Readers: There are a great deal of Obscenities and Blasphemies in the following Story. Heads up and Have A Nice Day.
“Rock Hard that you,” asked the stranger as they leaned against the wall for support.
“Yeah I’m Rock Hard come into my office and tell me what the problem of yours is.” said Rock in his authoritative professional detective voice.
Buy the time Rock reached his office door he knew who the stranger was. It was underground punk rock icon and lead singer for The Furiously Fingered Five Ivy Savage.
She wreaked of cheap gin and cheaper cigarillos. Jesus Christ Rock thought to himself she’s a fucking train wreck. It was obvious the rumors where more than true.
The Meth induced orgies, shooting smack in her snatch, drug smuggling, assault, DUIs, countless rehabs, grand theft auto, drug possession, and possession of an illegal fire arm 4 times in 6 months that fucking Ivy Savage.
Rock jingled his key in the office door until it begrudgingly opened.
The door swung open slamming into the wall so hard the glass shook like a new prostitutes on her first “date.”
Rock walked over to his antique solid oak desk he had salvaged when the city demolished the 1930’s repossession power house Snide, Pompous and Braggart back in 1974. Rock slowly lowered himself into his chair as it creaked in protest.
“So if it isn’t the infamous Queen of Punk Ivy Savage, your reputation precedes you,” Rock said eying his new client up and down.
“I’m fucking used to that propaganda puke, its all horse shit a huge fucking load of steaming hot horse shit.,” Ivy replied angrily.
Ivy was pacing like a jack rabbit on a coke bender constantly fidgeting with her hands. As she spoke Rock took note of her eyes and how the darted around his office unable to stay focused on a damn thing. These were the classic signs of a rock bottom gutter dwelling druggie.
“Whats the problem,” Rock asked bluntly.
“My motherfucking boyfriend is fucking missing and I can’t find my bitch,” Ivy replied coldly.
“How do you know he didn’t just split or end up in the ER for overdosing something along those lines?!”
“I’m his goddamn meal ticket and that little scummy shit damn well knows it. I pay for our booze, drugs, food and hotel room down at The Opulent Oasis for christ’s sake. He’s a fucking moron but he’s not that goddamn dumb.”
“Alright then when did you see your boyfriend last Ms. Savage?”
“Call me Ivy for fuck’s sake, theres no Ms. about me thats for sure. I saw him just last night when we were having a private party in our hotel room. I went to take a shit, it was round 3 am or so and nodded off on the toilet. When I came to it this morning it was 11 fucking thirty and he was gone.”
“Whats his name, whats he go by,” asked Rock as he started to get rather irritated. To calm his nerves he took a long slow sip from his flask and let the whiskey do the rest.
“He goes by Eddie Oi he’s the base player for The Fuck Me Pumps,” said Ivy mattarfactly her voice void of emotion.
“Where does Eddie and his band or friends hang out at. Where do they spend their time? Where do they go? What do they do all damn day?”
“I’m not his fucking biographer. This is the shit I know bout to answer your fucking questions. Eddie doesn’t have any fucking friends just goddamn dope dealers and drug buddies. As for him and his shitty band they spend a good amount of time at The Barfly Lounge down on the skids. He sees his main dealer at least 8 times a day scoring dope and all that drug shit.”
“Eddie got a record?”
“No and thats a fucking surprise and a half. He’s never even been arrested for drunk and disorderly nothing, not a single goddamn thing so that won’t help your search.”
Rock lazily moved the files on his desk around randomly just to look more than what he was a dinosaur and a goddamn drunk with a violent disposition. Rock shunned technology whenever possible unless it was absolutely necessary, but Rock decided to revisit the idea of getting a computer so he could fain interest while surfing the internet.
“Look just find the fucker and let me know so I can bitch slap his stupid ass back in fucking line,” demanded Ivy.
“Calm down I’m taking your case and I’ll find Eddie no matter where he is or where he may be hiding at I assure you of that,” Rock said in total confidence.
“Thank god for that then.”
“I’ll need a retainer of $1,200 plus daily expenses. Take it or leave it I’m not the one with the problem.”
“Call my fucking manager Harvey Schister. His number is 555-7683 and he’s a real son of a bitch but don’t take his shit because he’s full of shit.”
“Alright then I will call Mr. Schister this afternoon and get started immediately after I get my retainer.”
“Well I’m gonna piss off then, but I’ll be on top of you like a 600 pound prison booty bandit, I don’t take shit from anyone ever.”
With that Rock showed Ivy to the door locking it behind her. Rock didn’t want to be disturbed he had to process his meeting with his new client Ivy Savage. Where could he find the best leads he wondered as he lit a cigarette blowing the smoke out of his nose like a exhausted dragon.
This case is going to be a goddamn drunken drugged out insanely dark horror show Rock was convinced of that.
To Be Continued in The Deviant Detective Ep.3 : Finding The Cock Rock King.
