Bullet's Adventure: Chasing Sobekneferu - chapter 28
Mr. Harmless Bullet doesn't recognize his wife, but maybe you can? And is she really his wife?
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 28. HOME, SWEET HOME
The Sierra's Find & Kill Guyamas team forced me inside the bulletproof van to deliver my body safely to the destination.
My tired bones swayed from side to side as if penetrated by the speed and annoyance of the rumbling wheels of our car. It seemed the men in black masks enjoyed their trip; they were superbly indifferent to my aches and troubles. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders violently, telling them with my eyes the things that I could never say in words.
My mind was churning with endless questions: What have I done to deserve a hunt like this? Is my time on this planet almost up? What have I failed at? What is the outcome of my life?
A source of my angry speech sat across from me, chewing on his grilled larvae stuffed with pumpkin and potato mush. My empty stomach began to purr the tune of starvation. The melody of heavy raindrops striking his van's roof muffled the sound of my constant hunger.
My attention switched when we made a sudden stop, and the boys carried me out to the castle's doors. When they left, I stood up and, without hesitation, jangled the gold bell that hung outside. The delicious aroma of pudding promised an incredible celebration of my arrival.
No one opened...
Anxious, I pushed the door and stepped out of the darkness into the light of the cozy hall. A mysterious, visibly unhappy, but beautiful woman in a white dress looked straight at me.
"Who are you?" I asked, scratching my chin nervously.
"What? What is all this nonsense?" the woman barked. "I'm your wife! What's wrong with you, Mr. Harmless?"
A laugh began to rise in my throat, but stopped abruptly. I noticed a half-naked figure of Anthony Lee Phillips - the writer - with an open mouth full of pudding. He came in through the living room door located in the castle's heart: too relaxed, somewhat sparkling, slowly pulling on his trousers.
Anthony glanced at me, muttered something to the woman, then pushed her back through the door to the closest bedroom. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and came forward.
"She is Mrs. Sweet Hellfire but in transformation. I'm her first husband, the real one, the one everybody thinks is dead. Let me explain, Bullet… I was happy, healthy, enjoyed my life to the fullest, and worked as the Head of the Medical Center on the Warrior Farm. When LKED was discovered in our female population, I was the first to suggest the perfect solution, the only one who designed the cure to save the lives of thousands of innocent people. But the Board refused to believe me. The cure was stolen from my laboratory a month ago. After that, Alphonso Beard staged my death and made me disappear forever. Thanks to King Hamilton, I've got one more chance to fight for what I think is right."
"Is that so…?" I responded. A sick feeling of a new fake drama crept into my heart; I squeezed my eyes to focus on the man's face.
"The change is constant," Anthony Lee Phillips continued, "as far as I know, it is only happening once a week, but according to the latest data and my calculations, the LKED plague is going to accelerate with time."
"Do you mean that my—hm, our wife, is going to look different next week? Do you mean I won't recognize her again?"
"Exactly! Just imagine what damage it could do to our brains, as well as our society, if the change accelerates rapidly!"
"What if your LKED plague is true hope for everybody on this planet? Just imagine: no matter where you are in life, you can change… I mean, it gives you the chance to switch your appearance and start living the life you deserve to live." I asked.
"Maybe you are right, Dr. Harmless… Still, it might be very challenging, especially when you lose the connection with people you know, respect, and love. They'd see you as a stranger; it would take time to re-establish relationships, but then, wait… you'd suddenly change again. And again! I've also noticed that the change shifts between the low and the grand, between the ugly and the gorgeous."
I stood and quietly listened to him. I was perplexed by the news and his passionate lecture: it was as if this was happening to someone else, not me.
"Why did you want to rob the bank?" I changed the topic of conversation.
"To get bacteriophage."
"Who?"
"It's a bacteria eater," Anthony Lee Phillips clarified with a weak smile.
There was a reasonably heavy silence, because after all the bombing and beating, my cells refused to work at full capacity. While thinking, I subconsciously walked into the dining room, grabbed a piece of delicious pudding from the table, found a glass, and filled it with an eye-shattering, glowing drink from a jug cooling in a bucket of ice.
"It's only a virus that infects bacteria and destroys the cells of the host. It's absolutely harmless," Anthony whispered from behind.
"Wait, stop! I don't get it. What is LKED really: a bacterial disease or a virus?"
"Both. It's a hybrid."
His explanation wasn't soothing. For a moment, I thought that if I moved quickly enough, I'd knock him to the floor without any difficulty. Then, I'd push the button on the wall, get into the library, and hide there until Alphonso Beard's army came and saved me.
"Don't worry, Anthony. We'll talk some sense into him later," someone chirped from the hall.
I recognized the voice of the first assistant, Ale de Sandwich: he was dressed in a blue silk shirt, open at the neck, and wearing gigantic blue glasses. I admired his ability to sneak into any house in the Warrior Farm, but I saw a real danger in his elephantine, meaty belly this time.
"I've heard you are familiar with the voodoo concept," the first assistant smiled, reaching out for the pudding.
"Am I? Well, if you say so…" In a flash, I stuffed my mouth with the last two pieces on the table.
The first assistant frowned and puckered his lips like a little child: "Mrs. Vegas told me to bring you to survey her new bedroom for demonic or malign presences and to ensure that the design itself, as well as the placement of her wedding bed, is propitious and safe."
I agreed to help. I was forever in debt to the fabulous Mrs. Vegas the Fifth.
On the way to the door, I gazed back one more time, detecting the expression of fury in my wife's eyes, and added mildly, "It was a divine pudding, Mrs. Sweet Hellfire!"
She ignored my mention. Her eyes, cold enough to freeze the marrow in my bones, were the answer I was looking for: she hoped I would never get back from that short voodoo trip.
"I need to clear my head anyway. I won't be long," I said to Anthony Lee Phillips sadly, observing how Mrs. SweetHellfire dropped to her knees, how her soft cheeks brushed against his hands, and how her hungry mouth ripped open his trousers. I swallowed a howl, surrendering to the arms of fate, and followed the first assistant out.
It was nearly night (or morning?): the garden was in shadows; the trees were still. For some reason, I was filled with the most terrible emotion I have ever known: loneliness.
"Would you believe me, Mr. Harmless, if I told you I was almost married once too?" The first assistant broke the silence. "Ah, I still remember it as if it were yesterday! I was trained for our yearly sin marathon, but then I met Mr. SingleShot, and…"
"Please, stop. I believe you; you certainly have a convincing enough look, Mr. Sandwich… Hm, I'd marry you, too, if my name were Mr. SingleShot," I joked.
He looked back at me over his shoulder, then turned and took my hand in his: "Let's do it, Mr. Harmless. We could all be dead by 9:99 a.m. anyway."
While I mumbled a prayer to God to give me the patience to explain that I can't marry every person I meet, I caught a strange glimpse of his fingers, pulling something big and glossy from his jeans in a quite leisurely fashion…
Ah, my heart skipped a beat - it was only Miss Asunción!
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