Episode Notes
Terror slices the Big Apple on New Years Eve, as death walks the streets with the Devil at his side!
Even the Devil Tells the Truth... Sometimes by Daniel Wilder
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
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Transcript:
The first couple of years I just went for hookers… I figured no one would go looking for those broads anytime soon. It was simple, while everyone was staring at the big stupid ball like a bunch of deer in headlights I‘d find my gal, taking down an alley and do them up proper. A happy New Year’s for me… in theory anyway. 
The problem is, those bitches looked like they were relieved… and why wouldn’t they be, the knife was just another long, hard object painfully crammed inside of them, but this one brought an end to their filthy existence. Christ, it was so hard to get excited over that work… but I did my best.
Damn, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. 
I suppose you want to know what makes me tick, huh? Well, go fuck yourself! Just messing with you… what do you want to know? My parents were real pieces of work; my dad drank his life away in every piss-hole bar down by the docks, and my mom sold ass in the same. I was unplanned, unwanted, and never made to forget it.
Except none of that hard-luck garbage is true. I grew up in a nice suburb; mom was a teacher and homemaker, dad was an accountant. The biggest threat to my childhood was the fact that I was spoiled rotten, or as spoiled as a middle class brat can be. 
So what made me turn bad? I have no idea…
See, back around ‘76 or so, beating the shit out of strangers for no reason was how I got my kicks, but little did I know this was going to be the mozzarella stick platter before the eggplant parm that is my career these days let me tell ya.
Anyway, I’d pulped this cat down Chinatown way, dig? Looking for any ill-gotten gains I could grab I found some sort of amulet in his left pocket… older than my Aunt Petunia, and expensive too… at least I hoped it would be when I went to pawn it. That would have to wait though, because beating the shit out of a man is hungry work, and my stomach was growling something fierce.
Thirty minutes later I was kicked back in my easy chair in my rat trap of an apartment, hamburger grease mixed with thin blood from that rare patty dripping down my arm. That’s when I remembered my spoils. I reached into my pants pocket and brought out that glittering trinket, now covered with slop from my chow.  
That’s when that bauble went shiny and hit me with some sort of mumbo-jumbo magic that sent me sprawling across the floor… things went black for a hot second, but when I came to he was just sitting there on top of the giant Zenith.
Well I say “he”, but in truth it may have been a she… or a human shaped lump of clam dip, because no matter how hard I stared at this… thing, I could never get a clear look at it, but I could tell it was dressed to the nines, and always smiling.
‘What’s so funny pal?’ I asked… that’s when that fucker talked directly to my brain, and while I can tell you what it said wasn’t in any language I’d ever heard, I understood every damn word… the bit about immortality, the murder biz that would seal the bargain… one ex-woman, every midnight on New Year’s Eve… hell, the son-of-a-bitch even had a big contract for me to sign; like something out of a god-damned comic book… and naturally that pen was filled with blood… too much!  
So yadda yadda, Lucifer, hookers and blood… and here we are; New Years’ Eve 1979… and it’s time for a change… but since not a lot of you clowns are familiar with my work, let me take ya through my nine to five, if ya can pick up what I’m layin’ down.
I wake-up around noonish… see I set my own hours, so I can sleep in… a real job perk if ya ask me. So yeah… shit, shower, shave… fry up an egg or two for breakfast, orange juice and vodka… then on with the day’s business.
I cruise the streets, and it is cold as a witch’s tit out here… but this involves my work the 364 days it isn’t December 31st. I just kinda walk around with a hard-on and get as much attention from the leather-boys and hustlers as I can; marking in my mind who is where and when. See the devil is in the details.
Then I take in a porno flick or two, grab a dog or a slice, then make my way back through the spank bank of earlier. I go for the toughest, strongest looking laddie I can find, then I punch and kick the ever-lovin’ shit out of them, rob them, maybe do the same to any tourist unfortunate enough to cross my path… and it’s off for a cup of Joe. What? The hooker thing only applies to the killing; and I only do that to the ladies once a year to honor that bargain… the rest of the year they just ain’t my bag.
Here’s the rub, I don’t really give a rat’s puckered pink asshole about the living forever thing, who needs that static? No, I was just thankful that someone put the notion of killing a woman into my thick skull… most of the time I don’t think about dames at all unless they are up on the stained silver screen. Plus it inspired me to up my game in the whole “inflicting pain on my fellow man game” I was so fond of… practice makes perfect and all that. Besides, who knows if that shit would still apply anyway… I hocked that amulet the next day for two hundred bucks and a sixer of Bud.
Where the fuck was I? Oh yeah, my day… all day, everyday. So I head home, take a shower… maybe throw in a TV dinner, catch some tube. You know what really tickles my asshole with a feather? Grabbing a paper and seeing if anyone reports on the shit I do… what can I say; I’m a gutter narcissus. Hey I went to school just like everyone else… any way, those rags never say a peep about me or the meat I tenderize… probably never will either, fuck ‘em!
Nighttime? More of the same really… I work two shifts a day, seven days a week, and that’s dedication no one can match… and I don’t even have a union or nothin’!
Now that’s January first to December 30th… but that next day? That’s where shit gets serious! I take a little personal time for most of the day… do a bump, maybe rub a few out… grab a nice steak from Sizzler for lunch. Real self care type of shit, ya dig?
Now most years I would just hang out on the fringes of Times Square looking for my mark, but as I said, this year was gonna be a big one. So after Sizzler I go for a haircut… I just gotta look good for this. I yank a magazine off the newsstand and tear out a sample of cologne… I wasn’t kidding around folks, believe-you-me!
Anyway, I get to Times Square early, and the one thing you out-of-towners watching from your big, comfy couches probably don’t realize; mother fuckers line-up for this thing hours and hours before anything is even going on… just standing in the cold, hard street milling around like fuckin’ zombies or something. 
I kick around for a bit, taking a drag on a Marb here and there. As I look around, I have to admit there are some spectacular candidates out there… much better than the ridden hard and put away wet flotsam and jetsam of the last few years… a strawberry blonde with gigantic tits and braces that catch the now setting sun when she flashes big smiles at her friend; an equally attractive Spanish chick with the blackest hair I have ever seen. You can bet those two are on my shit list for sure… but they just ain’t the one. 
I continue my search… I see a cute Chinese girl here, a sexy socialite there… all big ticket scores for sure, but again, I gotta feel this one in my balls. Then it hit me; “Fuck it’s cold out here… I need a coffee”… and as fate, if you believe in such bullshit, would have it, there was a donut shop directly across from me!
I went in, ordered a cup, and took a load off for a tick. Now I don’t believe in fate, but then again before a few years ago I never thought His Infernal Majesty would be sitting atop my boob tube pulling the ol’ Faust gag… so here we are. Anyway, out of the ladies’ room she came, looking for all the world like an angel in the flesh… well little angel, tonight’s the night you get your wings clipped!
I watched her go up to the counter and order. The way she moved I could tell she was athletic, but there was more… was she a ballerina? A gymnast? Damned if I know, but she definitely took care of herself, that’s for sure. Her hair was like spun gold.. I liked that, it would show the blood better once I did the devil’s business… literally.
Anyway she paid, walked out, and I followed her close, but not close enough to look obvious, dig? She snaked back through the crowds, the steam from her coffee trailing behind her leaving a nice trail for me to follow like that dude going through the Minotaur’s maze.
Damn, she was with someone… that would complicate things, but nothing I can’t handle. Just have to think about how to get her away from that bozo she’s with. 
That’s when fortune smiled upon me for the second time that night! There was that fool with his clipboard, and you just know he was on a power trip like no other… wandering the crowd, finding the most photogenic folks he could find and moving them right in line with the unblinking camera eye that would beam this bullshit into homes nationwide. He’d be easy, I dealt with dudes his size every din-dong freakin’ day!
“Hey buddy… you know that big shot producer running this thing?” I noticed the lanyard around hot shot’s neck. “Dammit, now where did my lanyard go?” I really played up looking for it; Oscar material here for sure.
“You mean Jim?”
“Yeah, Jim… he wants to talk to your ass pronto”
“Shit… probably wants me to get him coffee… can’t he see I’m trying to make this show special? I mean look at the prime trim I’ve picked out… what was your name aga