Nothing issss on sssssale!
The first clap of the mostly-frozen bricks makes a satisfying THUNK on his head. At first, he just looks confused. After the third clap, the sounds are a bit more wet, and his confusion has switched to surprised realization, and it’s about to …
WHAP
… change back to confusion. He begins to slide to the floor, and his attacker is on him like a dervish, the right hand – the one containing the CHOCOLATE – already cocked back to rain the first of many blows on the collapsed man’s face. Minutes later, grunting as he pulls his arm back yet again to continue his endeavor, the attacker notices again the patch of psoriasis on the fallen man’s upper lip, like large reptile scales, clearly visible through a wispy growth of mustache. His lip curls, and he hesitates mid-swing. The weapon is ice cream, one and three quarters of a quart of chocolate. The same-sized carton of vanilla used to help start the assault lays five feet away, heavily dented and leaking a tiny puddle of off-white. In the attacker’s hesitation, scale-lip sputters something out, spraying tiny flecks of brown on his assailant’s face.
Continue reading →
