The Interior Decorator By Chauncey Haworth

In a world of gangsters and strange hierarchies, a meeting with the eccentric Interior Decorator takes an unexpected turn.

Okay, fine, I’ll take it from the top, Inspector, cuz with that look on your face, I can tell that you’re going to need it explained real good.

The first, and only time I ever met the Interior Decorator also happened to be the first time that I was promoted to The Judgement Crew under the one and only, Man Above. We were standing over… standing over means protecting, ya know, bodyguarding… We were protecting some higherup, some fool that called himself The White Horse.

I know, it’s fucking weird. I think they liked the fear and mystique of being named after Tarot Cards or something. The White Horse referred to it as striking fear into the hearts of the natives. He said being gangster drug-dealing murderers just wasn’t enough anymore. He said it like a joke, but he wasn’t fucking joking. Anybody who knew about The Tarot was too scared to talk, which is probably why you’re so happy I’m singing about it right now.

A call came down to Judgement, well it came down to the team leader, Mikey the Metatron, weird dude, flattop with a ponytail, wore oakley razor blades, even in doors, said they helped him keep an eye on his cool, fucking mook if you ask me?

We were on the upper east side, some fancy townhouse, right down the street from the Gable. I swear when I walked into this place it was like a goddamned museum or some shit, but still, all unassuming on the outside. We walk in, Mikey leading the way, into the entry hall and it’s like the set of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes or something, all pink and faggy, with a wrapping staircase and diamond chandelier. I know, its fucking weird, but a lot of the higherups are fucking weirdos. You know, flashy clothes, lisps, weird pets, you have to know what I’m talking about? It’s like they have some competition to see who can play halloween the longest.

So, of course, I’m blown away by how stupid the place looks and I look to the fucking Mookatron and he tells me that this is what success looks like. I couldn’t fucking help it, I started to laugh, but of course Mikey didn’t like that, but fuck him.

We were escorted through the house to the back office. On the way was just as freaky as the first room. We went through some Jetson’s looking room with a shit ton of house plants, a hallway that looked like a carnival funhouse, some other thing. I have to admit that the kitchen made up like an old west saloon was pretty cool, but all taken together it was a goddamned circus sideshow.

We finally get to the back office and it’s like a hunting lodge or some grampa’s fucking smoking room. It’s like eighty degrees out and this room has a cracklin’ fucking fire. They were running the AC I guess, cuz I have to admit, the fire was pretty nice. There were those big leather couches and across the room, a big old desk with The White Horse sitting behind it.

Mikey points at the door we just came in and tells me in his usual dickhead way that it was my spot to stand, so I did.

Mikey sat across from him, his back to me. I swear it was so I had to look at that stupid haircut.

They shoot the shit for a bit, something about quality gin or something until finally there’s a knock on the door next to me. This is my first time here, so I immediately put my hand to my piece and looked to Mikey. Mikey looked to the White Horse and a nod was passed around the room that I should open it.

So I did, pulled it open. I always thought Johnny Kalaraja was a fool, but when I opened that door and saw that it was him, I was sure he was a fucking dumbass.

We’d all heard the story, something about a higherup named the Wolf. His old lady apparently started getting into all this weird shit with chains and shit and ended up hooking up with Johnny Kalaraja… and now, Johnny was there to try to work out a new deal with The White Horse to save his own ass. Apparently, the Wolf had already taken care of his old lady.

I open the door and Johnny comes in with his usual strut, all slicked back hair. He even gave me a wink when he walked by, like he had this shit all figured out.

I looked to Mikey and they all gave me the okay, so I let that slick little twat keep strutting, and I took up my spot at the door.

Johnny sat with Mikey and the White Horse, and lIke I said, I could hear ‘em pretty good. They started talking about the importance of family and all that higherup bullshit, but it wasn’t long until The White Horse was calling Johnny out about fucking, or whatever it was, with the wife of the Wolf.

Things were getting heated and Johnny didn’t seem to give a shit. He was talking all this “You Need Me” and “I run downtown”, I really thought there was going to be a shootout right there in the office, that was, until there was another knock at the door. The knock put an immediate end to the conversation and I got the same string of nods to open the door, with an extra smirk from that piece of trash Johnny.

I opened the door and there he was, the Interior Decorator. He was a small older guy, I dunno, maybe fifty, dressed to the nines. He even asked permission to come in, something like, “May I come in, Young man?” or something like that.

I let him past and he asked The White Horse if now was a good time. Johnny tried to talk some shit about how they were busy, but the Horse shut him down and told the interior decorator that now was perfect.

So, this guy, the fucking Interior Decoratior starts going off about the room, the den he called it, he stared going off about the den and how it was so passe.

He walked over to the leather couches going off about how leather was out and low profile modern was in. He walked to the drapes, fingered the fabric a bit, and rolled his eyes.

He then went off about the walls, and the wood! He went off about the amount of wood in the den. He said the funniest shit, something to the effect of, there’s enough wood in here to choke a gay Abraham Lincoln, but we aren’t in the business of killing it at an off broadway theatre.

Speaking of which, we got a lot of bosses whose wives love that prancing man in tights broadway shit, so I’ve met my fairshare of fruits, but the interior decorator had to be one of the fruitiest. The way he pranced around the room talking shit about vases and fucking accent pieces was hilarious.

He basically just insulted the decorations for, like, ten minutes, and I tell ya, Johnny Kalaraja was not amused, probably getting his man panties in a bunch, that fucking guy, always thinking he deserved more respect then he got.

So, finally, the Interior Decorator shut up. The room was silent, and thanks to Johnny’s temper, it was not what you’d call a comfortable silence. Then, the White Horse says, “What do you suggest?” Can you believe that? Funniest shit I ever saw was the look of rage on the silent face of Johnny fucking Kalaraja.

Then the Interior Decorator starts going off about how modern is in and how everyone who’s anyone has at least one modern room in their place, and how fabulous it is. He kept saying the word “fabulous,” I swear to god, I thought I was going to lose my shit, but laughing on my first day was probably not in my best interest, so I sucked it up best I could. Fabulous this, and fabulous lamps and drapes and, of course, the most fabulous fucking this, that, and the other thing.

So, after that rant, the Interior Decorator ends by saying, “What do you think?” And again there’s an awkward silence and Johnny’s fuming fucking face. The White Horse looked at the Interior Decorator and said, “Let’s do it,” and the Interior Decorator pulled out a gun and put a bullet in the head of Johnny Kalaraja. The best fucking part it that the shot sprayed Johnny’s brains all over Mikey face, his stuipd hair and stupid glasses. You know? The only time I ever saw Mikey without those Oakleys on was while he was cleaning Johnny’s brains off of them.

The Interior Decorator then put the gun in his pocket and clapped his hands twice. Two big old bruser guys came in, one started moving Johnny’s body out while the other started taking measurements of the fucking drapes. It was the weirdest shit.

And that is the first, and only time I ever met the Interior Decorator. Weird fucking guy, but I have to admit, I was over doing a drop for the White Horse the other day and I shit you not, that den looked fucking fabulous.