SCALDCROW | WEEKLY RADIO SHOW AND STORIES

The Scorpion and the Desperate Line

By Glenn Bane

Vapor danced and sizzled above the streets. Poor ventilation trapped the stench of filth laden, brackish water, in the small, tight places. A vagrant emerged from an alley, a wad of bills, clenched in his fist, then emerged another, and another. A stake-bed truck waited in the street.     I couldn’t see the driver. I jumped…

The Scorpion and the Deacon’s Oath

By Glenn Bane

Deacon moved across the alley, careful that bits of garbage didn’t grind beneath his heals and betray his position. Slowly–deliberately he moved towards the door across the wet cobbled stone. The Scorpion, a vigilante moved at the mouth of the alley. Silhouetted against the street light; his wide, slouch hat and overcoat, seemed otherworldly against…

The Scorpion and the High Hat

By Glenn Bane

Benito Cane peered through the tenement window to the upstairs office across the street. He could just make out the wide brimmed slouch hat of The Scorpion. The asphalt vigilante was nosing around for some forged business papers. Cane smiled because, he had already recovered the papers and hidden them. He sent Jo-Jo to get…

The Scorpion and the Shattered Mol

By Glenn Bane

The cops came to Charlie’s Jazz Bar afterhours. The call: a break in. I planned to sit back in my Marmon and keep a watch, let the cops handle it, but shots rang out; the long, steady spray of a Thompson submachine gun. The police were returning fire with their pistols–so much for sitting.     …

The Scorpion, the assassin, and the Goblin Damned

By Glenn Bane

Thunder rolled in the night. The assassin fell hard. I replaced my jambiya dagger, into its scabbard. Mayor Altor, referred to by many as The Goblin Damned for his cleverness, continued his speech, unaware how close he came to an assassin’s bullet. Words are cheap…and life is cheaper. The Mayor looked small, so far below,…

The Scorpion and the Strange Black Bag

By Glenn Bane

My sixty-two cent dinner crawled up my throat as I whipped the 32 Marmon, cutting off the wounded Ford. Both vehicles came to a metal grinding stop. The Greek festival parade was passing a block or so behind us, oblivious to the whole thing. Its music, cheers and fireworks covered the noise of the conflict.…