My Name is D, Part 2 – You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Like A

D: You know what I said, A, nothing can be as awesome as “My Name is D.”

A: Yeah, I know what you said, Druid. I accepted your challenge.

D: Indeed.

A: You and smug need to break up, D. Prepare yourself. Because . . .

You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Like A

I was watchin’ the road, hard like. I was watchin’ Old Johnson’s car get smaller and smaller ‘til it was nothin’ but a speck. Then that speck – that insignificant speck – bled into the horizon.

Let him go, my brain was whisperin’. Let him think he got away.

That there “D,” as he likes to be called – that’s not what the Boss calls him, but I’ll let it stand – has been a pain in my ass since the day I got the call to bring him in.

It started just over 9 months ago. “Find him, A,” was all the Boss would say. He never did like to use my full name. The Boss handed me a picture, a stack of hundreds and an itinerary. We were on a schedule.

The Boss is like that. Everything is regimented, like. And don’t get me started on his favorite word, “prompt.” You could set your watch by this man. At least he’s a sharp dresser, and a looker too. I’d hate to have to dance to the tune of an ugly sumbitch.

Now, Mr. D had a rap sheet nearly as long as my leg, and was wanted in three different states for a string of bank robberies. Not the big banks, mind. Not the ones owned by big ol’ conglomerates back east, but real mom-and-pop shows. Nasty.

Don’t look at me like that. I might not talk as smooth as some, but I got learning. I got my hands on these audio tapes. Let me tell you, that Homer, he’s a pistol!

Anyway, Mr. D and his rap sheet could have come to me through my day job, but it didn’t. I do some bounties for the Feds, but they don’ t like to pay if prisoners are missing bits. Not my fault that Bobbitt fella tried to get fresh. The Boss now, he don’t mind so much. Though, come to think of it, he did take exception to the state Ol’ Johnny was in. I think that’s why he saddled me with Mr. D.

Saddled me with Mr. D and then left me high and dry.

Apparently, Mr. D has bigger friends than the Boss. He says to me that Mr. D isn’t ours to keep. That he’s meant for someone else.  Someone else! The Boss runs with some pretty heavy fellas – I’m not too sure I want to know who ranks above him.

Of course, I wasn’t thinkin’ that at the time – I was thinkin’ that I was feeling mighty used. I mean God Almighty, I wrestle this fella to the ground, bring him in, all prompt like, and the Boss tells me to let him go. Let him go! You gotta be kidding me. You should’a seen the shiner I was sportin’ – not to mention the split lip and the missing fingernail on my left hand. That Mr. D sure do look nice, but he fights dirty.

So I took him. He was still conked out in the bed of my pickup, trussed up like a pig, so getting’ outta there wasn’t too bad. They weren’t expectin’ that I would take off like that. Hell, I wasn’t expectin’ I’d take off like that.

I’m still not sure if I thought I was rescuin’ Mr. D or if I thought I was going to find this “someone else,” and tell that man what I thought of him. It might have been the last bit. He had some explainin’ to do after all. It’s not every day you see a pretty man like the Boss sit there like he’d wet his pants. A pretty man like that has no business being as scared as he was. Ain’t no $500 suit in the world going to wipe that image from my mind.

And now, nine months later, I ain’t no closer to finding this Someone Else, though I think he has a lot to answer for. And not just for the goons he sends after us. Lucky I know my work and those fellas have just been little itty-bitty flies on my windshield insofar as givin’ me problems. But that Mr. D – boy oh boy, have we had a time.

I’ll be honest: I’m glad he took Ol’ Johnson’s trash heap of a car for a spin. Mr. D is a complex fella. I can’t quite explain it. Now, he’s not happy I kidnapped him, for his own good, mind, but usually he understands his extreme circumstances.

Other times, I think he confuses me with that Someone Else. Just last week he was convinced I’d been torturing him for ten years! Ten years! I was just a slip of a thing 10 years ago, breakin’ all the boy’s hearts.

I know I’ll have to go after Mr. D, just to make sure he don’t get himself into any more trouble. That boy and trouble is like bread and butter. And if that Someone Else is as bad as I reckon he is, then trouble is just around the corner. But I don’t mind. I say bring it on.

Because let me tell you, Sweet Cheeks, you ain’t seen nothin’ like A.

Read more in the My Name is D series

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4


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