VI : Fat Tuesday

The Amateur often considers taking in some high culture, shortly before breaking down in a coughing and/or laughing fit and going to somewhere cheap, and today it appears his reallocated kids meal card paid dividends, for on the reverse…

The Amateur is glad to see that he has been given the correct tools for the job, for once. None of these fancy dual-action pistols with magnum ammo, laser scopes and extra gun, also he can’t afford it. Kid’s meals aren’t that cheap. Carefully hiding behind his adventure puzzle page with dot-to-dot lion, The Amateur saw a briefcase switch hands and knew at once that he must have the rent-money within.

How hard can it be to get it without alerting any suspicions, anyway?

Ah. It’s that fat Tuesday. Fortunately the bright-red-costumed-highly-visible-bird-dude likes to visit a corpse bin in an abandoned, stinking alleyway.

The Amateur likes the feathers, he feels they contribute to his manly fear aura, and certainly help him blend into this place with its idiots and students.

Tuesday VI

What the hell is that? What the hell is that? Jelly? A Zoom bar? A cascading pie chart of the woman’s dignity over time?

Above all, the Amateur is sworn to protect the secretary to Mr Interior himself, who is, due to the way the crowd moves around it, apparently mowing down half of New Orleans in his armoured float.

Tuesday VII

Don’t fuck with Mr Interior. He seems safe enough in his fortress, so The Amateur heads down to the local salsa club, where they deny him entry. It’s the same story at the rock club, and the blues club, as some edict has been issued across N’orleans that says “We don’t serve people dressed as crows”, and, let’s be fair, they basically ask that you assault and assume the identities of their patrons.

Tuesday VIII

In The Amateur’s defence, he was drunk and standing by a bin bigger than he was. So a brief Bar Guide to N’orl’ns :
1. Blues Bar – Best music. Best hats. Not so keen on the glasses. Food facilities spoiled by lack of chef.

Tuesday IX

2. Salsa Bar – Tries too hard with the music. Worst hats. No glasses. Food facilities spoiled by stabbed chef.

Tuesday X

3. Rock bar – Rubbish music. No hats. No glasses. Reasonably gay posters. Food facilities spoiled by chef being punched and thrown into a freezer.

Tuesday XI

Having instigated the great chef drought of ’08, The Amateur heads back to the Blues club, through the kitchen and upstairs, past the waiter screaming obscenities that there’s four hundred pounds of shrimp going off and he can only make soup, and to a little investigatin’.

Tuesday XII

“Looks like Crow’s on the menu”, quips The Amateur. Not literally, that would be disgusting. Nevertheless, The Amateur misses the scratchy feel of low-budget synthetic feather on skin, and yearns for a club where he will be accepted as such. Leaping out of the building’s fire escape, sustaining only internal bruising from the fall, The Amateur sees such a club.

Tuesday XIII

The Amateur proceeds up a fancy spiral staircase where another man-crow lets him into a small room containing a black man-crow, who gestures at the briefcase. The Amateur needs this briefcase! It’s going to put his kids through college! The man is quite firm with his request though, and, sobbing, The Amateur prepares to detonate the remote bomb he puts in all of his savings accounts, when suddenly a thought strikes him. Kill him non-explosively and you keep the diamonds. And probably kill that yellow man-crow that watched you do this.

Tuesday XIV

Heading out into the cold N’o’l’ns air, The Amateur thinks it should be an easy job to find the last of his three crows, and what better or more tasteful way than wearing the crow-costume of her recently deceased boyfriend. He’s wrong, it takes forever, but eventually she is spotted.

Tuesday XV

The Amateur thinks there is something highly disturbing about that costume, and reading her bio, finds that her first kill was made nailing a man to the ceiling. The Amateur thinks this is the time for…nailgun snipe!

Tuesday XVI

The Amateur will be honest, this took forever. And she got a few shots in herself, but mostly she couldn’t shoot to save her life, and both guns were basically silent so it was merely a minute-long epically incompetent duel. And the Amateur won. The Amateur makes good his escape while the cloud of feathers are settling, out of n’o’ns forever.

Tuesday XVII


One Response to “VI : Fat Tuesday”

  1. Why didn’t you do a ‘crow’ reference to the best episode of SPACED evar!

    “It’s too fruity for Crows!”



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