CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Man, you ever see so many people?” Tom asked, looking everywhere. They were on Castro Street, in the middle of the street because the sidewalks were all but impassable.

“Fuckin’ fags, must be a million of ’em,” Hector said.

“You think that’s the place?” Archie asked, indicating a bar just off to their right where the patrons overflowed through the open doors onto the sidewalks.

“Nah, the sign over the door says that’s The Five and Dime. We’re looking for Castro Mary’s,” Hector said.

“There’s a couple of hot babes over there, checking us out,” Archie said, nodding in their direction.

“They’re not babes, they’re drag queens,” Hector said. “You peckerhead.”

Archie looked again. One of the “girls” waved at him and blew a kiss. “Hey, there, handsome,” she called in a baritone voice. “I’m Veronica and this is my girlfriend, Betty. Where you going?”

He grinned and started to wave back, until he saw Hector shoot him a furious glance. Archie dropped his hand and replaced the grin with a scowl. “Well, they sure look like hot babes,” he said.

“Don’t be turning homo on me,” Hector said.

“Fuck you.” Archie thought for a moment. “Anyway, I’ll bet they were smiling at the pooch.” Hector was carrying Honey Pot in his arms. “Yeah, you got that right, he is sure one cute little doggie, isn’t he?” Tom said. He frowned. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t be carrying him out in plain sight like that, though. What if the cops are watching for us? Say like that Todd dude has called in the Connery guy and his buddies?”

“Now, you know, that’s the first bright idea you’ve had,” Hector said. “Here, put him inside your jacket.” He handed Honey Pot to Tom.

“What if he starts bleeding again?” Tom said doubtfully.

“What, you’re afraid of a little blood, you wuss? Put his panties back on him, then. You saving them for a souvenir or what?”

Tom, who had sort of thought maybe he would keep them—not everyone would know they had come off a doggie—reluctantly took them from his pocket and struggled to slip them onto Honey Pot’s hind legs. She wriggled and tried to lick his face.

“Get out,” he said, but he laughed anyway. He was sure a cute little pooch. In a way he was sorry they had to give him back. Of course, there was the money to think of: A hundred bucks. He’d never seen that much money at one time. Who would have thought it? Hector was as mean as cat piss but he was truly a wise dude. There was no denying it.

He gave up on trying to get the panties on the pooch. Anyway, he really had kind of hoped to keep them for a souvenir. He glanced in Hector’s direction, but Hector was busy looking for the bar, Castro Mary’s, where they were supposed to meet Fido’s owner. Tom tucked the panties down inside the back of his gangbanger pants instead.

Something bumped against his leg and he looked down to see that they had been joined by a Springer Spaniel. The Spaniel looked longingly up at Honey Pot and darted in and out between Tom’s feet.

“Hey, careful, there,” Tom said, almost tripping over him.

“Little guy wants to play,” Archie said. “Ain’t that cute. Fido is sure a popular little mutt. I still say he’s like one of the Moes.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should keep him,” Tom said tentatively. That was what he had secretly been wishing for, but he had been kind of afraid to suggest it until Archie brought it up.

“What the fuck, you crazy? You know how much money a hundred bucks is?” Hector said.

Tom, who actually didn’t know, said, “Yeah. You’re right.” Another dog, a mixed breed, joined the Springer. “Sure is a popular little dude, though.”

* * * *

“Man, this is sure a popular place,” Jake said. “Are we looking for anything in particular?”

“No, just keep your eyes open for any sign of trouble,” Teri said. “Oh, well, yes, if you see that Drag Thing, I think we ought to take him in on that mugging, even though I am not entirely convinced those guys were telling the truth the other night.”

“We didn’t get statements from them,” Jake said. “Without any witnesses, it would end up just Drag Thing’s word against that Wald guy’s, and frankly, Wald struck me as pretty flaky.”

“I agree,” Teri said. “Still...we’ll see what Drag Thing has to say—if we spot him. It is hard to imagine he would not show up here, though. Halloween. The Castro. Gosh, look at these mobs.”

“He could be standing right next to us, and we might not see him,” Jake said.

“Man, those are great cop costumes,” a sailor said, giving Jake in particular the eye. “How about a mutual strip search, officer?”

Jake started to laugh, but caught Teri’s eye and assumed a stern expression instead. “Watch it, fella,” he said in his deepest baritone. Too bad, though. The sailor had been kind of hot. Nice buns, too.

* * * *

“That’s the best turkey costume I’ve ever seen,” a passing Spider Man said to Caleb.

“It’s not a turkey,” Caleb snapped. “It’s an owl, damn it,” but Spider Man had already vanished into the mob.

The Great Dane suddenly gave a mighty tug on his leash.

“Whoa, there,” Caleb yelled, taking a couple of little jigging steps as he tried to hold the dog in check. “Rover’s on the scent of something. This might be it. I’ll bet it’s that She-Cat.”

“Maybe you should let him go,” Sylvester said.

“Maybe I don’t have any choice,” Caleb said, feeling as if his arms were being pulled out of their sockets as the Dane lunged insistently forward. The leash slipped from Caleb’s hands, and in a moment, the dog was gone into the crowd with one mighty woof and a clickety clack of lavender toenails on the pavement.

“After him,” Caleb cried, but before he could go more than a step or two, someone had blocked his way—or rather, something, something enormous and wearing a blue dress covered in sequins.

* * * *

“Honey Pot!” a voice shouted, and a short-legged man in an orange tank top ran up to the Moes. “Give her to me.”

He snatched the pug out of Tom’s hands and hugged her with delight. “My poor baby, daddy has been so worried, did the mean men hurt you, my little sweetie pie pooh.” He gave her a big kiss. Honey Pot licked his face in return and wagged her tail enthusiastically.

“The mutt is fine,” Hector said, stepping to the fore. “Now fork over the bread. One hundred dollars, and no tricks.”

Todd reached for his wallet, but before he could get it, a huge Great Dane with a lavender bow at his neck and toenails to match bounded out of the crowd and gave a mighty leap at Tom.

Caught unexpected, Tom fell to his knees on the sidewalk. The Dane sniffed enthusiastically at his backside and immediately jumped atop him and began to hump him frantically.

“Hey, get him off,” Tom shouted, trying unsuccessfully to crawl away, His low rider pants, already perched at a precarious level on his scrawny hips, slipped downward to bare his snow white bottom “Fucking beast is trying to dick me, get him off. Ouch, hey, not my butt hole, you fucking queer! Get him off!”

“Okay, you guys, hold it right there,” someone shouted. Two cops, a man and a woman, ran up. “Sorry fellas, what you do in private is your business, but no sex action in public,” Jake said sternly. “Bestiality or otherwise.”

“Jesus, like he’s my date, or what?” Tom cried, wriggling frantically, which only inspired the Great Dane to increase his efforts. “Hey, hey, quit, I tell you, stop.”

Two more dogs had jumped into the fray, a Springer trying to get in place alongside the Dane and a big mongrel who decided he would start at the opposite end. He placed his paws atop Tom’s head and began to thrust energetically at his face.

“Hey, get that away from me,” Tom said, “I ain’t into sucking cock, and not especially no doggie cock, you four legged pervert.”

“Whose dogs are these?” Teri demanded. “Who’s running this live sex show?”

“Hector’s the boss, tell ’em, Hector,” Tom wailed. “Ow, oof, get this monster off my butt. Hey, not in my face, you fucking mutt.” He dropped his face into his hands. Undeterred, the mongrel continued to hump his scalp.

“Hey, can I help it if the dogs got a boner for this dickhead?” Hector said. “I guess he’s just the type turns doggies on. As for me, I was just talking some business with our buddy here.” He jerked a thumb in Todd’s direction.

“Arrest him, officer,” Todd cried indignantly, clutching Honey Pot to his chest and pointing an accusing finger. “That monster was trying to get money for my Honey Pot.”

“He’s peddling your honey pot? So, prostitution, too,” Jake said. “And live sex shows, dog stuff, right out here on the street. Buddy, you are in some real trouble.” He took hold of Hector’s arm. “And, you, down there on the sidewalk,” he said to Tom, “break it off. I’m ordering you. The orgy is over.”

“Make ’em quit, Hector” Tom wailed. “Ouch, oh, no, don’t.”

Archie backed slowly away from all this activity. He was thinking that if he could get just a little further, he could be gone in the crowd. Half a block, and they would never find him. Things looked like they were getting seriously out of hand here. If he got busted again he was in deep shit. He hadn’t shown for his last couple of appointments with his parole officer.

“Hey, honey,” someone said in a stage whisper at his side, and he looked around to discover the two drag queens who had been giving him the eye earlier.

“I’m Veronica,” the dark haired one said, winking at him and taking hold of Archie’s arm, “And this is Betty. And our apartment is right over there, if you were thinking about making a getaway.”

“Veronica and I just love company,” Betty said. “Especially man company.”

“Especially cute man company,” Veronica said.

Hector was struggling with the two cops now. As Archie watched, undecided, Hector managed to get his hands free, and he made one of those mistakes people sometimes make when under pressure. By the merest chance, he found his flailing hand on the guy cop’s gun. On an impulse, Hector yanked the gun from its holster and fired it into the air. People in the crowd began to scream and shove at one another, trying to get away.

Oh, man, the poop is going to really hit the fan now, Archie thought. He smiled down at the drag queen holding his arm. “Think I’m man enough?” he asked Veronica.

“You’ll do,” she said, smiling back. Betty grabbed Archie’s other arm and between them the two lovelies whisked Archie quickly away.

Hector was struggling in earnest with the two cops now and Tom was still being energetically humped, front and back, by a growing horde of dogs. No one noticed Archie disappearing through the door with the two drag queens. In a moment, they were inside.

“Whew,” he said, “Thanks for saving my butt.”

“Your butt is our pleasure. Are you a jughead?” Veronica asked.

“No, my name’s Archie,” he said.

“She meant, a marine,” Betty said. “And it’s jarhead, honey, I wish you’d get it right.”

Veronica shrugged. “Jughead, jarhead, I don’t care what you call them, the point is, they’re bottoms. All these nelly Castro queens want to be on top. It so gets to be a bore.”

“Oh, hey,” Archie said. Betty had groped him.

“Never mind, girl,” she said, “I’m sure this is going to work out very nicely. That’s pretty impressive, Jughead.”

“Archie,” he said. He hesitated for no more than a moment. Outside was nothing but trouble. Anyway, it had been a while since he’d gotten laid and Betty’s hand was producing quick results—and, truth to tell, he never had been all that picky about the minor details. The two drag queens were total babes. So what if they weren’t real women? He was a real man, wasn’t he? That was the important thing, and their sex didn’t change that.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he said, grinning.

They grabbed both his arms again and hustled him up the stairs.

“I’ll bet we’re going to, though,” Betty said with a giggle.

* * * *

Jake had just finally gotten the cuff on a struggling, cursing Hector when more shots rang out nearby, followed by another chorus of screams. Teri grabbed for her gun. This was crazy. She had never seen the Castro so hopping.

“You go ahead and check that out,” Jake said, “Don’t worry, I can take care of this joker”

“Hey,” Tom sobbed, pinned to the sidewalk. A mob of dogs—twenty or thirty of them by this time—crowded around him, dancing and woofing for their turn. “That fucking hound just got my cherry.”

Dark brown Birkenstocks appeared in his line of vision, and Tom looked up, but a pair of bobbing canine balls temporarily blocked his view. A French poodle had replaced the mongrel atop his head. Tom pushed the doggy testicles rudely aside, eliciting an enthusiastic arf, arf, arf, arf from their owner, and a torrent of something wet and sticky on his scalp.

Tom looked up. What he saw was a bearded man with a priest’s collar looking down at him.

“Repent,” the stranger said in a sepulchral voice. “You have surely strayed, my son, but I tell you truly, redemption awaits you. You have only to admit that what you are doing is wrong.”

“You’re telling me,” Tom said plaintively “This is about as wrong as it gets, you want my opinion. I done trains before but I was never the station.”

“Do you sincerely wish to change your ways?” the stranger demanded.

“Absolutely,” Tom said fervently. An ambitious Scottie tried to take the Great Dane’s place behind him, hopping wildly up and down on his too-short legs.

“And you truly are ready for this, this abomination you are doing, to end?” the stranger said, looking both surprised and delighted.

“Ready? Shit, it can’t end soon enough for me,” Tom said, trying to shoo away with one hand a Chihuahua who had replaced the French Poodle and could reach no higher than an eyebrow, which apparently deterred him not at all. He went to town energetically.

“Then I can happily tell you that there is another path that you can follow in lieu of this one,” the stranger said.

“Show me the way, please, padre” Tom said. “I’m ready to boog. I swear it. This shit sucks.”

A hand reached down for him. Tom seized it and scrambled to his feet, the dogs falling away. The Great Dane, having done what he had come to do, jumped up to place his front paws on Tom’s chest, almost knocking him down again, and gave him a sloppy but grateful tongue-kiss.

“Fuck off,” Tom said, kneeing him. “You ought to have kissed me before hand, you horny bastard.” He tugged his pants up.

“I’m Father Flinnigan, of The Heartfelt Hands,” the priest said, shaking Tom’s hand up and down heartily, his beard bobbing with each hand pump. “Our business is lost souls, and we have an animal shelter as well. I see you are good with dogs. If you would care to join with us, I can promise we will give you a good home and spiritual guidance to go with it.”

“A home?” Tom said, shoving a late coming Beagle aside. He thought of the Bat Cave with its urine smells and mildew. “You mean, like a real bed, and regular meals, and stuff like that?”

“I will welcome you as if you were my own son,” Father Flinnigan said. Although he had managed to amass dogs galore in his two years with the mission, he had yet to bring in a single human convert. To find this wayward young man tonight, eager to repent his sinful ways and join him, was like a miracle. He couldn’t have been more thrilled. “I will be a father to you,” he vowed in a voice trembling with emotion.

Tom ran his hand through his hair and brought it back with a grimace. “Yech,” he said, staring at his hand, “Look what that fucking mutt did in my hair.”

He glanced past Father Flinnigan. Archie had disappeared somewhere, and so had the woman cop, and the man cop was reading a still swearing, handcuffed Hector his rights. For the moment, the coast was clear.

“Daddy, I’m all yours,” Tom said to his new benefactor. “Can we, like, head for home now?”

* * * *

“You,” Caleb said with a gasp, looking up into Drag Thing’s audaciously painted face.

“Why, it is the naughty man, isn’t it?” Drag Thing said. “The naughty man that told terrible fibs about Drag Thing.”

“Arrest him,” Caleb cried, looking at the three agents, but before anyone could move, another enormous creature with a mop of coppery hair and what looked like a badly groomed mountain lion on a chain suddenly leaped from between two buildings to confront them. The cat snarled ominously and strained at the chain holding her.

“Aha,” Janet Jackle yelled, her eyes flashing maniacally, “So you’re Drag Thing? I’ve found you at last. Well, bitch, I have a score to settle with you. You nearly killed my Melissa. Now you will have Missy Hyde to answer to.”

“Jesus, look at that pussy, it’s huge,” Lawrence said, so bug-eyed he completely forgot about drawing his gun.

“Is that what they look like?” Curly asked, blinking. “I never saw one before. It’s not very pretty, is it? And it doesn’t look anything like the picture in the coloring book.”

“My pussy is not pretty, but she is very voracious,” Janet Jackle said.

“What’s that mean, what she called it?” Curly asked Lawrence in a loud whisper.

“It means it eats things,” Lawrence said.

“I thought it was....”

“Let me show you, Mister Scrub,” Janet interrupted them with a cackle of glee. She bent down and unclasped She Cat’s chain. “Oh, beautiful pussy, oh pussy my love, what a beautiful pussy you are,” she crooned. She pointed a finger at Drag Thing and cried, “Go, Missy Hyde. Attack! Kill! Kill Drag Thing!”

“Grrr, Meow, Grrrr,” Missy Hyde roared in eager anticipation, saliva drooling from her fangs. She crouched, topaz eyes gleaming—and leaped, not at Drag Thing, but at Caleb, landing on his chest and knocking him flat to the ground.

Lee tugged at Drag Thing’s sleeve. “I think it’s time we went trick or treating,” he whispered.

“I think you are wise,” Drag Thing agreed.

“Awk, eek, urk,” Caleb squawked like a wounded parrot, feathers flailing, “Get this monster off of me.” He struggled to fend off the claws that threatened to rip his face open, and saw with terrified eyes the shining fangs coming closer his throat. The memory of the times he had taunted the cat flashed before his eyes.

“Your gun, you moron,” Sylvester said, whacking Lawrence’s arm. “Shoot the cat before it kills Wald.”

Lawrence had been occupied with explaining things to a fascinated Curly. Now, looking around, he immediately grasped Caleb’s plight. “Jesus,” he swore. The cat was about to eat the bird. He palmed his gun, took quick aim, and fired.

She Cat gave a shriek of pain and leaped into the air. For a second or two, she turned her malevolent eyes on Lawrence. Terrified, he backed up hastily, tripped over Curly’s feet and fell on his back. Before he could regain his balance or shoot again, She Cat had taken a mighty leap, over Caleb’s prone figure and charged into the costumed Castro crowd. Screaming, the terrified Halloween revelers parted to make way for the beast, and in a moment she was gone.

“You’ve hurt my pussy,” Janet cried. “You—you dick!”

Lawrence was halfway to his feet. She slapped the gun out of his hand and knocked him to the sidewalk again. Stunned, he landed beside Caleb.

“Hey, you can’t do that to my partner,” Curly shouted, putting his hands angrily on his hips. “Play fair.” For once, no one even noticed his indignant fart.

Janet would have done far more than knock people down. She was mad enough, and felt strong enough, to rip them to shreds, all four of them, and she would have done so in a minute, but her thoughts were on the wounded She-Cat. Melissa’s child. She must save her.

“Come back, come back, Missy Hyde, come back to The Five And Dime,” she called, pushing and shoving her way through the terrified crowds after her. “Oh, she’s gone,” she sobbed in frustration.

She paused momentarily to look over her shoulder. “It’s all your fault, you monster,” she said to Drag Thing. “You, you horrible...where is she? Where is Drag Thing?”

Drag Thing, however, had vanished as well.