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MONSTROSITY:

APARTMENT COMPLEX

ON DEADMAN LANE


Episode 4




K J WALT





Copyright Information

MONSTROSITY: APARTMENT COMPLEX ON DEADMAN LANE

Episode 4

Copyright © 2018 by K J Walt


First Publication: October 2018


Cover design by Pixie Moon

All art and logo copyright © 2018



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.


All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.


mailto:kjwaltauthor@gmail.com




DEDICATION


To my husband and children for all their support. Love you guys!

A shout-out goes to Jesse and Alexander Bettin for their helpful input!


And to all the people who love a short story where pricks pay!





Table of Contents:


COPYRIGHT INFO


ASSHOLE IN #8


THE SLOW STORE


BEAT DOWN TIME


HIDE THAT SHIT


JUMP FOR YOUR LIFE


ASSHOLES AND BEAT DOWNS


PRICKS PAY





Settle down, I don’t think so. Wandering and fighting are in my Gypsy blood.



The scent of flowers and toxic exhaust blasts in through the open windows. I still haven’t found a buyer for this monstrosity.

Gun shots ring through the air and nobody stops to call 911. Danger dominates this neighborhood and the realtors know it.

Fighting is in my DNA so when a prick gets out of hand, I spill blood. Nobody parks on my f**king grass.





Moneysaving Box Set Available! These short stories are loosely woven but can be enjoyed alone. This series is for people who like short, hilarious dramas where bullies don’t get away with anything and social-freaks are accepted. Get to The End this evening!

Warning: You’ll find a French bulldog with lots of issues, adult language, politically incorrect characters, and violence. This story could be offensive to some…or a lot of people.



Scroll up and buy to see what happens when you park on Yoska Draper’s grass.

Save some money. Box Set Available!





MAIN CHARACTERS





YOSKA DRAPER – Inherited a mansion that was turned into an apartment complex from his unknown Pimp Daddy uncle, Gitano. AKA Guardian Troll



COMFREY REYNOLDS – Songwriter, Photographer who pays rent with sex. AKA Cookie Maker



ESSIE SOMMERS – Abandoned Teen who is riding for free. AKA Rainbow Teen



JAVIER SOLVAIR – Resident Barefoot, Drug Dealer. AKA Spinning Drug Dealer



ADRIAN FLETCHER – Sexy as fuck Crossdresser who can kick ass. AKA Crossdresser



CARTER MONTGOMERY – Wise, Dark Beautifully Skinned, Symmetrically Perfect Yoga instructor with an English accent. He is calm…most of the time. AKA Darkolicious



SANG SANCHEZ – Asian-Hispanic boyfriend of Carter who also has an English accent as well as a foot fetish. AKA Yellowlicious



RILEY AGUERRA – Big eared guy who is lost as fuck…until he isn’t. AKA Big Ears



SHEA BACINO – Troll Fanatic, Beer drinking, Tattoo artist. Yoska is pretty sure she doesn’t own one bra. AKA Troll Lover



SLATE RUTHERFORD – Badass biker boyfriend of Shea’s.



ROCKIE – French Bulldog with Statue and Narcolepsy issues.

(Rockie has some cards and stuff out at zazzle dot com. KJ Walt Designs)



Dracu means fuck in Romanian.



Santa Madre de Tierra means Holy Mother of Earth in Spanish.





MONSTROSITY:

APARTMENT COMPLEX

ON DEADMAN LANE


EPISODE

4


K J WALT



ASSHOLE IN #8


Yoska Draper




The cool morning breeze brings in the scent of flowers, a toxic blast of exhaust from all the traffic, and the sound of a car door closing.


I get out of my office chair and look out the front window. A man dressed in a suit is staring at the house with a look of confusion. He has to be Clint Marks. He reserved apartment number eight a few days ago. I glance at his car and grin. It’s expensive but it doesn’t even come close to being as badass as my Camaro Z1L Coupe. Bet my dick is bigger too.


I look back at the suit. His continued frown has me wondering if I should put a picture of the place online. Probably not, I won’t be here long enough to worry about it if my real estate lawyer can get the realtors working harder to find a buyer.


Anger flashes over Clint’s face. A paint-chipped, baby-shit-green house with orangey-red trim doesn’t produce happy thoughts. He glances up and the anger disappears. Is Comfrey looking out one of the front windows on the second floor? That would explain his miracle emotion change.


I suppose I should go help him. I’m the owner, after all.


I head for the door and hear. “Hey, sexy man. You sure fill out a suit. Come over here and I’ll show you what I can do with my tongue.”


I step onto the porch and draw his attention away from MaryJo. She’s got a tight dress on and is licking a banana. My eyebrows arch when she pushes the end of the banana through the hole her missing front tooth has created. Smoke is wafting around her from her long-ass cigarette and her orange hair is a little brighter than normal. I force my gaze away from her. Bold train wrecks are hard to look away from.


“Hey, Yoska. Bring your friend over, I can take on two sexy men real easy. I’ve got a lot of love to share.”


Dracu, now I have to look at her again. She’s striking a pose and flicking her tongue suggestively. I don’t think she understands this is a real business.


“No, thanks,” I call out and glance back at the suit in front of me.


“You’ll come around one day. Tell your friend to come over anytime,” she yells over the sounds of traffic whizzing by.


I keep my eyes on the suit. “Hi, I’m Yoska Draper. Are you the man who reserved room number eight?”


Relief washes over his face. “Yes.” As we walk into the foyer, he says, “I’m Clint Marks.”


He looks around and I barely catch his grimace. But I do. “You want to see the apartment before you choose to stay?” I can’t see many suits staying here on purpose.


He looks at his expensive watch. “No. This is the only room left in the area. It’ll have to do.”


I lead him to the office door. The sweet scent of cookies drifts over to me. From my window, I see Cookie Maker with a basket. I look back at Clint and doubt he’ll appreciate her efforts. I expect he’ll take the cookies and then toss them when he gets to number eight.


It doesn’t take me long to get him signed in and a key in his hand. I point to where the stairs are. “It’s on the top floor. Right next to number one.” At his look, I add, “Long story.”



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