Sunday, August 24, 2008

Truth Serum 7

Evil swigged hard on a tankard of Jack Daniels, massaging the giant halo of pharmaceuticals along his gullet with neck muscles honed to perfection from decades of bawling at wannabe authors.

Nothing.

He set the tankard on the nearest pile of slush and leaned against the vibrating shredder scaffold, counting aloud the seconds as he watched them tick past on his wrist.

Still, nothing.

Maybe the stereotypical gypsy woman had lied. Maybe the thousand dollar pill was only a placebo.

He signalled to the hungriest looking weredingo, go find her, go mutilate her flesh but before it could scurry from the cowering pack that sat typing rejection letters, his eyeballs popped out and switched sides with a Tom And Jerry waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuugh!

His knees buckled beneath him and he fell, face first and delerious, onto the prickly nylon twill of his Simon Cowell rug.

‘My precioussssss!’ he screamed, writhing. ‘Say I’m like My Preciousssssssss, dear Lord.’

But the bile of no such demonic inner soul gushed through his every capillary. Instead, a soppy posset smile oozed across his face like strawberry jelly melting on a puff of hamster bedding, swelling his muttonchops into rosy babybutt orbs.

‘Aaaaaaaaaaw,’ he said. ‘Lookit da litter puppee dawgs...’

The weredingos typed their final Ns and Os and quietly removed their thimbles. Sensing their moment of freedom had arrived (and with it, the promise of lucrative autobiographies) they extended their talons and tore Evil limb from limb, washed his mangled bones down with every last drop of blood and flossed with his whiskers till their teeth hummed like angels.

Truth, it seems, is stranger than fiction.

--Whirl

11 comments:

Dave F. said...

breathtaking. Wildly unpredictable. On the surgeon's scale of whoopie, this gets four pints of type "O-my-God-he-wrote-that!" blood

WouldBe said...

Smooth assailing. EE took a beating today.

Bill H.

Robin S. said...

swelling his muttonchops into rosy babybutt orbs.

I've never known a man who could do a better turn of phrase, baby. Wow!

WouldBe said...

I especially liked these:

‘My precioussssss!’ he screamed, writhing. ‘Say I’m like My Preciousssssssss, dear Lord.’

‘Aaaaaaaaaaw,’ he said. ‘Lookit da litter puppee dawgs...’

Anonymous said...

So much to love here, I can't begin to list my appreciation. This line summoned an image I won't soon forget:

". . .like strawberry jelly melting on a puff of hamster bedding, swelling his muttonchops into rosy babybutt orbs.

;)
Meri

freddie said...

I'm in awe.

McKoala said...

Truth is always stranger than fiction when WO gets hold of it. Victory for the weredingos!

talpianna said...

This is superb, but you got one detail wrong.

Weredingos can't type worth a damn. They are only good at shorthand.

Wonderwood said...

Bravo!

ril said...

A treat as always.

Sarah Laurenson said...

I'm with you Meri. The strawberry jelly on the hamster bedding really popped for me.

Good one!