balloon gun.
Chapter 21
“Where’s the family?” Vinnie Blue Nose asked the wounded Frenchman.
The clown spit in Vinnie’s face. Then Spotty kicked him between his legs.
As Vinnie calmly cleaned the spittle from his face with a handkerchief, he said, “You’re going to tell me where your people took this man’s wife and three daughters or your death will be slow and painful.”
“It’s too late,” the Frenchman wheezed. “You’ll never see them again.”
Spotty kicked him in the bullet wound.
“That’s not the question I asked,” said Blue Nose. “But if you want to play this the hard way, we’ll play it the hard way.”
Vinnie pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Then he took a small pouch out of his coat pocket.
“If I were you I’d start talking,” Jackie the Grump told the Frenchman.
The wounded clown watched Vinnie open the pouch. “What is that?”
Vinnie turned over the pouch and poured a tiny amount of its contents on the Frenchman.
“Weapons-grade itching powder,” Vinnie said. “This much will make you feel like you’re being eaten alive by fleas.”
At first, nothing happened. The French clown just spit at him again. But then the itching crept into the folds of his paper-white skin. He scratched his neck, then his chest.
Vinnie poured a few more shakes of the powder onto the wounded man. “This much will make you feel as if you have the worst case of chicken pox anyone has ever experienced in the history of the disease.”
The Frenchman cried out and scratched furiously, his fingernails thrashing against his body, trying to itch every part of his body all at the same time.
“The next dose will itch so badly that you’ll literally tear your own skin off trying to get it to stop. And the dose after that, you will be begging for me to kill you.”
Before Vinnie could tip the pouch of powder, the French clown held out his hands and begged him to stop.
“I can’t take it anymore!” cried the wounded clown. “Get the stuff away from me!”
“You have three seconds,” Vinnie said.
“It was Coco’s idea,” the clown said.
“You mean Coco de Merde?” Vinnie asked.
“Who’s Coco de Merde?” Hats asked.
Vinnie shook his head. “An up-and-comer in the French mob who’s recently made a name for himself. He’s been rising through the ranks pretty quickly as of late. Very ambitious.”
“Ambitious enough to go after Don Bozo?” Spotty asked.
“
Stupid
enough to go after Don Bozo.”
The wounded clown scratched at his crotch as the itching powder went down his pants and got into his bullet wound. “He’s the one who came up with the idea to use the zoo doctor to kill your boss. It wasn’t me. I was just following orders.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Vinnie said, holding the pouch closer to the man’s wound. “Where’s his wife and daughters?”
“They’re still alive,” said the Frenchman. “Coco’s got them down at the docks.”
“What are they doing at the docks?” Earl asked.
“They’re being sold,” he said.
“What do you mean being sold?” Earl cried.
“That’s how Coco earns for the family. He sells women into the sex trade, usually runaways. They’ll be shipped overseas. Nobody will ever hear from them again.”
“You monster!” Earl screamed.
The vet kicked the clown in the ribs, but the clown was scratching so furiously that he didn’t seem to feel it.
“We have to get them before the boat leaves,” Vinnie said. “Let’s go.”
“It’s too late. There’s no way you’ll get to them in time.” The Frenchman laughed. “By tomorrow, they’ll be hooked on laughy-gas and doing
anything
for
anybody
to get their next fix. You’ll never see them again.”
“Son of a bitch…” Earl grabbed Vinnie’s pouch of itching powder and dumped its entire contents on top of the Frenchmen.
They left him thrashing, screaming, and tearing at his own flesh as they walked out of the yard.
“Here, use
Chapter 21
“Where’s the family?” Vinnie Blue Nose asked the wounded Frenchman.
The clown spit in Vinnie’s face. Then Spotty kicked him between his legs.
As Vinnie calmly cleaned the spittle from his face with a handkerchief, he said, “You’re going to tell me where your people took this man’s wife and three daughters or your death will be slow and painful.”
“It’s too late,” the Frenchman wheezed. “You’ll never see them again.”
Spotty kicked him in the bullet wound.
“That’s not the question I asked,” said Blue Nose. “But if you want to play this the hard way, we’ll play it the hard way.”
Vinnie pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Then he took a small pouch out of his coat pocket.
“If I were you I’d start talking,” Jackie the Grump told the Frenchman.
The wounded clown watched Vinnie open the pouch. “What is that?”
Vinnie turned over the pouch and poured a tiny amount of its contents on the Frenchman.
“Weapons-grade itching powder,” Vinnie said. “This much will make you feel like you’re being eaten alive by fleas.”
At first, nothing happened. The French clown just spit at him again. But then the itching crept into the folds of his paper-white skin. He scratched his neck, then his chest.
Vinnie poured a few more shakes of the powder onto the wounded man. “This much will make you feel as if you have the worst case of chicken pox anyone has ever experienced in the history of the disease.”
The Frenchman cried out and scratched furiously, his fingernails thrashing against his body, trying to itch every part of his body all at the same time.
“The next dose will itch so badly that you’ll literally tear your own skin off trying to get it to stop. And the dose after that, you will be begging for me to kill you.”
Before Vinnie could tip the pouch of powder, the French clown held out his hands and begged him to stop.
“I can’t take it anymore!” cried the wounded clown. “Get the stuff away from me!”
“You have three seconds,” Vinnie said.
“It was Coco’s idea,” the clown said.
“You mean Coco de Merde?” Vinnie asked.
“Who’s Coco de Merde?” Hats asked.
Vinnie shook his head. “An up-and-comer in the French mob who’s recently made a name for himself. He’s been rising through the ranks pretty quickly as of late. Very ambitious.”
“Ambitious enough to go after Don Bozo?” Spotty asked.
“
Stupid
enough to go after Don Bozo.”
The wounded clown scratched at his crotch as the itching powder went down his pants and got into his bullet wound. “He’s the one who came up with the idea to use the zoo doctor to kill your boss. It wasn’t me. I was just following orders.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Vinnie said, holding the pouch closer to the man’s wound. “Where’s his wife and daughters?”
“They’re still alive,” said the Frenchman. “Coco’s got them down at the docks.”
“What are they doing at the docks?” Earl asked.
“They’re being sold,” he said.
“What do you mean being sold?” Earl cried.
“That’s how Coco earns for the family. He sells women into the sex trade, usually runaways. They’ll be shipped overseas. Nobody will ever hear from them again.”
“You monster!” Earl screamed.
The vet kicked the clown in the ribs, but the clown was scratching so furiously that he didn’t seem to feel it.
“We have to get them before the boat leaves,” Vinnie said. “Let’s go.”
“It’s too late. There’s no way you’ll get to them in time.” The Frenchman laughed. “By tomorrow, they’ll be hooked on laughy-gas and doing
anything
for
anybody
to get their next fix. You’ll never see them again.”
“Son of a bitch…” Earl grabbed Vinnie’s pouch of itching powder and dumped its entire contents on top of the Frenchmen.
They left him thrashing, screaming, and tearing at his own flesh as they walked out of the yard.
“Here, use
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