More of Chapter 9…. Learn more about Tizzy the Girl with the Walleye Tattoo

Number Seven, in a series excerpt from the coming ball, block ,and bjork buster of a novel  The Girl with the Itchy Tigger Finger.    This time we focus on Tizzy Flatliner the girl with the walleye Tattoo…. click on Ballbrakker series to read earlier segments.   I got go shovel some snow… .enjoy.

Later on in Chapter Nine….

“Well Tizzabutt you don’t look too bad after all.’, Tizzy said to her image.  She took a long look in the mirror tilting her head from side to side to see her skin clear of all but a few token piercings.  Her hair was dye-free, back to its natural brunette color. The cornrow and gelled mohawk were replaced with straight bangs that were somewhat chaotic but less “the hey dare I am a bad-ass bitch” look she had adopted for many years.  It was her beginning of a new phase, turning of a new leaf, redemption from her past demons. This was her physical make over, but she was feeling the desire for a spiritual change from her angry and violent reactions to the world and men in particular.

Her newly metal free face with its pale skin tones and many pock marks, was soon covered by grease paint to make her blend in the dark of the pre-dawn morning.  This would be one of the hardest of her quirks to change and that was her persistence in doing things the hard way when much easier ways existed.  The path of least resistance wasn’t her style, she didn’t roll dat way, they broke da mold with this one dontcha know.

She was off to see her mother but it was barely 4 am and it would be a few hours yet before the sun brighten the eastern horizon.  She was dressed in black leather chaps, and black under armour underwear, black Gucci boots, black windbreaker and chose her one non pink biker helmet.  Her backpack was filled with tools she felt she would need.  She wanted to see her mother under her terms, that being coming in stealthly during non-visiting hours.  She tapped into the Suay Bui Bui internal server and got the reflected ceiling plan andother structural diagrams which she had downloaded to her smart phone.  She had a variety of tools to remove locks, screws, fasteners, disable alarms and a headlamp for operating covertly in the dark.  Since her mother was in a permanent catatonic state, Tizzy knew her showing up unannounced wouldn’t matter.

She considered this to be a trail run for a bigger operation.  She knew Tigger was holed up at one of Howie Rosenbomber’s lake residences.  Tigger was still recovering from his “fall” during his police interview, but also the Milaca police asked for him to stay in the state until they had finished interrogating the list of staff that worked closely and/or travelled with Tigger.  But time would be run out soon and Tigger would be soon be outta here like a bat outta hell dare.  He was too popular and too rich to be kept here long.  He demanded he have to be outta here a week before the Masters tournament.  Tizzy felt she have to go undercover and get close, real close to Tigger and find out what the hell was going down.  She had bought a blond wig and a padded push up bra to come off as one of females that our Tigger seemed to have preference for.  She was planning to get into the cabin on the sly, and come on to Tigger to see if she could get him to provide clues into what had happened to the other victims.

Tiz cautiously opened the sliding glass patio door that was temporarily covered with plywood.  She felt certain Linus would do about anything to reach her to get her to come back crawling to him.  But she had no desire to see him ever and wanted to make sure he couldn’t see her.  She hopped on her Vespa scooter and took off to the Suay Bui Bui Senior Center.  She often pushed back the memory of her mother and her childhood to the back of her mind.  It was a nightmare she couldn’t shake, but suppressed as best she could.  But it was really her “father” that had left the imprint of pain on her memory.  Pauley “Axe Man” Bunion  pro wrestler and competitive woodsman or lumberjack performer.

Never really proven to be Tizzabutt’s real father, Pauley lived with Calloon Fineliner , Tizzy’s mom, and with Tizzabutt and her twin brother Fabio for as long as Tiz could remember, at least until the “Incident of Shit Happens but we don’t discuss ever” (IOSHBWDDE or SH for short) occurred when Tiz was thirteen.  Tizzabutt face burned with anger just thinking about that time period and the circumstances that had left her mother in her permanent coma-like state and shattered their so called family unit.

She reviewed in her mind images of her father Pauley in his flannel spandex outfit. His famous tag line “I am the Axe Man, koo koo ka chew.  For whom does the axe fall for tonight?”  which he loved to practice endlessly in the mirror every morning.  What a total dickhead, Tizzabutt thought.

Her thoughts shifted as she pulled into the Suay Bui Bui parking lot.  She let her eyes adjust to the dim light and looked for the area best to scale the wall to the roof of the center.  She walked around the perimeter of the grounds, keeping her feet out of the few remaining snow piles as not to leave any footprints.  Her ears pounded with the beat of  her heart that rapidly pumped from the excitement and tension of her “mission”.   There was a vertical strip of faux stone in the middle of the building and she decided that would be a perfect area to scale the building’s three floors.

She free climbed up the stone façade using the many jutting stones as hand and foot holds.  She didn’t rush things though it was fairly easy going; she couldn’t afford to make a foolish error by rushing herself.  Even a relatively simple climb gets a little exciting when you’re up thirty feet in the air and she felt a wave of relief when she pulled herself onto the rooftop.

She opened her backpack and put on her headlamp, got out her tool kit and looked at her phone to get the upload of structural plan and decided to open a skylight over a pool/spa area as her point of entry.   She froze when she heard a door open and the voice of an adult male.

He come out of  little hut that was obviously the roof entrance stairway about 50 feet from where Tizzabutt was stopped cold.    He was looking around very bored and waving his flashlight over random areas of the flat roof, obviously a rent a cop on the night shift.  Tizzabutt crouched low and kept as silent as she could, not that the guard would hear much.  She could just make out wires leading from his front pants pocket to his ears and assumed he was listening to a MP3 player.  He was singing horribly off key to an all too predictable tune:

I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can’t deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tough
‘Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she’s wearing…

He took his flashlight and used it as an air microphone and shone the light across his face.  “Oh for Christ sake” muttered Tizzabutt, realizing it was Steve “Skeeter” Sorenson, a beat cop on the Millee Lackey police force.  Must be trying to make some cash on the side Tizzy thought.  Not the sharpest tool, but a tool none the less, Skeeter and his close buddies on the force liked to give shit to Tizzy whenever they could. The old boys network throwing their weight around with the poor stupid female who was invading their scared ground.  She was tempted to sneak up and give him a big butt kicking, but she would leave that for more opportune time, or maybe never if she could get her anger management under control.

Well our gangsta copper soon left the way from where he had come up and silence fell over the Suay Bui Bui complex.  Tizzy worked on opening the skylight, cutting out a section of the glass with her glass cutting tool, secured a rope to a vent stack, dropping the free end into the room below and  rappelled down into the pool area.  She crept carefully over to the exit door slowly opened it and peered up and down the hallway to make sure Rapper Sir Skeeter “Fix me not” was not hanging around the third floor.

She quietly went down the hallway, hoping the night shift nursing staff was having a quiet morning  This was the floor where more advanced nursing assistance was necessary.  She found the room number she wanted, 347, and pushed on the door and found it locked as she had expected.  She took her lock-picking kit out and was about to start to work on it when she noticed grunts and groans coming from her mother’s room.  She had checked and rechecked the number so this had to be right one.  She pressed her ear to the door and it was clearly subdued screams of pain.  “Was her mother sick, or having a bad nightmare or worse of all being attacked by someone on staff? “, Tizz worried.  She knew she couldn’t get Skeeter or anyother employees to help or it would blow her cover.  She worked quickly and opened the lock in under a half minute, all the while the noises continued in their  rhythmatic sequence.

The room was dark, she slipped in and quickly closed the door, pressed against it and waited to get her bearings and let her eyes adjust to the darker room. Her ears pounded with her blood rushing and her breathing was rapid and shallow, she needed to keep her emotions somewhat in check and not blow the element of surprise.

Slowly she started to make out the figure of a man mounted on top of her mother, his pelvis pushing in and out, obviously violating her mother violently.  She took a hop, landed on one foot and swung her other leg in a roundhouse kick move that brought the tip of her boot into the temple of the animal attacking her mom.  She hit him pretty much full on and he ejected off Calloon and landed into the wall with a thud.  A low moan emitted from the floor on the opposite side of Calloon’s bed, hidden from Tizzybutt’s view.  She turned on her headlamp and quickly moved to the other side of the bed.  There on the floor was a elderly man with a night cap and shabby cotton robe and nothing else on, except his full-on erection pointing back at her.  One of his hands was holding his head where her kick landed and the other held his penis that probably came close to breaking off after its sudden removal.

Tizzabutt reached into her backpack and looked for a pliers to make sure this was the last victim this piece of shit ever had.  “You think it hurts now you bastard, wait ‘til I finish the job!”  Tiz snarled.

She was about to pounce when a voice said.  “NO, TIZ DON”T, HE”S…. HE’s … he’s my friend.”

Tiz’s mind froze like a Minnesota lake in January.  Her hand dropped the pliers and she turned her head and head lamp onto the sweaty, flushed and startled face of her mother Calloon.  “Mama, … you can …. Speak. Oh my God, mama….. “  Tizzabutt’s voice soften and seem to revert to that of a young teenager.  “Oh mama”  but her voice cracked with emotion and tears, and she threw herself into the arms of her mom.

Calloon held her daughter and felt her body convulse as Tizzabutt cried on her mother’s shoulder.  “Its okay baby, it’s okay…. I was just having some sexy time with Mr. Ballbrakker and … I never expected you to show up at…. Honey do you know its 5:20 in the morning?”  Calloon felt Tiz’s trembling stop and her head popped up and a look of confusion was on her face.

“Mister who, mama?” ,  said the very serious Tizzabutt.

“Ah Ballbrakker, I know what kind of kinky name is that, but yeah he’s pretty good between the sheets and that’s all I am concerned about this days you know dare?”

Tizzabutt backed off from her mom and turned to look at the man on the floor, who was still in a world and a half of pain, moaning over and over  “ Oh fuck me, oh fuck me, oh yaddam jost let me die, oh fuck… “

Tizzabutt leaned closer to him and asked slowly,  “  Does it hertz much… that must have really hertz a lot…. I bet it hertz don’t it??”

Bjork stopped his wailing and said “ Ja yost about killed me you hoe and now you keep saying my asshole son’s name, just shot me and get it over with.”

“Hertz Ballbrakker is your son?”, Tizzy dumbfoundly inquired.

“Oh geez why are you torturing me you fucking ninja bitch…. This was my only Viagra allotment for the month and now I  will be peeing blood for the next week… fuck me, oh fuck me….”

“Oh honey I better pull the call cord and alert the nursing station and get Mr. Ballbrakker some help”  said Calloon.

Tiz was a mixed up bunch of emotions like a Rubic’s cube of feelings.  “ Ja, but you got to let me hide, I snuck in here so let me get in your closet  until they get Senior Ballzy outta here.  Hopefully they will feel he lost his balance during orgasm and hit his head.”

“Oh sure, I guess, ….I don’t know dar…that seems like lying… but sure Tiz, you gets in dare and I will call the head nurse…. Oh jees it was good to see you ja I think and I gots things I need to tell ja, you know… “  Calloon said nervously.

Tiz climbed into the closet and gave the door a pound with frustration after she closed it.   Why was her mother suddenly “OK”,  why was she having unprotected sex, why couldn’t Tiz control her anger, why did she go totally shaved, and why was Hertz always… always being in her life somehow… “goddammit all!”

Tiz put a backpack strap in her month to stifle any further crying jags or a screams of anger.  She heard some footsteps come running into the room and could make out some of the conversation.

“ There, there Mr. Ballbrakker… you will be ok… how did you get in here anyway… sure sleepwalking …. I bet….. Oh sure there is a young ninja who came and attacked you…. That’s a good one… Skeeter you might want to get a straight jacket for… Bjork isn’ it?   And some nice tranquilizers to make Bjork and mister stiffy take a nice long nap… Don’t hit me Mr. Ballbr…. I will use this tazer… hit em Skeeter  … arrrrrrrrrrrrugghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… FUCK ME!!…..”

Tizzabutt closed her eyes and all she could see was the image of Pauley Bunion saying to her…” I’m the Axe Man, you are the Walleye, koo koo ka chew…. Hahahahahahaha.”


About donnphoto

Photographer, writer, manufacturer's rep. Specialize in fine art, travel and architectural photography. Writing a fictional novel (see Ballbrakker links) and music lyrics. Sell commercial interior building products. Play golf poorly.
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