Ali and The Phorty

a.k.a. Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves


I really did love that music. Now people say that all the time, but I really did. It just agreed with me. It’s called Hard House and apparently it first came about at the end of 20th century. In the last few years its come back, in a very big way. The last thing I want to do when I am dialling out on the dance floor with one of my numerous favourite DJ’s pumping out some heavy hoovers is have a conversation with someone. Even if it is my girlfriend. However, that was what was happening to me. I couldn’t understand what she was talking about and really, I didn’t want to. She was persistent though. She could not understand my fascination with the music and therefore couldn’t understand why on earth I didn’t want to talk to her. ‘Look’, I said ‘It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s that I like this music more right now. He’ll be finished in half an hour”. Not surprisingly she flicked her cigarette at me and walked away. The problem with taking as much Funk as I had that night was that you lose a lot of your social abilities. You see, at the time it seemed like a perfectly normal response, but telling your girlfriend that you like music more than her is very stupid. This didn’t matter however because I could hear a new track coming in and could feel another wave of Funk building up on me.

It was at least an hour later before Maddox, the DJ, finished his set. As the music slowed down I gave him a cheer and clap and then set off to right my wrongs, namely, find my girlfriend. I lit a cigarette and headed off in the same direction as she had. I bumped into one of her friends. A real ‘nice’ guy that never did anything he shouldn’t have until he was about twenty, but now smokes and eats too many drugs and keeps getting busted because he’s an idiot. “Troy, have you seen Morigana at all?” I asked him.

“Yeah bro, I saw Mori. Like an hour ago?” he replied pulling one of his arrogant faces. Jerk off.

“Ok. Did you see where she went?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did Ali, she was chatting to some of those Phorty dude’s. She went down the elevator with them” Troy said with a sly smirk on his face.

He was smirking because he knew I hated those guys. The Phorty’s were a street gang. They dealt with drugs mainly, lots of them, really good ones too. The way my head had been swimming for last hour I could safely assume the drugs I had eaten were theirs. Their other trade was violence. Another thing they were really good at. If a Phorty showed up you could almost count on the fact that there would be a fight or an argument following shortly. Now my girlfriend was off somewhere with a bunch of them. I thanked Troy as nicely as I could and headed for the elevator. I grabbed a drink before jumping in the elevator, one hundred and fifty floors takes a long time to get down. It really is the only negative of having roof top raves. The Phorty’s! For fuck sake. These guys are scum bags and they’re stupid. Even their name was stupid. The Phorty’s, because there was forty of them. Well there is more like a hundred of them now. When they first started out there was forty. They were originally a separated into about five smaller gangs. To annihilate the competition they just joined up. Simple, they all work together, they all make more money, and they all can’t spell for shit.

I tried ringing Mori on her mobile, but no answer. She was pissed. I can understand that. I had an idea where they might be. There’s a bar not far from where I was that the Phorty’s and their wannabes hung out. It was a shit hole. It had played old rock music, had cheap drinks and dodgy patrons. I needed some protection; there was no way I saw going to step into a shitty little dive like that without carrying something. So, I stopped in at my brother’s shop on the way. He owned a crappy pawn shop that was open 24 hours. He liked that. It made it easier for him to buy and sell stolen merchandise without getting caught. He was greedy bastard. Would buy and sell anything he could. Computers, music, weapons, phones, cars even people if he could. This was a huge difference from guerrilla shit he was getting himself into when he was younger. “Cassim, I need a knife man, a small one. Something I can dack” I told my brother with a smile and a wink.

“What?” he said, looking slightly angry and confused.

“A knife, it’s kind of like a small metal stick that is pointy at one end and had a handle at the other”

“Don’t be a smart arse mate, what do ya need it for? Go through the back” he said standing up off his stool and following me out the back. He walked over to a large trunk sitting on the floor. He rummaged through it for a few seconds and pulled out something wrapped in a piece of cloth. He handed it to me and said “Here, this ought to do the trick”. I took it from him and pulled the cloth away. The item in my hand did not look like a knife. It looked like the handle of a knife with no blade. “Cassim, what the hell is this?” I said throwing back at him. He caught and handed it back to me saying “Look at the bottom of the handle ya cock head”. I turned it upside down and on the bottom was a switch with four positions and a green button. Each position on the switch had a small picture on it, I pulled it closer to try and make them out.

“A shiv, a double sided knife, a baton or a spiked bat you dumb arse” Cassim said making me feel a little stupid, but he is my big brother “You select one and press the green button, its filled with liquid memory-metal. You press the button and instantly the weapon you selected flicks up, it’s called a 4H, give it a go”. I selected the baton and pressed the button. There was a sharp wet sound followed by a tinging sound and a foot long metal baton had appeared on the end of the handle. I stared at it for a while before finally, “That is cool man, I’m outta here”.
As I stepped out into the street, with the 4H tucked into the back of my jeans, I saw Mori turn down an alley about 500 metres down the street. She was with two of the biggest roid munching Phorty freaks I had ever seen. I chased after them which was a hard task, considering the amount of Funk still in my system. By the time I had got to the end of the alley they were already through one of the doors. I ran down the alley but slowed as I came closer to the door. It had no handle but a small key pad. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, I didn’t know the pass-code. So I lit a cigarette and waited just out of sight behind an air-conditioning unit. I tried ringing her a few times, nothing, and the last time I rang it had been turned off. Bitch. I decided I would wait for them to come back out and wait to see how she was acting. Laughing and having a good time, it was over. Crying and sad, I was going to pulverise the two freaks and be the hero. This, however, was beginning seem less likely as the minutes turned into hours. It was almost three hours before I heard the door creak open. The same two guys came out laughing and sniggering to themselves. “That was crazy mate, but should we leave her in there?” the taller of the two said.

“Yeah, she’ll be right. She’s out of it man. Ate way too much of that shit” replied the shorter one, he had lots of scars over his face and hands.

“Made her mouthy too, deserved that slap really”

“Yeah mate, course’ she did. Heh heh heh”. That snigger made me cringe.

“Heh, right then, let’s fuck off back to that rave for a few. I’ve still got a whole bag of Funkies to unload”. They turned a started to make their way out of the alley.
My mind raced. What the fuck had they done to Mori? I shook with fear and rage. I couldn’t let them get away but they were big, real big. I pulled out the 4H, set it to the spiked club and pressed the button down on my leg. In my hand was a medieval looking spiked bat, a morning star my dad had called them. I sprinted up behind the smaller Phorty and slammed the club into the back of his head. He fell to the ground with the club still lodged in his skull, his body twitching and oozing blood. The taller one stepped back, I could tell he was freaked. The small guy must have been his tough guy idol cause this guy didn’t want a bar it. “What's the fucking pass-code you fuck!?” I screamed at him.

“He’s got it on a card in his wallet man! Just piss off!” he yelped, what a big tough queer this guy was.

“Thanks” I said swiping the club a across his face, most of it came off. He slumped to the ground in a heap. He groaned something shocking and made an awful noise. This noise made me grimace and like a reflex I swung and slammed the club into to his head, finishing him off. I set about searching the shorter one for this pass-code. All that was in his wallet was a huge wad of cash and a small card with the word ‘Sesame’ written on it. I took both. I dragged the two mounds of flesh out of the light. They could still be seen if someone came looking, but it would have to do for now. I walked over to the door, still a little shaky about what I had just done. I typed Sesame into the key pad, the light on top blinked green and the door opened.
I really had no idea what I was going to do, or what I was doing for that matter. It was slowly starting to dawn on me that I had just killed two people. Two people who had friends that would be upset about it. The Funk in my system was helping me to cope with it, to make me think differently about it. I peered into the hallway ahead of me trying to see something that could guide me. The light in the hallway was red and gave it a very seedy feel. There was a door one metre ahead on the right and another door two metres down on the left. At the end of the hallway was a spiral staircase. I decided it would be best to search these two bottom rooms first. I changed the 4H to the double sided knife and held it tightly in my hand. I crept to the first door and slowly opened it, stepped back and braced myself for what was in there...

Nothing.

No one shouted. No one moved. I peered and saw a very sophisticated drug making lab. It was bubbling away and there was a strange misty smoke pouring from the top of it. I could smell that it was Funk, a lot of it. Carefully, I stepped into the room looked around. There was a table in the corner that had a pile of cash on one side of it and a pile of bagged up Funk on the other. There was thousands there. It crossed my mind to grab it, but I had more important things to deal with.
As I crept out of the room and along the wall to the second door my body shook with fear. I could hear someone in there, moving about and making groaning noises. I felt sick with fear and guilt. It was either Mori or another Phorty off his head, or both. Once again a pushed the door open slowly and braced myself. Nothing again, except that the groaning got slightly louder. I peaked around the corner and caught a glimpse of Mori. She was lying face down on a bed in vomit. I launched forward into the room, forgetting about the possible Phorty’s. Luckily there were none. I turned Mori over, her face was swollen, but she was breathing still, and her eyes were rolling in the back of her head. She probably felt amazing to tell the truth. I pulled her over my shoulder, grabbed her bag and headed for the front door.

I stopped outside the first room for a moment. I stepped into the drug lab room and placed Mori down softly onto the couch. I stared at the pile of money and drugs; there was a lot of it. Fuck it I thought. I filled my pockets with cash and filled Mori’s bag with drugs and some more cash. I picked Mori up and headed for the front door. There was no one in the alley when I stuck my head around the corner... except for the two dead guys. I would have to move them or something, but my hands were full now. So I headed up the alley to get back my brother’s shop, fortunately it was close and no one was in the street.

I burst in the back door and sat Mori in the arm chair. Cassim was marching down the hallway yelling at me in Arabic, he only spoke Arabic when he was angry. “Mate! What ave’ I told you about using...” Cassim stopped yelling and stared at Mori for a few seconds. “Don’t bring ya messed up girlfriend ere’ mate, take her to the fakin’ hospital!”

“They did this to her ya dickhead! She didn’t do it to herself. Its Funk anyway, it won’t kill her. Go get some water will ya” I said to him frantically. He came walking back with a jug of water and shoved it in my face. “If she fakin’ starts shaking shes out mate. I don’t want no one... Geez, where’d the cash come from mate?” Cassim said walking over to the bag on the table. He was pulling the cash out and put it on the table, his eyes light with excitement. “There’s gotta be two hundred grand ere’ Ali, and look at all that Funk man! Where the faks its from?” he asked turning to stare at me. I knew what he was thinking... More.

“I spotted some Phorty’s walkin’ Mori down this alley way, so I followed em’” I explained what had happened up until now. He stood there moving his eyes between the cash, the drugs, Mori and me. Stepping back rubbing he hand on his jaw, he looked shocked. “So you killed two of em’?” he asked.

“Yeah, they are still down there though, I really should move em’ or something”

“Nah, I’ll do that mate. You stay here and look after Mori”

“No. I’ll do it. I don’t wanna get you involved in this mess”

“Hey, you’re my brother. I’m already involved. What’s that pass-code again? Semi something?” he said he slight grin on his face.

“What? Ya not gonna go back in there are ya? Are you a fucking idiot!?!” I yelled at him.

“Fuck you man, I’ll stash the bodies in there and grab some cash. Then try an’ blow up the lab. See? Cover our tracks”

I didn’t want to admit it. But he was right, it was a good plan. That would set us up with some money and get rid of the dead guy problem. Cassim has been around. He was involved with all sorts of bad shit; Fights, bombings, stabbings, robbery, everything really. I could trust him not to blow himself up. “Sesame. Just don’t get ya’self killed. I’ll come looking for ya in 30 minutes”.

I woke suddenly forgetting where I was for a moment. I had fallen asleep in the arm chair next to Mori. I quickly fumbled for my phone to check the time. I had been a sleep for two hours. Idiot. I jumped out of the chair and made my way back to the alleyway. The building was still there. So Cassim hadn’t blown it up. Either his plan had failed, or he had never gone through with it. Keeping to the shadows and close to the wall I crept toward the door. I could see that the two Phorty’s I had taken out were gone. There was a blood trail that ran to the door, but someone had attempted clean it up. I mind raced. I didn’t want to barge in there in case there were more Phorty’s but I didn’t want to leave without finding out where Cassim was. As I stepped back my foot slid just a touch to the side. I was standing in another pool of blood. Turning around slowly, I could now see what had become of my brother. He had been nailed to the wall by his hands and feet, and had been disembowelled. His stomach and intestines hung low around his knees and his head rest calmly on his shoulder. I wanted to get him down but he was at least 6 foot up the wall. I slipped in his blood as I turned to run and found myself huddled by the air conditioning unit again. I sat there for what seemed like hours. It may have only been a few seconds, I don’t know. Then I heard the sound of hover-bikes coming from down the road. A lot of them by the sounds of things.

They entered the alley. There were easily thirty of them. The repulsion engines roared as the bikes one by one came to a stop, lining up side by side. The Phorty. The darkness of the alley made it hard for me to make out faces, but I guess it made it hard for them to see me. Because they didn’t. One after the other passed me and walked into the building; some spitting, some snorting at my brother’s dead body. All of them cursing him. Finally, the last of them had entered the building. My heart beat raced. They hadn’t seen me at all, lucky for me. The Funk was well and truly out of my system by then. So I felt even worse. What the fuck was I going to do? I swung my head back and it hit the air-con unit hard. That’s when it hit me. Air-con... Funk... I lept to my feet and sprinted back to the shop.

Funk, it was an amazing drug when it was first released. It was even endorsed by the government, well, only to the point in which they said if you have to take something it may as well be Funk. Why? Because you can’t overdose on it. You could eat fifty Funk pills and get completely of your face, you might not know your name for a few days. But when it wore off, you’d be fine. Well, maybe not fine. Your head would ache and your skin would crawl for a while. But you wouldn’t be dead. Proper junkies started crushing it up and injecting the shit. That worked even better, but still no body died from it. It was like a wonder drug. The happiness of Ecstasy mixed with the energy of methamphetamine, and you couldn’t kill yourself. Well, not until a bunch of lads from Sydney started snorting the shit. For some reason the effect that Funk had on you when it entered your lungs was not good. Not good at all. It fucking killed you. First of all it gave you best high you had ever had, but within 15 minutes you were convulsing and frothing at the mouth. The Funk clogs your lungs and then basically tears them open.

I burst into the back room of the shop, Mori was still there and still out of it. I grabbed the Funk, put all the pills into one large plastic bag and headed back. When I arrived I could hear music blaring from the building. Hard House... arse holes, playing my favourite music after killing my fucking brother. I carefully removed one of the panels on the air-con with the spiked bat. Then, using the baton I crushed the pills up into a fine powder and tipped it onto the fans. The powder whizzed through the fan and down the pipes. I stood still, listening, hoping for some sign that it was working. Then it started. I could hear them, their voices getting louder, chanting, singing, and laughing. But not for long. I stayed still listening until I heard the first one gag. I heard it over all the music and noise. It was the same noise a wild pig makes after being stabbed through the chest. A blood gargling bawl. I slid the 4H back into my pocket and turned to look at my brother. I would leave him there, as a sign, as warning. Greed can kill, but so can I.