The Wrath of Wife
“We are… not alone anymore,” I coughed out the words, one by one.
Ms. Sedative stood up, came closer, and stuck her perfect body out of the window. She tilted her ideal head, shook it from side to side like a wind-up toy, and, for a minute or two, blindly stared at the empty concrete steps. The Army was gone.
“No one is there, silly!” She retrieved her slim figure from the window into the room and patted me on my shoulder. “It’s hard to imagine a more cautious, even paranoid human being than you, Mr. Harmless. Lucky for us, Alphonso Beard is busy with his wedding preparation. Safety was our priority, and Mrs. Vegas promised she’d take care of it. Alex Raphael pays her $9,999 an hour, plus benefits.”
“Quite a punishing job, but it has some pleasing rewards,” Mr. FuzzyPie laughed. I pretended I didn’t hear his remark. After our short contact at the Meeting Hall and the promise to clean up my name, I tried to convince myself that Mrs. Vegas the Fifth was suffering to save me. The woman was an angel in the flesh, a messenger from Rsa; she was the person who united my crazy life in Gunung Kinabalu with my peaceful past, the spiritual with the physical, malignity with humanity.
I closed my eyes and turned 180 degrees on my toes, hoping that when I’d look out of the window, the Army would be gone, but it wasn’t. They stood there in silence, holding a digital poster, “How to get out alive in under one minute.” The message had triggered hundreds of deadly scenarios inside of my mind. I ducked under the windowsill.
“We got a body to hide,” Dinkie Dow and Tootsie Heavens alerted the stoned crowd of girls at the bottom of the closest pit. They agreed to help and began to crawl out to the light. Without any warning, the boyish old man grabbed a couple of knives, switched on the music on his phone, and pushed the girls back: one by one. His dangerous ‘dancing with knives’ caused the imbalance, and he dropped the phone below the ground. The music didn’t stop. Carefully, I tiptoed to the pit, soaking in every word of the strange song:
I’m in the block where you can’t go in
Yeah, bro, you feel that?
Smokin’ that gas, can you hear that?
Loud pack, ooh, it’s that loud pack
Smokin’ that anthrax
In that Maybach, yeah, we kick back
Hoes just say wanna suck that
I know that they love that…
I can’t explain what happened after, but it was over very quickly: the men outside reached for their weapons; the stream of heavy bullets knocked against the bakery wall; the girls jumped out, hooting and whistling like real bandits. The men in black killed them in less than a second.
“Ha! They know their business,” Ms. Sedative rolled over to me and sat up. She unbuttoned her top and asked if I’d mind sharing my jizz with her. For the last time! I couldn’t answer – it was too good to be true…
I could hardly breathe, afraid to spook her unexpected desire to die while giving me the last minutes of pleasure on Earth. Ms. Sedative grabbed my wilted penis, and I prepared to pump the rest of my energy onto her welcoming arms, but at that moment, I saw the face of Mr. FuzzyPie between her legs.
Then I remember a squawking noise in the background: how my head ached (probably the result of overworking); how the windows shattered; how the door banged left and right as the special force in black filled all visible space in the room. Not for too long.
Soon enough, the roof burst into flames. The wild cry of Ms. Sedative followed the sound of the explosion. I bounced to my feet, looking for Mr. FuzzyPie. He was nowhere to be seen. “That bastard is a real demon. He had slipped away; I’m sure he’s got a hidden place!” I thought. I was wrong. Mr. FuzzyPie used the chaos to sneak unnoticed into the bank and steal a safe box: № 9.
There was blood everywhere: mainly from the sweet ‘knocked out’ girls, as well as the stench of the burning flesh from the boyish old man and 866 bodies of the rats – a delightful bakery transformed into a butcher’s shop. Ms. Sedative stood behind the ruins of the bar, pouring tequila straight into her mouth – her hands were shaking.
The man in black went in and yelled: “Doctor Harmless, your wife called us to find you and deliver home safely for supper!”
I staggered and jiggled; the harsh laugh escaped my dry lips: “All this because my wife wanted to see me? For supper?! And who are you?”
“We are ‘Sierras Find & Kill Guyamas,’ we are the delivery force. Today, we had to ask for reinforcements from Alphonso Beard’s army because we got an anonymous call about the planned bank robbery across the road. Did you hear anything about it, Doctor?” the face, entirely covered in a black mask, asked.
I glanced at the underground chambers and tunnels, a pile of sand behind him, forming a large mound near each pit. Bewildered by the question, I turned to Ms. Sedative, who’d been shocked just as I was, snapped my fingers, and said, “Give me that bottle, quickly! Or anything!”
Next post – The Creativity Mindset
Info: I used the song ‘No Clue’ (by Young Nudy) in this chapter.