Silly Buggers (Part Two)

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

The two little men knelt at either side of Billy and opened their bags. One produced a bundle of stout rope and the other pulled out a heavy mallet and some long steel pegs.

“Please leave him alone,” Flopsy whispered.

Before long they had staked Billy out tightly, his arms and legs forming a letter X, but it wasn't until they started cutting away his clothes that he regained consciousness. “What you doin', you twats?” he mumbled lethargically, his heavily made-up features looking rather disturbing - he looked like the clowns of dark nightmares, clowns that have something other than fun and games on their minds. “'Oo are you?” he said to Gunther, who was watching calmly with folded arms. Suddenly Billy's eyes settled on the two girls being held at bay by an enormous snarling creature. “Flopsy, what's goin' on, is this some sort of joke?”

“Don't speak to her,” Gunther said to the girls. “I forbid it on pain of death, not to mention exquisite, ridiculously prolonged agony. So you're not deceased, young lady. Never mind - you'll die soon enough.”

“What are you doin'?” Billy whimpered, apparently noticing the little men for the first time. “Geroff me!”

“Aah, you really are male!” Gunther said as his servants cut away Billy's boxer shorts. “Strange indeed..... The absurd ways of humans never cease to fascinate me. Fungus, Fickle, tape his mouth, we don't want his screaming to attract dog walkers and other interfering busybodies – and you two had better keep quiet, too. I don't know why folk can't just relax and enjoy the show instead of screaming like idiots. Mind you, I suppose torture wouldn't be anywhere near as much fun if one's victims lay back and hummed a happy tune. Now, shall we open up his chest with a 'Y' incision to check on the edibility of his internal organs, or shall we take off the top of his skull and examine his minuscule brain? Decisions, decisions.”

“Can we slice the flesh off 'is arms and legs nice and slow and feed it to Phileas?” Fickle grunted, licking his lips.

“Or cut 'im a new fuck-ole so we can both service 'im at once?” Fungus added, rubbing his groin.

“Later, perhaps,” Gunther said. “A nice, neat 'Y' incision first, I think.”

“You're fuckin' nutters!” Mouse screamed, and Gunther stepped forwards and slapped her sharply across the face.

“I shan't tell you again, chunk! Fuck me, you must weigh close on three hundred pounds, you salad dodger. Oh, I love the way that fatties' cheeks and multiple chins wobble like jelly when you slap them good and hard.....”

The girls registered a harsh whistling sound, and all of a sudden there was a thin stick-like something protruding from Gunther's face just below his left eye, and the look of surprise on his face was a picture. For a moment Flopsy and Mouse couldn't figure out what the object was, but as the gangling man half turned and staggered helplessly backwards they could see the head and shaft of an arrow sticking a few inches out of the back of his skull.

“Gnnnnn!” he grunted. “Yaaaaa!” And then another arrow hit him smack in the balls, if he had any. “Did you do this to me, Little and preposterously Large?” Gunther managed to gurgle, snapping off the arrow embedded in his face as another one pierced the growling dog thing's eye. Phileas turned around sharply, not knowing what had hit him; a further swiftly moving missile buried itself deep in his infernal heart, and he fell twitching to the ground.

“No, I did, arse face,” a short, powerfully built youth of perhaps nineteen said as he entered the clearing with an arrow in the string of his longbow. “That's my sister and her mates that you're fuckin' with, an' I'm gonna make you pay 'ooever or whatever you are. Prince, come here!”

“Bernie, thank fuck!” Mouse cried.

A black German shepherd dashed into the clearing. The two little men turned and fled, but the dog was way too quick for them. Prince downed the first one and deftly hamstrung him, then he followed the other one into a blackberry patch, and the little man's screams didn't linger for long. Bernie watched carefully as Gunther dropped to his knees, and casually he fired an arrow into the skull of the squirming midget, who was trying to crawl off into the bushes.

“Cunt!” Gunther growled. “I'll get you for this, you scabby pup, you mark my words.” As he spoke his skin began to turn a sickly green. One of his dark, malignant eyes popped out of its socket, turned white and slithered slowly down his cheek. “Nooo!” he yelled. “Not now, boss, I can still master this situation. Please, give me one more chance!” The eye promptly slithered back into its bloody socket, Gunther's deathly pallor magically returned and he began to stand, grinning manically at Bernie, but Bernie didn't give in easily.

“You're the cunt, mate,” he said, trying to mask the fear in his voice. With shaking hands he put three arrows into the monster's chest in quick succession, and that was it, his quiver was empty. “Janice, get a branch from the fire and burn the bastard. Now!”

“Don't you dare, you dunce, you minger, you ugly, useless fat fuck!” Gunther roared.

Mouse moved more quickly than anyone would have thought possible, grabbing the most fiercely burning branch and thrusting it into Gunther's chest. The ghoul caught fire as if he was soaked in petrol, and for a couple of minutes he rolled around the clearing screaming in agony. “Fuck off back wherever you came from, you dirty dollop of shit!” Mouse screamed, kicking the furiously burning bundle repeatedly. The creature began to fall apart under his attacker's blows, the pieces smouldering and scattering in the breeze until all that was left was pure white ash.

“Look!” Flopsy said as she started to untie Billy's bonds. “That dog thing has vanished, and so has the little man.”

“Shit,” Mouse cried, hugging her brother, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “It's good to be alive and amongst friends..... Prince! Here, boy.”