Notes From The Underground

CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR

I had always had an intense hatred of Christmas time and this year was no exception. I was living in a tiny two bedroom apartment with a woman who couldn't stomach the sight of me and a son who I almost never saw due to working. Being with him meant dealing with her, and I couldn't make that sacrifice, not even for my own son it seemed.

Since I was engaged I was also obligated socially to get my fiance presents, along with my friends and coworkers. The latter people I didn't mind getting gifts for, my bitch of a future wife however, it kinda bothered me that I'd have too. I had gathered up enough money to move us out, fulfilling Kendall's wish of having our own place.

But unfortunately I was still stuck walking around in the freezing cold December winds to make money to provide Christmas to my friends and family. What a pain in my ass. The den was well heated at least, so once I got off work, I decided to stick around and warm myself up more before venturing back into the cold and home. Peach was decorating a tree with Irene and her dolls, they had all seemed to become best friends recently.

Brian was spiking the eggnog and getting drunk in the back, talking to one of his customers that was in for a holiday visit. A lot of people active in the underground were here, I guess it was tradition to hang out at the den around the holidays and spread cheer. I suppose since most of us were addicts or hookers, murders and gun traders, drug pushers and bounty hunters, we didn't have much family around this time of year. So we all came to each other, the only thing close to family we really had.

A group of thieves were poking around, but they knew better than to steal from the den. Hired thieves were actually common around her. Get back what's yours, get shit to pawn for more than what you paid to get it stolen, or if you just really want something that's too expensive, it's easier to pay a low life thief. They served their purpose. Most of em were untrustworthy rip off artists though. They hardly even qualified as members of the underground.

The dolls were flirting and mingling about, all dressed in slutty Santa baby outfits The skirts were so short every time they bent over you saw their asses clad in red panties, their hair all done the same way in a pony tail. They were honestly such beautiful women, despite what their line of work entailed. There were more of her dolls than I thought, there were seven here and I had only met three before. Neato.

The mercenaries were all gathered around telling stories to some of our guys from the lab, a doll or two, and a few addicts I knew. Their stories were all about different people they had murdered for cash, how they did it, where they did it. They even brought pictures. If you can say you've never met someone with blood on their hands, that you've never met a killer, consider yourself lucky.

Bounty hunters were all over the place. A group of gals who collected money from those who didn't pay up. They were all in red latex, every curve and inch of their body framed perfectly. These girls were more than good at their job, they scared everyone they met into paying up on time. They hardly ever had to get violent. For girls so beautiful, they were ugly on the inside. Ugly and spiteful wrapped in a seductive package. 

No matter how physically appealing you are, no matter how far your good looks may have gotten you before, no matter how much of the world admires your beauty. It means nothing if you're ugly on the inside. When you're ugly on the inside, when you're rotten, beauty doesn't mean shit.

Now, I will never say it's bad to be rotten. You hardly ever have control over that. When you've been done so many injustices, that it's hard to abide by the world's rules. When you were made to be rotten, and not born that way, it's okay. The key is to never let anyone know how truly broken and ugly you are deep down, keep it your dirty little secret. That's the only way to succeed at life when the world has dealt you some bad cards.