‘For sale; just for ten quick-firing viewers is the muscle medicine! You too can pump it up with the best of them. The rest of them! With just one tablet a day you’ll be stronger than a moose and heavier than a fort lift truck!’ Mike furiously explained as he waved his arms towards the small white bottles on the table with a glittery logo with the image of a half-naked man grinning as the label. His work partner Patrice sat on the table in an attempted sexy pose, as sexy as can be in standard white shirt, black trousers and tied back blonde hair. It was the company outfit Mike had to wear too, clean and efficient presenters selling goods to the viewers. There was no audience; the two just spent their time talking into the cameras. A live catalogue of depleting stock though the stock didn’t really deplete.
‘I would fall for any man who grinds this stuff inside them. A big muscle-bound body is something I would look for in a man, unlike this chump over here!’ Patrice beamed shaking one of the bottles side to side for extra appeal. The calls came through in the back room so they could only learn of the sales through little headsets clipped onto their ears. Mike frowned as the little buzzes of information poured into his head. Continue reading
‘Yes! Bubbly, intoxicating madness!’ Mike gleamed dunking a pint of best brewed Festering Ale down his throat. Bongo sat on the opposite side of the beat down table sipping some orange juice. ‘Pah, you should have some of the real stuff! You’re old enough to drink, so drink haha!’
The pub was a quiet little place, expected for such an out-of-place pub. Bongo and Mike stumbled across it a few hours walk away from Ghetcity. It looked run down from the outside with boarded up windows, holes in the roof and an ancient mutt shivering outside coughing up a tramps teeth. A light flickering from one window showed there was life inside. One bartender and an old man playing the pinball machine, endlessly looking at the flashing lights and flicking the ball button. The bartender just stood staring at the glass she was wiping, the same glass she was wiping an hour before. Through the glass she looked at her past and how her future turned out, a tear trickling down her cheek.
‘So, what are your motives? You aren’t king and you can’t kill someone who is immortal,’ Bongo asked straight to the point now they were as comfortable as they could get, the chairs seemed ready to throw splinters at the duo. ‘I followed you because I thought you had a game plan but thinking about it I’m not so sure.’ The pinball machine start-up music plays, an ominous tone to try to break any pinball player ready to face their journey.
‘I have a plan! I possibly over reacted when I tried to kill her, possibly,’ Mike scratched his chin, shrugged then downed another portion of his booze. ‘Ok so I might have wiped out half her army to get there, but no one was seriously injured as far as I know! Anyway, me and her were going out. She dumped me and I got a little mad.’ Continue reading
A throne made of shoes and tied with lace, now a robot shoe throne. Ballet stood on top looking at the group with great fury upon his face. The surrounding area was covered in dust and soot, the impact of the mountains fall still trying to recover. Hong wept.
‘You know Hong; we haven’t got time to be crying. Bongo may be gone but we have to think about that after rather than now or else we’ll all be killed,’ Roy said standing by the kneeling Hong. He held his hand out allowing Hong to grab it and pull himself up along with his senses. ‘Let us concentrate on our anger right now and take down Ballet, once and fall all!’
‘Damn straight,’ said Sneaker pointing her rifle carefully at the approaching shoe ridden Shoebot. ‘Trainer seems to be a bit late; this will pass the time till he gets here.’
‘You’re right, I will mourn the death of Bongo after this, he will have wanted a change in the city and the only way to change it is for Ballet to leave. Let’s get him!’ The three roared charging towards the mighty Shoebot. Hong fired the paint gun rifle aiming for Ballet but the boot arm blocked the shot, red paint dripping on to Sneaker who had charged to the base of the Shoebot and attempted to fire between the shoes to cause a collapse. Mike sprung into the air to land a kick on Ballet himself but the machine scuttled back, Mike instead landing upon the barren earth. Continue reading
Bongo blocked the dynamite strapped sword successfully with his gigantic Uzi. As the two impacted, the red robed samurai had to pull his sword back to avoid the explosives going off.
‘That sword looks a little unsavoury I must say,’ Bongo muttered as he jumped back, his whole body rippling in the wind.
‘That gun too looks a little… savoury. Why don’t you fire?’ the samurai replied scratching his chin.
‘I think you got a bit confused…’ the samurai squinted at Bongo attentively for a moment taking in this comment.
‘Ah that does happen. But I Dynamite Ready will not be making any mix-ups in battle today!’ Ready roared spinning his sword across his shoulders before clasping the handle with both hands and jumping forward kicking up bits of toys on the Trash Heap Mountain, the two at battle surrounded by their gangs watching.
At the back of the Red’s huddle of watching members, Hóng was standing calmly now dressed in a thick cherry red fluffy jacket taking his smoke with little enjoyment. Continue reading
‘Bongo.G.Daisy!?’ Bongo looked down on Mike, a cold fish eyed stare.
‘That’s right, it is I. They’ve let me join! I am now an official member of the Shoe Tie Clan and leading this revolutionary march!’ he beamed trying to remove eye contact with Mike.
‘Well good for you, where is this little march going?’ Mike asked as Bongo shook slightly.
‘Um… to collect the red shoes and gain dominance once and for all.’
‘What!? How did you know about that plan from the Red’s?!’ Mike replied angrily standing in front of the whole march as if to block them from going any further.
‘I’d say the boy has some really good spy skills, after he left he kept some distance from you and listened in one what seems like an interesting conversation.’ Ballet laughed as he rocked in his chair through excitement. ‘I thought him wrong! How’s the tracking going Runner?’ A man pushed through the crowd and stopped in front of the shoe throne jogging on the spot while twiddling a small red box with shoe laces tied to the corners. Continue reading
‘Ok! Let’s roll and have fun times!’ Trainer said as himself, Sneaker and Mike stood in the streets outside of the Shoe Tie Clan’s base of operations all posing for an invisible camera.
‘So the Red Clash Clan is on the other side of this street right? Let’s get going!’ Mike said as he began to march past a Candy store. Sneaker appeared in front of him holding her arm out to stop him.
‘We can’t go through the streets; we must go through the labyrinth. It is an agreed principle to avoid this last area falling into disarray between the two clans.’ Sneaker stated as she pointed towards a laundrette which was slightly hidden by a washing line hanging newspapers to dry. ‘This place is Last Paradise.’ Continue reading
‘Help’ Mike yelped as he looked up at the towering man with the small bald head and triangle tattoos spreading down his body to his red track suit pants and brown boots. The man looked down, a one tooth sticking upwards from his mouth, like the snarl of an angry Bull Dog.
‘Hello man, what you doing on the floor man?’ he asked in his slow yet soft voice.
‘Eh? So you aren’t going to shoot me with that gigantic Uzi on your back for me flying into you?’ Mike quivered as he pulled himself up from the ground. ‘I mean gee; it must be the size of a cricket bat! I’m sure you could knock some balls with that.’
‘Yeah, I can ‘knock’ some balls with this if you know what I mean man.’ He sniggered waving his gun in the air.
‘It’s not man, it’s Mike King. If you aren’t going to shoot me up can you tell me where I am?’
‘Not yet.’ Continue reading
‘Ah it’s been a few weeks since I last saw you my beautiful little town!’ the young man said aloud softly as he walked down the pebbled road towards the towering bright pink castle, the tower rising higher than the clouds. A passer-by looked at him quaintly, shook his head and carried on. The man had lengthy spiky hair which jumped out in numerous directions, a three-way zigzag covering his forehead. His eyes were astonishingly blue sparkling in the sunlight. A short red scarf covered his neck, and had the scarf’s end hanging from his back. He was wearing a brown jacket open revealing a dark green shirt with the words ‘Domestic Violence’ in bright orange. Black fingerless biking gloves were sat on each hand and short Grey flares blew westwards from his black trousers. On his feet were a pair of bright red trainers with strange circular suction blobs sticking out from underneath. It was understand this man got quaint looks. Everyone else in the town seemed to be wearing dark ruby-red robes or not wearing anything at all, the weather was relatively hot, hotter than a bowl of soup warmed up in a microwave for two minutes. Continue reading
Once upon a time in a small peaceful kingdom lived a lovely lady named Imogen. Imogen was a beautiful princess who the people of the country of Towering Petite adored. Towering Petite was a small country on the borderline of Iniquity Of Mann though Towering Petite managed thanks to the trading and protection from high walls. Imogen became a strong Queen who led the country to greatness and the border expanded as towns and cities from Iniquity Of Mann begged to become part of her ruling. The king of Iniquity of Mann was slightly miffed by this but couldn’t really do anything to prevent this, it would only cause uprising and to be fair his ruling was slightly fascist. Continue reading