PIGGS - A Novel with Bonus Screenplay Read Online Free PDF Page A

His stomach went bad. He wanted to kill this fancy-dress greaser, but he knew he wasn't ready, not yet.
    "I can throw you out of here, pal.   I don't want to have to do that."
    "And I do not wish you to, Jack."   He gazed at Jack with his black agate eyes.   The eyes said Chavez was a patient man, but a man who did what he wanted to, nearly all the time.
    "I'm letting you go this time," Jack said.   "Don't think you're getting away with something, 'cause you're not."
    "I am grateful your kindness, Senor."
    "Yeah, well those roses don't come from a real flower shop.   You can get 'em down at Come-'n-Go.   That woman knows flowers, she's going to know that."
    Jack stomped off in the dark, stopped, and faced Chavez again.
    "And you can get that candy at the fucking drug store, you can get it on sale."
    With that, he was gone, out of the shadows into the hemorrhage of flashing red and white, into the whoops and the hoots and the yells, into the world of illusion and desire, into the circle of pink and smoky light where Maggie, in a moment, would reveal just how, and show exactly where, the flag of the Empire hardly ever sets...

Chapter Seven
     
    C at Eye was confused.
    This was the normal state of life in Cat's world, one he didn't think about a lot.   Most of the time, he didn't have to think at all.   Mr. Cecil took care of that.   Mr. Cecil knew what Cat needed.   Cat needed food, but he didn't care what.   He needed to sleep.   Mr. Cecil gave him a cot.   He liked TV, but Mr. Cecil said it would rot out his eyes, and Cat didn't want to do that.   Once, he'd liked to do a woman sometimes.   Now, when the urge reached his head, he took care of that with one of Grape's magazines.
    The problem that night, in the parking lot at Piggs, was Cat had to think for himself.   What happened, was, Mr. Cecil told him what to do with the guy, the guy that he'd offed with an axe. Cat Eye understood that.   Stuff like that, this is what he did best.
    He was dragging the guy by his heels, taking him where he had to go, everything was fine.   That's when he looked up, saw the dude pissing on the wall, saw him zipping up his pants.   Saw the guy turn and see him.
    The man was a drunk, he could hardly stand up.   Still, Cat Eye knew that a man could be drunk and remember what he'd seen.   And what he'd seen was Cat, Cat and a stiff that was very clearly dead, a stiff that left two dark stripes as he trailed across the lot.   Which meant Cat would have to get a hose and clean the mess himself.   Now there was the other guy, too, and he'd have to handle that.
    The best thing to do, Cat thought, and the answer came quicker than an answer had any right to do, the best thing to do was make sure you did it right:   Make sure the pisser didn't leak any too.   Then you don't have another mess, you don't have to hose twice.
    Cat felt good that he'd thought up the answer by himself.   Thinking wasn't bad at all.   It was really kind of fun, but you wouldn't want to do it all the time.

Chapter Eight
     
    M aggie Thatch was coming off.   Bankers, spankers, termite inspectors, cowboys and truckers stood and cheered.   They pelted the stage with dollar bills.   Naked girls pranced among the sinners with over-priced beer.   Guys who'd been laid off just the week before, tipped like princes for a feel.
    Jack knew the routine well.   Lights go down.   Heavy metal up.   A beat that shakes your gut.   DJ swallows the mike and says "Here comes what's-her-name, right from the pages of Playboy magazine."   Either that, or a carhop straight from Abilene.
    He knew that he'd stayed too long, that Rhino would have his ass for that.   He could try to make it back through the tables, out to the alley, back to the kitchen at Wan's.   Only now it was break time, letting the girls sell a drink, letting the guys buy a lap dance before the next set.
    If he tried to go now, Cecil might spot him, haul him back in, make him do something