Mondo was a midget. Three feet tall with little pudgy hands and a waddle in his walk. It is not politically correct to call someone a midget but Mondo didn't care. He was Mondo and Mondo was a midget and that was that. No matter what he was or what you called him, Mondo's mind was sharp and full of ideas. Big ideas. Granted, most of his ideas were violent, twisted and perverse, but they were big ideas.
Mondo had a girl, Caliente'. Blond haired, white skin, normal sized. She had a big ass, which Mondo liked, and a small brain, which Mondo liked even more. It made her easier to manipulate. She was also of violent temperment, black hearted and her perversions knew no end.
He knew she had other men and on the surface he didn't care. She was a black hearted whore and you can't turn a whore into a housewife, his father had told him once. Besides, she always made sure they were gone and their stink was washed from her pale skin before Mondo was due over. Once, Mondo met a guy coming down the sidewalk near Caliente's place and he knew, somehow, that the punk had just been with her. He considered stabbing the man in his balls as he went by but let the moment pass. It was a beautiful night and Mondo was wearing a new suit.
Mondo always came over at night, never when it rained, and only when he needed to work out some tension. Beating a dirty whore while he fucked her was his favorite way and beating a dirty whore who enjoyed violent fucking was even better. Less to explain to the pigs later. This was one of those nights.
The sex was done and good. He had whipped her back bloody with the leather belt she favored while he thrusted his above average cock in her ass. It was done and she was wrapped in a silk kimono on the couch while Mondo paced the hardwood floor, smoking. Mondo was still naked, waddling back and forth, spent member swinging between his bowed legs. The sight might have been comical in any other scenario, had Mondo not been so dangerous. Mondo had a large presence.
She knew better than to speak at these moments. Mondo would pace and smoke and then rant. She would not interrupt him again. Not after the last time. She had asked what she felt was a benign and innocent question but he had leapt on her like a spider monkey and bashed her blond head with the half empty bottle of Cutty Sark he always nursed after sex. Then, with her head still pouring blood, he demanded that she walk to the liquor store on the corner to buy more. She paid for the booze with her own money.
No, she would not interrupt him again.
She instead sat quietly and waited for the post coital storm to pass and wondered what she had wondered a hundred times before. Why smoking weed never seemed to calm him down. It always mellowed her but not Mondo. She always attributed to the massive amount of crystal meth and Scotch that he ingested. Midgets were not supposed to do drugs much, something to do with their metabolism but Mondo didn't care about that either.
"We all gotta die of something, bitch." Mondo would rap, usually puncuated by a huge gulp of Cutty. "The whole world is turning to shit anyway and I am sick of walking in it. When you are this low to the ground, the stink is unbearable."
Mondo crushed the giant blunt he was smoking and disappeared into the bedroom. She finally exhaled when she heard him pulling on his clothes. She quickly chopped out a few lines of the high powered speed on the glass top of the coffee table and snorted up two of them. Mondo emerged a few seconds later wearing the same clothes he had worn in a few hours earlier. Small black tshirt, small black jeans, and small black cowboy boots with engraved silver toetips. Mondo leaned over the table and did two huge lines of his own.
"Get your shit together. It's time to go."
A few short minutes later, she also steps from the bedroom fully dressed, also in black. Mondo is snorting more dope. He doesn't offer her any.
"How many times I gotta tell you to not smoke those things around me?"
She was holding a clove cigarette.
"Makes you smell like a Pakistani faggot. Put it out."
Obediently, she crushes it out on top of his half smoked blunt in the ashtray.
"You got the shit?"
"Of course, baby." she says quietly, patting the oversized purse in the chair next to her.
"Let's go then."
Two minutes later they are pulling onto the highway, cold blood pumping through their veins.
The vice cop that Caliente' had once been married to was asleep on the couch when the front door flew open. Trying, groggily, to scramble to his gun lying on the floor nearby, he felt heard the muffled thump before he felt the searing burn in his knee sitting him fast back down. The next thump sent his Glock flying across the room and varnished wood splinters into his face. Trying to blink away the wooden shrapnel, the wounded cop finally focused on the surrealism of the situation. A tiny man in black and what looked like a stringy version of his ex wife with a gun standing in his den, his sanctuary. The gun was equipped with what looked like a homemade silencer. It was, in fact, a small tomato juice can filled with steel wool and duct taped to the barrel. The steel wool was smoldering.
"You always let your whores do your killing?"
"No, man...just the initial pain is hers. I'll be doing all the killing here tonight."
Wincing now that that the real pain had begun the assault, "Why?"
"Because she likes guns and I promised her she could shoot a little dick cop today."
"Fair enough, but I meant, why me?"
"Where is the money?"
"Oh, that..."
"Yeah..that."
"Closet. In a shoe box."
A creak of a bedroom door, a moment, a muttered curse, and Mondo was back. Mondo put a fat hand on the back of the sofa and leapt over in one easy movement, landing right behind the bleeding dirty cop. He pulled a large folding blade from his back pocket and neatly sliced off the man's right ear before he could turn around and see it coming.
"You should have told me it was on the top shelf."
Screaming, the decorated policeman who had been skimming the takes of several drug dealers for years, never anticipated the tempered steel as it was driven into his throat from behind.
"Could have saved us some time. Go get our money, girl."
"This thing is getting hot, baby." Caliente' says as she walks past and tosses the silenced pistol onto the leather couch as she does, where it immediatly begin singing a dark spot. Mondo pours the remainder of the cop's warm beer on the piece and sofa.
From the other room, "Mondo, baby? You are not going to believe this!"
