Spirit of 77 Season 2 Episode 2
Spirit of 77 S2E2: Voodoo Carruthers and the Dick Stabbing Good Time
Starring
- Mike as Tom S Fisherman: The City seems boring lately, but that crazy shit Baphomet seems pretty entertaining, might as well see what he gets up to.
- Stephen as Killian "Baphomet" Burque: Pushing the boundaries of how many drugs his body can handle at once and fighting for respect.
Baphomet stumbles behind Tom and they emerge onto the busy street. Baphomet was still not 100% steady on his feet after he'd decided to take All the drugs, but Fisherman got him into the passenger's seat of the intern's rusty car he'd borrowed earlier in the day.
"Listen Baph ol' buddy, I'll navigate us there, but I'm gonna need you to keep an eye out for anything dangerous we might run into. I'm not great with two things at once while I'm driving this beast."
As they set off, Baphomet kept nodding out and waking up panicked momentarily not sure of how long he was out during the drive, but played it off like he hadn't slept at all. Fisherman tried one of his shortcut and got the pair horrendously lost; which made hitting the huge pothole and getting two flats all the more troubling.
Fisherman managed to get them to the side of the road safely enough. After surveying the damage, it was clear the car was not going anywhere without some new tires.
"Find a payphone, I'll call my buddy Sal who owns a garage. He'd help us out, but I'm not sure who owes who how many favors. We might end up having to run an extra errand tonight." Fisherman dialed the number as Baphomet kept a look out.
"Hello Sal's Garage, Sal speaking."
"Sal you old so and so. It's Fisherman. I've got an issue with my ride. Can you help me?"
"Uh...Tom Fisherman is not here. I do not know where he is. You certainly should not come here looking for him, because he certain isn't here. He would never come here either, because this is not a safe place for Tom Fisherman. You'll have to try some other place," Sal hung up abruptly.
Before Fisherman could even return the phone to the receiver, a group of young ruffians approached the two.
"Looks like you two rich boys broke down in the wrong neighborhood," the leader of the group said as they approached.
"I'll dial 911 and set the ringer down on the sly. Keep it cool Baphomet," whispered Fisherman.
"Give us all your money, hell give us everything you have," the ruffians all began arming themselves with chains, bats, and knives doing their best to be menacing.
Maybe it was the drugs still in his system or maybe his fight or flight response kicked in, but he ripped the receiver from Fisherman's hand and pulled the cord from the telephone. He began swinging it over his head and screeching in his native alien language. His display of crazy was enough to scare off some of the younger ruffians, but the leader and the older ones in the bunch stuck around.
"You gonna come at me with that telephone or you just puttin on a show?" the leader taunted Baphomet.
"No man, no, everything's cool. Be cool Baphomet, be cool. I've got like $40 on me, it's yours if you just leave us alone," Fisherman was quick to try and deescalate the situation.
Baphomet flew into a rage and lunged wildly at the leader. The leader dodged easily and was able to grab Baphomet's arm and held him in a head lock with a knife at his throat.
"Shoulda listened to your friend. Now I'm gonna have to make sure you know who runs things around here after I take all your money. Cause we run the streets in this part of town you got that. I'm gonna leave you with a scar to remember," the leader said as he dragged his blade slowly up Baphomet's cheek.
Baphomet calmly and slowly reached up to a hidden pocket to pull out his switchblade. In one fluid motion, he stabbed the leader in the dick, broke free of his grip, sliced his arm forcing the leader to drop the knife he was holding, and catch that same knife. This display of swift brutality was enough to scare some of the other gang members away from the fight, but two came at him.
Baphomet swung his sonic sitar around and blasted them with a charge of electricity stunning both of them. They each collapsed into a pile of convulsing muscles. While they were on the ground, Baphomet went to each of them and stabbed them in the dicks. He glanced over at Fisherman who was puking by the side of the car completely horrified by Baphomet's display.
Baphomet returned to the leader, "Who do you think's gonna remember tonight more? Me or you?" Baphomet said calmly, "Huh? What was that? I can't here you. Who do you think's gonna remember tonight more? Me or you?!" as his voice escalated in pitch he fell upon the leader and begin pummeling him.
Fisherman pulled himself together when he heard the sirens and dragged Baphomet off the ruffian leader. The two of them narrowly escaped the block before the police had arrived. They continued the rest of the way on foot without trying to find another ride to the bar.
Dickery Dock's Bar and Lounge was right beside the shipyards. The street was poorly lit and the only indication that the building was a bar was a neon sign in the darkened window that advertised a cheap beer and flashed the word OPEN.
The inside of the venue seemed to be centered around a large stage that was currently filled with an all star ensemble of musicians playing while a conductor in a white suit conducted the group from the front of the stage with his back turned to the audience. Aside from the band and the employees, the bar was pretty empty.
Baphomet ran down front to watch the band while Fisherman got drinks. It didn't take long for Baphomet to get lost in the music. His vision focused in on the movements of the conductor. He turned his milky eyed stare to Baphomet, crawling through his head and eyeing his sitar.
Baphomet was slack jawed and drooling when Fisherman approached him. This would normally not be out of the ordinary, but Fisherman noticed that Baphomet had spilled his beer without ordering a replacement.
"Snap out of it," Tom said as he slapped Baphomet across the face to snap him out of the trance.
As soon as he did the band wrapped up their song and the band leader took the microphone, "I'm going to take a quick 10 minute break and be back on stage to get some more music out of these slackers in just a bit," as he left the stage the rest of the band stood still and the curtains closed in front of them.
"There's something up with that guy. Never trust a conductor. They say it's a skill, but I still just see an asshole waving a stick. Let's see what's up with that band," Fisherman practically dragged a still dazed Baphomet with him as he headed behind the curtain.
The band members were standing exactly as they had been when the curtain closed. They hadn't moved at all. The two of them began to snoop around, but it was Baphomet who tripped over the cord that unplugged the guitar player. The musician fell to the ground in a heap.
"Hmmm, it looks like I just lost a guitar player. Fancy sitting in for him, Baphomet?" a voice came from a shadow offstage.
"A regular gig?" Baphomet asked with his voice positively dripping with desire, "How regular?"
"Every night, for the rest of eternity, HAHAHAHAHA!" Voodoo Carruthers laughed maniacally.
"Done."
"Uh...Pardon...What was that?"
"I'm in, where do I sign? The world needs me back on stage," Baphomet said excitedly.
Voodoo Carruthers felt around inside his jacket before pulling out a contract made out with Baphomet's name on it and a pen, "Just sign on the dotted line there."
"Baphomet, I don't know if this is such a hot idea," Fisherman tried to offer some helpful advice.
Baphomet ignored him and signed the document quickly, "Okay now what?"
"Now? HA! Now you just sit back and let Voodoo Carruthers get a look at what we're working with," he said chuckling to himself before his hands grabbed Baphomet's head suddenly.
Fisherman watched as Voodoo Carruthers eyes closed and his facial expression went from one of joy to one of confusion, then struggle, then anger, then suddenly opened his eyes and dropped Baphomet.
"You didn't tell me someone had already claimed all that real estate in there," Voodoo Carruthers said out of breath, "the deal is off until you get that cleared out of there. I can't work with that."
Voodoo pushed past Baphomet and plugged his guitar player back in. The musician jumped back to his feet and began tuning his guitar. Voodoo then turned back to Baphomet and stared at him as he tore the contract into tiny pieces.
"You're worthless to me as a musician. Contract is void. Now get out of here, the both of you. I've got a show to do."
Back outside the bar, Fisherman wasted no time on Baphomet's odd rejection of the band and immediately dragged him toward the scheduled meeting place for the delivery to the Italian mob. The two of them hid far enough from the meeting point that they'd have a good view of what was going to happen, but out of the way of the action.
"Well well well, what 'ave we 'ere boyos?" the heavy Irish brogue was like a cold hand on Fisherman's back. They'd somehow decided to hide right in the path of the gang war that was about to break out.
Fisherman looked to Baphomet and saw him edging his hand toward his knife, so he stepped forward and said, "Just out for a story gents. Maybe you've heard of me. I'm T.S. Fisherman the journalist. I'm the one that brought down that CEO that was screwing the unions illegally."
"OH REALLY!? That T.S. Fisherman? Well slap my arse and call me Susan. Me and the boys loved the way you aired that bastard's dirty laundry for the whole public to see. What brings you down to the docks so late at night? You hear covering the drug deals?"
"Uh, yeah I'm down here on a tip that the Italian mob is picking up a delivery of something bad," Tom looked at Baphomet and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Baphomet had let his hand fall back to his side instead of stabbing more dicks.
"Aye, that they are. They are bringing in some bad drugs that are turnin' some folks into mindless shells. Almost like they've been lobotomized. You'd best not be here when the delivery happens though Mr Fisherman. The boys and me are plannin' to stop the delivery from happening tonight."
"Oh, thanks for the heads up. We'll clear out so you boys can do what you need to do," Fisherman said as he dragged Baphomet with him down the street.
As soon as they were out of sight of the Irish gang, they ducked down a side street and doubled back around to the other side of the dock to see from a different angle and stay hidden. They could see the Italian mobster waiting around the dock carrying baseball bats and tire irons. A small boat approached the dock. All of the windows were boarded up and it was impossible to see in and most likely out of the boat.
A small hatch in the side of the boat opened after it had bumped against the dock. The leader of the mob gang walked up to the door and seemed to exchange some words with the occupants of the boat, before reaching in and starting to hand small boxes back to the rest of his gang.
In a sudden flurry of wooden club and screams, the Irish gang flooded the docks and began attacking the Italian mob. The boat's occupants quickly closed the hatch and began moving away from the dock. A few of the Irish gang member jumped on the boat as it was leaving and began to pound on the doors and windows with their weapons.
The Italian mob grabbed what they could and ran for it. The Irish gang chased after them as best they could, but they could not keep up with them once they'd gotten in their cars.
The gang members that had jumped onto the boat seemed to have made progress as the hatch popped open. They looked inside and were suddenly grabbed by a clawed hand and pulled in one at a time. Their screams could be heard from the dock.
"Fuck this, I need to go lay down," Baphomet said as he turned his back on the scene and headed the opposite direction.
Fisherman was close behind him. Fisherman was finally able to make contact with his buddy Sal who was able to talk finally and agreed to give him a ride home. When he showed up, he told them that some Italian mobsters had been by and wanted to know where they could find Fisherman, but Sal didn't let them know anything. He's no snitch.
They dropped Baphomet off at the bowling alley and Fisherman went to Mama Lucia Pacini's Pizzeria. He told Sal to wait for him and went inside.
"Lucia, we need to talk about your boy."
"My Tony? He is a good boy and always looks out for his mama. He makes sure the family business stays open."
"He's selling tainted drugs that are frying the brains of anyone who does it. I came to you with this instead of publishing a story so you could take care of your boy and no one has to get any 5-0 involved."
Mama Lucia stared at Fisherman for a moment before smiling at him and excusing herself. She walked over to where her son and his friends were sitting. She grabbed her son by the ear and dragged him back into the kitchen. Almost as soon as the door closed there was shouting and breaking plates and the sound of someone being hit repeatedly. A moment later Mama Lucia stepped out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon dripping with sauce and told her son's friends that Tony was not going to be able to play anymore today and they should run home.
"Thank you so much for not telling the polizia about my Tony. He is a good boy. He will fix his bad behavior," Mama Lucia hugged Fisherman and he headed back to the bowling alley.
Before he arrived, Baphomet was laying on the sofa with a head still swimming in strange substances and unusual mental intrusions. Fisherman's x-tech phone-fax-recorder of message machine beeped on and a male voice that sounded thick with the emotion of a recent cry came on.
"Is this Fisherman's place? I don't usually talk to machines. I don't know what to say. This is Tony Lucia. Mama says you say my drugs are tainted. Well, you're gonna help me figure out how to untaint them cause Mama says I can't sell no more of the tainted stuff."
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