Piss Issue 10

eZine lover (@eZine)

Published in 

Piss

 · 5 years ago

  

				******************************** 
				*     PISS PHILEZ ISSUE 10     * 
				*                              * 
				*       I spy you spy          * 
				*                              * 
				*      by Sameer Ketkar        * 
				*                              * 
				*       Created 8/17/97        * 
				*    Last Modified 8/17/97     * 
				******************************** 

The subtle man walked quite nonchalantly down the endless boulevard  
along the endless squares that were the metropolis of New York city.   
He had a business—if you could call it that—that dealt with  
international business.  He liked to call himself The Cleaner,  
because if there was a mess, especially a public relations mess, he  
would be right there and waiting to pick up the pieces—and sweep away  
the malignant areas. 

Walking down fifth avenue, perhaps the most famous street in the world,  
for his profession, he checked the reflections in doors of the shops  
often.  Some people, if they had known, would have thought he was making  
sure no one was following him, trailing him just like in the movies.  And  
the way he stopped every few blocks at news-stand and picked up a paper  
he'd read already seemed to baffle the men who were following him— 

Then, he saw the man he'd been waiting for.  Tall, with blond hair and a  
sharp nose, he looked like an assassin, but the man knew him only as Bill. 

"Hey, Bill, how's the wife?" 

"Fine, and my daughter finally got out of chemotherapy and will be coming  
home in three days"—the men who'd been trailing the two caucasians  
recorded every word, trying to decipher the hidden meaning—"say, have  
you been working out; or has the old lady just whipped you into  
shape?" Bill said with a wicked grin.  Bill dropped a small note into  
his friend's coat pocket, unseen by even the men following them, though  
they had anticipated the brush-pass.  

"See you around," the plain man said to his friend as they parted.   

The unmarked white van immediately got into motion.  It first drove past  
the inconspicuous man, but they knew his daily route, so planned to catch  
up with him when he got to the bus stop which he used every day. 

"Oh, god," said the commander of the Israeli detachment asked by the CIA  
to trail the suspected Iraqi agent.  "We've lost him."  This man must  
have gotten special training from Madass Hussein himself. "Okay boys and  
girls, we're obviously facing a real pro here.  Must've been at the game  
for at least, say, twenty." 

"You're on," said the second in charge.  "Twenty dollars, he's not old  
enough to've been in the game for twenty."  A matter of national  
security—America's and ours—and we're busy making bets.  He laughed.   
They were pros too. 

"Got him"—the commander said, straightening his gun holster—"we must  
have just missed him.  He's going to work.  Maybe he'll—"  He was  
silenced as he watched the spy make his way, quite nonchalantly, to  
the Iraqi Embassy—and walk right by it! 

The plainly dressed, inconspicuous man stopped at the hot dog stand  
at the corner of the embassy and bought a chili dog for himself and,  
perhaps, his secretary. 

He walked into his office and went to his cubicle on the third floor.   
The chili dog was for his secretary, and he'd even paid for it too. 

He was startled when the phone rang; no one called for him these days. 

"Listen up, American Pig-bastard," said the funny, middle eastern  
voice to him over the telephone.  "We want you to meet us at the  
warehouse off the east coast in two hours."  Click.   

"Hello—hello, is this some kind of strange joke or something?  It's  
not funny you stupid cowards!  Terrorists!  I'm just a—" it wasn't  
until half way through his speech that he realized the other man had  
hung up.  He put his index and middle fingers between two of the  
blinds on his one little window and spread his fingers apart slightly,  
peering out in the spaces between them.  He noticed the white van  
parked outside and waved to them, demanding attention as only an angry  
American could.  His heart beat as it never had before.  He'd watched  
the movies, he knew what they—the infamous They—did to their American  
hostages.  They would capture him, then torture him for hours a day until  
they got the information they wanted.  But he was a clerk—he knew nothing  
of the workings of the various government apparatus.  His CEO didn't know  
that stuff.  First they'll start by pulling my toenails off one by one—oh  
god it's too terrible to even think of.  Then they'll slowly tap my skin  
with a hot iron until—shut up, he told that annoying little voice in his  
head.  Just shut up and I'll—we'll—be okay, all right? 

Sam Shalkey pulled out the piece of paper his friend had slipped him.   
His hands were shaky, trying to read the message to get his mind off  
the horrible—to calm his mind!  Reading the note, he realized for the  
first time though he'd refused to admit it before: he really did not  
have the money.  Bill, his daughter Gwen's godfather, had slipped him  
a piece of the wrapper for the new toy bear his daughter wanted dearly  
and he could not afford.  Bill had promised to help out.  Bill had  
also wrapped a pack of gum, from which Sam took a piece and chewed  
slowly, pondering the strange phone calls and the white van.  He'd  
never done anything wrong in his life—he was just a hard working blue  
collar American who didn't need middle eastern threats or three dollar  
chili dogs. 

The Israelis didn't learn of their blunder until the following day. 

Sam was pleased, though, because the white van never came back and  
neither did the phone calls.  The three dollar chili dogs remained,  
though, and became his top grievance now that he no longer pondered  
his remaining minutes on this plane of existence.  His daughter  
would love the bear, he knew, he just wished he could have bought  
it for her himself. 

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PISS - People into Serious Shit 

Founders - Defenestrator, PhrostByte 
Members -  
Author Parselon 
Wu Forever 
kQs 
CGibbons 
Extinction 
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Grench 
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Rhodekyll 

Contributors-  
Sameer Ketkar 

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The site will change as soon as I get money for one.. 

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