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“My ass,” replied the don. “You guys are killin’ puppies here. No one who works for me kills puppies. No one.”

“No, no, Prawlie! It ruz Menduenz!”

“Yeah?” Paulie tapped his foot, then looked up with a grin, when Helton dragged Case Piece into the room. “Good job, Helton.”

Helton dropped the drug dealer’s ankles, frowned errantly at the fact that the man’s jeans were halfway down his fucking ass, leaving striped boxer shorts pulled up over his navel. Helton propped him up limp in the corner.

“Is he dead?” Paulie asked.

“Naw. All’s I give him is a little knuckle shampoo. Be another minute’re two ‘fore he wakes full up.”

Case Piece’s eyelids fluttered above a hung-open mouth. His head lolled, but he remained three-quarters unconscious.

“Dumar’s lookin’ fer the other ‘un.” Helton said. He looked to Sung. “So what we got here?”

“Just a bagman. Fucker’s name is Sung or some shit. Some Chinese name—”

“Kow-EEE-ah, Prawlie!” Sung objected even his not-looking-very-good predicament.

“Whatever.”

“Looks more like a puppy-killer ta me—”

No, no, mran! I srare. Crase Preece and me, ree never hurt puppies!”

Just then, the door swung open, and in lumbered Argi, with his ruptured and now-nearly-grapefruit-sized testicle exposed, that—

And the stump-grinder.

“Need some help there, fella?” Helton offered.

“Yeah, sure, if ya don’t mind,” the beefy lieutenant said. “This fucker’s heavy even for a portable. Comin’ in I bumped my sore nut on the guide bar—man, that hurt.”

“I’ll bet it did, fella, I’ll bet it did,” and then Helton rendered assistance in positioning the awkward machine properly. Its pivot left the grind-wheel several inches over Sung’s face.

Sung shrieked prayers in Korean.

“Hey.” Paulie tapped Sung’s shoulder with a shoe-tip. “Where’s that guy think’s he’s Scarface?”

“I dron’t know, Prawlie! Ree haven’t sreen him all day! I’m not rying!”

Paulie contemplated the response. “Argi?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Start ‘er up.”

A cord was yanked, then the 5-horse-power engine came to chugging life. Argi grasped the guide bars, jiggling from the vibration. He squeezed the throttle on the handle several times, like some asshole showing off on a motorcycle.

Sung screamed so loud he could actually be heard over the motor’s terrifying din. At high-rev, the machine sounded like a chainsaw…

…only worse.

Then the throttle receded.

“Where’s the Scarface guy?” Paulie demanded. “What’s his name? Menudo?”

“Menduez, boss,” Argi corrected.

“Right. Where is he?”

As the grind-wheel blurred only inches from Sung’s face, his eyes seemed larger than his sockets. “Prawlie, I srare to Grod! I don’t know! And ree never kill no puppies! It was him! Only him!”

Paulie winced, pinching his chin. “What you guys think? You think he’s lying?”

Helton shook his head. “I gotta tell ya, Paulie. My backwoods instinct tell me he’s tellin’ it right.”

“Yeah, boss,” Argi said. “If he knew? He’d’ve given it up by now.”

Paulie reflected on a long pause, then said, “Yeah, you guys are right. This kid don’t know nothin’, but ya know what?”

“What’s that, boss?”

“My grandfather, Vinch the Eye—God rest his soul—”

Paulie and Argi crossed themselves.

“—my grandfather fought the Japanese in World War Two, so I say…GRIND HIM ANYWAY!”

“But I’m Ko-WEE-aaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnn!” Sung bellowed and the engine revved and the grind-wheel lowered and in half-inch increments Sung’s face, then most of his head was spectacularly milled away into near nothingness. Particulated flesh, bone, blood, and brain sprayed outward in a great plume of gore, like sloppy joe in a snow-blower. The brainy mush fired ten feet across the room.

When the deed was done, only a rind of Sung’s head remained.

Helton’s brow arched. “Ya know, Paulie, you’n me got some hign’n mighty differences ta settle but with alls’a that, I gotta say…there ain’t no foolin’ around with you fellas. That grinder does a dandy job.”

“Yeah, it does, don’t it? And it does a great job on medium-width tree stumps too.”

“Ya don’t say?”

“Now it’s Superfly’s turn,” Paulie said. “Helton, how ’bout draggin’ him over here?” but all at once, they all looked to the corner where the barely conscious form of Case Piece had been deposited…

“Well ain’t that a kick in the dick!” Helton exclaimed.

Case Piece was gone, quite like a character in a novel set up to die but then the irresponsible author, at the last minute, foresaw use for that character in a future project…

“Shit, boss,” Argi remarked. “We were havin’ such a good time grindin’ this guy, we took our eyes off of the other one.”

“Well,” Helton stepped right up. “I’ll’se have ta assume responser-bility. Guess that knuckle shampoo weren’t as hard as I thought.”

“Aw, forget it. He don’t count for shit,” Paulie said. “It’s that other one I want, and I want him bad—”

“This be who you’re talkin’ ’bout?” a confident voice piped up. Dumar pushed in a wheelbarrow filled with one absolutely terrified short-haired Hispanic male wearing a t-shirt featuring Al Pacino with an M-16. His wrists and ankles were expertly tied (the Hispanic’s, not Pacino’s).

“There he is,” Paulie chortled.

“What diss chit, mang?” Menduez tried but failed to act like he didn’t know what was going on. “I work for chew, mang!

“Not no more,”Paulie said. “You been torturin’ puppies, and we happen to like puppies. So we’re gonna torture you.”

Menduez glared, tremoring amid his bonds. “I dint kill no puppies, mang! Dat was Case Piece!”

“Yeah, yeah,” and then Paulie gestured Dumar after which the latter upended the wheelbarrow and dumped Menduez on the floor. At once, Helton and Argi walked the grinder over and positioned it above the Hispanic’s face.

“Chew got diss all wrong, mang!” Menduez pleaded.

Paulie leaned over and bellowed, “We just saw you on the fuckin’ tv stealin’ a puppy! The cops got you on video!”

“Aw, no, no, mang. Chore, I steal duh puppy but only ’cos Case Piece make me. Said he kick me out of duh fockin’ gang, mang! It was Case Piece, mang! He duh one dat kill duh puppies!”

Paulie’s shoe continued to tap. “What do you think, guys? Helton? What’s that backwoods instinct tellin’ ya?”

Helton chuckled. “Paulie, that fella there? He’s lyin’ like a tramp in a flop-house, yessir.”

Argi was nodding. “Shit, boss, he just gave six of the seventeen signs sure as shit. Worst liar I ever saw.”

“No, mang!” Menduez pleaded. “Chew got to believe me!”

Paulie grinned. “Grind him…”