Hurt Me Daddy, for I Have Blogged

Dalene and Gabe stopped dead in their tracks at the entrance of Danny’s Diner. CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE “Fuuuuuck,” whined Dalene. Gabe rallied. “It’s not the end of the world.” “But there’s only ONE Danny’s diner!” “That was sarcasm, right? So we go to Herb’s Pit Stop.” The racecar-themed 24-hour joint was about 10 minutes away. “Well, it’s either that or fast food. Ugh.” Gabe’s car pulled up to Herb’s. His scruffy beard was well beyond a five o’ clock shadow but he kept vowing that he wouldn’t let that continue for more than a few days. He was between projects at work and couldn’t be bothered at the moment. Dalene was wearing her usual combination of black and neon green in some part of her clothing, though today it was mostly black. After a turbulent past six years or so and a whole lot of loitering at Danny’s, Dalene had finally secured employment at a relatively high-end marijuana collective. She actually had to wear slacks and a collared shirt ...

Rumor had it. Dalene shifted in the booth, and adjusted the usual neon green-and-black beanie."I heard he was in town this week." She, of course, meant Danny Downer. The famed owner of Danny's Diner. Now a major franchise operation. He was the original. And theirs was the original Danny's. Location Number One. Now a receptacle for late-night Urban Shaman escapades. "It probably was a rumor. That guy is super reclusive. We'll never see him," responded Gabe, Danny Downer had been influential in the local Hellcore scene twenty years earlier. He'd started with extreme stage shows, but eventually retreated behind minimal beats, laptops and aviator shades. Mr. Downer was often stylish in a trenchcoat and striking in a suit, but usually preferred professorial sportcoats with patches on the elbows. His profuse collarbone tattoos still displayed wherever he went. Once hairspray-ravaged hair was either buzzed and gently spiked or occasionally in a discre...

There was going to be no Danny's Diner tonight. At least not for a while. An incredibly, exhaustingly long while. Gabe had decided to take Dalene on a ridealong during his dayjob. Which was really his night job. But so it was for most Night Towners. Unless they converted. Today it was neon green socks for Dalene. "Real cute," said Gabe, as she rolled into the passenger's seat. "I never know when you're being serious with that stuff." "Does it always have to be a thing? Is bickering always necessary? I just wonder why you dress like a sixteen-year-old lesbian raver sometimes." "This is a great start," low-toned Dalene. The two were quiet for about 10 minutes following that. Dalene crossed her arms and leaned her temple near the window, and Gabe gently turned up the dubstep for the ride. Gabe's day-night job was to use a special GPS placement device to detect billboard placement for a major company in the area. Each place...

1am rolled around, and the debauchery had only increased. Her number of clients had reduced to a small trickle. At about 1:45, Lana slowly fished her reader out of her purse and began to peruse the newest Terry Mells fiction installment. Time floated, and it became 2:20. She reckoned she'd seek out Amanda, just for one last time that night. The green room was easy enough to guess at. Memories crunched within Lana's mind. The little girl voice. The coy manipulation, or maybe just overthinking. Sociopaths always had you convinced it was you. Then the door creaked. Confusion. "Oh, that's right. You said you'd come to me." "Of course." Amanda smiled. "Shall we?" "Yes! And, um, I want to ask about past lives." Amanda turned to reposition herself. The rope was gone and had been replaced by snug hotpants, but the chest harness was still there along with the rhinestoned bra. She had immediately removed her high heels upon ente...