Cutthroat Heroes

By Raymund Hensley

Are you lonely? At Cutthroat Heroes, we can cure your wretchedness by injecting a “love ghost” into the heart of that special someone and make them fall in love with you. Call your local priest today for details! (A fantasy comedy novella.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raymund Hensley
• Release date: Nov 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465705891

Raymund Hensley

Raymund Hensley is the author of Filipino Vampire.

Book preview

LATER....

A rock hit him in the face. She jumped down from a tree and bit him, ripping off a chunk of his neck. He tripped over some animal and landed on his face, right in mud. She stood in front of him, holding that big knife above her head. Trees fell all around her. She yelled through the raging fire.

You filthy bastard! Why didn't you just let me be??? Look what you've done. Look what you've turned me into! Is this your idea of love???

He spat in her face. She kicked him in the chest.

So useless! she wept. "Your job is to give me everything. Look at you....You have no money, no future – no car. You're useless to me!"

She walked toward him as she spoke, still holding the blade in the air with both hands. It was getting so noisy with the crackling of flames, she was literally screaming her words.

YOU'RE USELESS TO ME!

He crawled back.

A strange sound in the air – a sharp wiiiiiirrrrrrrr.

Something exploded through her chest. She dropped the knife and looked down at the situation.

CHAPTER ONE

MY HEROES

FRAN MURUDA

The little punk wouldn't stop crying.

Shut him up, I told the mother, or I'll stick this needle in his eye.

She nodded and grabbed the boy and spanked him. She seemed to understand. I had to work. I had to shove that big needle into that dumb dog and fix him up. The kid didn't seem to get it. I put that needle into that dog's brain, and it barked and kicked and tried to F'ing bite me. The little boy grabbed his dog and ran off.

Drap! the mom said. Drap! You come back here right this red hot minute!

I threw my hands up.

I can't work like this. I'm done!

The mom begged me to reconsider, but I brushed her aside.

Doesn't matter, I said. Your dumb dog is gonna die soon. Nothing I can do. Too many worms in his brain.

I went home early. I had other things to take care of. My hobby waited. My passion.

Babiroin. My prized invention. The drug of the century!

I went to every street corner, every dark alley – traveled all over Oahu – selling the stuff. It was becoming quite popular. Word was spreading. First Hawaii, then the world.

The man on the phone sounded nervous. I was gentle with him.

How much do you want?

He thought about it.

Just one heart for now. I want to sample it first.

The price is a thousand for one.

Hmm. That's a bit much.

How much you got? I'm sure we can work something out.

He cleared his throat.

How about we trade?

Depends what it is.

I provide a service, he said. It's very popular and very expensive, but for one of your hearts, I'll gladly make sure you get a session.

I rolled my eyes.

Look, if this is another pornography thing, I'm not interested. The last guy ripped me off. Left me tied to some motorized wheelchair. I ended up on the street, naked and humiliated.

The man on the phone laughed.

Oh, no, no. Nothing like that, he said.

I was getting impatient.

Well, what then? Spit it out, man. I have a lot to do today.

"Have you ever wanted someone?"

I caught my breath.

What was that?

"Wanted someone you couldn't have."

Jesus, what a fool.

Right, I said. Haven't we all?

"What if I said there was a way to make him fall in love with you. That I could guarantee it. What then?"

Something in my chest turned hot. I imagined Phil and I making love. I wanted him. Needed him and his money. Centuries ago, when I heard that he was marrying Carmen, I lost it and ran up to the roof of my apartment and jumped off. Sadly, I landed on a passing truck hauling manure, and suffered minor injuries. Carmen got all the good ones – all the rich ones. I had dream journals about Phil. I had dreams of swimming in his money, kissing his money, having sex with his money.

I'd be very interested in this service, I said. How do I sign up?

I could hear the man on the other end of the phone grin.

Sunday. Come to church. Everything will be set up and sterilized.

I'm sorry. I think I heard you say 'sterilized'?

Yes, that's right, he said. It's a whole medical procedure. Completely safe. We're very professional. Nothing to worry about.

And this is all happening at church?

"It's a very hush-hush business activity, you understand. Much like what you do."

How do I know this ain't a bunch of crap? That you won't screw me?

I'm a priest, he said.

I nodded.

That's all I need to hear.

That was all I needed to hear. Hey, if a man of the cloth can work his voodoo in my favor – if I could get God on my side for once – I'd give just about anything.

I'll be there, I said. Who do I ask for?

Lolligal, he said. Ask for Father Lolligal.

I was taken to the confessional, where I sat down. A window across from me the size of my hand opened, and Father Lolligal's sweaty face popped up.

Do you have the stuff?

I showed him the box.

Right here, I said.

He must've flicked a switch or something, because a little door opened up by my feet, and a robotic hand came out, opening and closing. I gave it the box, and it shot back into the hole. That Lolligal-guy opened the box and looked at the heart, holding it close to his face. It was still beating – still fresh – made his hands bloody.

The first time I tried this, he said, I was in bliss. Total bliss. No drug has ever done that for me. Amazing work. You are a genius, my girl.

I couldn't help but let my ego smile.

Thanks.

He shoved the heart into his mouth, munched on it, swallowed it. The effects hit him hard. He laughed all the time and hit the walls of the booth, mumbling something about the wonders of science – the wonders of the pyramids. And then he recited the alphabet backwards. He did it in song, like a monk would. I was impressed. But then he got really loud – almost angry-loud. Nuns were constantly asking if he was okay, and he'd yell at them to go away and make him a sandwich. We were in there for an hour. Nuns gave him something like twenty sandwiches. He calmed down a bit by then. He was nearing the end of the high – the best part; the peaceful part. Lolligal had to wipe his mouth with four wet rags to get all the blood off.

Thank you, he said, crying. "I'm so happy right now. Thank you."

We got out of the confessional and hugged. A nun gave us sandwiches, and we ate.

I'm glad you had fun, I said. Now it's my turn.

He took me to a room where everything was white.

I even had to put on a white gown – the kind that shows your butt. Priests dressed like surgeons helped me onto a cold, metal table. Lolligal walked out from a white door, also dressed like a surgeon. They tied me down. I started panicking, but Lolligal assured me everything was going according to