I'm really happy with the direction the novel is headed in. I've tweaked bits and pieces, I've added and removed bits and pieces and, though it will still require heavy editing, content-wise I confident I have a good piece of work in front of me.
If you read the excerpt from Part the First, you're probably awash with curiosities and a deep interest in the happenings thus far. Provided is another snippet to whet your appetite for more of The Captain.
From a design standpoint, there wasn't much to separate this whore house from the previous two. Not that he was so well-versed in the art and architecture of these types of places, one would just assume they would be built to suit, not so cookie-cutter. He walked dejectedly into the building, between Styler not calling him back and King Fischer bailing on him, the walk inside was a lonely one. He wished he could have his friends with him, or Jilly-Billy, or even Scotty but he was so intent on being exactly a phone call away, but he had to face this alone.
He popped one more pill, six left, and stepped inside. The inside was immediately different than Chinatown. Tapestries hung from each wall. Elaborate-type deals with pictures and patterns and Eiffel Towers and all kinds of French-inspired designs.
The whole building smelled like piss, as if the bathrooms had not only backed up, but people decided to not only keep using them, but to forgo the whole bathroom 'thing' and just go on the floor.
He walked in like a stranger. The place was hazy, filled with cigarette smoke. It seemed like everyone around him had one hanging out of their mouth, stuck in a perpetual state of post-coital ecstasy.
He asked a random woman, “Excuse me miss, I'm looking for a dog, chien?”
“Je ne sais pas qui vous êtes, monsieur, mais si vous allez à payer pour avoir des relations sexuelles avec moi, s'il vous plaît soyez sur votre chemin!” she said with either an attitude or a thick French accent, he was not sure either way.
Moving along, quickly so not to incite any wrath. He stopped another woman, exiting a room wearing simply panties. Her gorgeous breasts bobbing with each step. He noticed he was the only one staring, assuming it to be an European thing, he affixed his attention to the woman's face and asked her, “Excuse me, Chien. I was told someone can help me find Chien?”
Feeling overwhelmed from all the French-style attitudes and gorgeous naked women that it was impolite to stare at, he jumped into the nearest room, a bathroom, and slammed the door shut.
Looking into the mirror he spoke to himself, the first time he had done that in a long time, “This isn't so tough a case. You've dealt with The Human Hammer, you've taken on bigger. And now you're talking to yourself in the mirror. You must be crazy. You must be a whacked out nutbag just like they all said. King Fischer, Styler, even Jilly-Billy thought you were crazy at the very end.
And now you're making up imaginary characters. Gorilla Gordan. The Human Hammer. Chien. You're a fucking mess. It should be you in that hole in the ground.”
“I'm still real. Take one, baby. Feel better. Take one.”
He pulled out the bag, the last six were stuck in the corner that he could not get his thick fingers around. Pouring the bag into his hand he suddenly became aware, by means of his peripherals, of a pair of eyes watching. Turning slowly to his right, he came face to face with a pair of brown eyes. They appeared friendly, so he allowed his eyes to focus out to clarify the rest of the body surrounding these eyes.
Before he even got the chance to process the information he was assaulted by a large, slimy tongue slapping across his face. He jumped back at the surprise and the last five pills flew out of his hands and landed in the sink. They rolled around the border of the sink basin, sinking lower and lower towards the drain while The Captain simply watched in fright, stunned and unable to grab at the pills until they were all already down the drain.
“Goddammit!” He turned and yelled at the British Bulldog sitting on the toilet seat. The sight took a few second to process what he was actually looking at into what he was looking for.
“Chien?” He asked the dog.
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