THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER ~ Epic*sode 5 ~ ~ "LUCKY SHOT" ~ By Absolutely*Kate and Harry B. Sanderford of Harbinger*33

~ PRESENTING OUR

   MYSTERY*MATINEE ~

 "THE PRINTS

AND THE POPPER"

  

FROM WHERE WE LEFT OFF

 IN LAST WEEK'S CLIFFHANGER

 *AT THE BIJOU*

CATCHING UP ON CLIFFHANGERS?

JUST CLICK EPIC*SODES BELOW ~

 CLIFFHANGER Epic'sode 4: "HI JINKS"

CLIFFHANGER Epic'sode 3: "GROPING AGAINST GROPE" 

CLIFFHANGER Epic'sode 2: "THE CLOT THICKENS" 

FOR THE VERY FIRST PRINTS & POPPER CLIFFHANGER

 

~ ~ EPIC*SODE 4 ~ ~

"LUCKY SHOT"

~ By Absolutely*Kate 

and

Harry B. Sanderford

Joey opened his eyes -- wide, to what was right in front of them. "Holy shit Z! I meant --  'What you got there buddy?' to Jinks, but -- " 

"Hey Joe. I'm your buddy. I'll always be your buddy. So you like what you're staring at Joe?", her stance suggestive, her palm softly open.

"Zelda ~ I'm not the Lone Ranger but that's one shiny silver bullet."

The little dog yipped at the sudden buzzing in his mouth. No one paid much attention.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Well what do you think about that? I have to tell you, The Phantom knows, you know? But Hotdog on Sam’s Hill, if even I ever expected this! A Silver Bullet? Really? Well maybe . . . Let me tell you though, KimoSabe might just matinee up and rescue poor dear Jeanette — and you know that’s a horse opera I’d pay to see. Teenage vampires might just smear sexy lipstick all over each other enroute to a fang-a-langa-ding-dong-dilly of a silver bullet spectacular themselves -- and you can bet that would also find me front and center. But c’mon, wouldn’t that be a silly scenario right here AT THE BIJOU? Pay attention. I told you before about that clever Miss Clevenger and you already knew about the vibrationally vibrant Kate. Haven’t you been wondering when they might show up? Where the heck are they anyway? 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 

"One more Ant and then kick us out," Kate ordered up

while Carrie racked 'em up  . . . 

"You a power breaker Kate?"

"Guess you're gonna find out Clevenger," Kate smooth as silked out, while soft as green felt felt, chalked the house stick blue, keeping it light, blowing once, angling twice, not wanting the balls to run to cold shots. She adjusted the cue ball half an inch closer to the break line before her stroke struck, swift, even, solid. 

"I got solids," she called as the 2 ball corner-pocketed, and she circled the table wide to connoiter her next best shot. To the untrained eye the imperceptible bounce wasn't really noticed before the cue had struck and scattered.

Anthony ambled over a silver tray of golden Mexican Margaritas with a pitcher, balancing all expertly on the rickety side wall table. Nothing about his eye was untrained ~ imperceptible didn't stand a sucker's chance on his watch around The Lucky Shot Bar & Grille. "Kate, that ball was airborne before the hit. Fly Me To The Moon break?"

". . . And let me smash the stars." Kate side pocketed the yellow 1 ball blocking any possibility of Carrie mainlining  something straight on the 12 stripe, "Can't pull anything over on you Ant. Don't know why people even try."

"Yeah right," smirked the wry proprietor of The Lucky Shot, notorious over the years for heavy handing the rye. Told folks it helped the tough times get by. Venutolo had seen mostly good times though. His place was popular, good location, pulled in the locals as well as all manner of out-of-towners passing through. Place offered good tavern tunes too as Anthony was not only a deep blues man but his heart rocked soul. Ellmore James was laying vibes on "Shake Your Money Maker" as Carrie plopped a weathered Hamilton on the rail, drew a long sip on what she asked they share at The Lucky, her signature MexiMart.

"Game on, Kate?"

Smelling a hustle, Kate took the bait as a look-like-a-bait-taker would do, an aromatherapy move if ever one could be sidestepped. "What you say was in these drink'a'pitchers of yours Car?"

"It's how we drink 'em back in Texas Katie. Keeps us cool when things go sweltering. Well, let's see," patting the ten-spot while  arch went to brow, tilt jived hip, "you've got your Sprite and your OJ and half a lime and -- ". 

Kate nodded her In to Carrie's swindling triumphant grin as Ant replaced fresh glasses, picked up the old and picked up the pace, "You've got double shots of Cointreau and Tequila stirrin' the Mex mix too." His deep baritone chuckle kept its lowdown in step back to the bar. "Whatdya have Buddy?"

"A pint o' Kozel, mate? I see your establishment sports a tasty selection of Czech beers." 

"Nuttin' but the best in this pub, Bub." Anthony smiled, dissecting accent to probable province while contemplating why the lineup of Lowenbraus  had relocated again. Third time today.

Only the 10-spot, the 3 and the magic 8 ball flirted the rail. Kate had given the game her all but wasn't about to let one of her favourite BIJOU patrons skirt an issue. "So Carrie, we talked writing, we talked fast cars and how smart women never waste them, we talked music - Frank, Willie, Etta all the way to Enya . . . you gave me your Mom's best darned bacon-fried rice recipe, you eyeballed Ant, you almost ran the table, you're restless as a slinky cat on a Texas rockin' chair porch and geeez, I've been out of my theatre on this gals' afternoon fling for three hours and I think I lost count of how many of these MexiTinis -- "

"MexMarts, I call them MexMarts Kate, and hell's belles, AT THE BIJOU runs like precision personified the way you and the fine staff of renown have it set up. Nothing ever goes on there but good times . . . I uh, need to talk to you about something and 9."

"9?", Kate angled Carrie's way, holding back a too ready grin at the way the slice to the side ball had just gone in. "There's no 9 ball on the table. Don't you remember when you used the bridge and -- "

"No. Nine drinks. I was trying to see if you lowered your resistance to that believing in believers motto of yours."

"Why Carrie Clevenger, spit it out before I take your money! I can handle alcohol -- maybe not ash well ash you -- but I'm holdin' my own. No slurred vision. Gonna call that corner unless you -- aw shoot Carrie -- what the hell is it -- I DO believe in believers - I do! Hey - you looked at your face lately in anything besides Anthony's shiny silver tray? No, no, your Maybelline's fine, but for a tanned Texan lass, you're pale as if you -- "

"But Kate do you believe in ghosts?"

Another Lowenbrau fell. Anthony's brow didn't. B.B. King started to take over the room as The Phantom played to it, showing Carrie from where he perched behind Ant, just what a flick of the wrist would do. Kate saw too, but wasn't sure how much Carrie was gonna claim she knew. He'd come in about a half-an-hour ago and that usually signaled she had to get going too, but Carrie clearly wanted to talk something out.

Narrowing her vision to line up some magic on a possible 8 ball spin and keeping game face on, "Tell me Carrie, it's alright. Tell me."

B.B. King wailed: "The thrill is gone . . . "

The man seated at the bar reached towards his notched lapel. That's it - an Anderson Sheppard for sure, Anthony narrowed suit cut assessments expertly, tailoring his thoughts to the newcomer's whereabouts and in-town reasons . . .

The nautical ringtones from Kate's cellphone were later blamed for the scratch, which she'd faked into a two rails reverse shot to give a more jubilant Carrie a shot at finally fully speaking her mind. She'd reached the bottom of her capability with the Mexitinis and the pitcher hadn't.

"Hello?"

Carrie pocketed the twenty bucks at The Lucky Shot and caught Ant's eye shooting to where The Phantom was slow-moving the cans.

"I can't hear you. Speak up please?"

The man at the bar with the hand in his suit was pointing.

"Who IS this? I can't hear you. How did you get this number?"

The first can dropped. BB kept rhythm.

"NO. Uh, Carrie, much as I hate to do this, we have to table our talk."

"The thrill is gone . . . "

                                           ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 

Jeanette sawed on the ropes with the emory board that was nothing more than limp cardboard now. She kept at it though, working her wrists raw straining against her bindings. In the dark as she was, it was easy to focus on this task alone. In her mind’s eye she saw each individual fiber as it snapped, relinquishing its hold and knew she was closer to her escape. Until finally, her diligence paid off.

She could not pull her hand free altogether but she had loosened it enough to push her arm deeper in the other direction. Straining her fingers to their most outstretched they slid first over the edge of her pocket. She curled her fingers back finding the edge again this time slipping them inside and touching the smooth plastic surface of salvation. Sticking to her task, straining even deeper into her pocket, she visualized the I-phone. Hoping upon hope that it was business-side-up in her pocket, she began working a series of maneuvers she was a little surprised to find her hand knew quite well. Soon she heard the faint ringing followed by her friend Kate’s voice answering in the distance. The joy and triumph in this moment was so tremendous that it needed to be expressed, but of course high fives were out of the question.

 

The height of Jeanette’s joy quickly plummeted to the equal depth of her despair when her whole body burst with laughter that only muffled into her forgotten gag.

“ . . . The thrill is gone . . .”

* C * L * I * F * F * H * A * N * G * E * R * !

* AT THE BIJOU * 

Please return to next Saturday's Matinee

for the next gut-gripping epic'sode!

" The Prints and The Popper "