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Comedy
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| Pikeys revenge | |
| By simon.ward72 | ||||||||||||
| 15 April 2006 | ||||||||||||
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This ones for Gwynn. For further reading and understanding of this one see 'Jimmy and the Squirrel' in the childrens section. Gwynn and Simon are enjoying a Frappucino on a fresh April morning. They have taken an al fresco seat outside Starbucks to enjoy the spring sunshine, and although it is still rather brisk they are enjoying the conditions immensely and are immersed in lively conversation. Little do they realize however that mere yards from where they sit their doom is being engineered. On the other side of the street, crouched behind a large yellow skip are three deranged looking individuals. At first they appear to be nothing more than street scum, the kind of human waste that is often found rummaging through the litter bins of old London town, but on closer inspection we find they are three far more sinister and dangerous characters. Lizard boy, Kathy Hyfield and Minty Michael, now collectively known as the PMRC, or Pikeys and Misfortunates Revenge Collaboration, peer out over the top of the skip to where Gwynn and Simon sit sipping their frothy caffeine drinks, blissfully unaware of the malicious agenda of which they form an integral part. ‘Its them’ says Lizard boy, his skin now so flakey and crustified that he can barley move his face to talk, and when he does the skin cracks, flakes and weeps in the most revolting fashion. ‘Yes’ says Minty Michael, his powerful monobrow stands a full three inches tall and reaches all the way round the front of his head, connecting to the hairline on either side. He adds in dramatic tones: ‘Today a great justice will be done; today we shall have our revenge’. He is still wearing the same Wellington boots that he used to wear for PE at school. Kathy is so full of emotion she can barely speak, but we are reassured to see she is as pikey as ever. The same rusty contraption of a bike, the one she thought she had finally rid herself of after all those years of thankless toil, is parked a few meters away. She looks at the bike, looks back over at the pair sitting down, and a grim determination comes over her face. She was never again able to muster the will to try and better herself, and indeed her bike, after that fateful summer’s day many years ago. Today that hurt would be undone. ‘Lets do it’ she says in a voice laden with profound hatred. They make their move. Kathys plan involves riding her monstrous excuse for a bicycle into the target, kamikaze style. If she had to die herself in eliminating these two viscous and hurtful bullies then it would be a fine price to pay. They would know pain, oh yes, they would no pain. Lizard boy has spent the lonely years fashioning weapons of various kind in preparation for this day. In his hand he holds his most treasured tool of all, a razor sharp cutlass with a deadly serrated edge. He would show no mercy, and yes, they would know his true name as they died. Minty Michael deftly removes his left Wellington. He has studied the arcane craft of shoe fighting and is now capable of breaking the neck of a grown man with a well placed Wellington boot heel to the appropriate pressure point. He fancies a less swift and far more painful technique for these two however, suffering is the objective; suffering, humiliation and pain. Things do not work out as planned for the PMRC. Lizard boys skin is in such bad condition that he seizes up completely as she tries to run. His increased efforts only compound the situation and such is his force in trying to propel himself towards the victims the strain becomes to great and his body begins to cracks and crumble. The fragile foundation of his physical form is overwhelmed and he literally crumbles to dust in the fresh spring air. Kathy mounts her bike but the heap of shit is so rusty that she is unable to make turn the pedals. She steps down with all her mite trying to get some momentum so she can make her battle charge, but the knackered old pedal arm gives way and she tumbles forward into the road just as the number 27 bus is approaching. The timing could not be any more unfortunate and Kathys head explodes like a melon as the wheels of the bus go round and round, on top of her now mutilated form. Michael sees his fallen comrades and now, even more determined to exact revenge on behalf of them all, he lurches forward with a war cry in his mouth and a welly in his hand. Unfortunatly the imbalance caused by only wearing one Welly causes him to misplace his step and his ankle twists harshly and grotesquely on the edge of the kerb. A load cracking sound is heard as the bone shoots out of the flesh and his leg bends up the wrong way. Michael collapses in bloody agony on the side of the road. Two kids wearing hoodies appear and Michael reaches up to them in a desperate plea for help. The first hoodie checks his pockets while the other stabs him repeatedly in the throat. Finding nothing of worth the two hoodies move on. Across the road Simon and Gwynn are ordering more Frappucinos.
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