Bean Pies, Burgers & a Side of Succubus

Preface

You may recall there was a knocking on my door. I thought Tina was coming back for more. I jumped out of bed and threw a towel around my waist; however, I was sadly mistaken. As a result, I stood in my living room naked except for the towel wrapped around my waist with the five FBI agents surrounding me looking at the headshot of Marilyn Monroe and wondering had I somehow slipped down the rabbit hole found in Alice in Wonderland's fairy tale.

Chapter 1

"We desperately need your help in locating Miss Monroe. She's causing a lot of collateral damage so to speak and the sooner we find her the better for society at large." Said the female, agent Carmichael.

Her eyes were boring through me as her right index finger tapped on the photograph of Marilyn's black and white head shot.

"I don't understand?!" I said dumbfounded.

"Let me make it clear to you!" agent Carmichael persisted. "She's not who you think she is?!"

"That's not Marilyn Monroe?!"

"Yes. It is Marilyn Monroe, but it goes deeper than that!"

"I don't understand?"

We were right back where we started. Feds! I tried to help them along.

"Marilyn Monroe is dead." I said. 

That should get us somewhere I thought.

"We know she's dead. That's why we're here talking to you." Said agent Carmichael.

Now I was really lost. What did they know about me and if they did know how did they know it? Best to cut to the chase. 

"What are you talking about?!"

"You want to put on some clothes? We've got a lot to talk about."

I nodded and went into my bedroom and threw on some jeans, a t-shirt and slid into a pair of flip flops. I begrudgingly plodded back into my living room to face the five agents still standing there like Grecian statues in a row. Agent Carmichael ushered me to a seat at my dining table. I sat down and she took a spare chair and moved it next to me then plopped the folder down in my lap as she seated herself.

"What you're looking at," she said. "Is not a woman at all, but an ancient demon called a succubus." 

"A suck a what?!"

"A succubus. It's a female demon that comes into men's dreams and screw them while devouring their life essence in their sleep.

"Okay. Well, it was nice meeting all of you, but I just don't see what help I can be of. Sorry to waste your time.

I figured that this was probably some fringe rogue element of the FBI. Or simply a band of nuts out doing their own thing. Either way, I wanted no part of it. I made a move to try and stand up and lead them to the door, but agent Carmichael gently placed her hand on my shoulder with just enough pressure to keep me seated. I relaxed and sat there.

"Please Mr. Mullberry, can you just hear us out?" agent Carmichael pleaded.

I raised an apprehensive eyebrow and waited.

"I know that it sounds far-fetched," she continued. "But I'm a little surprised that you of all people are having so much trouble believing the facts of what we're telling you. I mean, you know that things exist in this world that can't be explained with merely scientific theory! It's my understanding that you've seen these things first-hand."

My curiosity perked up at a rapid pace.

"Yeah." I said. "I've been meaning to ask you who you got this information about me from? You said from a very good source?"

"I'm afraid that I can't comment on that. But let me ask you something. Was the source accurate in what they disclosed to us about your abilities?"

"It depends? I mean, I'm generally good for five stars on my food delivery job."

"Will you stop it?! We already know what you can do! If we didn’t, we wouldn't be here! I told you a very good source told us specifically about your capabilities for the job. So quit screwing around!"

"What source?!"

"We can't divulge that. But it has always been a reliable source of information and we trust it."

"What do you want from me?!" 

"Word is that you see ghost?"

"Yeah. I've been known to."

"Are there any in this room now?"

""Everyone always asks that. Well, they don't pay rent, so I would say no."

"Fair enough. Just making sure that there weren't other ears in the room."

"That's not usually an issue with ghost. But angels! Total pains in the ass! I hope none of you smoke?!"

"We don't. Why?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. So, as I said before. Marilyn Monroe's spirit has somehow managed to resurrect itself and now inhabits what we believe to be the body of another up-and-coming young starlet. An actress by the name of Selena Garrett."

"Selena Garrett?! She does all of those horror films, right?"

"Correct." 

"So why do you need me? If you know that Marilyn's inside of Selena Garrett, why don't you just go pick her up?"

"We wouldn't be able to communicate with Marilyn. Plus, Miss Garrett has no idea that she's being used as a vessel."

"And you expect me to do what?"

"The first step is to force Marilyn's spirit out of Miss Garrett's body and render it into a state where it can be captured and destroyed."

"I'm sorry, I think what you're looking for is an exorcist. That is out of my expertise."

"You're our only shot! We're hoping that there's a way that you can somehow reach and extract Marilyn's spirit from Miss Garrett's person and contain it."

"I get that. But I told you that's not my area of expertise."

"We were informed that you illicit the help of other deceased on your escapades, occasionally? Maybe drum up a helper more equip to handle the task.

"Where are you getting all of this?!"

"I'm sorry. I can't say. It's classified. Will you help us?"

"I don't know. You said that you caught her one time before. Why don't you just do whatever you did to catch her the first time?!"

"Because then she was alive. She had crossed over to human form. It made it much easier. She had to be destroyed to protect the president and his brother. The entire country was at stake!"

"So Marilyn was devouring both John and his Brother Bobby's souls in their sleep?"

"In that case in their sleep and in their presence physically. The Brothers were deteriorating at a rapid rate. That's why it was imperative that the bureau acted when it did."

"If I were to agree to help you, how would I even get access to Selena Garrett? It's not like I know her."

"If you agree we'll arrange your access."

"How?"

"We'll make you her driver."

"I have a job."

"Food delivery as I understand it, one can work at their own discretion in that profession. It shouldn't interfere with your normal activities in any fashion. Plus the government is willing to compensate you for your time."

"Really?"

She reached into the folder and handed me a check. My interest perked up expeditiously. Maybe I did need to get a real job.

"So what's the plan?" I asked.

"So you're in?"

"Well, I can't find it in myself to give you back this check, so I guess that's a yes."

"Great! We've already set you up as her driver. You'll pick her up at her home in Calabasas at seven and drive her to the studio. 

"You know that I drive a Toyota Prius?"

"We've taken care of that. Care to follow us outside?"

I stood and followed the agents outside the apartment down the hallway to the elevator which we took to the lobby and walked out the front security doors into the crisp morning air. They walked me half a block down the street and stopped beside a black Range Rover that was fresh off the lot parked on the street. 

"This is what you'll be driving!" beamed agent Carmichael. "Care of the department!"

"Nice."

She handed me the folder with Marilyn's and Selena Garrett's info.

"Everything's in there." Said agent Carmichael. "Miss Garrett's home and studio addresses are on the lead sheet on top. The agency is looking forward to working with you Mr. Mullberry." She reached out her hand and I shook it. 

"Tomorrow! Seven 'o clock!" she said in a voice too pleasant for the occasion as she gave me the keys to the Range Rover. 

"We'll be in touch." She assured before handing me a cell phone. "Thank you, Mr. Mullberry. Your country owes you a debt of gratitude."

They all nodded as one, like aliens then headed back towards their vehicle, another black Range Rover as it turned out. 

I looked at my new wheels and couldn't wait to get it on the road. I had no immediate plan on how to accomplish what the government wanted so I would need a little guidance to point me in pretty much any direction at this point.

Chapter 2

I hopped into the Range Rover and headed for the LA Zoo. I jumped on the 405. Took it to the 134 and got off on Los Feliz and rode that down past Griffith Park. I knew that Dean Liked to hang out around Mullholland in the evenings but this time of morning I'd probably find him at the zoo more than likely lounging around the monkey house.

I parked, walked to the entrance, and paid the allotted fee and made my way to the monkey house. Sure enough, there was Dean standing in front of the monkey cages imitating their behavior to a tee. I couldn't help but think what a great primate he would have made. Talent like that only rears its head once or twice in a lifetime. The chimps didn't seem that impressed. In fact just the opposite. They seemed agitated by Dean's total mockery of their behavior, some even trying to throw feces at him.

I approached Dean without him noticing. He was bent over humped back like a primate scratching the top of his head like Stan Laurel in an attempt to further infuriate his long-lost cousins the chimps. I tapped him on the shoulder. 

"What's up, Deaner?!"

He turned to meet my gaze and a wide smile appeared on his face.

"Cat! What's shaking?! What brings you to the monkey house?"

"You. Thought I'd find you here."

"That's why you're the great detective."

"I wouldn't go that far. Hey, I got a new gig. You want to help me out with it?"

"You out of the food delivery game?"

"No, not at all. The feds want me to help them out with a little problem, and I agreed to look into it for them. Hopefully this won't take up a lot of my time."

"The feds?! Whoa. Look who's the big cheese on the block."

"Yeah, right."

"Don't hurt me G-man! I ain't done nuttin!" said J.D. mockingly with both hands up in the air.

"Will you stop clowning?! You gonna help me or not?!"

"Of course. You know that I like nothing better than going on our little adventures."

"Great! Come on, let me show you the new ride."

"New ride?! Alright, Mr. President, I'm coming."

We walked out of the park into the parking lot and climbed into the shiny new Range Rover. Dean was immediately captured by the sheer luxury of the vehicle. He was looking around the interior like he was inside of an apartment.

"Swanky. I guess being a fed has its perks." He said.

"Apparently." I reversed the rover, threw it in gear and drove out of the park.

"So what's the play?" Dean asked.

I filled him in on everything that the feds had told me, than waited for his reaction. I saw the same confused expression stamped on his face that had been on mine earlier.

"Wait a minute?! You're trying to tell me that Marilyn Monroe is a demon?! This...what you call it? Succubus?" 

"Pretty much."

"That's rich. I mean I've heard that she could be a bitch at times but a full-on demon?!"

"Fucking crazy ain't it?"

"Total nuthouse."

"Exactly."

"So, you believe it?"

"The feds seem to. If I want to keep kicking around in this nice truck not to mention the check they gave me that I've since grown attached to I guess I have no choice but to check it out, crazy or not."

"Hmmm. A power grab."

"Power...?! How you figure that?!"

"Well, like you're what you call em? Rappers? Like your rappers say. First you get the money. Then the power. Then the bitches!"

I cocked an eyebrow and gazed obtusely at him thinking of images of James Dean with "Thug Life" tatted across his stomach and sporting either a red or blue scarf around his head. Thugging ass, Dean. What's next?

"Yeah. Some rappers say that." I said. "But it originally comes from an Al Pacino movie called "Scarface", made in the eighties. Which was a remake of the old Howard Hughes version of "Scarface" done in the thirties. But either way it goes...what the hell are you talking about?!" 

"I'm talking about upward mobility! Moving on up! To the east side. To a deluxe apartment in the sky!"

"When did you start watching the Jefferson's?"

"Hey, I get around. I see things! Funny show."

"Yeah, it is."

"That George. Cracks me up."

"He cracks everybody up. So, any suggestions on how to relieve Miss Garrett of said bombshell demon?"

J.D. thought for a minute, then said.

"What you need is a holy man."

"Okay. Know one?"

"Not really. But I heard it through the grapevine that one was in town. A pretty famous one, they say."

"Who is it?"

"I forgot but I think I know a guy who can put you in touch with him."

"I know this guy?"

"I think that you'll recognize him."

"Who is it?"

"Sammy Davis."

"Junior?!"

"Yeah. You know him?"

"Of course. Where do I find him?"

"He and the pack are at Mickey Cohen's for the week."

"Really? You think they're kicking around there now or is it too early?"

"You know the pack as well as I do. Cohen's got an open bar to performers. They probably never left from last night."

"There's that. If they're not there you know where they're holding up at?"

"As if you don't know?! How square are you cat?! Same place as always! The Roosevelt of course!"

"People stay in the Roosevelt?!"

"You never heard of a haunted hotel?! Here's Johnny!"

"You saw "The Shinning" too?!"

"Dude, I may be dead, but I still like a good movie!"

"Okay, my bad. Sorry. So, you want to check Cohen's place?"

"Sure. Why not. What time is it anyway?"

"Check it out!" I pointed to the digital clock imbedded in the dash. "It's eleven 'o clock. No blinking twelve, like in the Prius."

"Cool. It's probably perfect drinking time for the pack."

"Hope so. And I hope this holy man is worth it."

"Trust me. He's supposed to be famous! How can you go wrong with that?!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Okay, let's go."

I took a left then a right and we headed towards Sunset and La Brea.

Chapter 3

We parked on the street and walked the block and a half to the out of business Gap store. Dean passed through the weathered beaten wood that was secured to the metal frame of the door and hit the lock to let me in.

This time of morning, Mickey's place was pretty quiet. It seemed extra dark even though light emanated from various parts of the bar. Further back towards the rear, I saw a light coming from a colorfully painted stained glass shade hanging on a thick golden chain illuminating three men seated around a circular felt covered table playing cards.

Mickey Cohen and a few of his goons stood by watching the action while smoking cigars or holding mixed drinks and being gangsters in general. As Dean and I approached Mickey's eyes instantly zeroed in on us.

"Well, well, well." Mickey said snidely. "Look what the cat drug in? No disrespect to you Mr. Dean, but this other one!" He said shaking his stubby forefinger at me. "This one cost me money last time he was here! And I don't like to lose money!"

He was referring to a Mr. Goodman, whose soul I sent to the light after he had been attacked by a werewolf.

"Mick?! I wasn't even here when that happened! How can you blame me for that?!" I pleaded.

"I don't know! I just know that you had something to do with it! And how you even know what I'm talking about anyway?! Answer me that, eh?!"

"Now you sound like a copper, Mick!" I gambled. "You know yourself that kind of logic don't hold water!"

His eyes sharpened. A bit of a twinkle sparked across his face and he began to smile.

"Quite a pair you got on you kid. That's why I liked you right off. So what can we do for you?"

"We need to speak with Mr. Davis."

Sammy's head tilted upwards and his eyes looked away from his cards. He pushed his black jazz fedora up further on his brow and looked at me. Dean Martin who was sitting on his left spit half of his scotch out across the table then looked at me with a strange frown on his face. Frank coolly surveyed me with those icy blue lady killing Sinatra eyes. Martin was the first to speak.

"This Joker can see us?!" he asked while tapping Sammy fervently on the arm with the back of his hand.

"Of course he can. It should be obvious." Said Frank as cool as a cucumber. 

"So what's the business?!" It was Martin again. "What do you want with our diminutive dark and lovely friend?" 

"You're too kind." Said Sammy to Martin.

"I do what I can. What are friends for?" Martin replied back.

Their eyes fell back on me.

"I need to ask a favor." I said.

"The balls on this, kid!" said Mickey slapping his knee and laughing.

"Sam, I got this." It was Frank. "And just why would my dearest friend do you a favor? It's not like you're his long-lost son. Are you?"

Sammy finally spoke.

"Thanks for the paternity case." He quipped to Frank.

"Oh don't mention it. Glad to be of service. Anytime, buddy!"

"Oh you just so good to us, suh!" Sammy said while laying his head lovingly on Frank's shoulder.

"You two get a room, why don't you?!" said Martin.

"Jealous!" retorted Sammy. 

"Girls! Don't fight!" cajoled Frank. "There's enough of me to go around!"

"Great! I'm starving!" said Martin grabbing a knife and fork in each hand.

"Stop being silly!" said Frank.

"Okay. If I can't be silly, can I be Sally?" asked Martin.

"Sure. Just don't wear the red dress. You look horrible in it!" quipped Frank.

In unison like a choir singing on cue they all said loudly as one "Ohhhh!" to accentuate Frank's punch line. Sammy looked at us.

"So what's up with this cat, Jimmy?" he asked.

"He needs a holy man. I heard that you know a good one that happens to be passing through town now."

Sammy grinned. 

"Holy man?! For what purpose?!" he said. "And why come to me?! I'm the candy man! Not the holy man. You heard that song all wrong! You way off! You not in Kansas anymore you in the Congo somewhere!"

"No!" I interjected. "Dean told me that you could put me in touch with a famous holy man that's here in town visiting."

"Dean told you that?" said Sammy with a puzzled look on his face. He pointed to J.D.

"Jimmy? What is this misguided fool talking about?"

J.D. stepped forward. 

"You know?! It's that famous holy guy you hang out with every time he's in town!"

"Holy Guy?! What are you taking abou...."

Sammy seemed to catch himself mid -sentence as the recollection began to register.

"Oh!" he said. "You mean him?!"

"I guess." Said Jimmy.

"What you want him for?!"

"Some famous actress, Selena Garret got a demonic Marilyn Monroe succubus trapped inside her and we need him to exorcise it out of her." Explained J.D.

"Really? I knew that Marilyn could be a bitch sometimes but a succubus?!"

"That's what I said!" said Jimmy.

"Goes to show you," said Martin. "You never really know women."

"Preach brother! Here! Here!" chimed Frank.

Sammy directed his attention back to us.

"You sure we talking about the same guy? I mean, for a job like that?" he asked.

"Well he's holy right?" asked Dean.

"That's for sure!"

"And he's well known. Which to me means he's Bonafide. So, I don't see any problems." Reasoned Dean.

Three white female ghost wearing slinky evening dresses with mink stoves draped about their shoulders came and nestled up next to each member of the Rat Pack, placing their arms around their shoulders and leaning their hips against the upper arms of their chosen star simultaneously.

"Okay baby." Said Sammy. "If you insist that he's the man for the job. Let's go get him." He concluded.

"Where's he hold up at?" asked J.D.

"The same place everybody's held up at. The Roosevelt of course!" said Sammy.

"Of course." Said Jimmy smiling and nodding his head.

"So whose car are we going in? Yours or mine?" asked Sammy.

"Better go in mine." I said. "I tend not to get around in ghost cars too well."

Which is true. Ghost cars cannot carry living beings.

Sammy told the others that he'd catch a ride back shortly or that he just might knock off at the hotel and to catch up with him there later. We left Mickey's club with Sammy and walked a short distance to the Range Rover, cranked it up and headed towards the Roosevelt.

Chapter 4

We arrived at the Roosevelt, parked, and walked into the lobby of the towering rectangular structure located on Hollywood boulevard. The hotel had lost its sheen from the old days when it was at its heights and every star in Hollywood had either laid their head or partied there. Now the traffic in the lobby was light and the hotel looked like any other hotel found anywhere else on the American landscape. I walked right past the desk clerk straight to the elevator and took it up to the twelfth floor. We walked a short distance until we arrived at room 1207. Sammy knocked and we all stood back and waited. We heard rustling on the other side of the door before it swiftly swung open. Who I saw standing there shocked and amazed me at the same time. But in this case, not in a good way.

"Sammy?! What are you doing awake at this time of the afternoon? And who's the bone rack and ofay?"

Dean's face was puzzled. He leaned in and whispered to me.

"What's an ofay? Someone from Indiana?"

"Close enough. You got a lot to learn about holy men."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

Sammy ignored our chatter and pressed on with the reverend.

"Oh they're cool, reverend. Ain't you gonna invite us in?"

"Well I usually don't consort with white devils, none the less invite them into my room. But a bone walker too?! Not one but two abominations at my doorstep!" he proclaimed.

The tall goateed light skinned black man began to sniff the air around me. His nostrils flaring as he did so. Finally, he stopped and a look of utter indignation appeared on his face.

"This one," he said indicating me. "Has the smell of brimstone all about him!" he stated, stomping his foot down angrily. 

"I'm cursed." I offered.

"I knew it! Damn-it, Sammy! What are you trying to do to me?"

"These guys just want to talk to you. They got a favor to ask."

"A favor? From me? Why would I do these devils favors?!"

"I don't know why?! Can we come in and talk or not?!" inquired Sammy agitated.

The tall thin black man rolled his eyes behind the black rimmed glasses he was wearing and exhaled deeply in exhausted frustration. I noticed that he was dressed in a two piece black suit and tie atop a pristine white Egyptian cotton shirt. The shirt and the upper portion of the suit about the chest and stomach area were riddled with bullet holes that had long stopped bleeding but the splatter stains of blood on his shirt and suit were still evident.

"Fine, Sammy!" he said begrudgingly. "Only because it's you! Come in."

He stepped back and let Sammy, Dean, and myself enter.

"Thanks Malcolm. That was very white of you." Said Sammy smiling as he crossed the threshold.

"Don't push it, Candy man." Said a stone-faced Malcolm. Dean and I took seats on the sofa and Sammy saddled up in a comfy upholstered chair and Malcolm X sat in an identical chair across from us.

"So, what the hell are you talking about Sammy?"

"I think maybe Drake should tell you himself."

Sammy and Malcolm both looked at me. I explained to Malcolm exactly what the FBI had told me about how Marilyn Monroe's demonic ghost had inhabited the body of the actress Selena Garrett and how they wanted her spirit either captured or terminated. Malcolm listened to my story in silence. When I had finished, he composed himself and said in a very dignified voice.

"Why should I give a damn what happens to these crackers?"

I glanced at Dean and he was watching Malcolm intently and nodding his head as if he were a new recruit into the Nation of Islam movement. I could tell that he was getting deeply into the role now. He was Huey Newton waiting for the moment to stick it to the white man. Malcolm took an exasperated breath and continued.

"Furthermore," he said. "You want me to be some sort of exorcist?! Since when has that ever been a part of my resume? Now I can exorcise the ignorance and self-hatred and the mental chains that the white man has imprisoned the black man in! How the white devil has had his knee on the throats of black people long before George Floyd....."

And he went on in that vain for another hour and a half. Finally, I said.

"I understand exactly where you're coming from Mr. X. But think about it. This is Marilyn Monroe. Symbol of white feminine power. The white prize. The thing the white man treasures the most. Fears the mere thought of it ever falling into the evil mongrel clutches of the dark hordes. But as it turns out, Malcolm, you were right all along. The great white goddess is a devil! Just like you said. Now is your chance to show the white man that his prize was nothing but a hoax. Nothing more than what you've been telling us all along. A devil!"

I felt pretty good after that argument. Maybe I would have made a pretty good lawyer. By any respect, the argument seemed to strike a chord in Malcolm and a wide grin beamed across his face.

"Young man, you just got yourself an exorcist. When do I start?"

I filled him in on the details about my pickup time with Miss Garrett the next morning and told him that Dean and I would grab him on our way out to meet with Selena and her hidden demon known to all as Marilyn Monroe.

Chapter 5

I dropped Dean off back at the zoo by his jag and told him to meet me at my place tomorrow morning. The plan was to swing by and snag Malcolm then head out and grab Selena and rush her back to the studio in Hollywood. He nodded and we did our customary dap; beatnik slide of hands sign off and went our separate ways.

As I drove towards the valley it occurred to me that I had no idea how to contain a demon once it was loose. The FBI hadn't told me, and I hadn't time to go through the written materials in the folder yet. I decided to call my aunt Brenda when I got home. Being a high-level practitioner of Voodoo, she would tend to know these type of things.

I pulled into my parking space used the key on the security door strolled past the lobby and took the elevator to the second floor. I entered my apartment and immediately turned on the TV and flopped on the couch. I took out my phone and dialed my aunt.

The phone rang four times then she picked up.

"Hello." She answered.

I heard gun shots. 

Close.

"Aunt Brenda?! You okay?!"

There was a loud explosion followed by machine gun fire so close I had to pull the phone away from my ear. I put it back to my ear once it was silent and the vibration against my palm had ceased. I heard the click clop of high heels echoing in a run, down what I imagined to be a corridor or empty marble paved hallway. There were two more separate intervals of short machine gun fire volleys. The sound of lone heels on stone. Large metal object hitting a lighter sounding metal. Hollow. Tin like. Now other voices. A crowd. The slamming of a door. All at once my aunt said just as pleasant as you please.

"What's shaking, nephew?"

"Auntie Brenda, what's going on?! You alright?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine! Just some kind of coup going on here or something or other. I think that a dictator was assassinated. You know how politics go."

"And they shooting?!"

"People celebrating and what not."

"Where are you?"

"Right now Caracas Venezuela. Bout to get out and hurt some feelings at the poker table!" she said laughing. 

I heard a distressed chicken's cackle then the wrenching of its neck with a sickening crack. There was silverware being removed from a table and a jagged ripping sound followed by the heavy liquid draining into a glass container. I heard a shot glass slamming on a table and my aunt spraying the contents from her mouth in a spitting motion. There was the click of a lighter followed by puffing and long exhaled blowing noises. 

"Auntie?!"

"Sorry nephew. Just tying up some loose ends. What can I do for you?"

I gave her the whole spiel about the FBI and Marilyn Monroe and ended with my dilemma of not knowing what to do with a demon after it's exorcised from a body. Aunt Brenda was silent for a moment then I heard the rattling of what I knew were dried chicken bones shaken in a plastic cup before being flung on the table like dice.

"You need an ancient demon catching bowl. I got a few but someone's got to pick it up from my house. I'm gonna have a friend get it from my place and deliver it to you by later on this evening. What you do is tape or draw a picture of the demon on the bottom of the bowl. After the demon has been exorcised, you repeat these words: "Demon Your prison awaits you! Be gone!" or something like that. I'll look up the exact words and send it with the bowl. Anyway, this will suck the demon into the bowl then you invert the bowl on a flat surface. Be sure it's mobile! You want to be able to transport the demon." 

I thanked my aunt Brenda for her counsel, and she reminded me to look out for the package that would be arriving later on. We said our goodbyes and I clicked off.

It was still early in the day, so I decided to make a little pocket money before my debut tomorrow with Selena Garrett. I rolled a joint and sparked it up then flipped on the Munch Bucket app. The action was immediate. I ended up delivering numerous burger combinations from different chains. A slew of pastrami sandwiches, a bunch of liquor deliveries, a few gyros and kebab combos and about half a dozen subway runs. When it was over, I had checked a pretty penny. I went back to the apartment and spent the rest of the day playing video games. 

The phone rang.

It was my brother Brandon.

My immediate response was to douse the phone with holy water then destroy it by fire. But phones are too expensive. So I begrudgingly answered it. 

"Yeah Brandon?"

"Still no manners."

"Hello Brandon."

"Don't show so much enthusiasm, I might cry. So what the hell was up with that Tina girl you brought over to Mom's the other night? Is she a horror movie host or what? You scared the hell out of mom you know."

"By the look on your face she wasn't the only one."

"Shut up."

"You have to learn to be more accepting of other cultures."

"You need to worry about not scaring the hell out of mom. She worries about you and stunts like that aren't helping matters!"

"Stunts like what?!" 

"Hanging out with bad elements! Are you in a gang or something now?"

"Yeah. I'm El Chapo! What you need ese, I got you, holms."

"You need to take things serious and stop joking around so much. This life is your only shot.

"Not necessarily. You should see the activities planned for me in the afterlife. In fact, my card's quite full."

"Maybe I'll tell officers Hunt and Casey to keep a closer eye on you. Keep you out of trouble. It seems that you could use a little help."

"Keep your Nazi friends away from me! I made it this far without your assistance, I think I've got this."

"Well mom and I are worried,"

"Don't be."

"I just wonder when you're going to grow up and start using better judgement?!"

"How about if I start with this call and hang up?"

The phone went dead. Dick! He was always good at beating me to the punch. 

I'd have to get an early start tomorrow, so I ate dinner, smoked another couple of joints then watched a little television before knocking off for the evening. 

Chapter 6

Next morning, I was up bright and early. I shaved, showered and ate. By the time I left the house the first rays of sunlight were barely visible through a haze of smog. I was wearing a black two-piece suit with a black tie and felt quite uncomfortable. Few people hate dressing up more than I hate dressing up. It was a major contributor to me not being a lawyer or going to church for that matter. Actually, the latter wouldn't get me to go no matter what other than the day I'm trapped inside a casket and that wouldn't have been my choice it'd be a final fuck you from either my mother or brother Brandon.

Dean was already in the lobby when I got downstairs, so we jumped in my new Rover which I had parked out on the street and made our way to the Roosevelt to pick up Malcolm.

It was still early when we arrived at the Roosevelt. I had an Idea I'd been kicking around, and I wanted to run it down to the hotel manager.

Dean and I climbed out of the Range Rover and entered the lobby. I walked directly up to the desk clerk and asked to speak with the manager. The desk clerk a youngish looking Latino kid nodded at my request and disappeared momentarily then returned with a middle-aged round balding man wearing round wire framed glasses with pretty thick lens in each. They both approached me and stood on the other side of the counter facing me. 

"Was there a problem that I could help you with, sir?" Asked the manager.

"I was wondering the same thing about you?!"

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't help but notice that this place doesn't seem to be the hot spot I've read about it being in its heyday."

"Times change. The old days. Can't bring em back. I'll attest to that!"

"Maybe the old days still linger here. I think you know what I'm talking about?"

"No sir. I don't understand."

"I saw that your entire twelfth floor is empty."

"So."

"Come on dude. We both know what's going on. Be real."

He thought for a second then sighed. Like when you put down a heavy object that you carried for some distance. 

"There has been a persisting problem for some years." He said.

"What? Say it." I coached.

"Well, in no uncertain terms we're not really supposed to discuss it."

"Come on you can tell me. I'm here to help remember?"

"But it's company policy not to talk about these kind of issues. I could get in a lot of trouble!"

"Let me tell you. What's your name, can I ask?" 

"Marvin." Said the manager. "And this is my desk clerk Luis." Luis nodded.

I extended my hand and shook both of theirs. 

"Glad to meet you. Like I said, let me tell you your problem, I know. This place is haunted."

"How did you know that?!" said Marvin stunned."

"I see ghost."

"No guff?"

"No guff."

"Are there any here now?"

"Just James Dean standing next to me."

"James Dean is here?! Now?! "

"Yep."

"Don't that beat all. I loved him growing up. Can you tell him, hi?"

"He hears you."

"Thank you very much. Glad to make your acquaintance." Said Dean.

"He thanks you for the compliment."

"Wow." Crowed the manager in astonishment.

"Look," I said. You're losing a lot of money simply because this place is haunted. I can clear these ghost out for you."

"You can?"

"Sure can."

"For how much?" 

"I'm gonna give you a bargain basement price. I'll clear the entire floor for ten thousand dollars."

"Ten thousand dollars? That's a little high don't you think?"

"Well a regular ghost-buster would charge you almost fifty thousand dollars. I'm giving you a flat fee without all the hocus pocus because I actually see the ghost. Ten thousand dollars is a steal! Think of the added business you're gonna be able to pick up after this place is cleared."

The dream of added revenue coming to his hotel sparked in his pupils.

"Okay. You've got a deal." He reached out his hand and shook mine.

"How long will it take you?"

"I'll have them all out by Friday." I said with confidence.

"Okay. Of course I won't pay anything until the job is done.

"Fair enough."

We shook hands again and Dean and I took the elevator up to Malcolm's apartment and picked him up. We all piled into the Rover and headed for Calabasas.

As for my play with Marvin the hotel manager. I knew that the Rat Pack would be moving on after they were finished playing Cohen's club at the end of the week. Malcolm was just passing through and would probably be moving on after we were done with our little escapade. By my estimation that would clear the twelfth floor out of supernatural entities in total. If there were more unwanted sprits inhabiting other floors we could negotiate another deal at a later time. I was feeling pretty good about myself having worked out a lucrative paying gig with Marvin. I'd have to concoct more capers such as this one and make the most out of my ability to see ghost. My mind was racing with ideas to fill my coffer. It was time that I made my gift start paying off for itself. We arrived in Calabasas and pulled up into the driveway of a sprawling mansion that radiated success and luxury. 

"So this is the lair of the white devil?!" said Malcolm reflectively. "Be careful young blood, you're dealing with a devil within a devil!" he warned.

I nodded back to him in a manner that showed that I was considering his concerns, but I wasn't. Thanks to his sacrifices and those of others in his era, white people were a lot easier to deal with these days.

I walked to the front door and pushed the buzzer. There was a short wait before the door swung open to reveal the most stunning woman I had ever seen, next to Beyonce. She was casually dressed in a cream-colored sweater and jeans and had red curly hair and deep blue eyes like the clearest lake. You didn't look into her eyes you fell into them. Her features were perfect and her body was no joke either. She was the type that you immediately wanted to have babies with, stop drinking, smoking and get a real job. Be a fifties dad and like it. I felt a shifting underneath my zipper as the beast tried desperately make himself known. 

"Hello Miss Garrett. I'm your new driver, Drake." I extended my hand to shake hers, but she just looked at it like it was some foreign object and made no attempt to return the jester. Embarrassed I lowered my hand. The phrase "white devil" running over and over in my brain on a loop.

"Who the hell sent you?! Where's David?!" she snapped.

"There's some management reshuffling going on at the company right now. I was assigned to you just for a few days then David should be scheduled back in as your regular driver." I shot back. 

She eyed me skeptically, then asked.

"You got any credentials?"

I dug in my pocket and came out with the I.D. that I had found inside the FBI folder and showed it to her. She seemed to calm down at this jester as she exhaled in exasperation.

"Fine!" she exclaimed in a huff. "Wait a minute!" she said and left monetarily. When she returned, she was holding a clutch purse in one hand and a shoulder bag draped over the other shoulder.

"Okay. Let's go!" she said flatly.

I nodded and led her to the Range Rover and opened the rear door for her and Selena slid in next to Malcolm who was pressed close against his passenger door with a look of disgust on his face like I'd just thrown a nest of vipers into the back seat with him. I jumped into the driver's seat and punched it towards the studio in Hollywood.

"I can't believe that I let you rope me into cavorting with all these wreathed white devils!" Malcolm complained.

"I hear you reverend!" It was James Dean X. "The white man has always meant our kind no good! One day they will meet their reckoning! I assure you that, my brother!"

"Preach young brother! Preach!" Shouted Malcolm from the back seat. 

Damn. I hated to admit it. But James Dean was a damn good black man. Was there no limit to his talent?

We arrived at the studio shortly after. I got out and opened her door, and she got out and made her way to the studio without a word as if I were non-existent. 

"What a bitch!" I thought. But she was possessed by a demon, so I decided to cut her a little slack.

"That was the most disrespectful! Unappreciative devil that I have ever had the misfortune to be in concert with!" declared Malcolm.

"The white female devil is not all she's cracked up to be! Take it from someone who knows. The black man has been hoodwinked into thinking in most cases that even the white man's trash is the black man's prize!"

It was the Honorable Elijah Dean once again. These two together were really beginning to wear on my nerves.

"You know?" said Malcolm to Dean. "You would be a great Muslim if you weren't so blonde and white! It's really a shame!" he turned to me. "I really like this white boy! And I never say that!"

"One love my brother. All praises to Allah!" said James X.

These two were going to elope and start a family if I didn't separate them soon. And the fact that James Dean was exhibiting qualities blacker than myself was another hard pill to swallow. I had in essence created my own nightmare.

I stepped outside to smoke a cigarette and mull things over. I lit up and inhaled the smoke into my lungs then blew it out. A sensation of calm began to flow over me.

"You know that you're falling into the trap of killing yourself with the white man's poison!" said Malcolm leaning out the window.

Great! Another Tiffany! I truly am in hell! 

"Preach on my brother!" echoed Dean. "You must learn to prostrate yourself to the grace of Allah!"

"Right on young prospect!" said Malcolm before slapping five with Dean then tapping their backhands together to symbolize on the black-hand side. 

Oh god! This was getting sickening! Dean was being such a hypocrite. He knew that he was dying for a smoke, no pun intended, but now that he was deep into character being a Muslim, I was now an adversary. This had to end and soon.

Chapter 7

I decided to speed up Selena's date with the exorcist. Selena's break wouldn't be for another few hours, enough time to put a plan in action. I jumped into the Rover and headed for Hollywood Boulevard. 

I parked on the street and the three of us made our way to a costume shop located in the middle of the block. I found what I wanted pretty quickly, paid for it and minutes later we were back in the Rover headed back to the studio. I stopped a block away on a side street and broke out my purchase and changed clothes. Now I looked exactly like a studio security guard. I drove to the studio but parked away from the entrance. I asked Dean if he thought he could snag a security ID for me and he assured me that it wouldn't be a problem. He got out and walked off. I waited. A short time later he returned with the credentials. I clipped the tag to my shirt and drove right into the security parking lot with no problems. I grabbed the package that I had received via ups from the rear of the car where I had hidden it underneath some rags. The three of us headed towards the actor’s trailers. We found Selena's trailer without issue. It appeared empty. Dean passed through the door and opened it for Malcolm and myself. We slipped in and closed the door behind us. I didn't want to alarm Selena and be arrested by the real security for breaking and entering and attempted creepiness. I could see it now, her entering the trailer and spotting me the new driver that she doesn't know waiting for her like the Hillside Strangler. That could only end badly. So I decided to hide in the closet. Which looks just as bad if you think about it. I started to concoct a plan in my mind. I would seize upon her and tie her to a chair. I wouldn't want her to scream so I would have to gag her. As I thought it through it dawned on me that this is Class A creepy felony one behavior, but I was too far into it to turn back now. I was hiding in a well -known starlet's closet awaiting my opportunity to pounce on her, bound and gag her and then exorcise the demon Marilyn Monroe out of her. Try telling that tale to a judge in criminal court and see where it gets you. I estimate ten to twenty in a maximum-security prison would be my guess. I was drenched in sweat thinking about all of things that could go wrong. I worked out the logistics with Dean and Malcolm, the Muslim brothers. I would definitely need their help to make this as quick and quiet as possible. I decided to let them do the heavy lifting and I would come out of the closet after she was gagged and secured to the chair. I had wrapped a length of rope around my waist underneath my shirt before dressing. I removed that and the ball gag that I had purchased at the costume shop. I gave the rope to Dean and the gag to Malcolm. I figured that he'd appreciate the opportunity and symbolism of quieting the "white devil"! 

I went back into the closet and waited. I could still see into the room through the slats cut in the door. I sat on the floor watching Malcolm teach Dean how to play the game "Tonk" with a set of playing cards that were lying on a table. 

After about an hour we heard the jiggling of the trailers door's handle and seconds later Selena walked in. She went directly to the makeup area and seated herself in front of a mirror. I saw Dean and Malcolm get up from their positions at the card table and launch plan A into action. Malcolm threw the ball gag over her mouth and secured it tightly. I saw a distinct look of satisfaction appear on his face as he performed this action. Dean was next. Looping the rope around her arms and upper body and tightening the slack securing her to the chair. Once she was trussed up I stepped out of the closet. Her eyes blazed with malice and hate as I approached. I was holding the package that I had received last evening in my hands. I tore into the box and retrieved a tan circular bowl and a slip of paper. There was a small wallet sized headshot of Marilyn already taped to the bottom of the bowl done obviously at the prior request from my aunt to the boxes unknown sender. The bowl had strange symbols and ancient markings painted all around its inner rim. I placed the bowl on the counter atop a plastic tray that would serve me well in transporting the demon. As I stood in front of Selena Garett, I could feel the hate in her eyes raging towards me.

"Selena." I said calmly. "It's not what you think. I know that this is going to sound crazy, but your body has been possessed by Marilyn Monroe. You're probably not even aware of it. You're more than likely having blackouts, and finding yourself in strange places that you can't recall how you got there? Right?!"

"Ummmmph! Hrummmph!" she blurted as she struggled against the bonds. 

"Good. We're making progress." I continued. "Marilyn Monroe is a Succubus. That means that she's a demon that enters the dreams of your lovers and drains them of their life an inch at a time. Are you with me so far?"

'Hrummmph! Ummmmph!"

"Great! You can't see them, Selena. But the Marilyn inside you does."

Dean and Malcolm stepped into view.

"These are my friends." I elaborated. "James Dean and Malcolm X. We're going to try and exorcise Marilyn out of you. You're going to feel much better after this is done. I assure you!" I turned to Malcolm. "She's all yours."

"Ummmmph! Rummmmph! "Protested Selena.

I stepped aside and seated myself at the card table as Malcolm positioned himself in front of her. 

"So here we are," said Malcolm. "Me and the white devil! The same white devil that denigrated and humiliated the black man at every opportunity! You have propagated in lies and dissension amongst my people! Your hedonism, racism, and barbarity has been a blight to all minorities! You have raped our women! Burned our land! I command you white devil, to leave the body of this other white devil! In the name of Allah!"

As I looked on in horror at the strangest exorcism to ever be performed by anyone. I was thinking to myself that I had made a major mistake and that there was no way in a million years that this was going to succeed. Then to my surprise a vaporous plume of mist floated out of Selena's chest area and began to take form next to Malcolm. I ran to the counter and grabbed the demon catching bowl and tray then readied myself for exactly what I wasn't sure.

Marilyn appeared in full body looking as beautiful and stunning as ever. She wore a sleeveless clinging white evening dress that accentuated her curves. I realized that my mouth was open and I was almost openly drooling. God was she fine! I pushed my tongue back in my mouth and prepared myself for action. Marilyn smirked at us and the evil twinkle in her eyes were palpable. 

Hello Malcolm" she said in that sultry sexy tone remembered so well from her movies. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you. How you're a strong virile black specimen of loveliness. I see that they didn't lie. I must say that you're much more handsome in person than in your pictures. You know, you should let your hair down. We could have a really good time together." 

"No chance white devil! Your comely ways have no effect on me! Praise Allah!"

She turned to James Dean. I almost felt sorry for her. She had no idea what she was in store for.

"James Dean." She cooed. "I've always had a soft spot for you. I'm probably your biggest fan."

Dean's face was emotionless. Marilyn had no idea that she was now addressing James Hajj Malik.

"Your lures won't work on me white devil!" said Dean to the puzzled Marilyn. "The Black man will no longer fall victim to the deceits and trickery of the white man who for years have kept the black man in bondage with his racist laws and his policies that are steeped in the philosophy of white supremacy!"

Upon Dean finishing this tirade He and Malcolm slapped five and dapped each other up. Poor Marilyn. The Muslim brotherhood could not be severed. 

Marilyn's face was perplexed. She wasn't used to rejection. I saw her eyes shift to me as she spoke.

"What's your name?' 

I didn't reply. 

"Alright mystery man. I saw the way you looked at Selena when you first met her at the door. You know, I could reenter her body, and you and I could have a real good time. I know you want her too."

She was right on all accounts. I'd be lying If I said that I wasn't considering her proposition and possibly would have agreed if Malcolm and Dean weren't staring daggers through me forcing me not to be the douche bag that I actually am. Begrudgingly, I channeled my inner patriotism and sense of duty to country and held the bowl and tray out towards Marilyn and spoke the written pledge that accompanied it.

"Be gone Demon! Back to the hell which you were spawned, I imprison you in the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Ghost! I cast you back into the void from whence you came. Out demon! I condemn you to your fate! You are compelled to comply! Get into the bowl where you will be sealed forever and ever!"

Marilyn's body began to convulse and shake. She began to de-materialize until she was reduced to nothing more than a vaporous mist that floated across the room and collected itself inside the bowl. I flipped it over on top of the plastic tray. I grabbed the masking tape out of my pocket and wrapped it around the bowl and tray, two revolutions around the width and length forming a cross as instructed. Once the bowl was secured to the tray, I instructed Dean and Malcolm to undo the bonds of the now unconscious Selena Garrett and to lay her on the couch. After the completion of the task we left the trailer of the sleeping Selena Garrett and made our way off the lot and headed for the Range Rover parked in the security parking lot. We were all feeling pretty good about our accomplishment and Malcolm and Dean were yacking it up with each other and basking in their victory over the evils of the white man. 

At this point I couldn't wait to drop Malcolm off and reclaim my old friend James Dean. Just as I was thinking this, I saw a security guard walking towards us at a fast pace. I kept calm. All of my credentials were in order. I did quicken my pace, however. He in turn quickened his. It wasn't long before we were both engaged in a full out sprint through the parking lot as I desperately searched for the Range Rover with the ex- Olympian deputy dog hot on my heels.

"Why are we running from this cracker?!" asked Malcolm indignantly. "He ain't even armed!"

"Well, between me and you he looks kind of big!" I said increasing my speed.

Dean shook his head in dismay. 

"My brother. Have you lost the warrior spirit within you?! You the first man! A Strong black man!" said Dean X.

"Preach, brother Dean!" cried an exuberant Malcolm. I had no time to listen to these idiots! Their speeches only gave me the strength to quicken my pace. I had soon built up some distance between the guard and myself. I dodged behind a big black truck and crouched down near the driver's side door to catch my breath. I placed the tray down on the ground beside me momentarily to wipe the sweat from my brow. To my horror, the front wheels of the truck began to roll backwards in reverse. I saw the front tire roll over the fragile glass bowl crushing it into shards and fragments. A rapid vapor of mist poured out from the smashed collage of tape and glass and accumulated behind me. The physical form of Marilyn appeared with a hateful vengeful smirk on her face. She flipped me the middle finger.

"See you in your dreams, lover!" she promised before swirling back into a cloud of smoke and vanishing into the cosmos. I crouched there dejected, thinking how all that work was for nothing. I didn't notice the shadow above me blocking out the rapidly dissipating sun. I looked over my shoulder, and I saw the security guard glowering down at me looking like a telescopic misshapen giant from my angle. 

"Hey?!" he said. "Got a light?"

I rose to my feet, dug in my pocket and handed him the lighter. He lit his cigarette and as he took his first puff, I saw his eyes widen. I followed their trajectory and saw that he was glaring at the badge clipped to my shirt's pocket. His eyes hardened.

"So, you're Jerry Kowlowski, eh?" 

"Fo Sho!"

I looked at his name tag. It said visitor security. It was more like a paper sticker pasted to his shirt. It also said in black magic marker: J. Kowlowski. Shit!

Our eyes met again. Hold up! This seems like a good time to interject a little history. Remember when I told Bruce Lee that I was a green belt? Well, I lied. Why? Sheer cowardice. No other reason. In my heart I knew that whatever had defeated not only Bruce Lee but his master, the Ip Man, also, I absolutely wanted no part of. In truth, I'm actually a brown belt. I've got trophies to prove it! Or rather had trophies until my mom threw them all away along with my comic books and GI Joe's! An act that I will never forgive her for! But I digress. Like I said, trophies! I kick ass! I readied myself for what was to come next. The guard lunged forward. I instinctively split his arms with double outside blocks and head butted him on the nose as his momentum carried him forward. The impact drove him backward and forced blood to spray instantly from his nostrils. I sprung like a cat. A well- oiled trained machine. Reacting on instinct. I struck him twice in the gut and ended it with a left right combination to his jaw. My inner fears were indeed true. Unfortunately for me, I hit like a bitch. Did I mention that I fought in point karate tournaments? When it comes to scoring points skillfully there's no one better than me. The guard stood there unaffected. I saw his right foot out the corner of my eye move at such a terrific speed that I'd still be marveling at it if my world hadn't of gone black all at once.

When I woke up my hands were cuffed behind my back and I was seated in a hard-wooden backed chair in the studio security office. There was a long wooden table in front of me. I looked through the glass window and saw the real police gathered outside interviewing an irate Selena Garrett, probably telling them everything they needed to know to give me about hundred and fifty years! This was my worst nightmare coming true.

I sat back and sweated. My brother Brandon would probably drop his defense role to prosecute me. What glee that would give him! I sat back and sweated some more. I was much too small for federal prison. And I just found out the hard way that I hit like a bitch! I wouldn't stand a chance. I'd be someone's girlfriend before the sun went down. This really sucks! No pun intended. I mean, I have hemorrhoids, I'd make a lousy girlfriend.

As I sat there regretting that I had never learned to play a harmonica. I saw Agent Carmichael and her crew of agents descend on the place. Carmichael spoke to the head officer in charge as agent Gibbs addressed Selena Garrett. Soon everyone was nodding and all at once the room was empty. Agent Carmichael entered the room and released me from the handcuffs. I felt a great relief and began to massage my wrist.

"Thanks." I said.

"Don't mention it." Said Agent Carmichael.

"So did you capture the prize?"

"I did. But she got away,"

"Got away?! That's unacceptable! She's free to go anywhere now!"

"I'm sorry. I tried. Like I said, I had her."

"You did say that didn't you? Succubus are very vengeful. Ancient wrath and all that kind of thing. There still may be a way to catch her after all. She's probably not very happy that you exorcised her out of a lucrative young body. She'll want revenge."

"What do you mean revenge?"

"She'll more than likely show up in your dreams and try to kill you. With loving kindness of course if you're into that kind of thing."

"When?!"

"An intelligent guess would be tonight."

"She doesn't know where I live."

"She's got your scent. She'll find you."

"Like a blood hound?"

"Exactly."

"I'll use cologne."

"Won't work."

"So I'm screwed?"

"Not necessarily."

"What does that mean?"

"We'll have someone there with you. One of our people. They'll know how to recapture the elusive Miss Monroe!"

"Who is it?"

"They're an expert in these matters, don't worry."

They walked me to the Range Rover, and I got in and drove off. I dropped Malcolm off at the airport which happened to be located at the local cemetery. Seems cemeteries are generally more times than not air terminals for the dead. We waved him off standing at the edge of the runway as he boarded the large ghost 747 plane and disappeared into the horizon.

Dean and I walked back to the Rover. I decided to head back to the Roosevelt. It was the weekend and I knew that the Rat Pack's engagement at Cohen's had ended a day ago. I was glad that my old buddy Dean was back to normal. Now he was an ex-card-carrying member of the nation of Islam. Back to being his old super cool steely eyed self.

"Glad to have you back, reverend." I goaded.

"Oh that? You know how it goes. I'm like a natural sponge. Can't help it."

"Yeah. Talent like yours can be a burden. " 

We drove to the Roosevelt, parked on the street and walked to the front desk. There was a different desk clerk other than Luis stationed at the counter and I asked to see the Manager Marvin. For some reason the girl at the desk giggled before she sensuously sauntered off to retrieve her boss. She was a youngish looking petite European type that looked exactly like a doll fresh out the box.

Marvin appeared shortly after with the look of a businessman stamped on his face. We shook hands and I told him that I had taken the necessary actions to rid his floor of the ghost. We took an elevator up to the twelfth floor Marvin did his customary inspection and just as I had expected except for Dean there wasn't a ghost in sight. Satisfied that the floor was clear of unwanted ghost Marvin took me back downstairs and wrote me a check for ten thousand dollars. We shook hands and I gave him one of my newly crafted business cards informing him where he could call if he ever needed my services again. We shook hands and I left adding a satisfied customer to my new fledgling business. I looked back over my shoulder, and I saw the new desk clerk wink seductively at me then wave at me by wiggling her four fingers in fashion of playing an invisible piano. 

"Hmmm." I thought. "Maybe two satisfied customers. I'd have to check into that at a later date. 

Chapter 8

I dropped Dean off, back at his car in Griffith Park, then headed home to the Valley. Once inside I immediately tore into my dinner which consisted of two chicken sandwiches and a side of fries from Popeye's. I washed it down with a tall can of beer, followed by three to four healthy rolled joints. I didn't want to go to sleep. Turns out that my prior activities weren't exactly conducive to sleep avoidance. In fact, completely the opposite. It was like at some point an unknown assailant crept up behind me and clubbed me in the back of the head. Before I knew it, I was in Dreamland.

I dreamt that I was lying on my back in bed, nude except for a pair of red silk boxers. I remember the silk feeling good gliding against my skin like tiny fingers as I squirmed in the bed on the hot sultry night. I soon noticed that I was not in my own bed, but in a circular bed with blood red bedding and a canopy of sheer pale pink and purple fabric. The whole scene echoed an air of debauchery and lewdness. I saw the curtains part at the foot of the bed and sure enough it was Marilyn in all her sexual glory. She crawled on to the bed and made her approach like a hungry vampire, pulling down my shorts and immediately getting to work. She found the vain like a pro. The top of my head exploded in ecstasy as I melted into warm wetness. I never wanted it to end. But it was a dream. It didn't have to end? Did it? When she had finished, she looked up at me with a strange confused look in her eye. I was smiling down at her satisfied and unharmed. The funny thing about dreams is, turns out that you can last forever. You can have girl orgasms if you will it so. Again and again and...well, you get my point. I immediately got excited again and flipped her on her back and we went at it that way for what must have been about an hour and a half by the look of exhaustion on Marilyn's face. From there I put in a little work for about an hour walking the dog, if you know what I'm saying. I spied a book on the nightstand beside the bed. It was the Karma Sutra. I ran her through the entire book twice before hearing a knock at the door. I went to answer it, and it was the postman with a copy of the Karma Sutra II. I paid the man and he gave me the thumbs up sign before turning and whistling a jaunty tune as he walked away.

Now Marilyn was pleading to leave and even tried to escape through the open door, but I managed to pull her back into the room by her ankles. I slammed the door and dragged her across the room as she clawed at the carpet in vain in an effort to resist. Her pleas of how tired she was and her promises to return at a future date when she had more energy and pep fell on deaf ears. I'd have none of it. The night was young. And that volume of the Karma Sutra II wasn't going to do itself. We started in on page one chapter one and worked our way through it in what I thought must have been record time. I noticed that Marilyn seemed to be getting older as the session drew on. I attributed it to her make-up sweating off. Some women you see them without their make-up, and you would barely recognize them. I once knew this girl that I thought was really cute. Super sexy. But she came into work one day without her make-up on and I swear she looked like a possum. So, you never can tell. But all of Marilyn's curves seemed to hold up, that was for sure. At least for my purposes. My stamina and energy seemed unending. I felt like a superman. 

I was in the process of experimenting with further variations of the Karma Sutra in the hopes of possibly authoring book III myself when I saw a puff of smoke appear beside the bed. It was Tiffany the angel dressed in her navy-blue business suit as usual with that sexy fitted skirt snug around her shapely plump bottom. She parted the thin hanging fabric and looked down at me with dismay and sadness as she shook her head in disgust.

"Drake. You have to stop." Said Tiffany.

"Please! Make him stop!" pleaded Marilyn. "I don't understand?! Why my love making has no effect on him?! Instead of giving me power like it normally does it seems to make me weaker?!"

"That is because Drake is cursed already. Your attractions have no effect on him. But with each hour that you remain in this dream you grow weaker. If you do not escape into another body before daylight you shall remain trapped in your true body of an old ancient hag with all the ailments of an old woman, forever!" warned Tiffany.

I pumped with even more fury from my position behind Marilyn while flexing both my biceps and yelling "I am invincible!"

"Not quite." Said Tiffany.

Tiffany was a party dampener by nature. I'd take whatever she had to say with a grain of salt.

"If you don't stop this before the sun rises your heart will stop and you will die!"

"But you just said that her magic has no effect on me!"

"At night. The shock of the sunlight will stop your heart instantly! You must desist with this activity now Drake! Stop! For your own good!" Tiffany commanded.

"Chill-ax Tiffany. I know that you'd say anything to stop me from having fun!" I said. "You're just jealous cuz you missed your chance to make the beast with two backs earlier, now you're hating!"

You are truly disgusting! I swear!" declared Tiffany. "Well if you won't listen to me. Maybe she can talk some sense into you!"

My Aunt Brenda stepped forward with one hand on her hip and carrying a tan bowl inside of a birdcage in the other hand. She glared down at me with an awkward scrawl on her face. 

"Boy!" Aunt Brenda said with authority. "Get your ass up and stop acting a fool! Let me gather up this here demon!"

"Yes Auntie!" I said reflexively like a trained soldier and jumped off Marilyn and stood naked beside my Aunt Brenda and Tiffany. Both glanced momentarily at my erect penis then back at Marilyn. An exhausted and gasping Marilyn begged to enter the bowl and cage that my aunt held. Aunt Brenda removed the bowl from the cage and held it out towards Marilyn. Marilyn's physical body evaporated into steam that floated across the room and collected itself within the circular tan bowl until she rested there still radiating smoke upwards like dry ice. My aunt inverted the bowl on the cage's bottom and locked the small, barred door. She mumbled what I expect were Voodoo incantations over the cage and the bowl magically fused itself tight against the cage's bottom. My aunt turned to me and looked me deep in the eyes.

"Wake Up, Nephew!" she said.

My eyes shot open. I was sitting on the couch of my living room. I felt drowsy. Through my haze I thought that I saw my aunt give FBI Agent Carmichael a birdcage. I saw Tiffany standing beside my aunt giving me the thumbs up sign with both hands. My eyes closed and I was back into unconsciousness.

I must have slept like a rock because it was well into the afternoon when I had awakened. I noticed that now I was in my own bed and someone had undressed me down to my underwear. I had vague memories of a weird sex dream of some sort, and it was my aunt finally breaking down and telling me the particulars of the story which enables me to recount it to you now. I also had another hazy memory. It was about my aunt, Tiffany, the FBI and a birdcage. As I got up and gathered my senses I began to think that it was all a crazy dream. But when I went to the refrigerator, I spied the check from Marvin at the Roosevelt and the second check owed to me from the government lying on the dining table. Maybe it all wasn't a dream? I opened the fridge poured myself a glass of juice and downed it in one gulp. I heard a knock on the door and said Fuck it! I'll just answer it in my drawers. I opened the door and it was agent Carmichael. Alone. She pushed herself in before I could say anything. Her body pressed up tight against mine. I could feel her hot breath on my face as she seemed to hyperventilate in my arms. I felt an immediate jolt inside my shorts. I was still randy from the hazy memory of the previous night's wet dream. She slammed the door behind her and wrapped her arms around my waist and neck. She began to walk me backwards towards the bedroom. We both crashed to the bed with her on top of me. 

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I'm doing my patriotic duty!" she replied.

Agent Carmichael then stripped off my underwear and ripped open her blouse. She maneuvered her panties just a few degrees and I found myself falling into heaven.

Foreshadow

I lay there satisfied and smoking a joint as Agent Carmichael snored beside me. All and all, the day had ended pretty choice. Or had it just begun? I wasn't really sure. I heard my phone ringing on the coffee table, and I walked to the living room to pick it up. To my surprise it was a blast from the past. My cousin Murder from Compton. I clicked on.

"Yo? What's up!?"

"What's up boy?!"

"What's been up with you?! I ain't heard from you in like forever!"

"Dude. Got a little trouble."

He sounded scared.

"Gangs?!" I asked.

"No nigga! I ain't scared of no gangs! Gangs is scared of me! If it were gangs, I'd just put in some work! You know how I do it! Fuck a gang!"

Good. Because he was right. Gangs were more up his alley then mine. Murder had been a gang leader ever since we were kids. I mean his name was Murder, for cripes sakes! So, I wondered why in god's name was he calling, me? 

"So, what's up? You sound shook?" I asked. 

I always tried to sound extra black whenever I spoke to anyone from the hood as a habit to over-compensate for the fact that I grew up in the Valley. In actuality, Compton scared the shit out of me!

"Well..." he was hesitant. "It's a ghost!" he finally spat out.

"Really?" I said. "Who?"

There was a pause.

"So you're not freaked out?" he asked incredulously.

"Naw. Why would I be?"

"So, it's true? You see em?"

"Yeah. You know that."

"Yeah. But I just didn't quite believe it. Your Mom and Brandon said you was crazy from the accident."

"Yeah. I know."

"But it's true! You can really see em!"

"Yes."

"I got a problem."

"Your house is haunted?"

"Not mine."

"Whose?"

"Grandmama"

"Grandmama Sadie's house is haunted?"

"Yeah! It absolutely is! And the ghost are crazy man! I've seen, it myself! I think that they don't like black people! Trying to scare Granny out but you know Gran, she's tough! Ain't nothing gonna make her leave that house! But I don't want her to get hurt. There ain't nothing I can do in a situation like this! You can't shoot a ghost! Can you come down and check it out as soon as you get a chance. Like now?!"

I sighed inwardly. There was nowhere I hated going more than to the hood, for a number of reasons. One I stood out like a sore thumb. I just didn't fit. In two seconds you knew I wasn't from around there. The way I talked, walked, dressed, just vibe in general. You knew. My reflexes sucked at distinguishing gunfire, so I didn't duck and run as quickly as everyone else. Just little things that made me stand out. 

"Alright, Murder." I said with regret. "I'll swing by and pick you up later this afternoon."

We said our goodbyes and clicked off. 

When I went back into the bedroom Agent Carmichael was awake. I climbed back in bed and had another round of here we go around the mulberry bush before she dressed and left but not before kissing me passionately at the door before departing. "Protect and serve." I thought. "Now this is my idea of making America great again!"

I showered. Ate at the diner and drove back to the zoo and spotted Dean performing Tai Chi by the panda cage. I asked him if he wanted to roll to, Compton. He said that he did and hopped into the car. We hit the 405 south and took it all the way to Compton and got off near Grape Street and grabbed my cousin Murder, then headed towards Granny Sadie's house which was more towards Watts a heavy Blood area. Murder was Hoover Crip. Bloods were stanch rivals of the gang he was affiliated with. I began to feel a sickening feeling in my stomach. Having Murder in the passenger seat was like riding with an open bottle of nitroglycerin or a nuclear bomb timing out to zero. I looked into my rear-view window, and I could see Dean feeding off of my cousin Murder's energy. Lapping it all in. It wouldn't be long now before he'd be thugging it up Hoover Crip style. I shook my head dreading what was headed my way.

Miraculously, we made it to Granny Sadie's without incident. We knocked on the door and after some minutes Granny Sadie opened the door. She was a small dark thin woman wearing a short gray wig and a blue cotton dress spotted with white daisies. She was spry for her age which I'd put at late eighties or early nineties. Upon seeing us her face lit up with joy. She hugged Murder first then myself. 

"Drake! Is that you?!"

"Yes Granny Sadie."

"Lord, I ain't seen you in forever! Why you wait so long to come around?!"

"He scared, Granny!" it was Murder. "He's a Valley boy! He's scared someone might shoot or rob him. And they might!" he needled.

"Stop scaring the boy! Ain't nothing going to happen to him!" scolded Granny Sadie. "Now you?!" she addressed my cousin Murder. "You better worry!"

"Awww Granny Sadie." Whined Murder.

"Awww nothing!" erupted Sadie. "You need to change your life!"

"Look!" pleaded Murder. "We came here to help you get rid of these ghost. Do you want our help or not?!" asked Murder trying to flip the subject. 

Granny Sadie got the hint and let it drop. She embraced me again long and deep and then led us into the house. As soon as I stepped in the door I could see the pandemonium going on. A flurry of pots and pans flew about the room along with doors opening and slamming all at once. How she had managed to survive here amidst all this chaos was beyond me, but she was indeed as stubborn as they come. I knew that her and Murder couldn't see the cause of the disruptions, but me and Dean certainly could, and I was shocked to say the least.

It was Groucho Marx and his two brothers Harpo and Chico doing a routine from one of their comedic movies, Duck Soup, Animal Crackers or one of their other studio hits. I couldn't help but think how stupid it was to title your movie after a food product. Only a real menace would do something like that. I told my Granny Sadie and Murder right away what the problem was. They couldn't believe that the Marx brothers were in her house causing havoc. She asked me why and I said to let me approach them and ask. I stepped forward and tried to get one of the brother's attention. They were deeply involved in their activity of slapstick tag and hide and seek.

"Groucho! Harpo! Chico!" I implored. "Mr. Marx! Anyone?! Please can I have your attention?! Anyone of you?! Can you tell me what the problem is?" 

Suddenly, they all stopped in their tracks and stood there looking at me with stunned looks on their faces.

"My god!" said Groucho. "I think this shvartze can see us?!

To be continued.... 

In the next exciting.... 

Munch Bucket "Eerie" Mysteries

Book IV

Gumbo, Gefilte Fish and Golems