Part 21 (2/2)
The man aimed his penlight back at the corpse's neck. ”Looks like the work of Pires.” He smirked. ”Sucks to be him.”
My ”complete a.s.shole” a.s.sessment remained unchanged. ”Oh, that was clever.”
”Well, somebody had to make the first 'sucks' joke, and you don't look smart enough to have thought of it yourself. The next time you see a vampire-ravaged body with a hollowed-out throat you can use it. But I want royalties.”
I extricated myself from the corpse and wiped off my hands on my pants. The body belonged to a young guy with Kurt Cobain greasy blond hair. A pentagram had been carved into his bare chest.
”Are you sure your Pires did this?”
He crouched down next to the corpse, keeping the gun on me. ”Looks like it. There's not much blood left.”
”Maybe it was oversized mosquitoes. Or maybe Red Cross representatives gone wild.”
He glanced at me, not looking happy. ”Remember that I got the gun, sofa-boy. I'm the one who gets to make the snide comments.”
I sighed and took a quick peek at the still-open doorway. Maybe if I got him talking I'd have a chance to run for it.
”Is that who you were supposed to kidnap?” I asked.
”It's not a kidnapping; it's a rescue.”
”Is that who you're supposed to rescue against their will?”
”You're a smart-a.s.s,” the man noted. ”I can relate to that. What's your name?”
”Andrew Mayhem.”
”What's your real name?”
”Andrew Mayhem.”
”Pretty stupid name.”
”And you are...?”
”Harry McGlade.”
I quickly tried to think up a hilarious comment (preferably something obscene) that rhymed with ”McGlade,” but nothing came to mind. And then I decided it wasn't a good idea to be making fun of his name, considering that I was still the one being held at gunpoint. And then I decided I should really be more mature than that anyway, given the circ.u.mstances.
”So we're going to call the cops, right?” I asked.
”I'm thinking no.”
”Then can we at least get out of here? I'm not real comfortable hanging around a dead body.”
”What part of the corpse is bothering you? Is it the ripped-out throat? I bet it's the ripped-out throat.”
”I take it that 'respect for the dead' is not a phrase you use on a regular basis?”
He t.i.tled his head. ”You know, if I look at the wound on an angle, it reminds me of a stripper I know.”
I amended my ”complete a.s.shole” a.s.sessment to include the words ”from h.e.l.l.”
”So this is where we part ways, slowly drift apart, and eventually fail to keep in touch altogether, right?” I asked.
”No dice, Andrew Moron. We gotta search the place. I'm looking for a girl, not a naked dead guy.”
I glanced at the corpse and slapped a hand over my mouth. ”Oh, G.o.d...”
”What?”
”There's a roach crawling out of his mouth...” I dropped to all fours and dry heaved.
Harry shook his head. ”I thought you Florida guys were cool with roaches. You call them palmetto bugs, right? It was probably laying eggs in his-”
I spun around and threw a punch that struck him in the stomach. He let out a loud ”oooomph!” as he staggered backwards a step, tripped over the dead hand, and then landed b.u.t.t-first on the corpse. The sound was unbelievably disgusting and does not warrant a phonetic description.
”Aaahhhhh!!!” Harry cried out in a most refres.h.i.+ng sissy-like manner. I punched him in the face, knocking him flat on his back. His b.u.t.t remained seated on the corpse. The gun remained in his hand.
He sat up a bit and pointed the gun at me. I was pretty sure that Harry McGlade was the kind of guy who would indeed shoot an innocent person such as myself, so I dove at him before he could pull the trigger.
I landed on top of him and we struggled frantically for control of the weapon. Punches were thrown. Head-b.u.t.ts were exchanged. Obscenities were uttered. I'd been in vicious fights before, but this was the first one to take place on top of a mutilated corpse.
I grabbed the corpse's arm and smacked Harry in the face with it. That seemed to anger him for some reason. I tried to knee him in the groin, but he moved out of the way just in time and I kneed the corpse in the groin instead. I had a flash of the poor dead guy standing in front of the pearly gates, suddenly doubling over in agony.
Harry got in an admittedly good punch to my chest. I got in a much better punch to his jaw. His eyes crossed in a most unattractive manner. I wrenched the gun out of his grip, punched him again, and then pressed the barrel against his forehead.
”You're a d.i.c.k,” he said.
”Behave,” I warned him. I eased myself off the dead body, keeping the gun pointed at him.
”These were new pants.”
”I weep for your loss. By the way, there wasn't really a roach.”
”I guessed that.”
”I bet you didn't.”
”Look here, Malox-”
”It's Mayhem. You don't get to make fun of my name unless you're holding the gun.”
”Whatever. Give it back to me before you hurt yourself.”
”I don't think so.”
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