Nighttown Diary- Mal

Icky Mal

Done urba droogy waiting for sundown to pick pocket and lye

Willy Collar

Takey sleazeboy pelvic examination, in toadstool cherries

I said today gamine noted with sherry shorn shorthair

The neutralized simpletons, he say he say, putting his fingerless gloves on

He kiss his lady and he kiss his man, but he faithful he is, just like that tart Elle, she too smart for the schoolmen

Mama Punchy and her trim wallets, the Professor, that lout, and Gypsy J. Frances. There her real country. Yeah I said it right.

Ellie she stagger like Helena Bonham Carter all mood-whacked wild and breast hanging out in public like the boring girls, writing on tablet like a scribe, nonsense nobody from here can read or write

Icky Mal, so impeccably clean, though his bode smell like taxidermy, and no noodles to waste him he on rich man’s gruel these days, so jealous this borough of killers is

All the ladies leave him obscene though so fly by night gent; I knowed him to be evil too, but aren’t we all here in Night Town.

Ellie throw stocking, and Mama Punchy’s toadstool teeth hang out. Liars gave them the turned opium again.

He kiss his lady and he kiss his man. Distressed, all fat Ellie do is cry all day. She was once beauty but then witch hazel withered and bulbous nose. Ver, Ellie maid and beauteous trigger, she say she want to kill someone, but no buying it, no denying it. “Nighttown won’t even give me a fuck,” she say.

Oh, but Mal is the finest urba droogy gent. No lilies for you, the delicate. Mama Punchy put razorblades in thy soup. Only the best. Our legend, the gatekeepers say, is that Mal has all his teeth. Never known if that mean worst liar or richest con. Best o’ hattipping time to ye. The Flunkies are that away. Fat Ellie is the most expensive.