Four of a Kind
Created | Updated Feb 17, 2007
A short story for your reading pleasure...
THWACK! To the ordinary person, these were nothing, but in his hands, they were weapons of mass destruction. THWACK! Another one homed in perfectly on the target, carving a mighty chunk out of the wall. With them, he was unstoppable, THWACK! A god amongst men. Soon, his skill will be perfected and then…
'Hey Max, we got it!' Jason crashed into the room and Max's runaway imagination with the full force of a 6'3 18 stone wrestler hammered out of his skull on a combination of skunk, tequila slammers and enough espressos to get man on the moon. This is just as well, because Jason was a wasted 6'3 18 stone wrestler.
'Take your time why don't you boys,' Max slid the rest of the deck into his jacket pocket, 'Where's Andy?'
'Maybe you should come see for yourself,' Jason said, motioning to the door.
Max reluctantly got up and strolled out of his front door and to the stair case. About three floors down the spiral there was Andy, sprawled out on his back, not moving much.
'I've passed the first level!' shouted Andy, pointing up at Max, his hand shortly flopping back down to his side.
'What's wrong with him?' inquired Max.
'Ahhh, he's been doing bongs all day whilst playing Halo online. Had to carry him all the way to Fog's.' said Jason, joining Max at his side.
'What did Fog have to say?'
'Well you know how it is with Fog. He smokes too much for anyone to actually understand. You just give him money, he grins, mumbles incoherently and hands you a bag of green.'
'Ok smarta*se. What did he do?'
'Andy started saying he was one of the aliens, so Fog pushed him over, got out a feather duster and tickled him for 15 minutes straight. He looked like a school girl when confronted by kittens. Only more stoned. It was brutal.'
'Not the most intimidating drug dealer in the world is he?'
There was a hushed moaning coming from down the stairs as Andy summoned the strength to attempt crawling up the stairs. There were as also intermittent shouts of 'AHH! DIE ALIEN SCUM!' and 'YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!' directed at the residents of Saturn Heights passing him by as the high levels of tetrahydrocannibinol in his blood played tricks on his mind's ability to perceive reality. Andy was a common sight on the stairs and more often than not would arrive at Max's flat half an hour later with cups of tea, a blanket and some loose change the generous residents of Saturn Heights would give him to shut him up.
'Right,' said Max, straightening himself up and readjusting his shades. 'You get the Xbox on and I'll wrap one up.'
'Sorted.'
Nigel Lawrence wiped the rain out his eyes. Scrinkles has promised him this, Scrinkles had foretold it. Nigel checked the magazine in his M1 Carbine Semi-Automatic rifle. Scrinkles told him many people will die today. Nigel didn't want to kill people, he had done it before and he knew he didn't like it much. Still, the job had to be done. Maybe this time, he wouldn't kill as many people. He could just injure them instead. Scrinkles won't notice anyway, Nigel was sure. Aim for the kneecaps. It'll be fine.
'We will wait until it gets darker,' boomed the dark deep sinister voice of Scrinkles, 'then we will strike.'
Whenever Nigel heard that voice, it shaked the very core of his soul. Scrinkles was one evil mother f*cker, and Nigel knew his evil mother f*ckers. He had been in the SAS, he'd fought in gulf war, he had seen some crazy things. But nothing like Scrinkles. Scrinkles' plan to take over the world was as horrific as it was brilliant. It was nothing short of genius. Not that Scrinkles ever told Nigel the entire plan, in fact, he never told him anything, but that is surely a mark of just how amazingly clever Scrinkles is.
'Whatever you say, Mr Scrinkles, sir.'
'Now you will feed me.'
'Sir, yes sir.' Nigel took out a can from under his battle smock, opened it, and placed it by his feet. Scrinkles came over and began eating from the can and Nigel stroked Scrinkles as he ate while staring down over the side of the building at the Art Gallery opposite. It was going to be magnificent.
There's a reason Nigel Lawrence was the most wanted man in the UK, and this is it. He had gone crazy after the Iraq war because his unit of SAS were one of the test subjects for a secret US trial of performance enhancing battle drugs. The drugs seemed a success at first, turning already hardened soldiers into super soldiers, but it turned out one of the side effects was paranoid schizophrenia.
In a bizarre incident, all the other subjects and most of an army base died after while waiting for a dawn raid, one test subject spoke up and said, 'I've been thinking this through, and I've come to the conclusion that you are all vampires trying to kill me.' Strangely enough, this had been running through the head's off all the other soldiers present, which led to a bloody stake fight that ended up with the base being burned down. Nigel was the lone survivor. It turned out that there was indeed a vampire on the base, but this hardly came as much of a surprise as he was a lawyer.
It took two years before Nigel was eventually captured. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and placed in an army mental health ward. Whilst inside, he spoke to no-one. All the doctors got from him was that he worked for Scrinkles now, a person he went on the run with. He was there for a year before he one day mysteriously escaped, leaving a note that read;
Hey guys. Scrinkles needs me, so I'm popping out for a bit. Cheers for the grub.
Nige.
Since then, Nigel had been acting under orders of Scrinkles, and had become a wanted art thief. But Nigel wasn't a classical sneak in during the night, dance round lasers and swipe priceless works of art without anyone seeing art thief, oh no. He came in during the middle of the day with a machine gun and a bazooka. He had been on an international art blagging spree (or, as he'd like to say, International Art Liberation) for 6 months now. He'd been from the Tate Modern all the way round the world and back to the Milton Keynes art gallery. Scrinkles said there wasn't anything worth stealing there; he just wanted to shoot the artist. He wasn't sure why Scrinkles needed the world's art, but he done it anyway.
The part that kept terrified police chiefs awake late at night though is that Scrinkles is no mere man. He was Nigel's pet cat.
THWACK!
'B*gger me Max, how long have you been practising this for?'
THWACK!
'Ahhh, I saw this program about it on TV once a few months ago about it late at night. Figured it would be pretty cool to be able to do it myself, so I've been practising since.'
THWACK!
'But they go right into the wall! Surely that's physically impossible'
THWACK!
'Hey, I originally wanted to use it so I could chase cr*p bands out of my office.' Max mimicked a whiney begging lead vocalist '"Oh please Mr Producer, help me mix my god awful piece of cr*p album,"'
THWACK!
'Get out of here!'
THWACK!
'"Ahhhh! Stop hitting me in the head!" Go on, get out of here, talentless gits! "Not my spleen! Nooo!"'
THWACK!
'What happened to that then?'
THWACK!
'Hit someone in the neck. They had to go to hospital. He deserved it, they sucked.'
THWACK!
Nigel felt it was time. His plan was flawless, he was sure. He walked back from the rooftop edge to the other side of the multi story car park to where his armour plated van was parked. The big flaming grinning skull painted on the front always made him smile. At first, he told Scrinkles it wouldn't be very discreet, but Scrinkles said 'Sod discretion,' and as usual, Scrinkles was right. It looked damned cool.
He slid into the driver seat and switched the engine on.
'Right, got my guns, check, got me ammo, check, got me armour, check, got me van, check, and got me cat, check.'
He strapped Scrinkles into a specially designed safety harness and clipped on his own rally style safety harness.
'I've been thinking Scrinkles…'
'You aren't pulling out are you? You pathetic…'
'Of course not Scrinkles, I'd never do that. I was just wondering if you wanted to do a little wager.'
'What would that be?'
'Fifty quid says I can do this whole job without killing nuffin.'
'Fifty pound sterling is it? And exactly how do you intend to pull off this Herculean stunt of mercy? Stroll in and simply ask "Oh hello and good day to you good sirs. May I, per chance, inquire as to the possibility of my temporary liberation of the entire contents of this fine gallery? I need it to take over the world." "Oh yes good sir, here you are" You idiot!'
'I was with you up 'til you said fifty.'
'Imbecile! And to think I'm spawned from you!'
'What was that?'
'Ooooh, nothing. Fifty pound you say? Alright, no killing.'
'I'll just smash 'em up pretty good instead. Ready?'
'Ready.'
The engine revved, and then Nigel cranked it into 1st gear and tore off across the rooftop. He hit the nitros button and the van went from 1-60 in 1 second and ten metres. It smashed into the concrete wall surrounding the car park and carried on going, flying across the street and into the waiting doors of the art gallery.
'Andy, roll another one.' Max tossed the weed over to the semi-conscious Andy.
'I can't Max… I can barely move. Look.' He managed to point his little finger at him. And then it flopped away again.
'Do it, or I'll get Jason to put Anthrax in your next bong.'
'Oh I'd do it too.'
'I know you would, good man Jason.'
'Oh alright,' Andy tossed Max back his weed, 'I'll use my own,' and with that, Andy pulled a huge bag of ganja from his pocket.
'Christ,' gasped Jason, 'When did you get that?'
'You could use that as a pillow,' said Max.
'I got it from Fog when you got bored of watching him tickle me and went for a piss. You know, you really could've done something about that.'
'What, like kick you as well? I can tell you now, I was tempted.'
'Just what is it you do again that lets you afford that Andy?' asked Max.
'I play test computer games. We get a discount.'
Andy, in the world of computer games, was known as Golden Thumbs. He could not only complete, but set an unbreakable high score, on any game he played first time around.
His job consisted of sitting in a room with a few other blokes playing new computer games before they get released to check for bugs and smoking weed. He had a long distance relationship, but this suited him fine, as his girlfriend played him online, thus combining having a girlfriend with playing video games, whilst eliminating tricky obstacles such as sex and not being able to smoke grass. His travel consisted of going to foreign countries, playing in competitions, winning loads of money and smoking weed. He particularly liked competitions in Amsterdam.
Some would say this is relatively sad. Andy would retort with the fact he drives a BMW, has his own house, and hasn't ever had a stressful day. Unfortunately for Andy, things were about to get a little tense.
'Either of you got any rizla?'
'Errr…' Max searched his jacket, 'no.'
'I'm embarrassed to say this,' Jason felt the other two's gaze burn into him, 'but I got the munchies earlier and… erm…'
'And you what?'
'I… I ate the rizla.'
'You ate what?!' asked Andy.
'Yeah, I couldn't be arsed to get up and go to the fridge, so…'
'So you ate the rizla?'
'Err… Yeah, pretty much.'
THWACK!
'ARGH! B*stard!'
'You're calling Max a b*stard?! Because of you, we all now have to go to shops! You absolute muppet!'
THWACK!
'AH! Alright, I'm sorry, let's just do it and not moan about it. I need something to eat anyway.'
'Still peckish are we?' piped up Max, 'pack of rizla not hitting the spot is it? How about a nice rizla sandwich then? Rolling paper stew? Hey, sod the shop, I'll just whack my printer paper in an omelette for you, shall I? Freak.'
Nigel was in the back of the art gallery now, loading up works of art into the back of his van. So far, no deaths, it was all good. As Nigel had expected, after the alarms had gone off, the gallery had sealed itself with huge doors to prevent escape. For other thieves, this could be an issue, but for Nigel, it was a temporary barrier between him and the police, and all things considered, this was probably a good thing.
He threw the last few paintings in the back, then went over to the tied up security guards.
'Right, I'll be off in a minute, but I'd just like to thank you kind gentlemen for allowing me this free trip in this 'ere gallery you have.'
'Hmmmpphffff!!!' The guard doing the talking had a handicap in the talking department, owing to a strategically placed gag.
'That's a bit out of tone isn't it? I mean Scrinkles here wanted me to kill you all, and I only shot you in the leg three times. I been nice to you fellas I 'ave. Ain't that right Scrinkles?'
'Meow.'
'Why would you want me to do that Scrinkles?'
'Meow.'
'So in order to take over the planet, you need me to collect their noses?'
'HMMMMMMPPPPHHHHFFFFF!'
'Meow.'
'Oh alright then.'
'Wait a second guys.'
Andy pushed Max and Jason back. Before them were the stairs, spiralling into the depths of eternity, or Saturn Heights at least.
'I've always wanted to do this.'
With that, Andy launched himself at the staircase railing, grabbing hold with one arm and sticking the other out in front of him.
'I'm Superman! Ahahahahaha!'
He slid off down the railing at incredible speed, disappearing from view in moments. A few seconds later Max and Jason heard a sickening thump echo up from the floor below. Max and Jason exchanged glances of non-concern then looked back at the stairs.
'I think Andy has issues,' said Jason.
There was a brief pause.
'You still haven't told him about the lift then?'
'And I never will.'
'Nigel Lawrence,' boomed the megaphone, 'This is the Police. You are surrounded. Come out and throw down you guns or we will be forced to take action.'
The bag of explosives slid across the hallway and slammed against the barrier over the gallery's door. Nigel hoisted himself into the driver's seat, cat in hand. He put Scrinkles down carefully in his protected seat, and grabbed up his bazooka. He stepped on the gas and the van roared forward.
'Nigel Lawrence,' Nigel heard it was a different voice over the scream of the engine, 'this is the RSPCA. You are surrounded. Come out and give us the cat, or we will be forced to glare at you.'
As it bounded towards its target, Nigel swung his huge form out the window and shot a round off into the explosives, smashing a huge hole in the metal shutter. The van smashed through the debris and launched off down the steps of the art gallery. It slammed into the side of a police car, then ricocheted off into another. Nigel hit nitros again, and smashed another three police cars aside before taking off down the road.
'What do you suppose that noise is?' asked Jason.
'Sounds like a load of sirens,' said Andy
'No, that other, louder, roaring sound with and something that sounds almost like screeching metal that seems to be getting louder and louder?'
'That'd be the sound of a huge armour plated van shaking police car debris off, powered by malfunctioning nitro boosters with a huge burning skull painted on the front veering wildly towards us.'
'Wow Max, that's pretty detailed. You get all that from hearing?'
'May I suggest we step one pace to our left?'
The van skimmed past them and ploughed head on into a T-Junction slightly up the road. All three looked curiously to see what happened next. Max had seen a lot of things in his life time, but at no point had he seen a nitro powered van cleave its way through a busy T-Junction and into a coffee shop. He had to say, he was impressed. If things like this happen every time Jason ate rizla, he didn't care. He'd even serve them with a side salad of toilet tissue.
'Look,' said Jason, 'It's action man.'
'How did he survive that?' asked Andy.
'He's action man. He can survive anything.'
'He's not action man. Action man doesn't have a pet cat,' said Max.
'Maybe he's new Blofeld Action Man.'
'Maybe you should shut up.'
'Oh crap. He's coming over here.'
'We should run.'
'It's a man with a machine gun, a bazooka and a cat walking towards us. I would've thought running would be quite obvious.'
'But can you?'
'Err… no.'
'Me neither.'
'Nor me.'
'We'll just talk our way out of it.'
Nigel got to the immobilised threesome, and grabbed Andy, pointed a gun at his head, and waved another one wildly at Max and Jason. Maybe letting Jason eat rizla wasn't such a bright idea after all.
'Nice talking Max.' said Jason.
'Shuddup!' shouted Andy, 'if yous wanna live, you better get back.'
'Look, I'm sure we can resolve this. We're all reasonable individuals and…' Max was interrupted by 15 odd police cars coming to a screeching halt from all directions. 'Oh, you're an escaped lunatic, oh don't worry then.'
'You all back of or these guys get it.' Nigel looked nervous, 'I don't want to, but Scrinkles says I have to.'
'Meow.'
'Scrinkles?'
'I think he means the cat.'
'How'd you figure that one out?'
'Well why else would the cat be here?'
'Logical thinking. Like it.'
'SHUDDUP!'
'Meow.'
'FREEZE NIGEL! GIVE UP YOUR HOSTAGE AND WE WILL TAKE YOU BACK TO THE INSTITUTE!'
'You hear that?' shouted Andy 'The Institute! I told you! Bloody aliens, that's what it is!'
'Andy, there is no need to blow this situation further out of control by mentioning aliens. This guy is clearly the sort of bloke who takes those sorts of issues very seriously,' said Max.
Jason leaned toward Max. 'What are we going to do?'
'Don't worry, I have a plan. Look at my hand.'
'You can't be serious.'
'Watch this.'
THWACK!
'SCRINKLES!'
The second playing card flew out of Max's hand. It span majestically through the air and landed right in Nigel's left eye.
THWACK!
'ARGH! Me eye! Me cat! You bastard!'
Nigel raised his gun and screamed off a couple of wildly inaccurate shots that missed Max and Jason and hit a couple of onlookers who were in advertising. In the police report that followed, this moment would be a only upside on a dark day in the force. As Nigel went to shoot again, a third card slammed into Nigel's hand, breaking his fingers and forcing him to drop the gun. A fourth hit him in the chest, knocking him backwards.
Jason had waited for this moment all his life. All his days, he'd dreamt of the time he would do a wrestling move on someone and save the day. He moved in fast and hard, pushing Andy well clear as he went. He came up on Nigel, grabbed him, and gave him an earth-shattering suplex onto the pavement. Neither body moved. The police moved in and secured Nigel. Max went over and kicked Jason.
'You couldn't just let the police tazer him, could you?'
'I think I've put my back out.'
'Good.'
'Where's Andy?'
'The cops are talking to him.'
'How'd you do that with the cards?'
'Ahh, I watched this program about hostage negotiation before. They said to take out the hostage, then the hostage taker was nowhere to run.'
'But you didn't get Andy.'
'No, but I was aiming for his balls. Another time maybe.'
Andy came running over. 'Hey dudes, the police searched me, and look what they found!' In his outstretched hand were several packets of Rizla. Max looked down at Jason, then back at Andy and sighed. Then he looked at Andy's crotch.
THWACK!
Thanks for reading people. Let me know what you think!
Cheers
-Gregg
THWACK! To the ordinary person, these were nothing, but in his hands, they were weapons of mass destruction. THWACK! Another one homed in perfectly on the target, carving a mighty chunk out of the wall. With them, he was unstoppable, THWACK! A god amongst men. Soon, his skill will be perfected and then…
'Hey Max, we got it!' Jason crashed into the room and Max's runaway imagination with the full force of a 6'3 18 stone wrestler hammered out of his skull on a combination of skunk, tequila slammers and enough espressos to get man on the moon. This is just as well, because Jason was a wasted 6'3 18 stone wrestler.
'Take your time why don't you boys,' Max slid the rest of the deck into his jacket pocket, 'Where's Andy?'
'Maybe you should come see for yourself,' Jason said, motioning to the door.
Max reluctantly got up and strolled out of his front door and to the stair case. About three floors down the spiral there was Andy, sprawled out on his back, not moving much.
'I've passed the first level!' shouted Andy, pointing up at Max, his hand shortly flopping back down to his side.
'What's wrong with him?' inquired Max.
'Ahhh, he's been doing bongs all day whilst playing Halo online. Had to carry him all the way to Fog's.' said Jason, joining Max at his side.
'What did Fog have to say?'
'Well you know how it is with Fog. He smokes too much for anyone to actually understand. You just give him money, he grins, mumbles incoherently and hands you a bag of green.'
'Ok smarta*se. What did he do?'
'Andy started saying he was one of the aliens, so Fog pushed him over, got out a feather duster and tickled him for 15 minutes straight. He looked like a school girl when confronted by kittens. Only more stoned. It was brutal.'
'Not the most intimidating drug dealer in the world is he?'
There was a hushed moaning coming from down the stairs as Andy summoned the strength to attempt crawling up the stairs. There were as also intermittent shouts of 'AHH! DIE ALIEN SCUM!' and 'YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!' directed at the residents of Saturn Heights passing him by as the high levels of tetrahydrocannibinol in his blood played tricks on his mind's ability to perceive reality. Andy was a common sight on the stairs and more often than not would arrive at Max's flat half an hour later with cups of tea, a blanket and some loose change the generous residents of Saturn Heights would give him to shut him up.
'Right,' said Max, straightening himself up and readjusting his shades. 'You get the Xbox on and I'll wrap one up.'
'Sorted.'
Nigel Lawrence wiped the rain out his eyes. Scrinkles has promised him this, Scrinkles had foretold it. Nigel checked the magazine in his M1 Carbine Semi-Automatic rifle. Scrinkles told him many people will die today. Nigel didn't want to kill people, he had done it before and he knew he didn't like it much. Still, the job had to be done. Maybe this time, he wouldn't kill as many people. He could just injure them instead. Scrinkles won't notice anyway, Nigel was sure. Aim for the kneecaps. It'll be fine.
'We will wait until it gets darker,' boomed the dark deep sinister voice of Scrinkles, 'then we will strike.'
Whenever Nigel heard that voice, it shaked the very core of his soul. Scrinkles was one evil mother f*cker, and Nigel knew his evil mother f*ckers. He had been in the SAS, he'd fought in gulf war, he had seen some crazy things. But nothing like Scrinkles. Scrinkles' plan to take over the world was as horrific as it was brilliant. It was nothing short of genius. Not that Scrinkles ever told Nigel the entire plan, in fact, he never told him anything, but that is surely a mark of just how amazingly clever Scrinkles is.
'Whatever you say, Mr Scrinkles, sir.'
'Now you will feed me.'
'Sir, yes sir.' Nigel took out a can from under his battle smock, opened it, and placed it by his feet. Scrinkles came over and began eating from the can and Nigel stroked Scrinkles as he ate while staring down over the side of the building at the Art Gallery opposite. It was going to be magnificent.
There's a reason Nigel Lawrence was the most wanted man in the UK, and this is it. He had gone crazy after the Iraq war because his unit of SAS were one of the test subjects for a secret US trial of performance enhancing battle drugs. The drugs seemed a success at first, turning already hardened soldiers into super soldiers, but it turned out one of the side effects was paranoid schizophrenia.
In a bizarre incident, all the other subjects and most of an army base died after while waiting for a dawn raid, one test subject spoke up and said, 'I've been thinking this through, and I've come to the conclusion that you are all vampires trying to kill me.' Strangely enough, this had been running through the head's off all the other soldiers present, which led to a bloody stake fight that ended up with the base being burned down. Nigel was the lone survivor. It turned out that there was indeed a vampire on the base, but this hardly came as much of a surprise as he was a lawyer.
It took two years before Nigel was eventually captured. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and placed in an army mental health ward. Whilst inside, he spoke to no-one. All the doctors got from him was that he worked for Scrinkles now, a person he went on the run with. He was there for a year before he one day mysteriously escaped, leaving a note that read;
Hey guys. Scrinkles needs me, so I'm popping out for a bit. Cheers for the grub.
Nige.
Since then, Nigel had been acting under orders of Scrinkles, and had become a wanted art thief. But Nigel wasn't a classical sneak in during the night, dance round lasers and swipe priceless works of art without anyone seeing art thief, oh no. He came in during the middle of the day with a machine gun and a bazooka. He had been on an international art blagging spree (or, as he'd like to say, International Art Liberation) for 6 months now. He'd been from the Tate Modern all the way round the world and back to the Milton Keynes art gallery. Scrinkles said there wasn't anything worth stealing there; he just wanted to shoot the artist. He wasn't sure why Scrinkles needed the world's art, but he done it anyway.
The part that kept terrified police chiefs awake late at night though is that Scrinkles is no mere man. He was Nigel's pet cat.
THWACK!
'B*gger me Max, how long have you been practising this for?'
THWACK!
'Ahhh, I saw this program about it on TV once a few months ago about it late at night. Figured it would be pretty cool to be able to do it myself, so I've been practising since.'
THWACK!
'But they go right into the wall! Surely that's physically impossible'
THWACK!
'Hey, I originally wanted to use it so I could chase cr*p bands out of my office.' Max mimicked a whiney begging lead vocalist '"Oh please Mr Producer, help me mix my god awful piece of cr*p album,"'
THWACK!
'Get out of here!'
THWACK!
'"Ahhhh! Stop hitting me in the head!" Go on, get out of here, talentless gits! "Not my spleen! Nooo!"'
THWACK!
'What happened to that then?'
THWACK!
'Hit someone in the neck. They had to go to hospital. He deserved it, they sucked.'
THWACK!
Nigel felt it was time. His plan was flawless, he was sure. He walked back from the rooftop edge to the other side of the multi story car park to where his armour plated van was parked. The big flaming grinning skull painted on the front always made him smile. At first, he told Scrinkles it wouldn't be very discreet, but Scrinkles said 'Sod discretion,' and as usual, Scrinkles was right. It looked damned cool.
He slid into the driver seat and switched the engine on.
'Right, got my guns, check, got me ammo, check, got me armour, check, got me van, check, and got me cat, check.'
He strapped Scrinkles into a specially designed safety harness and clipped on his own rally style safety harness.
'I've been thinking Scrinkles…'
'You aren't pulling out are you? You pathetic…'
'Of course not Scrinkles, I'd never do that. I was just wondering if you wanted to do a little wager.'
'What would that be?'
'Fifty quid says I can do this whole job without killing nuffin.'
'Fifty pound sterling is it? And exactly how do you intend to pull off this Herculean stunt of mercy? Stroll in and simply ask "Oh hello and good day to you good sirs. May I, per chance, inquire as to the possibility of my temporary liberation of the entire contents of this fine gallery? I need it to take over the world." "Oh yes good sir, here you are" You idiot!'
'I was with you up 'til you said fifty.'
'Imbecile! And to think I'm spawned from you!'
'What was that?'
'Ooooh, nothing. Fifty pound you say? Alright, no killing.'
'I'll just smash 'em up pretty good instead. Ready?'
'Ready.'
The engine revved, and then Nigel cranked it into 1st gear and tore off across the rooftop. He hit the nitros button and the van went from 1-60 in 1 second and ten metres. It smashed into the concrete wall surrounding the car park and carried on going, flying across the street and into the waiting doors of the art gallery.
'Andy, roll another one.' Max tossed the weed over to the semi-conscious Andy.
'I can't Max… I can barely move. Look.' He managed to point his little finger at him. And then it flopped away again.
'Do it, or I'll get Jason to put Anthrax in your next bong.'
'Oh I'd do it too.'
'I know you would, good man Jason.'
'Oh alright,' Andy tossed Max back his weed, 'I'll use my own,' and with that, Andy pulled a huge bag of ganja from his pocket.
'Christ,' gasped Jason, 'When did you get that?'
'You could use that as a pillow,' said Max.
'I got it from Fog when you got bored of watching him tickle me and went for a piss. You know, you really could've done something about that.'
'What, like kick you as well? I can tell you now, I was tempted.'
'Just what is it you do again that lets you afford that Andy?' asked Max.
'I play test computer games. We get a discount.'
Andy, in the world of computer games, was known as Golden Thumbs. He could not only complete, but set an unbreakable high score, on any game he played first time around.
His job consisted of sitting in a room with a few other blokes playing new computer games before they get released to check for bugs and smoking weed. He had a long distance relationship, but this suited him fine, as his girlfriend played him online, thus combining having a girlfriend with playing video games, whilst eliminating tricky obstacles such as sex and not being able to smoke grass. His travel consisted of going to foreign countries, playing in competitions, winning loads of money and smoking weed. He particularly liked competitions in Amsterdam.
Some would say this is relatively sad. Andy would retort with the fact he drives a BMW, has his own house, and hasn't ever had a stressful day. Unfortunately for Andy, things were about to get a little tense.
'Either of you got any rizla?'
'Errr…' Max searched his jacket, 'no.'
'I'm embarrassed to say this,' Jason felt the other two's gaze burn into him, 'but I got the munchies earlier and… erm…'
'And you what?'
'I… I ate the rizla.'
'You ate what?!' asked Andy.
'Yeah, I couldn't be arsed to get up and go to the fridge, so…'
'So you ate the rizla?'
'Err… Yeah, pretty much.'
THWACK!
'ARGH! B*stard!'
'You're calling Max a b*stard?! Because of you, we all now have to go to shops! You absolute muppet!'
THWACK!
'AH! Alright, I'm sorry, let's just do it and not moan about it. I need something to eat anyway.'
'Still peckish are we?' piped up Max, 'pack of rizla not hitting the spot is it? How about a nice rizla sandwich then? Rolling paper stew? Hey, sod the shop, I'll just whack my printer paper in an omelette for you, shall I? Freak.'
Nigel was in the back of the art gallery now, loading up works of art into the back of his van. So far, no deaths, it was all good. As Nigel had expected, after the alarms had gone off, the gallery had sealed itself with huge doors to prevent escape. For other thieves, this could be an issue, but for Nigel, it was a temporary barrier between him and the police, and all things considered, this was probably a good thing.
He threw the last few paintings in the back, then went over to the tied up security guards.
'Right, I'll be off in a minute, but I'd just like to thank you kind gentlemen for allowing me this free trip in this 'ere gallery you have.'
'Hmmmpphffff!!!' The guard doing the talking had a handicap in the talking department, owing to a strategically placed gag.
'That's a bit out of tone isn't it? I mean Scrinkles here wanted me to kill you all, and I only shot you in the leg three times. I been nice to you fellas I 'ave. Ain't that right Scrinkles?'
'Meow.'
'Why would you want me to do that Scrinkles?'
'Meow.'
'So in order to take over the planet, you need me to collect their noses?'
'HMMMMMMPPPPHHHHFFFFF!'
'Meow.'
'Oh alright then.'
'Wait a second guys.'
Andy pushed Max and Jason back. Before them were the stairs, spiralling into the depths of eternity, or Saturn Heights at least.
'I've always wanted to do this.'
With that, Andy launched himself at the staircase railing, grabbing hold with one arm and sticking the other out in front of him.
'I'm Superman! Ahahahahaha!'
He slid off down the railing at incredible speed, disappearing from view in moments. A few seconds later Max and Jason heard a sickening thump echo up from the floor below. Max and Jason exchanged glances of non-concern then looked back at the stairs.
'I think Andy has issues,' said Jason.
There was a brief pause.
'You still haven't told him about the lift then?'
'And I never will.'
'Nigel Lawrence,' boomed the megaphone, 'This is the Police. You are surrounded. Come out and throw down you guns or we will be forced to take action.'
The bag of explosives slid across the hallway and slammed against the barrier over the gallery's door. Nigel hoisted himself into the driver's seat, cat in hand. He put Scrinkles down carefully in his protected seat, and grabbed up his bazooka. He stepped on the gas and the van roared forward.
'Nigel Lawrence,' Nigel heard it was a different voice over the scream of the engine, 'this is the RSPCA. You are surrounded. Come out and give us the cat, or we will be forced to glare at you.'
As it bounded towards its target, Nigel swung his huge form out the window and shot a round off into the explosives, smashing a huge hole in the metal shutter. The van smashed through the debris and launched off down the steps of the art gallery. It slammed into the side of a police car, then ricocheted off into another. Nigel hit nitros again, and smashed another three police cars aside before taking off down the road.
'What do you suppose that noise is?' asked Jason.
'Sounds like a load of sirens,' said Andy
'No, that other, louder, roaring sound with and something that sounds almost like screeching metal that seems to be getting louder and louder?'
'That'd be the sound of a huge armour plated van shaking police car debris off, powered by malfunctioning nitro boosters with a huge burning skull painted on the front veering wildly towards us.'
'Wow Max, that's pretty detailed. You get all that from hearing?'
'May I suggest we step one pace to our left?'
The van skimmed past them and ploughed head on into a T-Junction slightly up the road. All three looked curiously to see what happened next. Max had seen a lot of things in his life time, but at no point had he seen a nitro powered van cleave its way through a busy T-Junction and into a coffee shop. He had to say, he was impressed. If things like this happen every time Jason ate rizla, he didn't care. He'd even serve them with a side salad of toilet tissue.
'Look,' said Jason, 'It's action man.'
'How did he survive that?' asked Andy.
'He's action man. He can survive anything.'
'He's not action man. Action man doesn't have a pet cat,' said Max.
'Maybe he's new Blofeld Action Man.'
'Maybe you should shut up.'
'Oh crap. He's coming over here.'
'We should run.'
'It's a man with a machine gun, a bazooka and a cat walking towards us. I would've thought running would be quite obvious.'
'But can you?'
'Err… no.'
'Me neither.'
'Nor me.'
'We'll just talk our way out of it.'
Nigel got to the immobilised threesome, and grabbed Andy, pointed a gun at his head, and waved another one wildly at Max and Jason. Maybe letting Jason eat rizla wasn't such a bright idea after all.
'Nice talking Max.' said Jason.
'Shuddup!' shouted Andy, 'if yous wanna live, you better get back.'
'Look, I'm sure we can resolve this. We're all reasonable individuals and…' Max was interrupted by 15 odd police cars coming to a screeching halt from all directions. 'Oh, you're an escaped lunatic, oh don't worry then.'
'You all back of or these guys get it.' Nigel looked nervous, 'I don't want to, but Scrinkles says I have to.'
'Meow.'
'Scrinkles?'
'I think he means the cat.'
'How'd you figure that one out?'
'Well why else would the cat be here?'
'Logical thinking. Like it.'
'SHUDDUP!'
'Meow.'
'FREEZE NIGEL! GIVE UP YOUR HOSTAGE AND WE WILL TAKE YOU BACK TO THE INSTITUTE!'
'You hear that?' shouted Andy 'The Institute! I told you! Bloody aliens, that's what it is!'
'Andy, there is no need to blow this situation further out of control by mentioning aliens. This guy is clearly the sort of bloke who takes those sorts of issues very seriously,' said Max.
Jason leaned toward Max. 'What are we going to do?'
'Don't worry, I have a plan. Look at my hand.'
'You can't be serious.'
'Watch this.'
THWACK!
'SCRINKLES!'
The second playing card flew out of Max's hand. It span majestically through the air and landed right in Nigel's left eye.
THWACK!
'ARGH! Me eye! Me cat! You bastard!'
Nigel raised his gun and screamed off a couple of wildly inaccurate shots that missed Max and Jason and hit a couple of onlookers who were in advertising. In the police report that followed, this moment would be a only upside on a dark day in the force. As Nigel went to shoot again, a third card slammed into Nigel's hand, breaking his fingers and forcing him to drop the gun. A fourth hit him in the chest, knocking him backwards.
Jason had waited for this moment all his life. All his days, he'd dreamt of the time he would do a wrestling move on someone and save the day. He moved in fast and hard, pushing Andy well clear as he went. He came up on Nigel, grabbed him, and gave him an earth-shattering suplex onto the pavement. Neither body moved. The police moved in and secured Nigel. Max went over and kicked Jason.
'You couldn't just let the police tazer him, could you?'
'I think I've put my back out.'
'Good.'
'Where's Andy?'
'The cops are talking to him.'
'How'd you do that with the cards?'
'Ahh, I watched this program about hostage negotiation before. They said to take out the hostage, then the hostage taker was nowhere to run.'
'But you didn't get Andy.'
'No, but I was aiming for his balls. Another time maybe.'
Andy came running over. 'Hey dudes, the police searched me, and look what they found!' In his outstretched hand were several packets of Rizla. Max looked down at Jason, then back at Andy and sighed. Then he looked at Andy's crotch.
THWACK!
Thanks for reading people. Let me know what you think!
Cheers
-Gregg
