Hot Damn
Hot Damn
ON TOUR
Hollowed Out Heg and the Hit Squad with ICE
Editor: John Curran states his short story, “Hot Damn” is total, complete, fiction.
By John Curran
“Hollowed out Heg and the Hit Squad with ICE,” said the poster, “On Tour with special guests,” to perhaps include Lord Lord, the big one himself, live out of the cage. And that was enough, baby, leave ’em dangling, the way they always do. Wow, Heg and the Hits, coming ‘right here’ to little Scranton, PA and we were the kickoff site. ‘Course it made perfect sense though, this was Scrappy Joe’s turf and the ‘here’ had more meaning ‘here’ than was stated on any poster.
We all knew what was coming though, perfect sense ‘n no surprise. I headed back home and got out the old zoot suit that I’d been saving for just such an occasion. The thing was on this very night. Whatever night it was, it didn’t even matter. It was always chaos with this bunch anyway; ‘ya expected it by now ‘n just went with it, whatever ‘it’ was. What ‘ya might not know is that, in fact, Scrappy Joe’s back, believe it, and he’s been briefed on things. He’s feeln’ good, that cancer thing is done…maybe, and the Corvette’s never been faster, nor more dangerous.
“Let’s roll boys,” Joe said, pulling out of New York, headed to Scranton, to answer the challenge.
So, I pull up. Yeah, it’s a scene. Hot Tulsi, “da Silver Streaks” is working the door; handing out red hats and small cups of green Kool Aid.
“Make you strong,” she says.
I ignore her and just bust my way in. That’s how ‘ya gotta be at these things now, act like you’re big, ‘ya know somebody, like you are somebody, it’s easy ‘ya just gotta show balls, is all. So I’m in ‘n right away I notice the little drones, sorta buzzing around. I remember that great novel, “Dune,” how prescient that was.
‘N then center stage it’s the Heg, up there face into the mike, doin’ the scowl, the famous scowl, the tough guy things he does, wow…’n then he’s into that latest ‘n greatest the Two Tap Shuffle, like he just don’t care. Well…
After that, I can’t remember much, I mighta’ had some of that green Kool Aid stuff…things got fuzzy…seems at some point a bear handler with a big ass bear, wearin’ an orange diaper ‘n a red hat, did a great rendition of ‘Heaven, It’s a Hoax, Its only Hell That’s Real,” and brought down the house, literally, as when the bomb blew up.
I was nowhere around, and Scrappy Joe in that ‘vette was half-way home, but I heard all about it.
