The Adventures of Muppet Hitmen

A new photo-biographical account of the explicit escapades of two notorious villains whose lethal rampage scathed the world’s most famed cities in the blink of an eye. Straight from the streets comes the relentlessly savage chronicles of societies criminal underworld’s exploitation of power, pain, greed, vengeance, sex, violence, and rubber duckies. In a world where black and white are just a couple of gangsters aliases and monsters love cookies there is an angle so deviant, so enthralling, once you push the bright red shiny button there is no turning back. These are the archives of Pulp Street…

 

 

San Francisco

 

It was a balmy Indian summer day in the Bay as Jules and Vincent entered the bustling streets of San Francisco. The bright sky broke tinted with a drop of blood red as the two stepped out toward the trolley car. Even this diabolical city with every taste, fashion, and fetish available would be hard pressed to curb the destructive appetites of this defiant duo.

TROLLEY CAR

Armed with the trusted glock nine and desert eagle the two henchmen were off in a blaze of glory to fester the love of the world’s most infamous Pacific seaport. Boarding a trolley they set off on the streets of SF to imbibe on the fruits of the freakishly friendly city life. The fog had lifted, the tourists were scrambling, the bums were begging, and the wharf was calling them.

J – “Hold on tight man! These cars may not move too fast, but considering you drank damn near half a fifth of scotch on the plane you might smash face first into the aisle! Wouldn’t want to damage that precious orange head of yours!”

V – “Considering that my alcohol tolerance is at a supreme peak right now, just keep your sermons about mixing karma and miracle cocktails locked under that fluffy jerry curl bung you got there…okay.”

J – “Just looking out. Don’t want you to damage them dancers feet you got there twinkle toes.”

V – “Speaking about my feet, I’m getting kinda tired. I could use a foot massage myself.’

J – “Man, you best back off, I’m gittin’ a little pissed here.”

BLOOD PIER

The gruesome twosome walked stealthily down the boardwalk toward the crisp blue water. The sea lions were balking, the ships were docking, and the briny marine air tasted like…well, salty fish. Standing at the dock archway the two were calmed to a find a nostalgic memory that lingered only by the site of a large cruiser in the distance.

V – “Isn’t that where we dropped the body of Eastside Elmo over those rocks back there?”

J – “He sure was surprised to wake up with a pair of hefty concrete boots on that early morning! I’d never seen such a delicate little mf’r sink so quick. Good thing we added those ball bearings to the mix or they’d probably have found his waterlogged ass by now.”

V – “It was rumored he was roaming Oaktown for an odd stint of time after. You know, I still to this day can’t quite figure out how he slipped through the cracks of the walls when he was in San Quentin?”

J – “He was indeed one slippery mutherfucker that I’m proud to say never made it to the body bag. He’ll rest where he did his best. You just can’t go around given a foot massage to the bosses wife. There’s rules and therefore consequences that must hold ”

ALCATRAZ

In a moment of mafia related memories the boys sauntered over to take a remote view of a not so glorious landmark in the bay. Alcatraz sat nestled cooly in the deep blue water. It was this reviled pile of concrete walls, twisted metal, and thick barred hallways that housed one of muppet-histories most notorious crime bosses. Seeing the distinct island clink brought a menagerie of mixed feelings straight to the dark hearts of the villainous pair.

J – “You know The Count shared a cell with Al Capone at one time? Legend has it that even the Birdman aka Big Bird held the operation down from inside those walls for 17 years. Now that is power. When you can reach the streets from even the most secured compound of it’s time on the West Coast. ”

V – “True. Although in the end it was one of The Count’s fanged minions that bumped the Bird. Word has it he was shivved while making plans to escape. Ultimately The Count get’s what he wants one way or another. He put it something like “One…One dead bird…hahaha.! Two…Two stab wounds to the neck…hahaha! Three…Three more years until I rise from this concrete coffin and bleed the world…hahaha! Truth be told, that mofo completely lost it before getting out.”

CHASING BIRDS

After a little voyeurism from the pier the dubious assassins began to stroll back toward The Embarcadero. On the way the two encountered a barrage of sea gulls. Jules was briefly attacked by one of the sea birds who was attracted to the fleshy brain matter still dangling from his hair. An obvious reaction was in store for the flock of feathered fiends as they entered the epicenter of the pack.

J – “You, flock of seagulls, you know why we’re here?”

V – “Watch your back man. They are starting to rally!”

J – “I’m gonna blast these fools!”

V – “I got you covered. Don’t go completely out of your head!”

EASTSIDE E – THE WANDERING TARGET

While strolling along the pier the boys in black randomly caught a glimpse of one of their crime family foes, Eastside Elmo, feeding the sea lions buckets of fish. It was only a matter of a few seconds before a silent murder would occur just a stones throw from a large tourist crowd…or so the fellas thought.  Like phantoms lurking in a dream turning nightmare they crept up with ease just as the red ruffian glanced up.

V – ” Hey E!”

E – “Oh jeez, Elmo’s gonna go now!”

V – “Fancy meeting you here. This really brings back some fun memories. You look like you just crawled out of a hole…or maybe just the Pacific. Don’t do anything hasty!”

J – “How the hell did you..? I mean concrete and ball bearings. You slippery little red devil!”

E – “I don’t associate with those mafia rogues any longer…can we just…”

J – “Normally, your ass would be dead as fucking fried chicken, but you happen to pull this shit while I’m in a transitional period so I don’t wanna kill you, I wanna help you.”

E – “Can’t we just be friends?”

V – “I ain’t your friend palooka”

J – “V, shut the hell up! Look man, just swallow your pride and come with us. We’re cool and the gang E.”

E – “I’ll take my chances with the sharks!”

CLOSER LOOK

Before making a call to their SF connect the fellas had to have a closer look across the bay. Pulp Street was a rough neighborhood that reeked of prostitution, oozed dirty money, dripped with drug cartels, and was drenched in the blood of gang wars. The SF Bay was a refreshing atmosphere that allowed a sinister slice of calmness to flow through their rigid muppet veins.

V – “Oh Shit, is that Alicia Silverstone on that sailboat?”

J – “Judging by the size of her chin and that notable quirky grin I’d say so.”

V – “The views just keep getting bet…what the fuck is that?”

V – “There’s a very large serpentine beast emerging out there!”

RUBBER DUCKY you’re the one, you make KILL TIME lots of fun!

CORN DOGS AND COTTON CANDY

The random hit, a bizarre encounter with a sea serpent, and the bird massacre really amped up the appetites of the gunman. The thought of a late evening homicide made their bellies rumble and their attitudes a little more hostile than usual. Skipping any chance of a real meal they moseyed over to a vendor for some REAL boardwalk treats.

V – “Crab cakes? What kind of uppity fag-fair food dive is this?”

J – “Hey you back there! We need two large sodas, two bags of cotton candy, a pretzel…I’m sorry, did I break your concentration?…cotton candy and a pretzel motherfucker!”

V – “CORN DOGS!”

J – “Pigs are filthy animals. I don’t eat filthy animals.”

V – “Not even a pig wrapped in a toasty, succulent breading? Pork chops taste gooood. Bacon tastes gooood.”

J – “Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I’d never know ’cause I wouldn’t eat the filthy motherfucker. Pigs sleep and root in shit. ONE corn dog, and two hamburgers! Mmmm, hamburgers. The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast.”

V – “And don’t forget the cheese or we’re tearing this shit hole down! Royale with CHEESE!”

PIER 39

It was time to drop a dime and have a quick chat with their West Coast connection. Fortunately for the hired guns, they were designated a briefcase full of loot, a bag of “goodies”, and a stockpile of ammunition and ‘house-cleaning’ gear stored in a nondescript cargo container. All they had to do was link up with the local source to clear a deal and they could go play for an hour or two.

J – “I’m calling the Grouch to clear a few things and make sure there is no one else out here we may bump into. -pause- we are in the GO and ready to head to Chinatown.  We just ran into an old ‘thought to be with the fishes’ friend out here. That crafty motherfucker jumped the rail before we could get em…fucking ghost!”

OG – “I’m prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherfucker. If Elmo goes to Indochina, I want a nigger waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.”

J – “All I know is we may need to call in our Marin connect for a little assistance so we can get down to our initial list here.”

OG – “What if you get back down to the Mission and link with Mr. Blue?”

J – I don’t wanna hear about no motherfuckin’ ifs. All I wanna hear from your ass is, You ain’t got no problem, J. I’m on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the calvary which should be coming directly.”

OG – “You ain’t got no problem, Jules. I’m on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the Wolf who should be coming directly.”

J – “The Wolf! Well shit negro that’s all you had to say.”

V – “Tell him we are making a quick stop for the ladies. I’ve got an old dance partner I’ve got to see. We’ll kill some time. I’ve got you covered…so don’t go nay-saying!”

J – “I love me some nuppets…let’s do this!”

THE STRIP CLUB

On their way to meet the connection the boys had a strong urge to knock one back and witness some proper pole work. They found themselves on the North Beach strip perusing the local talent. Spinning, bending, and flexing bodies is just what the boys needed after dealing with the stiff riff-raff back on Pulp Street.

V – “That was a well deserved break. It was nice seeing Camilla doing her thing.”

J – “I suppose so. I just can’t quite get turned on by a motherfucking chicken. Something about all the feathers and that beak. That’s some fucked up barnyard bullshit right there! I mean, chicks are soft underneath I suppose but getting past those dangly face parts…”

V – “I got a threshold, J. I got a threshold for the abuse that I will take. Now, right now, I’m a fuckin’ race car, right, and you got me the red. And I’m just sayin’, I’m just sayin’ that it’s fuckin’ dangerous to have a race car in the fuckin’ red. That’s all. I could blow.”

J – “Oh! Oh! You ready to blow?”

V – “Yeah, I’m ready to blow.”

J – “Well, I’m a mushroom-cloud-layin’ motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain, I’m Superfly T.N.T., I’m the Guns of the Navarone!”

V – “Chicken tastes good, buffalo wings taste good!”

SHOOTING CRAPS

As betting is a regular distraction from the erroneous activities of a days work, the foot path to Chinatown provided the perfect break to find solace in some fair playing wagers. A colorful alley provided the perfect backdrop to roll some 7’s and rock the dice in a straight up O.G. style game of craps. Since their pockets were free of all dollar bills the stakes got high and the game got heated.

J – “Now you better be cool this time man…Come on sevens!”

V – “Betting the hard way.”

J – “I’ll Take it…”

V – “Snake eyes sucker!”

J – ” I thought you said you were gonna be cool. Now when you yell at me, it makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherfuckers get scared, that’s when motherfuckers accidentally get shot.”

V – “Well you better paralyze my ass, ’cause I’ll kill your ass, know what I’m saying'”

V – “It would be some miracle for you to roll your way back to zero. You better bring your best die next time!”

J – “Whether or not I receive a miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.”

CHINATOWN

The executioners had their orders to meet their connection in the back of an herbal shop. Of course this was just a front for more black market business conferences. After drinking some rare teas, eating some viciously rank marine life, purchasing some aphrodisiacal cobra blood liquor, and receiving the intelligence regarding the whereabouts of a particular target the two drifted into the streets once again.

V – “Hmmmm, I’d say he was blue, had an affinity for capes, and travelled far and near.

J – “Looks like every fuzzy body to me.”

V – “I think that cobra alcohol got on top of me!”

J – “I still can’t believe you believe in that shit man.”

V – “Look, I feel better knowing it’s snake blood I’m consuming rather than some endangered tigers testicles.”

J – “I suppose with the way you handle the bosses lady you might be pushing some hard coated boundaries. I’d advise you not to let this concoction fall into the wrong hands.”

V – “I’m so geeked I gotta hump my hero. Jack Kerouac I miss your anecdotes!”

J – “You do realize that is simply a street pole? Maybe we should go back to the Roaring 20’s!”

SAY WHAT AGAIN…I DARE YOU! SAY WHAT AGAIN!

ALAMO SQUARE

The day was waning and the two were well on their mission across town to the dingy Tenderloin to go greet their mark. After leaving Chinatown they stumbled up the park hill to have a better vantage point of the city and it’s historic beauty. The alcohol and green tea began to weigh heavily on their inhibitions and bladders.

J – “Are you f’n serious man?”

V – “When nature calls you gotta drain the main vain, no what I mean. Holding a full bladder for hours is known to cause erectile dysfunction and can ultimately lead to no erection. period! There’s no stopping this stream. I’m bringing the flood!”

J – “That’s a very convincing response. I’m on a whole new level of ‘relief’ etiquette from here on out!”

GLORY

Feeling the effects of the alcohol, the strippers, the corn dogs and cotton candy, and the high of bird blasting, the dangerous dyad had a rare moment of closeness. It could have been the sunlight, the sea air, the flowers in bloom, or the proximity to the Castro. Regardless of the true cause, San Francisco simply has that rippling effect on all who digest the deep red cherry-flavored candy coating that enshrines the ripe extravagance of this toxic city.

V – “I love you man.”

J – “Let’s go whack somebody.”

V – “I’d whack anybody with you…always.”

J – “Just keep your whacking to the hit list”

V – “Come on, let’s get into character.”

And so the adventure begins on the North American West Coast. Kindred souls out to maintain the balance of good and evil in the world. … mainly evil. Representing a life of chaos, pure fortune, and elicit business quests, Jules and Vincent will return to the pages in the next brutal chapter of PULP STREET … THE ADVENTURES OF MUPPET HITMEN

Tune in NEXT TIME …

V – “You take the ghetto bird.”

J – “We should have shotguns for this shit.”

 

 

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