Larry 2: The Squeequel by Millard Adam

Author:Millard, Adam [Millard, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Crowded Quarantine Publications
Published: 2015-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

14

A Mystery Skip

Glad you could join us, said the mask as Larry opened his eyes. Head pounding, he eased himself up into a sitting position, then quickly repositioned himself as something sharp embedded itself in his backside. He pulled the used syringe out of his ass and tossed it aside. “Where are we? It stinks.”

Oh, that’s right, said the mask, sounding like an angry wife. You were too pissed last night to even remember climbing into the skip. I didn’t even get a ‘goodnight’ or a peck on the cheek. Sometimes, I don’t think you love me anymore…

“What the hell are you babbling on about?” Larry said, glad to find he was still in possession of his axe.

So you don’t remember drinking that fizzy pink stuff and then ramming your glass into Gerry Mayflower’s eye?

“I remember that,” he said. “And I remember blowing up their house, but after that…” He trailed off, because after that he couldn’t remember diddlysquat.

Well, allow me to fill you in, said the mask, its tone suggesting that if it had arms, they would have been firmly folded across its chest. After you decided to blow yourself up, the police and fire-brigade arrived at the house – or the space in the road where there used to be a house. We were hiding in the bushes out back, and I told you to stay put until the 5-0 had done their thing, only you refused to wait. You wanted to tell the police how much you loved them, that you wanted to sit in the front seat of their car and play with the siren—

“What was in that pink drink?”

Oh, it gets better, said the mask. So out you pop from the bushes, still smoking from the explosion, and over you go to the cops who are trying to figure out what had happened, and why there were bits of giant rabbit lying about the place.

“Why didn’t they shoot me?”

They did shoot you. Multiple times. You’ve never had so much lead in you.

“And I’m not dead?”

Does this look like Hell to you? I mean, this is pretty nasty, but Hitler would trade places with you right now, given half a chance. So anyway, after getting yourself shot to smithereens, you decided to take out eight police officers, four firemen, and a woman who just happened to be walking her dog at the time.

“Did I kill the dog?”

Of course you killed the dog! You’re a slasher. What kind of slasher doesn’t kill the dog?

“Good point.”

Once everything with a heartbeat was dead or dying, you collected your suitcase from the nympho’s car and got the hell out of there.

Larry relaxed a little, the way any good drunk does upon waking and discovering that nothing crazy happened the night before. “So where are we now?”

We, said the mask, are in a skip on the edge of Haddon. You decided to have a little lie down, sleep off the pink stuff and let the bullet-holes heal.

“I’m never drinking something that hasn’t been strained through a dirty sock ever again,” said Larry.

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