18 September 2010
Our Mutual Fiend: Part Three
(Illustration with apologies to J. Mahoney).
To read the previous chapter, please click HITHER.
“PLEASE SIR, can I have some more BRAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIINNNNS!” the diminutive demon repeated, as it leapt up at me, jaws slavering, eager to feast ‘pon my noble form. I, however, was reticent to feed the poor at the best of times, let alone with my own flesh, and so I managed to grab the child by the arms, and hurl him away from me, leading him to crash noisily into a pile of rubbish at the end of the alley-way.
“Hmph,” I said, as I dusted myself down. “I’d wager I’d have been too rich for that urchin’s tastes anyway!” I quipped, wittily.
“Oooh, me ‘eart!” gasped Bella Butterlegs, the harlot with whom I had been hoping to spend some quality nookie-time. “Gave me quite a start, I can tell you.”
“Never fear, my dear,” I smiled, as I assisted her to her feet. “I do believe that is the last we have seen of that little toe-rag!”
“‘E’S GETTIN’ BACK UP!” screeched Bella, right into my lordly lughole. I spun around, and sure enough the blasted boy had managed to recover, and was slowly making his way to us once more, braying for brains.
“Persistent little blighter,” I mused, readying myself with my walking cane. I waited for the shambolic spectre to get within striking distance, and then with all of my (quite considerable) might, I bought my cane sharply across his legs, forcing him to tumble to the ground. As he lay sprawled on the concrete, I delivered another powerful blow to his shins, which shattered with a satisfying crack. That would certainly put him out of action for a while, I thought.
“There, there, my dear,” I whispered to Bella, who was quite clearly shaken up by the whole affair. “The nasty young devil shan’t be bothering us any – ”
“E’S STILL COMING!” shrieked Bella, pointing behind me. And lo, the damned lad was now crawling across the ground towards us, his hunger for our grey-matter as undiminished as ever.
“For cock’s sake!” I exclaimed, and then I swiftly drew out my pistol and shot the bastard boy clean through the head. The creature howled, and collapsed face-down on the ground, completely still. I slowly moved up to the body, and gingerly prodded it with my foot. There was no movement whatsoever.
“Did…did you see his face?” Bella sobbed. “I don’t fink ‘e was ‘uman, you know. He looked like somefink from me night-mares!”
“I sincerely hope he wasn’t human,” I replied, holstering my pistol. “Else I shall be in an awful lot of trouble.”
“Oh, yer lordship!” Bella wept. “This ‘as been awful! I want ta go home, now.”
“Jolly good idea, m’dear!” I brightened. “A spot of rumpy-pumpy will help us forget this whole business!”
“I’m sorry me lord, but I ain’t in the mood no more. Just please take me home, sir!”
I cursed under my breath. Not only had I nearly had my beautiful brain torn from my skull by a lower-class wastrel, but now I was not going to get my end away either. Just my arseing luck.
However, being the gentleman that I am, I agreed to see that Bella got home safely. But as we left to seek out a hansom, an ominous creak emitted from the dark of the alley.
“What in the name of twattery is it now?” I sighed, peering into the shadows. I could make out that a door had swung open, but nothing else of import. I pondered the possibility that the noise had perhaps come from a cat (a terribly arthritic one, I reasoned), but suddenly, to my horror, another dozen or so monstrous children poured through the doorway, shuffling and groaning, arms outstretched, their voices crying for brains.
This was more than a little inconvenient.
However, just as I was about to re-equip myself with my pistol, a voice suddenly barked out from behind me.
“Sir, m’am, you may want to get down – NOW!”
For some reason, I found myself obeying this blunt order, dragging dear Bella down to the floor alongside me. As she huddled close to me, I looked up at the oncoming horde, and watched with astonishment as a series of sharp blasts rang out through the darkness, and then one by one, the fearsome fiends’ heads exploded in a shower of flesh and bone.
As the last, lifeless body slumped to the ground, I picked myself up off the ground and turned to face our mystery saviour.
“Well thank you, sir,” I said. “That was some rather good shooting, I must say.”
The figure stood, head bowed, his large hat covering his face in shadow.
“Well thank you, Likely,” the man replied, tugging at the brim of his hat. My heart sank. That accent. American. NOW I recognised that voice.
“Think that’s the second time I’ve had to save your limey ass, huh?” beamed Evan Hellsinger, raising his head, grinning like the cocky little scrote-ball he was.
And just when I thought this night could not have got any worse…
- Lord Likely.
* APOLOGIES for the delay in getting this latest chapter to you so tardily, friends. My scribe, Mr. Fanton, esquire, has recently found some sort of gainful employment, and has thus been occupied of late. Needless to say, I have flayed him for his insolence, and our schedule is slowly resuming. Please do bear with us! Many thanks!
IF YOU enjoyed this chapter (and who COULD NOT do so?) please consider donating via the button below. All your contributions toward the running of this webbed-site, and the feeding of my scribe, Mr. A. D. Fanton, are gratefully received and allow us to keep astonishing you week after week! MANY THANKS!