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8.

“What the… the holy hellfire IS this, man?” Guadalupe barked impotently, frightened and beside himself. His own erection dissipated into a flaccid bundle of wrinkly skin, softly settling down into his mesh of chestnut-brown pubic hair. He also wet himself, itchy and warm in his crotch with a fresh, relieving sensation of trickling urine flowing and dripping down his groin and thighs.

“This, my kinky young sperm-gargling amigo, is a motherfucking stickup. Now kindly shut your cum-hole up for a minute while I gather my thoughts because, quite frankly, your little surprise act of fellatio sorta done went n' broke my concentration.” Maxwell replied, cocking the hammer back and taking aim directly between Lupe’s rather attractive green-tinted eyes. Max could smell a faint hint of vinegar, but he knew this kind of vinegar couldn’t be used for cooking or salad dressing. In fact, this particular liquid substance only had very few uses to anyone. Max gagged, trying to keep himself composed, even wallowing among the scent of fresh piss.

“Why you… maldito hijo de puta!” Lupe murmured in furious confusion and stoic anger. This kid should've known that when he played with fire, he was liable to get burnt. Evidently, it was far too late for him to turn back now though. Quite the shame! But what the fuck was a desperate shep-coon gonna do?

“Yes, yes… I know this is a real dick-headed thing, but to be perfectly honest I’m quite fed up with you as well, my man.” Max said, low whispering voice barely audible over the hyper-thumping disco-bass from outside. Max's expression was one of deep disappointment and resentment over how the current events of the past few hours have shaped and unfolded into the hairy situation he now found himself stuck waist-deep in, head still woozy and ethereal due to the oral ejaculating he’d delivered down Lupe’s throat.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Lupe asked Max with impending haste, trembling with maddening fright. Max inhaled through his nose and whiffed in another potent hint of fresh urine. He began to wonder if maybe the thrill of seeing a loaded gun facing this young devil’s head caused him to orgasm hands-free, only trailed closely behind by the release of his bladder. Highly unlikely though, considering the grimy atmosphere in the shitty little urinal. This kid looked like a weakling, a new fish, a confused young teenager with plenty of years still ahead of him, ripe for the taking. Wasting time and delivering drugs to fiendish people, anthro or human, was certainly not a productive life to be led by anyone, let alone a mere boy of Guadalupe’s proportions.

“You were supposed to have showed up at ten-thirty on the dot.” Max said. He thought that was a bit of a chicken-shit reason to pull a gun on a young man of Lupe's age, but clerical thought and logistical progress were long-since abandoned anyways, so… whatever.“Ten-thirty, they told me. Goddam it all, you were over two whole fucking hours late, now how do you think that will make me look to my own higher-ups? In fact, how the hell do you think that will make YOU look in the eyes of your own dealers, man?”

Max waved the gun around threateningly toward Lupe, maintaining a subtle frown with a hint of empathy beneath. He really didn't want to shoot Guadalupe if he didn't need to.

“I’m… not too sure…” Lupe said timidly.

“WRONG!” Max said. He butted the barrel of the pistol against Lupe’s cheek, marking his tanned skin with a red barrel-shaped rash. "Try again, amigo!” Max hollered.

Lupe’s shuffling eyes rolled in their sockets and his lips trembled maniacally as the boy attempted to stifle his weeping a little further.

“I-Incompetent?” Lupe replied loosely, eyes welling up slowly.

“Exactly.” Max responded without further disdain. He scratched at his temple with the tip of the gun, taking cautious liberties to engage the safety switch first. “Absolutely positively right on the dot, my friend. You are quite simply as such: in-com-pe-tent. You should’ve known better, kid. My apologies to you…” Max raised the gun again and dragged the tip of the barrel against the pale-faced (save for his natural skin tone) young man’s cheek, “but now, this is officially your loss and my gain. Now tell me where you stashed the money, Guadalupe. I haven’t got all night.”

Max pressed the weapon against Lupe’s temple forcefully, forming a round white indent.

“Look ese, just let me go for Chrissakes and I’ll never tell anyone! You can have the dope! I’d rather not keep it around any longer than I have to anyways! Please, you must seek forgiveness for my being so late! Don’t kill me, please amigo! PLEASE!! You don’t understand, amigo! Hear me out, won’t you please?” Lupe pleaded. He began to whimper aloud, weak and childish. His eyelids were glinting with runnels of tears and his hands were held up to the sides of his head. Lupe’s lower lip quivered sporadically, flaky with dried traces of Max’s semen. He was a boy who really did NOT wish to die anytime soon, if Max could help it.

Max felt a subtle hint of pity for the young man. Sure, he made a shitty prick of a dope pusher, didn’t even lavish in giving good quality head (unlike tonight), but nevertheless he was still a scared, innocent, young teenager; a goddam boy with little to no skills or experience with this sort of volatile madness. His indecision and residual fright had stirred a memory inside Max when he himself was once a young shep-coon cub, running dope for his own wanna-be father, his old man caretaker and dope-pusher. Sciorrenzo, that fat fuck. Looking back upon those days always brought down a swift pouring of abundant shame and imperative denial upon Max. He didn’t wish for such things to happen to this fellow either. History didn’t deserve to repeat itself. He never wished for what he went through to be reiterated by anyone, especially somebody so obviously young and glaringly inexperienced. Lupe would’ve easily shattered under such pressure.

Sat down beside one another face-to-face in a bathroom stall smothered with sloppy aged faded graffiti of weenies and boobies and insults and sex favors, Max blinked as his frown burrowed deeper, causing his eye patch to bend upward in its socket. His hand began to quiver, shaking the barrel of the gun loosely in place. His tail had aimlessly been hard at work wagging and scurrying around in the neighboring stall behind his back. Lupe stared with glassy-eyed fright at Max, then at the gun, then back to Max and the gun again, now frozen and incapable of any other physical movement. Max found this slightly amusing in a morbid way. Lupe appeared to be watching an invisible heated ping-pong competition winding down to the last few game-changing seconds. As for Maxwell, he became a stone statue staring into a widespread void of deep impending thoughts. His greed and enviousness went and got blown so far out of proportion that he couldn’t handle facing his own actions directly at face-value. Lupe stared back with wild-eyed bewilderment. He wondered what was ticking upstairs in Maxwell’s mental attic.

“Tell me where you stashed your cut and maybe neither one of us has to die today.” Max finally said. Lupe was reassured at once. He was grateful for something to be croaked out of Max’s shriveled canine-black lips, trailing off into mumbling just a bit in the end. He thought this shep-coon really had a heart after all, thank goodness. Unless it was all just a big-ass set-up, anyways.

“My cut? You mean the drugs? But I thought you–”

“No! Not the drugs you fucking genius, the money! Where oh where did you stash the goddam money?!” Max yelled. He was swinging back into the land of lacking patience again.

“Oh, my cut… now I get it. Sorry, amigo. Forgive me? I’ve got bad English. Actually that’s in my car outside. 1998 Buick with whitewall wheel wells and chrome trim on the body. She probably the only baby out there that got Colorado plates so you can’t miss it, amigo.” Lupe said. His tone remained factual and concise.

“No worries there, since I don’t intend to miss this vehicle of yours at all… you’re coming with me outside to retrieve it. Sound good? Perfect. Let’s go! No dawdling!” Max said. He felt like a crank addict on uppers but his panic had substantial pulling power… they both needed to clear out of the warehouse before anyone else thought something super-wrong was going on.

“Oh no! No, I can’t do that! You can’t make me leave this place!” Lupe squirmed uneasily under Max’s grip, tussling around like a flailing mad ragdoll with a broken on/off switch.

“What the hell are you saying? We need to get the fuck out of here, you understand? I mean it, otherwise–”

“NO! I said it, I mean it, and you can’t change my mind on this one, amigo. I’m sorry but I told you which car it was as well as its details… now please just run out, take the money and leave me be! It’s just not safe at all for you here any longer! You can make it on your own I think. No need to worry about me.” Lupe said. He couldn’t quite focus on Max’s paralyzing stare, so he tried to focus on everything else in the stall entirely all at once.

Would somebody please hand this kid a Captain Obvious award already?!

“Sorry Lupe, but we just can’t do things that easily around here. What you don’t understand about this place is that-”

“No way, José! What YOU don’t understand is that my informants, my head honchos in this deal? The ones who sent me to collect for them through this exchange? The ones who will most likely kill me and probably you as well?”

“Yes?” Max said with a resounding impatience thick in his tone.

“Well…they’re here tonight, man.”

“What’re you saying, you fucking pri–“

“Right now – sitting outside in that fucking rave! Upstairs. They've gathered here to talk business and I'm telling you right now amigo, they've all showed up! They’re watching to see that everything goes swimmingly without many fuck-ups. See for yourself once we go back out! I promise you. That's why I can't risk going with you. I have to report to them, to let 'em know that things went astray. Your life is at risk if you stay here any longer, man!"

"Who's your lead dealer? The baron you work for? Is he here as well?" Max asked. Lupe shook his head, thinking hard about it, then a dawning realization lit up in his eyes.

"Sciorrenzo, man." Lupe said to Max, slowly and clearly. "I'm to report to Sciorrenzo. He's up there, with the others, about five or six in all. The deal is that I get the stash, you get the cash and bail. But here's the thing." Lupe peeked through the glory-hole to ensure nobody else was inside the bathroom with acute hearing who'd rat them out. Empty, thank goodness. Guadalupe hunched closer to Max, practically bopping noses. "They fucking bugged the money, man. Bugged it with a tracking device. If they knew I was tellin' yo this, they'd fucking kill me, I swear."

“Get. Out.” Max said. His hollowed eye socket felt itchy, burning painfully. Suddenly, Max felt a lead gallstone drop downward from his throat and crash violently into his stomach, yet his head still felt woozy with sexual satisfaction and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered like epileptic fairies at a techno rave, with all due respects given to the innocent drug and sex-fueled civilians involved right outside the swinging bathroom doors.

I ain't bullshitting you, homes. These dudes mean serious business. I was sent here to... fucking kill you, but I can't. I just can't. I... I don't have the heart for that sort of thing. Not after we... we just... no, man. You gotta leave, leave this place behind. They might not be able to track you down if you just high-tail it outta here!" Lupe exclaimed. Maxwell punched the metallic stall beside him furiously, denting it and causing a small dandelion bud to grow out from a single stalk and blossom into a yellow fuzzy flower. Guadalupe stared with awestruck wonder. When Max looked back at Lupe again, the young prick picked up from where he left off. “They are all outside right now, watching the floor, probably making sure I get the goods sold off. To the highest bidder, that’s what they told me. ‘You’ll invest in primo for us, young boy, and we'll ensure your protection until the day you die. We promise.’ That’s what they told me, amigo. Swear on my mother’s grave, man. I swear.” Lupe whispered, leaking a single tear from his sullen eye, making him look extremely aged and feel truly exhausted.

“I believe you, kiddo.” Max proclaimed. Lupe’s eyes lit up excitedly. "I do. You may still be of use to me tonight. Will you help me out with something?" Max asked Lupe. The young boy stay paused in place for a moment, unsure of how to react. After he nodded, Maxwell stood up in the stall, fighting off a terrible numbing sensation in both his legs. Meanwhile, he desperately fought back the urge to rip Guadalupe’s goddam fucking head clean off from his beautiful little prick-ass body.

Patience is a virtue, man... keep it together and you'll still make your mark even yet.