Dead Neon: Tales of Near-Future Las Vegas

Monsieur Dombo in Glitter Town

118 Monsieur฀Dombo฀in฀Glitter฀Town PETER MAGLIOCCO I฀ lived฀then฀in฀downtown฀Vegas฀near฀a฀small฀tattoo฀parlor.฀Those฀weren’t ฀฀exactly฀palmy฀days,฀and฀I฀was฀trying฀to฀make฀ends฀meet฀as฀a฀security ฀guard.฀Monsieur฀Dombo฀(as฀he฀was฀called฀then)฀owned฀the฀parlor,฀ and฀never฀failed฀to฀acknowledge฀me฀whenever฀I฀passed฀his฀place฀on฀my฀ nightly฀rounds. At฀first he฀was฀a฀garish฀figure to฀me.฀Built฀like฀a฀great฀albino฀ape฀rolling ฀ in฀ body฀ fat฀ with฀ long฀ tentacles฀ of฀ electric฀ hair฀ and฀ a฀ grandfather’s฀ beard,฀Monsieur฀Dombo฀would฀peer฀out฀through฀his฀shop’s฀neon-lit฀picture ฀window.฀I฀hated฀the฀sight฀of฀him,฀and฀even฀when฀he฀confessed฀to฀me฀ he฀was฀God,฀it฀didn’t฀favorably฀change฀my฀attitude฀toward฀him. “You฀should฀let฀me฀give฀you฀a฀fine tattoo,฀Lorin,”฀he฀would฀say,฀standing ฀ in฀ (or฀ occupying)฀ the฀ doorway.฀ “First-time฀ customers฀ always฀ get฀ a฀ good฀discount,฀and฀you฀look฀like฀a฀young฀man฀who฀could฀use฀a฀flaming snake฀on฀his฀abdomen.฀It฀brings฀luck,฀you฀know,฀among฀other฀things.” Each฀time฀I฀laughed,฀telling฀Dombo฀no.฀A฀tattoo฀would฀be฀a฀novelty฀to฀ a฀guy฀like฀me,฀and฀I฀wanted฀deeper฀things฀in฀life. One฀ of฀ Dombo’s฀ workers฀ was฀ a฀ good-looking฀ blonde฀ woman฀ who฀ apparently฀did฀some฀of฀his฀secret฀digital฀engraving.฀Because฀of฀her฀I฀was฀ almost฀tempted฀to฀make฀Dombo฀happy,฀but฀always฀thought฀better฀of฀it.฀ Until,฀that฀is,฀the฀night฀I฀was฀so฀dead฀drunk฀that฀saying฀yes฀or฀no฀didn’t฀ seem฀to฀matter. Her฀ name฀ was฀ “Emelia,”฀ and฀ Monsieur฀ Dombo฀ said฀ she฀ gave฀ the฀ best฀tattoos฀in฀the฀business.฀He฀didn’t฀tell฀me฀then฀she฀was฀a฀wired฀holy฀ woman,฀but฀that฀also฀mattered฀little. “She฀will฀fix you฀up,฀Lorin,฀believe฀me,”฀Dombo฀gushed฀in฀his฀intoler- Monsieur฀Dombo฀in฀Glitter฀Town ♥ 119 ably฀irritating฀way,฀and฀I฀could฀smell฀his฀halitosis฀through฀the฀dry฀August฀ Vegas฀heat฀(which฀crippled฀my฀senses฀more฀than฀any฀prescription฀drug฀ no฀doctor฀would฀prescribe).฀“She฀has฀such฀a฀marvelous฀talent,฀my฀dear฀ Emelia,฀that฀anything฀she฀does฀with฀her฀needle฀will฀astound฀you.” It฀took฀very฀little฀to฀astound฀me฀in฀those฀days,฀so฀I฀suppose฀she฀had฀a฀ head฀start.฀Her฀summer฀uniform฀was฀a฀U2฀T-shirt฀and฀frayed฀jean฀cutoffs฀ that฀looked฀sticky฀with฀what฀might฀have฀been฀work฀resins฀or฀Dombo’s฀ bloodied฀sperm.฀(Well,฀maybe฀not฀quite฀that฀bad-looking,฀but฀remember฀ I฀was฀pretty฀drunk฀at฀the฀moment.)฀Her฀breasts฀were฀fully฀there,฀nipple฀ marks฀and฀all,฀and฀I฀had฀the฀feeling฀she฀was฀the฀best฀doctor฀available฀at฀ that฀time฀of฀night.฀On฀the฀back฀of฀her฀shirt฀was฀the฀motto:฀I฀Sing฀the฀Body฀ Cybernetic. “I’m฀gonna฀give฀you฀some฀kind฀of฀symbolic฀markings,”฀she฀announced฀ matter-of-factly.฀“Things฀that฀resemble฀the฀ankh฀symbol,฀so฀I฀hope฀you฀ don’t฀mind.฀Your฀design฀will฀be฀like฀a฀beautiful฀Mayan฀glyph.” “I฀am฀your฀disciple.” “You’re฀a฀human฀icon฀to฀me,”฀she฀told฀me,฀almost฀crossly.฀“That฀and฀ nothin’฀else.” Beats฀being฀a฀limp฀penis฀in฀a฀never-quite-good-enough฀shower,฀I฀consoled ฀ myself.฀ Noting฀ too฀ that฀ such฀ observations,฀ though฀ private,฀ were฀ probably฀highly฀irrelevant.฀So฀get฀on฀with฀the฀tawdry฀“designing”฀on฀my฀ abdominal฀muscles,฀I฀told฀her,฀and฀get฀off฀the฀damn฀cell฀phone฀already. Create฀she฀did,฀this฀Emelia,฀spinning฀the฀myriad฀lines฀of฀some฀privileged ฀vision฀only฀true฀artists฀must฀see.฀Through฀it฀I฀was฀dodging฀consciousness ฀ like฀ people฀ do฀ jaywalkers฀ on฀ the฀ Strip.฀ I฀ was฀ a฀ fermenting฀ relic,฀brand-named฀J&B,฀dedicated฀to฀inertia.฀My฀mind฀slept฀with฀false฀ gods฀throughout฀the฀tattooing,฀my฀bladder฀felt฀permanently฀overloaded.฀ Somewhere฀the฀dead฀dreams฀of฀childhood฀kept฀beckoning฀like฀ghosts฀in฀ a฀fairy฀tale. “You’re฀ probably฀ tired฀ of฀ this฀ radio฀ jazz,”฀ Dombo฀ said,฀ decreasing฀ the฀ volume฀ on฀ a฀ battered฀ cassette฀ recorder฀ that,฀ iconic-like,฀ occupied฀ the฀ center฀ of฀ a฀ musty฀ desk.฀ “By฀ god,฀ music฀ cannot฀ soothe฀ the฀ deeper฀ problems฀plaguing฀our฀race.฀It฀is฀not฀the฀answer฀to฀our฀social฀ills—only฀ another฀mass฀opiate฀for฀escapism.฀I’m฀sure฀you฀agree.฀I฀could฀tell฀that฀by฀ observing฀ the฀ way฀ you’ve฀ passed฀ by฀ here฀ every฀ night฀ on฀ your฀ aimless฀ wandering฀through฀town.฀No฀earphones!฀Truly฀a฀remarkable฀thing฀for฀any฀ two-legged฀pedestrian฀around฀here.฀Because฀of฀that,฀though฀you฀look฀lost,฀ you’re฀really฀on฀your฀way฀to฀being฀found.฀Don’t฀you฀agree,฀Emelia...