Chet & Floyd vs. The Apocalypse: Volume 1 Page 9

  “I don’t think you understand what kind of trouble you’re in,” Floyd said. “My buddy Chet has been a little down lately, and I don’t know what he’s going to do when he finds out this isn’t his preschool.”

  The men dropped their blank looks for a moment looking puzzled.

  “Preschool?” the man said.

  “It’s a long story. It sounds odd talking about it now, but it makes sense in a very odd way. You just have to know Chet. He’s kind of eccentric,” Floyd said.

  “Drop the damn pipe,” the other man blurted.

  “He just wants to make sure you’re not meaning to hurt anyone,” the first man said to Floyd.

  “But he’s wrong,” Floyd said, looking at the second man with venom. “I’ve hurt lots of people, and I don’t mean to stop now. I didn’t come here to hurt anyone, but I will if you take one step towards me. Oh, here are your friends,” Floyd called to the shadows that appeared over the men’s shoulders.

  He counted seven or eight newcomers to the conversation, all looking as dull, haggard and hungry as the first.

  “More welcoming committee,” Floyd said. “I see that you are all men here. Makes me laugh. That must be the last girl you have up there with my friend. This must have been some boys club in the near past. Where are all the other girls I wonder?”

  “We’ve eaten them,” the second man said. “I’m through messing around with you. You have no chance. Give up the pipe, and we’ll kill you quick.”

  “Which one of you guys will be the first man to feed the rest I wonder?” Floyd said. “Who is the weakest of you? You must know your time is almost up. All of your times are. One by one you’ll make alliances and kill the others off, but it has to end sometime. I don’t know how long you can hold out, but in the end it will be only two of you, starved and insane. Which of you will that be? Which of you will claw the other’s eyes out for that one last taste of human flesh before you die as well and descend to the hell?”

  “Enough words. Give up,” the second man said. He took a step towards Floyd, who dropped his pipe with a loud clatter on the floor.

  “I give up. Come and get your dinner,” Floyd said.

  The man stepped towards him. Floyd reached behind his back and pulled out the nunchaku. He spun the weapon in a huge arch, smashing the man in the side of the face. The blow caved in his temple in a spray of blood, bone and teeth.

  “You underestimate me!” Floyd screamed. “With me there is no hitting bottom! I will fight you to the last. You may beat, rend and burn my flesh—I will not die! I am Floyd. I am your hell! Come and taste my wrath!”

  Floyd stood tall and spun the nunchaku behind his back and twirled it upwards. He misjudged the flip and hit himself in the back of the head, knocking himself unconscious.

  He fell to the floor in a heap.

  The men looked at each other and back at Floyd’s prone body. A couple of them moved forward and picked up senseless Floyd and their dead man off the floor. They began hauling the bodies to the kitchen when they heard a manic voice scream from upstairs.

  “What the hell is going on here! I don’t want that. That is unbecoming of a lady! Is this a place of ill repute? …It is! You are a lady of the evening? I will not have it! My temple should be a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves!

  “Don’t worry. Don’t you cry. I am the cleanser! I will cleanse you of all your transgressions.

  “Wait till I tell Floydorama about this! He’ll be so surprised!

  “Floyd! Where are you!”

  Chet ran out of the room to see the men carrying his friend.

  He turned back to the woman in the room. “Vile succubus! I will be back for you later.”

  Chet skipped to the top of the stairs and called down. “This is just what I needed. I was Just telling Floyd that I needed to get back to my roots. Find my center. Get ready guys. Chet is a comin’ downstairs!”

  Chapter 21

  Floyd blinked his eyes against the all-enshrouding, blinding headache hammering from the back of his skull. The blackness pushed further toward the edges of his eyes. As he became more aware, the pain increased. The constant thrum of pain forced his eyes closed.

  Floyd put a hand over his face and rubbed. Sliding the hand over the back of his head, he felt wetness. He pulled his hand back and opened his eyes to see his bloody hand.

  “That must be mine,” Floyd thought.

  He wished he could pass back out for a while until he felt better, but his body was telling him that he must stay awake and deal with the pain. Floyd sat up with effort. Sitting brought forth a wave of dizziness. Floyd didn’t want to slump back to the floor again, so he quickly pushed himself back against a wall and rubbed his eyes until he felt he could look up without the world spinning.

  He saw that he was still in the front hallway. His back was actually propped up by the door he and Chet had gone through when they entered the place. All sameness stopped there as he looked at the surrounding carnage.

  Floyd counted eight bodies sprawled in various places where they died very odd and gruesome deaths. Floyd could tell by the way they died some fought to the finish and some were killed as they tried to run. Blood was everywhere.

  Floyd was surprised to see he was spared any gore except for his cracked head. “It was nice of Chet to see that I stayed clean,” he said bemusedly.

  “You’re darn right it was. You picked the worst place to pass out,” Chet said.

  He was just walking in from the back room. He had an open can of dog food and was eating it with his fingers in sloppy gulps and with a relish.

  “Eat this,” Chet said, throwing Floyd a can of dog food and an opener he fished from his pocket.

  Floyd began to open the can but paused as his eye caught a dead man whose face was bashed in beyond recognition. This was no mere violence.

  “Are you feeling okay Chet?” Floyd asked.

  “I’m glad you asked me that Floyd. I really am. You see, I really feel bad about all this,” Chet said. He finished off the can of dog food and took another one out of his pocket.

  Floyd finished opening his can and threw the opener back to Chet.

  “Didn’t really restrain yourself this time I see,” Floyd said. “What happened?”

  “They turned my preschool into a…come closer Floyd.” Chet beckoned Floyd to lean in.

  “I don’t think there’s anyone left alive to hear us,” Floyd said.

  “The hills have eyes Floyd. I beseech you, bring you ear in close.”

  Floyd learned over.

  Chet whispered, “They turned my preschool into a whore house. With real women of the evening and everything.” He leaned away from Floyd and nodded his head as if to reaffirm the words he just said.

  “I warned them this would make you mad,” Floyd said as he took a bite of the dog food. It tasted like beef.

  “I don’t think I was really mad, Floydoo. I wasn’t really about me. This was about the children. What are the children to think? What about the next generation Floyd? Their image of mom shouldn’t be her with a conga line of men waiting in the wings. I am a conservative man Floyd. I believe in marriage between man and woman. A house with a white picket fence around it, 2.5 children, sensible cars and strong moral values taught with lots of love and just a little corporal punishment to keep the ranks solid. Sometimes the children should probably get beat too.”

  “That is hyper-sexist Chet. I am surprised at you,” Floyd said. “Real men don’t beat their wives.”

  “Floyd!” Chet said with alarm. “I would never think of such a horrible thing. Corporal punishment is something the whole family can enjoy. The father should get his too. I call it ‘Free Hit Fridays,’ where the big strong husband stands with his hands tied behind his back, slightly bent over and chin thrust out. The wife gets to smack him right in the face with any appliance so long as it’s not metal or likely to break.”

  “I really need to drop this line of conversation Chet,” Floyd
said. “What happened to the men here?”

  “I don’t really remember what happened to them,” Chet said. “And I don’t really want too. We should probably get going. We have a little company to take with us.”

  “What?” Floyd asked, but then he saw the woman who let them in cringe at the top of the stairs. She had a little duffel bag all packed. “We’re taking her?”

  “Yes. She told me this whole brothel thing wasn’t her idea, and I believe her. She has such an honest face.” Chet smiled up at the woman who tried her best to match it back down to him. “Let’s go. We should get out of here before the smell of blood brings the wolves to the feast, so the speak. Off with us.”

  Chet pulled Floyd to his feet. Floyd groaned and held the back of his head. “Won’t it be nice to have a woman’s touch around the place Floyd? Men can be such animals.”

  Chapter 22

  Floyd drove the skull bug while Chet and the woman slept. The miles and hours dragged by. Floyd threw out half a cigar along the way, his empty stomach made sour by the rich tobacco.

  At the break of day he pulled back into their old stomping grounds, riding on fumes. Floyd didn’t know where to get any gas at the moment, and that was a problem. But the greater problem would be obtaining food.

  Their two ravenous mouths had increased by one. It was hard enough finding sustenance for the two of them, let alone this stranger.

  Floyd puttered the car along until it started to stall. Then he drove jerkily along until the car sputtered to a complete stop. The rumbling along the road woke up Chet, who groaned loudly and stretched.

  “Out of gas?” Chet said.

  “Just ran out now,” Floyd said. “Any ideas as of where to get more?”

  “None. However, my brain is like a churning piston that doesn’t need fuel, with infinite inertia due to lack of friction. I will think of something,” Chet said.

  “Kind of an awkward metaphor.”

  “I was thinking out loud and kind of got stuck halfway in. I think it was an adequate save.” Chet stretched again and startled at the girl in the backseat. “Sweet mother of all that is good! What is she doing here?”

  “You invited her,” Floyd said.

  “I did?”

  “Yes,” Floyd said. Chet gazed at the sleeping woman. She was curled up in the fetal position in the backseat, belt unbuckled, spittle running down her mouth.

  “I have excellent taste in women Floyd. I think I will call her Eve.”

  “She probably already has a name. You don’t just get to name people,” Floyd said.

  “You never know,” Chet said. He reached back and shook the girl’s ankle. “Wake up. It’s a brand new day!”

  She rubbed her face and grimaced at the slime her spit left on her hand. She rubbed it into her pants leg. “What is your name? Is it Eve!”

  “It’s Stacey,” she said.

  “Hear that Floyd?” Chet asked, punching Floyd in the arm. “I was close. Stacey, I would like to welcome you to our little inner circle here. I am Chet, and this is Floyd.”

  “I know who you are. You killed everyone and brought me to your car. We’ve been driving all night,” Stacey said.

  “I am so very glad!” Chet said. “I am so very glad that we can dispel with all the boring ‘getting to know you’ stuff and move on to the real question. Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “I did. You killed him,” Stacey said.

  “Great! I wouldn’t want to make a move on you if you were attached. That would be really bad form, and I am very much one for keeping up good appearances. People do talk you know.”

  “I don’t understand,” Stacey said.

  “Get used to it,” Floyd said.

  “Shut up Floyd!” Chet yelled. “Now Stacey, I have every intention of winning your favor. I am fit of body and sound of mind. I am not a man rich in material things, but I am rich in spirit. If you are looking for someone tenacious, that’s me. If you are looking for someone loyal, look no further. I am your man.”

  Stacey looked away from Chet‘s earnest face and spoke to Floyd. “Why are we stopped?”

  “We ran out of gas,” Floyd said. “We’ll have to walk.”

  “Do you have any food?” she asked. Floyd shook his head.

  “We’re out of that too.”

  “You’re not cannibals, are you?” she asked.

  “No. You’re safe on that count,” Floyd said.

  “Floyd! Stop blocking my moves. I’m trying to sweeten things up here with my new lady,” Chet said. “I’m so sorry, my sweet tangerine. My friend Floyd here can be a bit overbearing. It is so hard to find good company these days, and we must make do. Now I was speaking about my inexhaustibly excellent qualities. I am an all-inclusive experience. Just look at me. How can you resist?”

  “You want to be my boyfriend? Is that important to you?” Stacey asked.

  “Titles and labels are there for a reason,” Chet said. “If nobody had one, how could we ever know who was over whom and who belonged to whom?”

  “You can be my boyfriend,” Stacey said. “I don’t care.”

  “Do you like that Floydy?” Chet said to his friend, punching him in the arm again.

  Floyd shrugged and got out of the car. Stacey tried to open the door, but Chet grabbed her arm. She flinched. “Can I have your attention, my sweet? I just want to make sure you know that I am an old-fashioned man and want to take it slow. I don’t play things fast and loose. I don’t just put my heart out there for anybody to play around with. Trust is an earned thing you know.

  “This is all going a little too fast for me. You come on very strong my darling. Is this car smaller than usual? I need a little air! You are suffocating me! I need to live! I am a man! No man is an island! You can’t change the seasons, and you can’t change Chet!” Chet released Stacey and slammed out of his side of the car.

  Floyd looked at him with wonder as he gagged and spun.

  “What the hell is wrong with you Chet?” Floyd said. “Be quiet out here.”

  “Having a girlfriend is rough. So many rules and regulations. I don’t know what to do. I just need a little air. Maybe take a little walk to think things through.”

  “You’ve had a girlfriend for two minutes,” Floyd said.

  “I feel this deeply Floyd,” Chet said. “The hours and days do not matter. Only my love for Stacey.” Chet walked down the sidewalk.

  Floyd didn’t have to follow. He knew that Chet was going to one of their favorite hideouts, an old bookstore right off of Main Street.

  Stacey got out of the car. She pulled her hair back and tied it in a knot.

  “Your friend is a little odd. Isn’t he?” she said.

  “He is very unique,” Floyd said.

  Chapter 23

  Chet lit up his pipe and inhaled deeply. He puffed the smoke out of his nostrils in short torrents. It billowed down the front of his clothes and caressed his face as it dissipated.

  Chet smiled a sweet smile of bliss.

  Earlier he had walked down an alley on a foraging expedition with his new girlfriend Stacey. So far their efforts had turned up nothing of particular use, but Chet thought the walk was good for them all on its down. According to him, even starving people needed to have good cardio.

  “I love smoking!” Chet slapped Stacey on the back affectionately, albeit a little roughly. “Smoking is great!”

  “You should quit.” Stacey said.

  Chet looked at Stacey. Chet was shocked.

  “Quit!” Chet exclaimed. His mouth fell open. The pipe fell out and landed on the concrete. “Sweet mercy!”

  Chet picked up the pipe, refilled the tobacco and took a long drag. He took the pipe out of his mouth and looked at it. “I will never drop you again my baby. Never. I love you.”

  Chet made a kissy face and took a short drag. He blew the smoke in Stacey’s face. He had chosen this blend especially for her olfactory benefit. It was a concoction of very cheap Cavendish, wet with syrupy flavor casing.
Coconut and blueberry were the predominant flavors, with a small side of coffee. Stacey wrinkled her nose from the smoke.

  “You should quit.” she said again. “Smoking gives you cancer.”

  “Only the best cancer of all Stacey.” Chet took a long drag and blew the smoke out hard while spinning around. He stopped his spinning to face Stacey directly. Mid spin Chet had produced his tobacco pouch and another pipe.

  “Want a smoke? Try some. Be somebody Baby.”

  Stacey shook her head.

  “You should smoke, my little darling sweet muffin delight. Man must have vice. You have no vices Stacey my baby.” Chet jittered in place.

  He dumped out his still-smoking tobacco, packed and relit. “Cancer you can earn Stacey. Cancer you can earn. Do you want to wake up one day at fifty-five and find out you have prostate cancer?”

  “No,” Stacey said.

  “I don’t either! Do you want to wake up one day at fifty-five and find out you have lung cancer?” Chet said. He poked Stacey gently in the stomach.

  “No.’ Stacey said.

  She looked over her shoulder with the hopes of seeing Floyd. She felt better being with Chet when Floyd was around. He seemed to have a calming influence on him.

  “I don’t either! Which one would you rather have?” Chet jumped and spun.

  “Come again?”

  “Would you rather have prostate cancer or lung cancer?” Chet asked.

  “Neither,” Stacey said.

  Chet yanked Stacey in front of him and clutched the sides of her face. She could feel the heat of the pipe from between Chet’s fingers.

  “That’s just it my little dandelion cough drop,” Chet hissed. “You don't want any type of cancer, but sometimes you don’t get a choice.”

  Stacey pushed Chet away.

  Chet paced and ranted. “You wake up and—POW! You have prostate cancer! What did you do to get it? Nothing! You just have prostate cancer, and you’re probably going to die. It’s not like everyone will give you a hard time, telling you it’s your own fault for putting all those carcinogens into your prostate for all those years.”