43 Years of Frankenstein {Frerard}

6 • And They All Lived Happily Ever After

On the backdoor of an old, abandoned motel in Belleville; New Jersey, an obviously practiced 'code' knock disturbs a name at the top of the list of most wanted drug and car dealers in town - At the moment, he goes under the (code name) LeRoy Johnson.

By dealing, stealing, bribery, ransom, and a couple of kills here and there; LeRoy Johnson happened to be making enough money to drive a Chevrolet Corvette, keep a Beretta's shotgun tucked up his ass and a Smith Wesson .22 Centre fire Magnum Handgun in his junk, and keep a clean record with the cops. LeRoy was a criminal and everyone knew it, but he employed the kind of people who cleaned up every trace of evidence after him and considered drugs as pay. This daddio had it all and the cops couldn't do nothin' about it.

LeRoy pushed the cheap perfume smelling pair of sweaty bosoms off him and makes his way through the smoke, stepping over the disarrange of rebellious, rejected teenagers and drugees until he reaches the source of his disturbance.

He places one hand on the doorknob and the other on the trigger of his Beretta as he peeks through the fisheye lensed, blurry peephole. He spots a tall dark figure carrying what seems to be a duffle bag. LeRoy chuckles to himself and runs a hand through his gelled back, curly hair before unlocking the door, "My man!"

"I got your shit LeRoy" the man drops his duffle bag on the ground

LeRoy bends down to zip open the bag and pulls out a couple of packets."Where'd you even find this shit, man. I've been lookin' all over" LeRoy wets his pinky with his tongue then proceeds to dip it into the powdered solution and licks the grains off.

"Sources LeRoy. Y'know That's not how I do business."

"Nah man, I get you. It's all good. Ah shit! My clients are gonna pay double for this. Triple!"

"My room empty?"

                         (PLAY VIDEO)

"Been waitin' for you all night. Go on man, you've earned it."

The man makes his way up the crooked flight of stairs that was bound to fall at any moment. The only thing lighting his way were candles, broken light bulbs, and the flashy clothing and lingerie of drag queens sucking each other off, moaning like there's no tomorrow.

"Ayo Gazelle! Take a look at what we made today!" LeRoy uses his pocket knife to poke a hole through one of the packets and let the grains fall over her and whatever the other whore's name is' sweaty bodies as they grind on each other and LeRoy licks the powder off them, celebrating his new product.

The man makes his way through the drowning out Let There Be Drums by Sandy Nelson and the women making out and touching themselves. Rubbing, sucking, biting, every sound audible.

Through the passed out drugees surrounded by emptied out injections and belts, and the people fucking each other sloppily and desperately, whining like cats. He fans away the smoke and makes a U-turn to a small corridor. He takes a deep breath and props his backpack, which he had taken out of the duffle bag, onto his shoulders and slowly walks across the hall.

The diamonds of the chandelier above him clinking as the cracks of paint on the ceiling boards fall on the man's shoulders and form dust. As he walks past each room he hears the moans and psychotic laughs of the other clients. The man finally arrives at his door at the end of the corridor only to be welcomed by the silhouette of a woman sucking a guy off holding a gun to her head.