orangetoughguy | log post II

[Larry adjusts the mirrors just a bit. He could have easily been checking out his reflection.]

Maybe. Could have been anybody though.

[Besides, they're in a car. It'll be a cinch to lose em. Away they go.]

No one I recognize.

[Not really anyway. But sometimes you get the feelin' you're being watched. A left, a right and a left and Larry feels like they're in the clear.]

Maybe it's your shirt.

[What's Larry wearing today? Something loud and hilarious like hula dancers or something crisp and palatable like shirt and tie? Either way it's not out of the ordinary to think someone could be watching Larry for Larry. Or for Freddy in his jeans, t-shirt, and open flannel, but leave it to the kid to always look over his own desirability. He's got a beaky nose for one. In the car and several turns later it's easy to assume whatever it is they're out of the woods.]

They gotta have tea.

[It's a supermarket, and no it's not the organic overpriced kind either.]

Don't talk shit about my shirt. It's a fuckin' classic.

[As classic as Tommy Bahamas gets. It's an off day, no suit required. He's tense about his shoulders and that's got nothing to do with being oggled that way.

His beaky nosed, flannel wearing passenger is a decent sight to see. If Freddy were feeling better he would be appreciating all that he is...and isn't wearing to the fullest extent.]

Okay. [Swinging right on in to a parking slot, he breaks.]

Want me to go in with you?

[It's too dark for sunglasses to hide the way he looks around again using the mirrors.]

[Hands up, no contest on the shirt front.

Climbing out of the car Freddy then turns around to lean into the door much like a rough trade hustler would...if it weren't for the clearly unrough untradeish non-hustler-like appearance of his clothes.]

I can buy drinks on my own, daddy-o.

[The 'o' takes the creep edge off calling Lawrence Dimick daddy. If they were friends it'd be no thing, but they're not simply just friends so. Plus, Freddy probably sounds supercool saying it, right? Right??

Anyway shut goes the door as the kid moseys on in to get his jug of tea. With one man in the car and the other out they can keep more eyes on a bigger distance, that's the logic anyway. If one needs back up the other is just a walk or phonecall away. Famous last words.]

[Larry'll always see some shades of a rough trade hustler in him no matter what he wears.]

Have it your way then. Get a move on.

[He watches him walk right on into the supermarket. Another look around. You know what? Maybe it'd be a good idea to follow him after all. That would have been a great idea had he thought of it sooner. It'd save him a blow to the head that leaves him reeling, leaning on the car. Lawrence Dimick can honestly say he doesn't know what hit him.]

[Being inside the kid is unaware of the man on man violence going on outside, however he's doing his best to make this quick and painless as possible. Arizona Tea? Okay. She said hot and that's what popping a cup in the microwave is for isn't it? Freddy turns to make his way towards the checkout stands, carrying a jug of this stuff in one hand.]

[Click clack of dress shoes coming up behind you, Freddy.]

There you are.

[That's not affectionate. Though the voice is distinct.]

Decide to check up on me?

[Freddy asks, playing along without glancing back just yet because it sure sounds like Larry, Larry playing up some top dog business.]

[The weight of a paw claps down on his shoulder. Hard.]

Are you ready to go?

[Go but not in the way that Freddy is thinking that is for sure. "Larry" is pulling the man right around.]

Ow, watch it. No roughin' around.

[The kid protests. That clap sends the impact down his shoulder to his side, exacerbating the pain already there. The motion does get him turning around to see the old man...looking not quite himself.]

Did you change?

[It's not a joke or a trick question. Freddy knows something's up.]

[His paw doesn't let up one little bit, in fact he is using it like a clamp and is hauling him away from the tea.]

I've been the same. You're the one who's changed.

["Larry" is trying to drag him out the door.]

[Holding down on him like that only increases the pain on his side and that happens to be the side of him holding the gallon. It bounces to the floor out of his grip as Larry starts dragging him away.]

What the fuck's gotten into you?

[He pulls back a little but not enough to count as the beginnings of a fight. Yet.]

Nothing for once. I'm fine and thinking clearly.

[And he is still bent on pulling him out of the store. Both arms on him now.]

I'm not gonna take no bullshit anymore. Hear me?

[Larry throws his weight into it now.]

What bullshit??

[This isn't you, and if it is then it must be the city after midnight. When Larry puts his weight into wrangling a fox hound, Freddy twists to get out of his grip and make a run for the nearest exit. That happens to be an employees only door, with the rubber drapes and everything.]

Get the fuck back here!

[Tally-ho! The chase is on! He may not be the fastest but Freddy doesn't have much of a head start. Rubber drapes slap aside as he clatters behind. Workers rustle here and there with shouts at them to leave. As if they weren't already. It's cold back there.]

[Shit shit shit Freddy doesn't even have time to think about what might've happened to Larry. It's not midnight yet either so that isn't the case. He's dressed differently too. Could it be the clone business again? This one's not as happy go lucky...or is he angry because of what happened to him? The last part seems likely, he let that other Dimick melt in his arms. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Freddy kicks down another door that miraculously leads him out into a side alley.]

[The alley is sparsely lit. Only a large metal dumpster and smaller garbage cans here and there. No where to truly hide. The old bear is lumbering close behind. Coming up the alley is another figure that practically runs into Freddy.]

Shit is that you?

[Behold! Another old man except this one is in his Hawaiian shirted glory. There might be the gleam of blood coming from his hairline. Nothin' doing though. Freddy's the one running around already not feeling up to snuff.]

Who is it? You get a look at him?

[Run run run run--oof. Freddy practically crashes into Larry, the real one because no one can duplicate that shirt.]

You! [Right away he grabs onto the wildcat to spin them both towards the other bear. He sees the blood but there's no time to argue and paw at the wounded.] It's you and you're pissed!

What the flying fuck?

[That'd be a fancy dance move if it were a different time. Sure enough out of the employee's only door is Lawrence Dimick in a suit. There is no time at all to soak in the weirdness. The man in the suit slows and crosses his arms. He's huffing and puffing as a Larry would to try and catch his breath.]

So this guy is it in the end? Are you serious? [Still catching his breath he manages to spit this out.] No Alabama or not even a Bobby. This? [He gestures to Freddy.] The fuckin' rat.

[Is Freddy still holding onto the original? If he is he can feel him stiffen considerably.]

[He doesn't know who Bobby is but hearing him throw out the name Alabama tells this kid that old man is the real fuckin' deal. Oh yeah and there's the rat business too. He can feel the original Larry stiffen, maybe likewise Larry can feel him go tense as well. The rat business bothers him most.] I'm packing.

[That's uttered to Larry. Will they have to kill him?]

Same. [At least he had been when he was knocked for a loop. Hopefully Freddy can hear that. He tries to keep it as quiet and rushed as he can. After all, from the looks of it, it's him.]

Don't mess with me, you piece of shit. You had your time.

[He tries to off hand check his pockets. That's one gun. The other though is either under the car seat or in the coat of the other Dimick. Fuck.

The clone straightens up. He's breathing easier now and is exuding that professional demeanor to a T.]

After fucking everything. Take care of that, [there he goes again gesturing to Freddy], take care of Pink, take the diamonds and get the fuck out of here. That's the only shit you can count on. You don't need em. Not Joe or Eddie.

[Not only is he spouting bullshit but he knows too much.]

[Freddy's got his own gun in hand but he's not raising it just yet. Click click, that's the sound of the safety being taken off though.]

What do you want.

[He barks at the bear, preparing to hear how he fucked up and took his eyes off the guy until he melted to death, but the way this one talks...it's different. Everything's off including the fact that he would bring up Joe and Eddie so easily. These other words are for the original Lawrence Dimick alone.]

We gotta get outta here.

[In a snap Two Guns draws his gun. Except the clone is very much the mirrored image of Larry. He is the one who has the missing arm of the set. One gun against the other in the alley way. It makes Larry's stomach turn to be in a three way Mexican stand off again. He knows they need to get out. And fast. The super market folks mighta called security or the police. Who the hell can tell what does and does not constitute the cops.]

Shut up. You dunno a goddamn thing.

[The safety clicks off in surround sound, the acoustics here make it even more ominous.]

[Freddy does his best to keep his arm steady despite the pain in his side. This whole deal causes stress and stress makes his pain worse but he knows he can't take it easy now, for Larry's sake. Fuck what happens to the original if they shoot the copy??]

What's the plan?

[He asks the old man while keeping his eyes...on the other old man.]

[The plan so far is that both Mr. White and Mr. Orange (the original editions) need to get the fuck out of this alley way and get the fuck home. How well, looks like the other Lawrence Dimick with all the fucks he doesn't give need to die.]

We're gettin' out of here.

[Brown eyes dart this way and that way. He shifts his weight, hardly taking a step. The clone catches though.]

That how you're gonna go down? Suicide by cop?

[Larry sneers at this accusation. God does he hate this motherfucker. He whispers to Freddy as low as he can:] on the count of three, we make a break for it. One. Two... Th--

[BANG. BA-BANG! The old bear backs up and shoves at Freddy.]

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