Conversation · Cindy the SKULL

(Turn to Cindy.) "Okay, then. Will you help me find the communists?"

"That's what we need to talk about. I don't know who I'm supposed to be making sausages out of!"

"How sad. This little piggy doesn't know very much, does he?"

"That's right. I'm gonna make juicy sausage links out of the entire 41st Precinct."

For the briefest instant, the lieutenant's hand hesitates above the notebook he's scribbling in.

"Wow. There's a proper radical piggy."

That smell coming from her paint bucket -- it's not paint, it's heavy fuel oil.

Red-dyed heavy fuel oil is only used in government vehicles. Or at least that's the idea.

That isn't a fresh paint smell coming from the wall. She's using heavy fuel oil.

"Ooh, the piggies have learned how to saunter up staircases. I didn't think you could do that with hooves. But -- here you are."

"You're in trouble now, little lady!"

"Yes, Uncle Maynard. Huge trouble." She crosses her arms. "You're going to take out your metal detector and your collection of bottle caps and shrapnel."

"We cops don't like closed doors or unreachable perches. Or people having high ground on us."

"Yeah, you got me now. The dynamic between us has completely changed." She crosses her arms.

"I don't have time for this." [Leave.]

"That's right. We've evolved."

"Yeah, I can see that. Cool mutations." She crosses her arms.

"The streets will flow red once more. A great torrent, rushing down Rue d'Esperance. You wait and see." The girl stares at the sailboat by the pier.

"The streets will not flow red with anything. Who are you?"

"I'm Cindy the fucking SKULL -- what else do you want to know? Date of birth? Blood type? The last time I was tested for Hep C?"

This is the Cindy that misters 'Piss' and 'Fuck' said had the armoured gloves. Play it cool now...

Something about skulls, gloves... what was it? Maybe it'll come to you later.

"I just want to know your name, little lady. No need to get defensive."

"And here I was trying to be polite. Just can't win with you pigs." Despite the sass, she puts the brush aside.

She's grown frustrated with her work and welcomes the opportunity to challenge authority in other ways.

A brush -- an artist? The red splatter is... urban expressionism?

"Don't use that tone with me. I am the law."

"Sod off, pig man. Art is above the law." Despite the sass, she puts the brush aside.

"Let's start with your blood type and go from there."

"Go where? Accosting a minor?"

"Listen to your partner, pig man. Keep your grubby hooves off little old ladies." Despite the attitude, she puts the brush aside.

"Will you look at that! He's not just a pig, he's also a dog. Ain't got no bones for you, doggie." Despite the sass, she puts the brush aside and turns to you.

"Hep. Yeah, when were you last tested?"

"Had a battery of tests just last week. I'm practically a patchwork of interesting critters. Kind of like a man o' war." Despite the attitude, she puts the brush aside.

"Just answer some questions okay?"

"Ask away, pig man, but I don't promise to answer." Despite the sass, she puts the brush aside.

[Leave.]

"You seem pretty cool. Who are you?"

"What's your name, miss? You seem to be engaged in an illegal activity."

"Hello again, officers. Have you come to admire my mural?"

"The streets will flow red once more. A great torrent, rushing down Rue d'Esperance. You wait and see." The girl stares at the sailboat by the pier.

"Nice vest, officer. Taking art classes now?"