The Cecil Hotel

Chapter 3: Take a hike, Mike!

"WAKE UP!!" Mike awoke startled to see a fat short man with a long beard shaking the bed.

That figure was Gil. Duh.

"What? Why? It's fuckin 3 in the morning!" Mike said confused.

"We got mugged. There's a guy who stole all our money. And I wanna catch that fool before he gets out of fucking California!" Gil said.

"What guy? Wait what the hell are you talking about?" Asked Mike, dumbstruck.

"There's this fucking old dude who's robbing everyone in East LA supposedly. I heard it on the news. And he robbed the whole friggin hotel too! And he's heading to San Francisco and I've gotta catch this bruthafucka before he strikes again!"

Mike was actually relieved by the news, until Gil told him that they are building another Cecil Hotel up in San Francisco, where they are heading.
"Wait wait man, you never told me that we're fucking building another hotel are you nuts? Since when did WE get involved in this bullshit?" Mike said furiously.

Just then, the hotel staff made an announcement.

"Listen, ladies and gentlemen, the LAPD has finally caught the man who is mugging all of East Los Angeles. 78-year-old Héctor Múndo Domínguez is now in custody."

"Thank fuckin God," said Gil. "Now I don't have to catch that bruthafuckin creep."

"Phew," Mike said stupidly, sighing with relief.

Just then, they got another knock on the door.

"OH GOD DAMN IT!" Gil said, cussing and snarling and gnarling and snorting. He threw his glass of whiskey at the window. (He's already had about 10 of them in the past 5 minutes).

He opened the door and "Help! An intruder is about to break into my room and kill me! What do I do?! Can I spend the night?" Yelled the man who came there the night before, and he was also the same man who was in the parking lot the day they came.
"Not interested. Sorry," said Gil slamming the door in his face.

"But..."

"If you say that word one more time I'm gonna bust your ass so hard you won't feel a thing cuz you'd be fuckin dead," said Gil impatiently.

The man continued to bang on their door.

"HELP THIS AN EMERGENCY!" He yelled.

Gil opened the door. "Fine. But only if you pay me."

"How much?" Gulped the man.

"10 thousand dollars," said Gil angrily.

"10 thousand... But dude! I don't even anything close to that much money!" Yelled the old man.

"Then get it," said Gil.

"But how?!"

"Stealing, you stupid asshorn!"

"But... Stealing?! How the hell am I going to do that?!" Yelled the old man impatiently.

"Dude. Look. I'm a fuckin cop, okay? There's no way you gonna get caught with my protection man. I steal all the time! That's the whole reason I became a cop, see, because that way, the last thing people would assume is that I'm a criminal," said Gil.

"Dude! That doesn't sound like a bad idea to me!" said the old man.

"Well let's get moving then!"

"But what about the madman..."

"To hell with the madman! You wanna come with me, you come with me. You understand, mate?"

The old man nodded his head.

"Aren't we leaving yet? I'm getting a headache," whined Mike.

"If you wanna leave, go take a hike, Mike. Because we ain't goin' anywhere until I drink another bottle of whiskey," said Gil.

"Wait wait wait man, you've already had 10 of 'em!" said Mike.

"Do I look like someone who gives a fuck?" Asked Gil.

"Geez sorry man. Didn't mean it personally."

"Good. I'm glad," said Gil. "Now I'm gonna watch some more TV while I'm at it. And you, ol'man, are gonna get some food for us," Gil said to the old man.

"How?" Said the man.

"Here. I'll give ya 50 bucks. Just make sure you pay me in return when ya get all rich and mighty," said Gil.

"Okay cool," said the old man.

(To be continued.)