Read Online SF in The City Anthology by Joshua Wilkinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joshua Wilkinson
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responsibilities, we’ll find someone who can!”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Charlisle said weakly.
“What? If he had been here earlier, we would have had a leg up on those goons,” Norn looked at Nettles, knowing who would side with him in making a case for violence.
“Umwelt expects us at noon,” Vox reminded them. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we don’t want to miss out on the new shipment.”
That silenced everyone. Huberto Umwelt owned and ran a drug shop called the Pillopticon, and he also made many friends amongst gangsters. Located in a gang neutral part of the Gorse known as “The Nest,” the Pillopticon was the perfect place to chill. Among the various packs that roamed the Gorse, the Dingoneks had the strongest ties to Umwelt and his store. His establishment also distributed uniforms for gangs, and the “Dings” had new ones coming in with the addition of a recent sponsorship patch from Ostanes Foods.
***
After shaking down a couple of people unlucky enough to be spotted in the street and getting into a verbal spat with the Minotaurs, the Dingoneks dropped by the Pillopticon. Anyone could spot the true purpose for the shop from a mile away. A large wooden lady protruded from Umwelt’s place like a grotesque masthead. The skimpy dress that covered the figure’s busty chest revealed enough of its breasts to indicate that they were made in the image of giant pills. Sitting out front was an intoxicated vagrant, his ratty hat pulled down over his eyes.
Stepping over the prone body, the boys entered the shop, immediately assaulted by the chemical smell within it. Astor Piazzolla’s Libertango played over Umwelt’s antique, surround sound speakers. The owner of the shop sat back in his famous rocking chair, a glazed expression on his face. Charlisle knew that without fail, this man would be blasted on KSD when they arrived.
“What are you up to?” Norn asked and gave the man a friendly kick in the leg.
“Just…uh…chillin’…and…yeah,” the man pulled his gaze away from the framed depiction of a phosphene that hung on his wall. “I could really use some, some, some, water.”
“Sure thing,” Vox picked up the dirty glass that always sat on Umwelt’s front desk.
“Your shipment brought a nice selection today,” Probably eyed the drugs eagerly.
“Serotonin Sushi, Origami Unicorn, Ragweed, Selfie, Clack, and Certain Death,” Charlisle said aloud. “They worry about pot dispensaries when you have a place like this?”
“Who do you think manufactures this stuff, stuff, stu…,” Umwelt’s dose of KSD was wearing off.
Vox returned with a glass of water for the shop’s owner, while Norn pulled the gang’s new uniforms out of a nearby drawer. Charlisle left Nettles and Probably to leer at the drugs, finding the new uniforms a more interesting topic.
“What a badge!” Norn stared at their pale gray uniforms in disgust. “It’s just a picture of a corn stalk that says, ‘Ostanes Foods,’ right under it.”
“They aren’t the largest business,” Umwelt said, rubbing his head groggily.
“We only have eight sponsors,” Norn tossed the uniforms to Charlisle, “the Bunyips have ten. The freakin’ Bunyips!”
“Sponsors pay for high visability,” Umwelt said after taking a swig of water. “You boys aren’t out and about enough. The Bunyips, Minotaurs and Cherufes aren’t afraid to walk around in another’s territory.”
“We’re boxed in between the Manticores and the Kongamatos,” Charlisle spoke up. “We do our best to avoid fights these days. Why take unnecessary risks?”
“You weren’t afraid to put the Ya-te-veos in the ground a year ago,” Umwelt was standing on his own feet and walking over to his antique book shelf.
“Well that was a year ago,” Norn sulked. “Vox is graduating from school in a few months, and we felt that he deserved to stay out of danger until then.”
“Tell you what,” Umwelt said as he pulled a
“That’s a bit harsh,” Charlisle said weakly.
“What? If he had been here earlier, we would have had a leg up on those goons,” Norn looked at Nettles, knowing who would side with him in making a case for violence.
“Umwelt expects us at noon,” Vox reminded them. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we don’t want to miss out on the new shipment.”
That silenced everyone. Huberto Umwelt owned and ran a drug shop called the Pillopticon, and he also made many friends amongst gangsters. Located in a gang neutral part of the Gorse known as “The Nest,” the Pillopticon was the perfect place to chill. Among the various packs that roamed the Gorse, the Dingoneks had the strongest ties to Umwelt and his store. His establishment also distributed uniforms for gangs, and the “Dings” had new ones coming in with the addition of a recent sponsorship patch from Ostanes Foods.
***
After shaking down a couple of people unlucky enough to be spotted in the street and getting into a verbal spat with the Minotaurs, the Dingoneks dropped by the Pillopticon. Anyone could spot the true purpose for the shop from a mile away. A large wooden lady protruded from Umwelt’s place like a grotesque masthead. The skimpy dress that covered the figure’s busty chest revealed enough of its breasts to indicate that they were made in the image of giant pills. Sitting out front was an intoxicated vagrant, his ratty hat pulled down over his eyes.
Stepping over the prone body, the boys entered the shop, immediately assaulted by the chemical smell within it. Astor Piazzolla’s Libertango played over Umwelt’s antique, surround sound speakers. The owner of the shop sat back in his famous rocking chair, a glazed expression on his face. Charlisle knew that without fail, this man would be blasted on KSD when they arrived.
“What are you up to?” Norn asked and gave the man a friendly kick in the leg.
“Just…uh…chillin’…and…yeah,” the man pulled his gaze away from the framed depiction of a phosphene that hung on his wall. “I could really use some, some, some, water.”
“Sure thing,” Vox picked up the dirty glass that always sat on Umwelt’s front desk.
“Your shipment brought a nice selection today,” Probably eyed the drugs eagerly.
“Serotonin Sushi, Origami Unicorn, Ragweed, Selfie, Clack, and Certain Death,” Charlisle said aloud. “They worry about pot dispensaries when you have a place like this?”
“Who do you think manufactures this stuff, stuff, stu…,” Umwelt’s dose of KSD was wearing off.
Vox returned with a glass of water for the shop’s owner, while Norn pulled the gang’s new uniforms out of a nearby drawer. Charlisle left Nettles and Probably to leer at the drugs, finding the new uniforms a more interesting topic.
“What a badge!” Norn stared at their pale gray uniforms in disgust. “It’s just a picture of a corn stalk that says, ‘Ostanes Foods,’ right under it.”
“They aren’t the largest business,” Umwelt said, rubbing his head groggily.
“We only have eight sponsors,” Norn tossed the uniforms to Charlisle, “the Bunyips have ten. The freakin’ Bunyips!”
“Sponsors pay for high visability,” Umwelt said after taking a swig of water. “You boys aren’t out and about enough. The Bunyips, Minotaurs and Cherufes aren’t afraid to walk around in another’s territory.”
“We’re boxed in between the Manticores and the Kongamatos,” Charlisle spoke up. “We do our best to avoid fights these days. Why take unnecessary risks?”
“You weren’t afraid to put the Ya-te-veos in the ground a year ago,” Umwelt was standing on his own feet and walking over to his antique book shelf.
“Well that was a year ago,” Norn sulked. “Vox is graduating from school in a few months, and we felt that he deserved to stay out of danger until then.”
“Tell you what,” Umwelt said as he pulled a
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