Jun
22
“Fat Daddy.” Paul addressed a corpulent immaculately dressed man.
Fat Daddy dealt drugs, had since he was twelve and he found that the older kids on the block were willing to give him ten bucks a tab for the pain killers he found his mothers medicine cabinet. After that he stole a Physician’s Desk Reference from the Library his parents used to take him to to check out Dr.Seuss, and with the PDR he was able to harvest forgotten prescription drugs from the medicine cabinets of his friends. After he had exhausted these resources he moved on to selling marijuana, ecstasy, cocaine, heroin, and meth. There wasn’t an illicit substance that hadn’t passed through the meaty hands of Fat Daddy Jones at one time or another. Now Fat Daddy was more of an executive or perhaps a middle manager with aspirations beyond his abilities, but he played the part. He arranged shipments, collected payments from his men on the street, sent muscle to straighten out accounts that were in arrears, and occasionally enforced discipline himself. Paul usually dealt with Reg when he needed to score, but Fat Daddy saw Paul’s studies in pharmacology as a potential future resource and would occasionally deal directly with him in order to cultivate a relationship. Paul in his part felt that by dealing directly with Fat daddy he was important, that he was an insider.
“Paul my man – and his beautiful girl, what’s going on.”
“Just gettin’ square.” Paul passed the folded twenties cupped in his hand to Fat Daddy as they shook hands.
“You’re alright. Listen I have some business to conduct, but why don’t you go and talk to Reg. He might have something special for you.”
“We really have to be going.” Claire voice shook.
“I told you that I wanted to see Reg and say hello.” Paul gave her a withering look. “Thanks man.”
“Don’t mention it. And you take care of that little girl or I might eat her up.”
Paul and Fat Daddy laughed and exchanged another jovial handshake, but Claire didn’t see any humor in Fat Daddy’s comment. He said it in a benevolent voice and with a smile on his face, but she could see the sin in his eyes. The gluttony that had a hold on Fat Daddy’s soul was not limited to epicurean delights. And pleasure twisted by gluttony leads to perverse evil permutations of desire that resemble the original pleasure less the more the appetite is fed. Fat Daddy fed his appetite’s. The power and the drug’s gave him the avenue and no morality, no conscience existed to hold him back. Claire saw this in his eye’s, saw it everytime he looked at her. Every time his pink tongue flicked across his livid lips and he winked that glassy protuberant eye. She looked back and he was watching her go. He smiled and lifted his eyebrows.
