Night Town: The Acidhead Avengers 3

It was a full-on stupid hour to be at Danny's Diner on a Tuesday.

"So...who are we looking for?" said Dalene. "And how the fuck are we out here before midnight."

"Just you wait." countered Gabe.

"I'm not nearly high enough to be doing this at this hour."

"Too bad. No time to deal. You're good doing our work when you're sober anyway. Don't be an addict."

Dalene eyerolled.

"Trust me. He's going to walk in at any moment."

"I trust you. Ok. Ok. I mean at least I can vape in here."

"That's gross. I'm pretty sure that will still kill you."

"Wow, since when were you Captain Judgmental about this shit?"

The man walked in.

“Gabe, I want to order a burger. Or at least a shake. It’s way too early for this.”

Gabe flipped his shades on and sidled gently up to his subject. The man began to speak immediately.

“They did it again. They fucking blacked me out by dosing me, jerked me off and took my jizz.”

“I see.” Gabe’s voice was gentle. “So now you’re coming off them dosing you.”

“Yeah, man. For real. I need help. I need protection. I pray to God, but he don’t do nothing.”

“Of course not,” replied Gabe. “What does he care?”

Dalene finally jolted into work mode. “Hey man, I’m gonna put on my joker hat. I’m gonna put on my joker hat and then you know what to do, ok?”

“Yeah! Yeah!” the man agreed brightly. Dalene put on the neon green-and-black beanie.

“On the count of three. One, two, three.”

“CHRISTBEALLGODALLMIGHTYALLAHOFTHEFUCKINGDEVILTHEDEVILISMYDAUGHTERSINNERSREPENTGOHOMEGOHOMETOYOURBLEEDINGWHORESANDSTOPRAPINGMESTEALINGMYSEEDLETTHELANDLIVELETMELIVE”

The entire diner turned around. Silence. A heavyset man’s fork clattered to the floor. All eyes were on the three. Gabe and Dalene knew it was their job but they also didn’t want to lose this location of Danny’s. The well-dressed manager on duty walked up.

“Am I going to need to call the police? Is this guy bugging you two?” The restaurant’s private security was hovering already.

Dalene chimed in. “No, it’s good, man. This friend of ours is having a bad run. Off his meds, but he needs a decent meal. I promise we’ll keep it down. I’m sorry.”

Gabe rifled through his jacket for their business cards.

Gabe F. and Dalene Z.

Urban Shamans

The manager looked obviously puzzled as the plot of unusual customers seemed to thicken.

“Do you know who Wavy Gravy is?” asked Gabe.

The manager continued to look puzzled. No frame of reference.

“We make it better for people who are having a bad time in their heads.”

“WITH SATAN” the man chimed in.

“Um, yeah, er…sure.” Gabe and Dalene fidgeted and looked at each other, ready to give up.

“Look, I need to ask you all to quiet down and I don’t want any drugs in this restaurant. Please keep it down or I will call the cops.” The security guard glared.

“Sure. No problem, man. No biggie at all. We’re really sorry. Our friend is just having some issues.” The manager was already gone.

“You realize we’re stuck with this guy until they bring our food, right?” whispered Dalene.

“That was the point. That was the point.”