Bullet's Adventure: Chasing Sobekneferu - chapter 27
Welcome to Chapter 27: "The Wrath of a Wife," where paranoia and chaos meet, knives dance to questionable beats, and your only hope is Mrs. Vegas or her protection plan, which costs $9,999 per hour.
Welcome to the serialized story of Mr. Harmless Bullet! For the audio version - scroll down. Genre: satire, absurdist comedy, adult humor (16+)
Written with the Tristan Tzara method - read about it here
Complete story, chapter by chapter:
Angela Marrant
CHAPTER 27 - THE WRATH OF A WIFE
"We are... not alone anymore," I whispered the words, one by one.
Ms. Sedative stood up, came closer, and stuck her perfect body out of the window. She tilted her 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 and into the room and patted me on the 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 preparations. Safety was our priority, and Mrs. Vegas promised she'd take care of it. Anthony Lee Phillips pays her $9,999 an hour, plus benefits."
"Quite a punishing job, but it has some pleasing rewards, he he," 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, and malignity with humanity.
I closed my eyes and turned 180 degrees on my toes, hoping that when I looked 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 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 crawling toward 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 an 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 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 decide what to do: 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 warrior, and I prepared to pump the rest of my energy onto her welcoming arms, but at that moment, I saw Mr. FuzzyPie's face between her legs.
Then... all I remembered was 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. Ms. Sedative's wild cry followed 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 here! I thought. I was wrong. Mr. FuzzyPie used the chaos to sneak into the bank unnoticed and steal the safe box #9.
There was blood everywhere, mainly from the sweet knocked-out girls, as well as the stench of burning flesh from the boyish old man and 866 rat bodies—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 shook. The man in black went in and yelled, "Doctor Harmless, your wife called us to find and deliver you home safely for supper!"
I staggered and jiggled; a 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 request reinforcements from Alphonso Beard's army after receiving an anonymous call about the planned bank robbery across the road. Did you hear anything about it, doctor?" a 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 was just as shocked as I was, snapped my fingers, and said, "Darling, give me that bottle, quickly! Or a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g!"
Note! The song mentioned in the text is by Young Nudy.
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