Quoted By:
Still elbow-deep in your nigh-bottomless pockets, your hand clasps around a suitable stand-in for your radio–the rough, almost chitinous book jacket of an otherworldly smut rag that swiftly fills your heart with uncanny fear just <span class="mu-i">feeling</span> it!
“Last warning, pussy cat–we ain’t afraid to rumble, dig?”
Some primal, mammalian survival instinct kicks in as you remove the <span class="mu-r">MERMAID SMUT</span> from your pockets prompting you to shield your eyes as you fling the skin rag in the skeleton greaser’s direction! Upon hearing its heavy pages connect with his face, you slap Gus’ arm a few times and yell at him to <span class="mu-i">GUN IT!</span>
“Yea, uh…” Gus mutters as he lazily glances between the three other hot rods full of armed and clearly not distracted skeleton greasers, “Don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Hey, wait a sec…” Mutters one of the greasers from further down the convoy as he scrutinizes your face with glowing red eyes, “Ain’t I seen ya somewhere?”
Maybe in his <span class="mu-i">nightmares</span>, you snarl, hair bristling as all of the vehicles roll to a stop.
“Yea…” The greaser continues, hopping off the side of his ride and approaching your bike, “You’re that <span class="mu-s">STANLEY</span> kid, right?”
Passing by Art, Mitzi, and Syb’s wheels, you order all three with your mind to destroy the skeleton… <span class="mu-s">DESTROY HIM!</span>
Unfortunately your command goes unheeded as he approaches your sidecar running a comb through his immaculately-kept hair.
“Well hot dog, boys, we’ve got a celebrity!” He hoots, prompting the non-catatonic skeletons to cheer in response! Planting a sneakered-foot on the edge of your sidecar, the skeleton leans in and gives you a genial grin!
“Cripes, kitten–why didn’t you say somethin’? You guys are runnin’ late!”
And they would have run late <span class="mu-i">PERMANENTLY</span> if they tried anything funny, you counter! He might want to, like, bat that smut rag out of their view with a stick or something, by the way.
“Sorry about the show, kid,” The greaser apologizes as he motions for one of his pals to dislodge the <span class="mu-r">MERMAID SMUT</span> from your initial accosters, “Cliff was real particular about uninvited guests–don’t want anyone spoiling the fun, dig?”
Well they’d better get to work making things fun again, you snarl, because this totally killed your mood! And look at Gus, you add, gesturing to the gentle giant seated next to you, he’s practically in tears!
“Sob.”
“Did uh… did the big guy just <span class="mu-i">say</span> ‘so-’”
He’s <span class="mu-i">emotionally soldered</span>, okay? And the fact that he even <span class="mu-i">said</span> that means you guys <span class="mu-i">REALLY</span> hurt his feelings!
“Oh shoot–we’re awful sorry, Stan! And pals!”
They <span class="mu-i">WILL</span> be, you retort in a foreboding voice… they <span class="mu-s">WILL</span> be!
>CONTD.
