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 Copyright 2004 Rachael Ross all right reserved.  Intended for adults only.
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No animals were harmed in the making of this document.
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   Green Parrot by Rachael  
   Outside Sam's Place, white fingered lightning sketched the night sky,
erasing and redrawing itself, as if searching for perfection and never ever
finding it.  The thunder was deep, enormous, a constant dissatisfied rumble
and the rain was an angry kind of rain, punching hard at the impenetrable
street like a billion tiny fists.  It wasn't a night to be outside, but it
wasn't a night to be inside at Sam's Place either, at least not for a woman
like...
   "Two words," Rache said when she came through the door at Sam's Place.
"I'm wet!"
   While Ronstadt pleaded with Desperado in the corner jukebox a dozen lost
desperados checked out Rache as she as she closed the door on the storm. 
   One of them, I...The killer, sipped his whiskey at the end of the bar as
he stared at her.  His eyes spoke for him, no need for vowels or consonants
or verbal communication of any kind, and his eyes said in their icy blue
accent, "You're dead."
   No wait!  Try again please...  SCENE 3 of the "GREEN PARROT" by rache
   Rache scurried across the street, head down and heedless of the traffic.
An off-duty careened around the corner and honked angrily as it passed,
missing her by scant inches.  The Pakastini driver's screams were lost in a
peale of thunder as the night birthed it's pain.  Rache stepped into The
Green Parrot, she needed travel documents for her trip to the Bahamas, only
the fat man could arrange safe passage.  But safe was a relative word in
this part of the world.
   The juke box flickered and came to life as Rache closed the heavy door
against the rain.  The familiar strains of "Closer" competed with Jody
Foster being gang-raped on a pinball machine in the corner.  "I wanna fuck
you like an animal!" Rache smiled, this was more like it.
   A brilliant flash cut through the shutters sending icey daggers of light
into the room.  A dozen faces stared as Rache limped to the long wooden
bar. She'd broken a heel and the click-thump of her ungainly progress sent
shivers down Ismael's spine.  He slumped into tortured memory, weeping
quietly for the ghosts of New Bedford.  Rache ignored him, placing a gentle
hand on ancient bar; wood stained and scarred by time, like a diary of hell
waiting to be read.  She reached down and unstrapped her broken shoe,
cursing it's weakness.  Rache took off the other one as well, the hard wood
floor was cool and covered with dirt.  But dirt would wash off, it always
did.
   The bartender was old crone, wrapped in black like Charon's daughter
offering 3 ounce rides across the river Lethe, and as she poured the chance
to forget, to dive in and drink deep the burning waters.  Rache asked for a
whiskey. 
   "Not a very ladylike drink, Clarissss." observed the man beside her.
   Rache gave him a cool look.  "She's playing pinball."
   On the other side a pretty blonde woman was leafing through an REI
catalogue.  Rache looked over the girl's shoulder: camping supplies.  "In
the market for tent pegs?" Rache didn't wait for an answer, she spied the
fatman sitting in the corner drinking something green.
   Rache made her way towards the fat man.  An old Cuban grabbed her by the
arm "I've gone eighty-four days without catching a fish." He whispered.
   "You're salao.  Beat it, I've got troubles of my own." Rache shrugged
him off and kept her deep brown eyes fixed on the table in the corner.  It
hadn't seemed that far away, but distance isn't always measured in feet.
   Near a gaming table a little boy stood still, catching Rache with his
pale innocent eyes.  "I see dead people." the boy intoned, his voice filled
with the merciless truth.
   Rache looked around the table, 5 men all holding aces and eights in one
hand and colt .44's in the other.  Slumped and bloody corpses playing an
eternal game; she felt sorry for the one who hadn't cheated.  "No shit
Sherlock, what was your first clue?" Rache kicked the boy in the seat of
his pants.  "Morbid little freak."
   Rache sat her drink down on the fat man's table with a solid thud and
sat lightly in the hard wooden chair opposite his bellicose bulk.  "Are you
happy to see me?  Or is that a cucumber in your pants."
   "Heh Heh, very good...Heh heh.  It is indeed a cucumber!" The fat man
pulled the long vegetable out of his trousers and set it on the table. 
"How very astute my dear."
   "I've come for the travel papers."
   "You have it?" The fat man suddenly leaned forward, his ample girth
pushing the table slightly and his eyes became intense, small and ratlike,
boring into Rache's.
   "Yes.  Mr.  Cairo and I came to an...Arrangement."
   "The Black Bird!" the fat man whispered, mopping his brow.  Sweat beaded
out of him like water through a showerhead.  Rache turned away in disgust.
"It's my whole life...My whole..." His eyes had taken a faraway look and he
suddenly focused back on Rache.  "Where is it?  I must have it!"
   "The papers first."
   "Yes.  Heh heh.  Oh you are a clever one!  Joel Cairo is he....?" The
fat man raised his eyebrows.  "Never mind, it doesn't matter.  But I see it
wouldn't do to underestimate you.  Heh heh, no wouldn't do at all."
   Just then the doors crashed open and a dozen soldiers rushed in with
submachine guns.  "Achtung!  Nobody move!"
   "Our German masters, how unfortunate." The fat man sad sullenly. 
"Quickly, into the back room." He hustled Rache into his small office,
closing the door on her weak whispered protest and locking it.
   Rache's heart was beating quickly.  Nazi's!  She knew that voice, it was
OGF.  He'd only narrowly missed her at Sea-Tac and now he'd followed her
here.  She also had no doubt that the fat man would give her up in a
second; he'd probably enjoy seeing her tortured and almost certainly he'd
make arrangements to secure the black bird in exchange for her life.  Rache
cursed herself for walking into so simple a trap.
   A thought occurred to Rache.  She was in the fat man's office.  No doubt
he was clever in addition to being greedy, but perhaps too clever?  She
rifled his desk, unsure of how much time she would have.  The fat man loved
to negotiate, he wouldn't let OGF agree to quickly to his conditions; he'd
want to enjoy his mental fencing first.  There!  The second drawer had a
false bottom.  Rache pried it up with a letter opener and found the
documents she'd need.  They were authentic, signed by the Great and
Powerful Oz himself, and would afford her safe passage from this God
forsaken place.  She stuffed them into her brassiere and looked for an
escape.
   A crease of lightning tore through the night and illuminated the room
through the skylight high above.  But it was so high!  Rache considered
moving the desk, perhaps stacking the chair on it.  But it would still not
be enough she thought.  She needed a ....  Ladder!!  There, propped in a
corner was a 16' high ladder.  Rache opened it in the center of the room
and climbed up.  She could here OGF's jack boots goose-stepping towards the
door.  She reached up and found the latch, it was stuck!  She pounded with
her fist in useless frustration, crying out as it suddenly shattered in a
crisp cascade of rain and jagged glass.  Her hand was cut but she paid it
no mind, the door was opening and Rache climbed through, ripping her dress
on a razor shard; a small price to pay for freedom!
   Below OGF watched with a deep frown.  His prey had escaped him once
again.  He pictured himself standing before Reichsfuhrer Himmler,
explaining how a dysfunctional teenage girl had outwitted him across three
continents.  It was not the most pleasant thought he'd entertained that
day. (The thought of personally interrogating Brittany Spears who had been
caught doing it again was his most pleasant.).  OGF turned around and
stared at a very uncomfortable and sweating fat man.  He lifted his Luger
and shot the fat man in the left eye.  Well, it helped a little.
   Cut!  What the hell was that?Where's the Assistant Script Supervisor?  I
want some ASS!  Gonna chew some ASS!  Dammit!  What happened to the phone
exit?  We're mockin' the Matrix here?  What the fuck people!
   end 
  
Green Parrot