Part 2 (?)
"Huh."
Jimmy straightened up in his stool as the monkey kept the pistol trained on him and took a few steps to the left. Everyone else in the bar had stopped dead, and where staring at both the monkey and Jimmy, seemingly waiting for something to happen. The monkey was carrying a snub-nosed revolver, the kind of gun a private dick always carries in those shitty black-and-white B movies, where everyone's a mobster or theif. Jimmy took another slug of his scotch and decided he'd better address the problem before it got any worse. "Well, hey there, uh, little fellow. Where did you come from?" The monkey cocked it's head slightly at the question, and looked straight into Jimmy's eyes.
*BLAM*
The gun went off, and all hell broke loose. Those that were near enough to the exits ran like hell, while those that weren't flipped over tables and dove behind them. Jimmy'd seen too much to jump at the sound of a .38, even though the sound was monstorous. He still wasn't sure this wasn't a hallucination, and reached for his scotch. He felt a sharp pain, and quickly looked at where his glass had been, only to find a pile of glass shards sitting in a puddle of scotch. Blood was oozing out of a small cut in his hand. "God damned ape has gone and shot my scotch," he muttered.
"Please, I'm not an ape. Apes belong to the family Hominoidea, whereas I and my relatives belong to the family Cercopithecidae. Do not call me an ape again."
Jimmy looked at the monkey is wide-eyed amazement. He wasn't amazed by the monkey's ability to talk, this much he was used to. He was more amazed at the monkey's knowledge of scientific classification, on which subject, as a general rule, monkeys are ill educated. Jimmy eventually managed to make his mouth work."Who are you?"
"My name isn't important," replied the monkey, showing off a slight southern drawl.
"Well, I mean, I can't simply sit here calling you Cerco... Ceropodth... Cercopodthia..."
"Cercopithecidae."
"Right, well, I can't just call you Mr. Cercopithecidae, if only for the simple fact that it is incredibly hard to pronounce," Jimmy said, waving his hand in the air to emphasize his point.
"My name is Leo, alright? Leo. Aren't you going to ask me why I have a gun pointed at you?" Leo had placed one of his hands on his hips, and was shaking the gun at Jimmy much in the same manner that his mother used to waggle her finger at him.
"I, uh, I figured we'd get to that. First, let's have a drink. Erin!"
"I don't want a drink," snapped Leo.
"Yes, but I do. Erin! Bloody hell, where has that woman gone off to?" Jimmy slowly looked over the edge of the bar, and saw Erin, curled in the fetal position right next to the rail bottles of gin. "Ahh, there you are. Erin, get me a scotch, would you? Leo here blasted my last one."
Erin looked up at him with eyes wide."J," she hissed, "there is a monkey up there with a gun, and he's talking!"
"Yeah, we'll don't worry too much about the gun. Leo has it trained on me, and I don't think he's very keen on moving it. You're not keen on aiming at anyone else, are ya Leo?" The monkey shook his head. "There, Leo says he's not going aim at anyone else. I'm sure he doesn't even want to hurt anyone else. You're not wanting to hurt anyone else there, are you Leo?"
"Well," Leo muttered, scratching his head, "it's not that I don't want to hurt anyone else, it's just I won't have enough bullets."
"There, you see? He won't have enough bullets to hurt anyone else after he's done with me. So, now then, how about that drink?" Jimmy looked down at Erin again. "Scotch, on the rocks for me, and get Leo whatever he wants. Have a seat up here, huh?" The monkey eyed Jimmy suspiciously, and waggled the gun at him again. "I think I'd rather just shoot you know."
"Oh, come now, Leo, be a good sport and let me have one more drink. That's the least you can do. Look, I'll have my drink, you can have a nip yourself, and then you can get on with shooting me. It's apparent you're not on any sort of timetable, or you would have popped me right when you walked through the door. Look," Jimmy said, sliding a stool over and motioning for Leo to jump onto it, "you can have your gun trained on me the whole time, lecture me about why you're killing me and so forth, and no one has to go into this thing thirsty." Leo looked him over a few times, and squinted at him, waving in the gun at his nose. "Alright, Swagg, I'll bite, but do anything remotely touchy, and you'll be dead before the scotch hits your lips." Jimmy looked at the monkey for a second. "Alright, Leo, no need to get uppity. C'mon, what'll ya have, something banana flavored, no doubt?"
"God, just because I'm a monkey doesn't mean I want banana's all the damn time," snapped Leo. "I'll have some rum, on the rocks." Erin set the drinks down in front of the two. "These are on the house," she shivered, almost spilling Jimmy's scotch. "No, no, no," Jimmy protested, "you bought the last round, I have to cover this one." Erin shook her head. "No, I'm really sure the bar has this one." Jimmy protested again. "Nope. You bought the last round, I'm buying this one, even Leo's." Jimmy reached into his back pocket. "C'mon, I got this one. Oh, and while we're at it, get me a shot of Jaeger, and get Leo..."
*BLAM*
"... a card-board box." Jimmy sat, holding the Kahr Arms .45 dead even at the monkey's head. He was very glad now that he had bought the pistol two years earlier. Kahr was famous for making extremely concealable weapons that packed a whallop, and, by the look's of Leo's remains, their reputation was well earned. He had never even seen Jimmy pull the gun out of his back holster and swing it around, as he was in mid-drink. It wouldn't have mattered, there were few that could compete with him when it came to his swing draw. "Damn ape. Nobody shoots my scotch."
Jimmy straightened up in his stool as the monkey kept the pistol trained on him and took a few steps to the left. Everyone else in the bar had stopped dead, and where staring at both the monkey and Jimmy, seemingly waiting for something to happen. The monkey was carrying a snub-nosed revolver, the kind of gun a private dick always carries in those shitty black-and-white B movies, where everyone's a mobster or theif. Jimmy took another slug of his scotch and decided he'd better address the problem before it got any worse. "Well, hey there, uh, little fellow. Where did you come from?" The monkey cocked it's head slightly at the question, and looked straight into Jimmy's eyes.
*BLAM*
The gun went off, and all hell broke loose. Those that were near enough to the exits ran like hell, while those that weren't flipped over tables and dove behind them. Jimmy'd seen too much to jump at the sound of a .38, even though the sound was monstorous. He still wasn't sure this wasn't a hallucination, and reached for his scotch. He felt a sharp pain, and quickly looked at where his glass had been, only to find a pile of glass shards sitting in a puddle of scotch. Blood was oozing out of a small cut in his hand. "God damned ape has gone and shot my scotch," he muttered.
"Please, I'm not an ape. Apes belong to the family Hominoidea, whereas I and my relatives belong to the family Cercopithecidae. Do not call me an ape again."
Jimmy looked at the monkey is wide-eyed amazement. He wasn't amazed by the monkey's ability to talk, this much he was used to. He was more amazed at the monkey's knowledge of scientific classification, on which subject, as a general rule, monkeys are ill educated. Jimmy eventually managed to make his mouth work."Who are you?"
"My name isn't important," replied the monkey, showing off a slight southern drawl.
"Well, I mean, I can't simply sit here calling you Cerco... Ceropodth... Cercopodthia..."
"Cercopithecidae."
"Right, well, I can't just call you Mr. Cercopithecidae, if only for the simple fact that it is incredibly hard to pronounce," Jimmy said, waving his hand in the air to emphasize his point.
"My name is Leo, alright? Leo. Aren't you going to ask me why I have a gun pointed at you?" Leo had placed one of his hands on his hips, and was shaking the gun at Jimmy much in the same manner that his mother used to waggle her finger at him.
"I, uh, I figured we'd get to that. First, let's have a drink. Erin!"
"I don't want a drink," snapped Leo.
"Yes, but I do. Erin! Bloody hell, where has that woman gone off to?" Jimmy slowly looked over the edge of the bar, and saw Erin, curled in the fetal position right next to the rail bottles of gin. "Ahh, there you are. Erin, get me a scotch, would you? Leo here blasted my last one."
Erin looked up at him with eyes wide."J," she hissed, "there is a monkey up there with a gun, and he's talking!"
"Yeah, we'll don't worry too much about the gun. Leo has it trained on me, and I don't think he's very keen on moving it. You're not keen on aiming at anyone else, are ya Leo?" The monkey shook his head. "There, Leo says he's not going aim at anyone else. I'm sure he doesn't even want to hurt anyone else. You're not wanting to hurt anyone else there, are you Leo?"
"Well," Leo muttered, scratching his head, "it's not that I don't want to hurt anyone else, it's just I won't have enough bullets."
"There, you see? He won't have enough bullets to hurt anyone else after he's done with me. So, now then, how about that drink?" Jimmy looked down at Erin again. "Scotch, on the rocks for me, and get Leo whatever he wants. Have a seat up here, huh?" The monkey eyed Jimmy suspiciously, and waggled the gun at him again. "I think I'd rather just shoot you know."
"Oh, come now, Leo, be a good sport and let me have one more drink. That's the least you can do. Look, I'll have my drink, you can have a nip yourself, and then you can get on with shooting me. It's apparent you're not on any sort of timetable, or you would have popped me right when you walked through the door. Look," Jimmy said, sliding a stool over and motioning for Leo to jump onto it, "you can have your gun trained on me the whole time, lecture me about why you're killing me and so forth, and no one has to go into this thing thirsty." Leo looked him over a few times, and squinted at him, waving in the gun at his nose. "Alright, Swagg, I'll bite, but do anything remotely touchy, and you'll be dead before the scotch hits your lips." Jimmy looked at the monkey for a second. "Alright, Leo, no need to get uppity. C'mon, what'll ya have, something banana flavored, no doubt?"
"God, just because I'm a monkey doesn't mean I want banana's all the damn time," snapped Leo. "I'll have some rum, on the rocks." Erin set the drinks down in front of the two. "These are on the house," she shivered, almost spilling Jimmy's scotch. "No, no, no," Jimmy protested, "you bought the last round, I have to cover this one." Erin shook her head. "No, I'm really sure the bar has this one." Jimmy protested again. "Nope. You bought the last round, I'm buying this one, even Leo's." Jimmy reached into his back pocket. "C'mon, I got this one. Oh, and while we're at it, get me a shot of Jaeger, and get Leo..."
*BLAM*
"... a card-board box." Jimmy sat, holding the Kahr Arms .45 dead even at the monkey's head. He was very glad now that he had bought the pistol two years earlier. Kahr was famous for making extremely concealable weapons that packed a whallop, and, by the look's of Leo's remains, their reputation was well earned. He had never even seen Jimmy pull the gun out of his back holster and swing it around, as he was in mid-drink. It wouldn't have mattered, there were few that could compete with him when it came to his swing draw. "Damn ape. Nobody shoots my scotch."
posted at 2:57 PM
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