Another week of shenanigans in New Orleans

Today, our story has 769 followers on Twitter. Another great week, and I’ve got to thank you for continuing to help write this story through Twitter and Facebook.

Now, let’s recap the week. DJ Ponchatoula and Kat LeRouge are taking New Orleans, but they have no idea what’s in store for them as Bobby Grim gets closer to the city. The impending collision is one you won’t want to miss.

DJ punched the accelerator and passed the bus on the left. "Hey, look, some old guy's waving at us."

"Ugly tie, briefcase, some lawyer, money, but too lazy to drive. Pull over."

"No way, we're in enough shit already."

"Pull over, now, or next cop we pass, I scream rape and blame all this on you."

DJ stopped near the curve.

Kat opened the door, and the white-haired lawyer said, “I’m late for a meeting. I just need to go about a block and a half.”

"Oh, we'll take you,” Kat said, "Climb on. Sharing and caring, right?”

The lawyer stepped down into the cab and sat his leather bag between his body and Kat's. "Thank you. I should have be there 5 minutes ago."

DJ pulled the car away from the curve. Grinning, Kat moved the leather bag to the floorboard and scooted close to the lawyer.

"How about a better idea?" She touched his chin with the barrel of the cab driver's thirty-eight. "Ever play a game called gimme?"

"My wallet's in my coat. Sixty bucks and some credit cards."

"How do you know I want money, maybe I want your body, maybe I'm old school, into that retro shit?"

The taxi jolted, and Kat said, "Damn it, DJ, you want this gun to go off in grandpa's face? Stay from behind that friggin bus."

The car whipped left. The lawyer gasped as something exploded.

When Kat came to, no lawyer, just DJ hunched over the wheel, and the cab on fire, jammed under the axle of a Community Coffee truck.

Kat frowned at the crowd peeking through the cracked windshield spotted with blood. "It's all that freaking lawyer's fault."

The back door creaked as she climbed out, sirens echoed from three directions. Opening the driver's side, she gave DJ a tit-twister through his T-shirt.

"Wake-up, Dildo, cops are coming, and I can't carry your scrawny ass."

Kat and DJ hijack a New Orleans lawyer’s taxi

Okay, here’s the second half of this week’s Twitter crime fiction. We’re watching Kat LeRouge and DJ Ponchatoula getting deeper into trouble in the Big Easy.

"A round brush, really?" Kat said.

DJ thinking: What a night, no Circle K, thank God, and no casino, just acrobatics and toys at Kat's play land. Ultra awesome, but she’s some kind of bitch in the morning.

"Round brushes are out." She waved at a corner on Magazine Street. A yellow car stopped, they jumped in. "They were never in for guys."

"Driver, turn that Bob Marley shit down," Kat yelled.

"Balance, Mon,” the driver said, “that’s Ernie K-Doe and Professor Longhair, New Orleans’ homegrown."

"Sorry, I have a cowlick," DJ said. "You ever woke up with bed head?"

"You're such a hick," Kat said, "Give me that." She stuck the handle of the brush into the driver's neck. "Now, start driving, Squid Head."

The taxi left the curb, behind a city bus. "Don't shoot, Mon, I got nothing you need." Over sweaty dreadlocks, Kat saw bug-eyes in the mirror.

"Aw, don't do this, Kat," said DJ, "Please tell the man you're joking. What if he's got a gun, I don't want to die on Canal Street."

"No gun, Me," the driver said, "But I got excellent hearing. Take you anywhere you need, but please, no shooting. My little children need me."

The bus stopped in front of the taxi, and a mime crossed between them. "Watch the road," Kat said. "And pass that cash box back here, real slow."

DJ opened the box and counted. "38 dollars and 50 cents. Hey, there is a gun in here.”

"What’s the matter, Squidy, are you stupid? Who'd wanna get killed for less than fifty."

The bus stopped again. Behind it, the driver stomped the brake, threw the cab in park, then opened the door and slumped down in the seat. Kat heard mumbling, something like, “Half idiot pussy hose,” then she saw Squid Head running up the street in a squat, his dreadlocks bobbing up and down.

She smirked at DJ. "Don't just sit there, Dildo. Go after him."

Kat heard horns honking ahead, then the bus moved, and she saw DJ standing there, shrugging. "I don't know where the guy went."

"We're blocking traffic, get in."

"What?"

"Drive the friggin cab, before the cops show up."

"Get away from that bus," Kat said. DJ punched the accelerator and passed the bus on left. "Hey, look, some old guy's waving at us."

"Tie and briefcase," said Kat. "Some rich lawyer, too lazy to drive. Pull over."