Saturday Night

The three of them skulked through the alleys late that night.

"Who is this guy?" asked Dirty D.

"Man, I told you," answered Ray-Ray, getting frustrated at having to repeat himself, "I keep tellin' you. His name is Mister Saturday, and he is the baddest pimp in the hood."

"I thought he was a dealer," said Jump.

"Yeah, I think he does that too. I don't know. All I know is he rules this city. So, D, watch your mouth."

"Yo, why you tellin' me that?" Dirty D asked.

Ray-Ray clicked his tongue. "Because the same thing happens every time. You see anybody with a little bit of power, you start frontin'. Then everything goes to shit."

"You just worry about yourself."

Eventually, they found themselves at the loading dock of a warehouse. Nobody was there, not even a security guard.

"What we stoppin' for?" D asked.

"This is where he told us to meet him," Ray-Ray answered.

"Right here?" Jump asked incredulously.

"Yeah, he said..."

Just then a long, black limousine pulled into the parking lot from the street. There was no sound of an engine, as if the car were moving just because it wanted to.

"Oh shit," whispered Ray-Ray, "Everybody be cool."

They all froze as the car approached them. It stopped just a few feet from where they were standing. A door in the back opened, and an overpowering smell of old rum filled their nostrils. A large man stepped out. He wore jeans, sneakers, and no shirt, but what really got the boys attention was the dinner jacket he wore with the matching top hat, the white gloves and the monocle. He took the horrible-smelling cigar out of his mouth and spoke in a heavy Caribbean accent, "Well, well, Raymond Williams and Antonio Fuentes. I trust you did what I asked you to?"

"How do you know their names?" demanded Dirty D.

"Man, shut up, Dirty," Jump muttered.

"Uh yeah, Mister Saturday," Ray-Ray answered nervously, "We got the fresh ground black coffee, just like you said. We mixed it with the blood and spread it in all four corners of the graveyard in those designs you drew us."

"Excellent. Soon I'll have all the help I need. And where did you get the blood, may I ask?"

"Um...uh..." Ray-Ray and Jump looked at each other.

Mister Saturday smiled the evilest smile a human face could make before erupting into booming laughter. "How soon you learn, little children! You make your papa loa proud! Now did you get me what else I asked for?"

Dirty D furrowed his brow, wondering what the hell a "loa" was.

"Uh, yeah," said Ray-Ray. He snapped his fingers impatiently at Jump, who fumbled in his jacket until he produced a Zip-Lock bag full of loose dirt.

Saturday took the bag from Jump, opened it, and rubbed a little bit of the dirt through his fingers, as if checking its softness. "Ah, fresh goofer dust. You have done well, little children."

Dirty D eyed Mister Saturday suspiciously. "You remind me of someone my gramma used to tell stories about," he said out of nowhere. Ray-Ray shot him a desperately fearful look, hoping Dirty would take the hint to shut his mouth.

Mister Saturday grinned again. "Ah yes, I know Florence well. She so wishes you would have stayed in school."

"Man, how do you know her? She died years ago!" Dirty D's powder keg hadn't exploded yet, but the fuse was lit.

"I know them all, Darian Farmington. They all come to me after the end."

Dirty D swaggered menacingly toward Mister Saturday with his arms hanging almost akimbo, as if his balls weighed fifty pounds each and he was carrying them under his arms to prove it.

"I don't know what the hell you talkin' 'bout, but you better not call me that again."

"Dirty!" Jump growled through clenched teeth

"Call you what? Your own name?" Mister Saturday replied, "That's another thing that makes poor Florence shake her head in shame. But I try to keep her mind off it. And oh, what fun we have! That woman can suck a peanut through a sugar cane! Mm-mm! Once I had to pull the sheets out of my ass!"

That did it. Dirty D pulled the Glock out from the back of his boxers and stuck it right in Saturday's face, the muscles of his shirtless torso practically pulsating with fury. "Bitch! Ah'ma put one in you right now!" he yelled.

"D!" Ray-Ray yelled in turn, "The hell you doin', dog? Step off!"

Saturday's expression turned to one of growing anger, even as the grin remained on his face. "Oh, you foolish child," he said in a low voice, followed by some other words of such arcane complexity, it seemed impossible to pronounce them with the human tongue. A circle of fire appeared under Dirty D's feet. It was a cold fire that didn't burn, but merely gave off light. As the circle grew, it formed a symbol so ancient, its origins had been long-forgotten by the human race.

Ray-Ray and Jump scooted backwards, not wanting to get anywhere near it. Dirty D didn't notice any of this, distracted as he was by his own rage. The only thing that got his attention was the spiky tentacle that emerged from the circle and slapped itself onto D's gun hand, jerking it away. The crushing pressure made his hand splay open, sending the handgun clattering to the ground. More tentacles emerged wrapping themselves around his arms, legs, neck, and waist.

"Aw, hell naw," lamented Ray-Ray.

"Help me, God damn it!" cried Dirty D, "they're tearin' me apart!"

Saturday's booming laughter echoed across the warehouse grounds again. "It'll be even worse when they put you back together. You are mine now, little child, and an army needs generals."

D opened his mouth to curse him, but the tentacle around his throat tightened. "Ghhhkkk!" was all he could say. Slowly, the horrid appendages withdrew through the ground, pulling D with them.

Saturday paid him no further heed. He removed his top hat and pulled out two fat rolls of bills. "Your payment for services rendered," he said, giving one to Ray-Ray and one to Jump. "When I need you again," he said as he put his hat back on, "you'll know." He walked back to his limo.

Jump's attention darted back and forth from his friend disappearing through the hellish portal to trying to peer into the limo to see who the driver was. But it was no use. The windows were as dark as obsidian.

By the time, the car made a U-turn and headed back to the street, the fiery symbol began to dim and shrink. Only D's hand was still sticking out, grasping desperately, until it, too, was sucked inside. Another tentacle whipped out, grabbed the Glock he had dropped, and disappeared again.

Ray-Ray walked over to the mystic gateway, and shouted down into it, just in case Dirty could still hear him, "Yo, I told you to watch your damn mouth!" He stormed away in disgust. Jump continued to stare in horror until, realizing he didn't want to be left alone right now, he scurried after.

He caught up to Ray-Ray just in time to hear him mutter, "Dumbass."