Real Novel Chapter One
From PenguinWiki
Chapter One
Big Tony stretched his arm, yawned, and lazily flicked from world news to documentaries to comedy to what was the use. There was nothing good on; here he was with 138 channels and not one of them had anything decent or something he hadn't seen a dozen times before. Bah humbug. Cable was a damned waste of money. He would cancel his subscription soon.
He lifted the phone and ordered a pepperoni pizza. It wasn't what he wanted or desired. But his newly-adopted pleasure-withholding mantra forced him to make choices against his wants and needs. If he was honest, though, he was actually starting to get a strange perverse sense of enjoyment from it.
Pleasure from witholding pleasure. He'd thought it all just so much crap initially, but it was just how they said it would be. That strange circular logic: witholding the pleasures we control heightens the enjoyment of that which comes naturally. His thoughts were disturbed by the voice on the phone acknowledging the order, "ten minutes sir". Tony checked his wallet. He'd pay exact change of course; no tip, no nothing. Big Tony was a mean son of a bitch, everyone knew that. They all knew better than to get in his way; even Carlo, Tony reflected with a wry grin as he counted out coins and dug deep in his pocket for the extra penny stuck there.
He knew that Carlo was still in town, but Tony was surprised to actually see him that afternoon. There he was, after all this time, drifting along the vegetable aisle; he barely recognised the man who stared vacantly up at the flourescent lights from his wheelchair. Carlo had clearly failed to recognise Tony's civilian clothes and hairstyle. He stalked Carlo through the store, a smile of contempt on his face. He wasn't surprised when Carlo attempted to queue jump. "Some people never change," he thought. "In a goddam wheelchair and hoping that no one will notice!"
No-one took advantage of Big Tony; Carlo had learned this painful lesson long ago. But here, in his old town, at his regular store, he felt safe. Tony'd been dishonourably discharged in Australia; handed over to the MPs and stripped of his rank and honours. It is little reason that Carlo wasn't expecting this encounter, or the reminder of Tony's nature.
"Remember me, Carlo?" said Tony, looking down upon the pathetic figure slumped in the wheelchair. Carlo's vacant expression vanished that instant, replaced by a look of shocked recognition. "Still up to your old tricks," said Tony with a smirk, slipping a can (unseen to Carlo) from the nearby shelf into Carlo's open bag.
Tony strolled to the counter and complained to the store manager. "That joker in the wheelchair's shopliftin'. You better search 'im". That was Big Tony down to the ground; a stickler for paperwork and bureaucracy, especially when he was the beneficiary.
Tony chuckled to himself seeing Carlo being pulled over to one side by the store's security guard. Indignantly refusing to be searched; but searched he was and then escorted away. Tony knew his sudden re-appearance had shocked Carlo; that was his intention and the store was a convienient location. The business between the two of them had never been resolved and the old wounds were still open. Carlo was only detained for a few hours. But even Tony couldn't anticipate the effect his run-in with his old "partner" was having right now across town.
Carlo sat alone in the squalid gloom of his shabby apartment, silently contemplating the syringe of strychnine that he had prepared to numb the pain of his encounter with Tony, the latest cringe-inducing event in a long line of recent humiliations. The random encounter had brought it all back to him afresh, and there were things in his history with Big Tony Scoletti that he'd worked hard to forget - that he needed to forget. He injected the strychnine gently into his left thumb. He cringed a little, though he was used to it. His heartbeat accelerated from the anticipation of the chemical's effects. Almost immediately, his skin prickled and his lungs seized up. It felt like there was something crawling inside his body trying to get out. He knew that Strychnine was a neuro-stimulant, and extremely poisonous but, in small doses, it enhanced his abilities. In large doses, however--he dare not think of the consequences.
"Damn, too much!" he thought as he grabbed the antidote he had prepared and struggled to hold the needle steady. Already he could feel his mind slipping and the edges of his vision begin to darken.
"No...," he moaned as everything went black. He waved his hand past his face. Nothing-- he could see nothing--not the electric bill lying unpaid on the kitchen counter, along with the disconnection notice and countless reminders of overdue bills. It wasn't the first time this had happened; it was becoming a regular occurrence. His concerns were always elsewhere on more pressing issues.
When Carlo woke, he had no idea of the time. Inu peered at him, head cocked, pink tongue lolling in good humor. He saw himself reflected in the marble of Inu's intelligent eyes. Staring for what felt like several long minutes, he wondered if Inu understood his master's pain. Probably not--Inu wagged his tail; he wanted to go for a walk.
Carlo dragged himself up off the floor.
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