Dog'matic

By Shawn Hicks

Noel Williams, a lovable and flashy bad boy with a widely popular radio show, is the self proclaimed king in the art of sexual pursuit. As he injects his confrontational point of view on love and romance to his listeners, he uses his million dollar lifestyle to triumph over as many women as he can, minding none how much he uses or hurts them along the way. To him, it’s all for the glory, the power, and the ratings.

Noel's theories are then put to the test when his friend Warren, a gambling addict whose of British royalty and does well with the ladies in his own right, dares Noel to see who out of the two is the best in charming the opposite sex. Together with their friend Anthony, whose own issues with his fiancée are now beginning to exhaust him, Noel and Warren embark on a summer full of wild parties, uninhibited sex, deranged lovers, and dealing with unsavory characters that threaten to end their reign with blackmail, scandal, arson, and even attempted murder. Not to mention, there’s an unexpected baby on the way.

Wildly exciting, laugh out loud funny, and emotionally provoking, Dog'matic shows the cunning thoughts and games that are played for sex and control, and how men and women with incendiary ideas can turn love into a explosive battlefield.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shawn Hicks
• Release date: Jan 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301102327

Shawn Hicks

Shawn Hicks is the C.E.O. and President of Brok'n English Publications, with the goal of providing a medium for telling his literary works. He received his A.A.S in Video Arts from Borough of Manhattan Community College, and he's currently recieving is B.A. from Brooklyn College for Television & Radio, and Film Studies. He currently lives in Brooklyn, New York. Along with publishing, BEP has created a subsidiary company called Brok'n TV, with the intention to develop and produce television and internet content.

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Brok’n English Publications

dog’matic

By Shawn Hicks

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, or locales are intended only to give this work a sense of authenticity, and is not within any actual or historical content or context. Other names, places, and incidents occurring in this work are solely the product of the author’s imagination. Therefore, any resemblance to real persons, events, establishments, and locales, past or present, living or dead, is purely coincidental and is not an actual or historical account of any involved.

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Hicks

Published in 2011 by Brok’n English Publications

Cover Art and Design by Shawn Hicks

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010931178

ISBN: 978-0-615-23378-9

1

Hello. This is the Night Crawler. You’re on the air.

This is Eva from the Bronx, and I just want to say that you ain’t shit and should be…

Noel Williams quickly press a button on his broadcast console, censoring the caller. He turns to his producer John, who nods to Noel from the production booth, letting him know the signal’s time delay is in effect and that he has edited the obscenity from the airwaves.

What did I told you about cursing? growls Noel, speaking into the microphone. Watch your mouth and respect my show.

Respect? continues Eva. As much junk as you say everyday? Yesterday you went on about how women need to quit their jobs and follow a man’s will, and today you’re on about how we can stop diseases if we were forced to wear chastity belts. I can’t believe they let you on the radio. You’re a bitter man, Night Crawler. Mad that your penis looks like a bad pickle.

Noel laughs. He loves confrontation. Besides, Eva calls all the time. She can’t hate him if she’s a constant listener. Eva, now you know I’m playing. I don’t mean some of the stuff I say. Besides, where can you find a chastity belt now anyway?

What about women quitting their jobs and follow a man’s will?

Oh, I meant that. When I tell a woman to make me a sandwich, she better make me a sandwich.

You’re insane, says Eva. You and all these guys out here. You act like the world is yours to do whatever you want, and then wonder why it’s in a mess. If women were to run the world we all would be in much better shape.

Have you been to a shoe store lately? I bet there’s women in one right now ready to split a wig for a pair of sling backs. How can you run anything when you can’t even conduct yourselves for shoes? And none of you are a size five. Stop lying, with your platypus feet.

Women fight because of men. You guys bring adversity and strife wherever you go. Even you can’t deny that men started all the wars and genocides on this planet. When women get together there’s harmony. Plus we’re the ones that fought for job equality and proper child care. We’re the ones that held the family together and succeeded past adversity. You men are the problem, and we women are always the solution.

What part of the lesbian handbook you read that from, says Noel, The one that say you don’t have to shave your back?

You need to be off the air, says Eva. I’m calling your station and advertisers. I’ll even picket in front of your office if I have to. Because all you do is spread misogyny. You low life, disgusting, motherfucking sonuva…

Noel presses the censor button again. Strike two, you are through. He then addresses his audience. Lordhalmercy, everyone. Am I that real? Do I shine that much reality into your deluded eyes? You ladies are attacking me like you all came from the Million Menopause March. In fact, John said to me earlier that I have been receiving hate mail.

Have you? says John, speaking into his microphone from the production booth. I was checking some of the emails we gotten during the show, and you might want to find another way out the building. Delicious from Gmail says, and I’m editing some of her words here, how dare you say the feminist movement was started by ugly women. Your mother must’ve conceived you with a turkey baster from the psycho ward.

That’s insulting, says Noel. I love it.

And Sexy Virgo from Yahoo says you’re a neanderthal. You’re a step away from being like those old men that live in the sex shops, whacking off to peep shows.

I don’t go to sex shops. They smell funny. That’s why I watch porn online.

And White Coco from MSN says your show only proves that all guys are dogs, and that men don’t bring anything but games in a relationship.

Yes, White Coco, says Noel. I do play games. Because relationships are a game, and anyone who tells you they don’t play them is lying like a paraplegic hooker. But anyway, time for another break. When I come back, the Night Crawler will continue its quest to free those in stuck relationships and dumb romances. The time is one quarter to six. Stay right there.

Noel presses another button to turn off his microphone, before rising from his seat. He winces and grunts from stretching his muscles. Maybe I should stand up when I’m on. I think better on my feet anyway.

Are you staying for the meeting after the show? John asks as he pushes a few buttons on his console. Angelique wants us and a few of the other hosts and producers to be there.

It’s nearly six p.m. Why is she having meetings so late?

You know her. Twenty-four hours isn’t enough of a day for her. And she said it’ll be quick. She just wants to talk about commercial spots for some new client.

Hell no! Tell her to send an email. I’ve been to three of her boring meetings this week. Plus it’s my birthday. I want to get out of here and wreck this city. Noel then reaches for his cell phone. Speaking on which, I have to call to see if everyone’s at the club. Are you coming along or what?

Can’t. I have to meet Irene so we can close on the house. The owner is heading out of town, so we have to sign before he leaves tonight.

Noel shakes his head as he dials a number on his phone. You’re becoming really domesticated. Soon you’ll only be good for taking out the garbage and finding refuge at the Home Depot.

Noel puts the phone to his ear and moves to the window of his broadcast booth, looking onto the summer skyline of Manhattan as it glows red and orange from the sunset. He smiles. Soon it’ll be nighttime. For him, the best part of the day. After a few rings, the other end picks up.

Hello?

Wassup bloke? Noel says, as he momentarily jokes with a fake British accent. Fancy you today, guv’na? Where are you on this side of the Pond?

At your men’s club, goes his friend Warren Erickson, who speaks with a real British accent. We’ve just arrived. How come you Americans never watch any decent fútbol?

Do you mean football or soccer?

I can’t get a Manchester United score to save my life. There’s nothing but reality TV on. Why do you people watch shows with such garish behavior?

People that made Benny Hill and Monty Python shouldn’t talk about garish behavior.

Those were excellent programs. And could you at least bring up a show from this millennium?

Noel hears a rustling sound from the phone, and suddenly someone else’s voice is speaking to him. Get your ass over here, you decrepit sonuvabitch!

Has Anthony been drinking? Noel asks Warren.

A little bit. We’ve started without you some.

How was your photo shoot today?

Tedious. It was only for ninety minutes, but it was tedious. For some beer advertisement. The money’s beneath me. But it keeps me from dipping into my trust fund.

Poor baby. It must be so hard to live with the duchess’s silver spoon up your butt.

An old girlfriend of mine said the same, only she preferred to call me a bullshit artist and a whore.

You are a bullshit artist and a whore. Noel notices that John is waving at him, letting him know that the break is almost over. I gotta go. I’ll see you in an hour. Tally ho, guv’na.

For God’s sake, Warren says. Please don’t do that. You sound retarded.

Noel hangs up and goes to his seat, and as he approaches his microphone, he hears his voiceover intro. Welcome back to the most provocative talk show on the air. Night Crawler Radio, only on the Omega Satellite Network.

Friends, Romans, scalawags, Noel begins. This show is all about human nature. You see, when you understand the nature of someone, you’ll recognize what they would and would not do. People can lie to you, they can lie to themselves, they can even lie to God. But they can’t lie to the nature of who they are. And human nature tells us that we tend to focus on what we don’t have. And when we can’t get those things on our own, we try to get them through other people. So relationships are nothing but the union of things people can’t get for themselves. You think they’re with you because they love you? You ain’t that cute, and your personality sticks, and you do not have a good sense of humor. Stop thinking they love you. True love is harder to find than a thong on a fat girl.

John cuts in. The view expressed don’t necessary reflect the opinions of the Omega Satellite Network or its management. Besides, we can’t control him without Prozac.

Anyway, says Noel, ignoring John, back to what I was saying. People are with you for what you offer, and many will be manipulative to get it. Like with men. Filthy, dirty, shady, and greedy creatures we are. There, are you happy, Eva? I said it. Throughout history men destroyed and conquered for money and power. Oh, and let’s not forget, ass. In case you haven’t noticed, we want ass. Tight ass, two-toned ass, or pheasant-under-glass ass, we want ass and as much ass as possible.

John laughs over the air as Noel smiles at his word play. "Now women, the crazy do-dos that they are, live through their emotions and use their abilities for the benefits of security and vanity. So they want someone to provide them the money and power. They also want you to be their mother, their father, their sister, their brother, their Uncle Larry before the sex change, and their Aunt Lucy after the sex change.

Either way, it’s your job to understand human nature when dealing with people. It’s like being an actor. You’ve been studying this part for the longest. You know what the audience is thinking. Their disbelief already ran through your mind. But you’ll refute all that by suspending their disbelief, by showing them the reality of their dreams. You’ve constructed what would appease them and you created authenticity by proving your rarity. How are they not going to enjoy the role? So what if they know its bull. We all want to see a good show. Isn’t that’s why we love the theater? So whether you’re on offense or on defense, know a person’s nature and you will protect yourself, and at the same time have them where you want them. And who really wants love when control’s a helluva lot better?

Noel watches the buttons on the phone panel of his console light up. Most likely from irate callers itching to respond. He smiles in response, to their response. Boy, does he love confrontation.

2

After his show, Noel leaves the radio station and travels cross-town to his private men’s club. When he arrives he sees a large man with a no-nonsense look stand in front of the entrance.

Wassup, Hank? Noel goes to the bouncer. How’s the good life? Not turning out these millionaires inside too hard for their cash, are you?

Hank smiles. Just doing my thing and staying ahead of the grind. You know how it is.

Sure do. My party’s still inside?

Yep. They’re in the sports room. At first they tried to get over by saying that you opened a tab for them, but I told them to wait until you arrived then go mention that to the maître d. I also told them that if they want to open a tab they can apply for membership.

Did you tell them the fees?

I did. They were quiet after that.

Good man. We gotta keep out the riff raff around here.

Hank then leans in closer to Noel. Hey, let me offer you something. A man like you needs to be up on the ills of living the high life. There are a lot of crazy people out here, so you should think about some protection to keep them from getting too close to you. I got the men and the weapons that would provide well for your safety. I already have a few clients here and they have no complaints about how I hold them down. Plus I’ll give you a good rate. Think about it for real.

Noel gives an obligatory smile. I don’t know if I should be worrying about threats like that. But we’ll talk, Hank. Maybe we could arrange something.

You know, continues Hank, I also invited a few of my lady friends here to cater to some of the upscale members. If you’re interested in the finest tail available, let me know.

Noel forces another smile as Hank opens the door for him. Security isn’t the only thing that Hank peddles.

Noel walks in and takes the elevator to the upper level, to the sports room. He then steps around the after-work mob of clamoring executives and heads to the dining area, where he finds them. Two guys, at a booth with a bottle of champagne, near a wall with numerous TVs showing sports games. One of the guys chatters nonstop as he snacks on a plate of buffalo wings while the other looks like he’s taken one too many rides on a roller coaster. Noel approaches them.

Hey, Anthony Valdez says with a slightly drunken slur. There’s the birthday boy. How’s it feel to be thirty? As you inch closer to needing those adult diapers to catch your pee?

Noel takes a seat with Anthony and Warren. Thirty is the perfect age. Too old for the drama, too young for a pacemaker. Now which one of you two cheapskates tried to open a tab on my account?

Hey, I just wanna make sure we have everything we need to celebrate your legacy, says Anthony. Ain’t no one hitting the radio like you. Straight player and doing it in layers with flavor to savor. Anthony chuckles at his rhyme, a little too hard. A buffalo wing falls from his hand, smearing his shirt with sauce and landing on the floor.

Oh shit, Anthony says. He picks the wing from the floor, kisses it and motions it toward the sky for Heaven’s blessing. He then eats it.

Noel looks at Warren. You’re watching him tonight, you know that?

Whatever.

What’s wrong with you?

The Mets blow.

When don’t they?

They were up three runs in the last inning. How could they ruin something so simple? A single, two doubles, and a walk-off homer. Bastards.

Did you bet on the game?

They were playing the Pirates. How couldn’t I?

Tell him how much you lost, Anthony says. I told you you’re getting out of hand with this gambling.

Oh, shut up, Warren says. You jinxed me through the whole game with your constant yapping. Why do I even bother to hang out with you?

I do your taxes and manage your investments. And stop calling me about trading your euros for dollars. I’m not a bank teller. Go to an exchange counter. Punk ass.

Go blow it out your arse, Warren growls. You bar steward of a mutt nut.

Anthony looks at Warren. A bar of what? Stop speaking that British shit.

Noel pours champagne into the lone empty glass on the table. Boys, boys. Instead of bitching about the small problems of the day, why don’t we enjoy our time while we’re still able to? We’re young, successful, and at least for me, a fine motherfucker. Let’s do good with it by making our time extraordinary. Noel then holds up his glass. To men, he toasts, the reason why women have penis envy in the first place.

Warren and Anthony pick up their champagne glasses and clink them together with Noel’s.

OK then, Warren says with renewed spirit. Forget those Mets. My monies are still sufficient for an all-nighter. So what’s your poison, stay and tease the ladies here in the club or would a lap lounge suffice? Or Atlantic City? Or how about some good old-fashion harvesting until some bid’s boyfriend chases us away?

Oh, Anthony says, I can only hang with you guys for a few hours tonight. I have to go in to work tomorrow, so I need to be home at the most around midnight.

What? Noel says, putting down his champagne glass. Midnight? Who the hell stops partying at midnight?

What are you going into work on a Saturday for? Warren says.

I need the overtime. I got a wedding to save up for. I don’t have a radio show or a rich mommy like you two.

No one told you to work for The Man, says Warren. You should’ve picked wealth with your parenting like I did.

And if it weren’t for my show, says Noel, I wouldn’t know the kind of girls that will be performing at your bachelor party. I mean, these chicks are so nasty people will want to order this on pay-per-view.

Oh, yeah, about that. Anthony pauses. I’ve decided I don’t want a bachelor party.

Silence, as Noel and Warren just look at Anthony. Even the clamor of the sports room seems to drop a notch.

Me and Madeline are throwing a dinner party instead, Anthony says. And we’re inviting all of our friends and families there so we can celebrate together. Cool, huh?

Silence, as Noel and Warren continue to look at Anthony. Finally, Noel snaps. A dinner party? What the fuck is that?

It’s a party with dinner, stupid.

Like a cookout? You don’t want strippers but you want a damn cookout? Are you on crack?

A bachelor party is a rite of passage, says Warren. It’s like a circumcision. It has to be done so you can grow thicker meat.

We wanted to do something different. Something with sophistication and decorum.

What the hell do you know about decorum? You just ate food off the floor.

Anthony, says Noel, think about this for a moment. I already have the hotel booked and entertainment lined up. There will be lots of girls there. With liquor and whipped cream. That equals fun. Dirty, sticky, Greco-Roman fun.

What am I going to have a bachelor party for? To have some over-the-hill hag grind on me for dollar bills?

You make it ugly the way you tell it, says Warren.

You know what? says Noel to Warren. This isn’t his idea. This has Madeline’s scent all over it. I bet she told him not to have a bachelor party and made this up as some sort of settlement.

"You’re always saying she has me wrapped around her finger. Madeline doesn’t tell me what to do. In this case she just