI dropped onto the champagne-colored love seat across from the desk. "Are you aware that one of your models, Baroness Ludmila Anastasia, a.k.a. Joni Melins, a.k.a. Sensational Nancy Nickers, a.k.a. Margaret Templeton, has multiple locations on her site in which she coaxes her members to send in pictures of their members." Sure, all the girls' sites have basically the same thing on them. Helps community building and makes the guys feel like they've got a connection to the girls. We usually send out a canned response about how hot it was and print out the hilarious ones for the back of the design room. At least one of those pictures has been linked on going blackmail. Seems like terrible customer service for such a respectable organization. "What?" Melto's lips tightened, his neck reddening. "Wait a minute, will I get Nicole out here?" He stood and stalked down the short back hall, pushing open the last door on the right. It slammed behind him. Moments later, he exited, heading immediately into the washroom. A woman in her early 20s followed as far as the hall. She crept into the office area, a manila folder clasped tightly to her papped blue ribbon t-shirt. Her eyes never leave in the carpet. "Hi," she said, her face hidden behind her bobbed hair. Mulligan's side. When the proprietor finally returned, the red of his neck had seeped across his face. "My spider sense is telling me you're concerned about your business here. My client, Peter Richards, just wants the pictures destroyed and his money back," Smith said. Melto stayed silent, his damp hands rhythmically clenching. The woman hefted the file folder onto the desk and the trio gathered round its splayed contents. "Look at that, you! Look at the quality of that wood! That's gotta be quite a desk and quite an office. Guy getting paid like that shouldn't be whipping it out on the clock." Nicole, the tech monkey, said, brushing aside some errant hair. It doesn't help that he sent it from his work address. "How could you do this? I gave you a job. I'm your friggin' uncle!" As he shouted, the smut peddler's hands continued to throttle a neck that wasn't there. "Probably because you didn't pay enough," Mulligan said, stepping between them. "You'll be paying now, though," my client specifically. "Why would I do that? I wasn't involved in this!" Mulligan smiled and said, "Because," Melto hit him in the face. It was an awkward punch, off-balance, and poorly planned. Smith rocked back to soften the blow, then returned the favor with an open-handed slap. It was always Mulligan's preferred response when exchanging limbs with an amateur. A punch might hurt, but it would also likely anger. A slap brought on only tears. The bald man began to well up immediately, it's not sliding into his beard. Massaging his jaw, the PI continued. "Are you aware that the Baroness is afraid of being carted while buying smokes?" Better yet, are you familiar with the laws of the land regarding the depiction of the genitalia of a minor? Mulligan thrust his throbbing hand into his pocket. Fire your tech girl and pay Richards from your own wallet. A few folks are going to be buying on Monday to double-check your employee headcount. And it would be a shame if someone were to feed them a detailed history, justifying the fat severance you're going to be paying the model you had to let go over the weekend. Mulligan zipped his hoodie. 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]