Stuart Pott was his name. He was barely an adult yet, but his features were already underlined; with huge dark bags under his eyes, and ruffled azure hair. But the only way to describe him was simply gorgeous. And yet here he was, stacking shelfs in his work-boy uniform for the Organ Emporium.
He didn't know that the shop he was stood in was under attack.
Murdoc Niccals, extreme satanist, was revving his Vauxhall Astra. In the back seats were his cronies, drunken old men who encouraged Murdoc's dangerous stunts whenever they possibly could.
"G'on, Mudds! Smash innit!" Little Jimmy Manson yelled, hiccupping mid-sentence.
"Cool yer beans, I'm trying! Now shut up before I kick you out of my sodding car!" Murdoc growled back, reaching behind him to smack his associate.
This was a mistake. As he reached behind him, he accidentally pushed his foot down... on the accelarator.
"Shit! Bail out!" Muncho cried, leaping out of the open doors. The others soon followed, leaving Murdoc trapped in the car.
"Oh bugger." he sighed, as the car flew headlong in to the wall of the Emporium. Directly behind this wall was the shelf where Stuart was stacking. He heard the obscene language, and stepped back slightly, before the huge car with the insane man inside it collided with the left hand side of his face.
Murdoc watched in horror as the pressure burst Stuart's eyeball. He froze up for a moment, before forcing the door open and diving out of his battered car, running away from the wreckage like a demented hooligan. An employee saw him though, and grabbed on to him as tightly as he could.
"Get the fuck off me you nutter!" Murdoc screamed, writhing desperately, but the spotty worker was too strong for him. Soon, sirens began to wail, and a burly police officer snapped handcuffs on to Murdoc's green-tinged arms.
Paramedics lifted Stuart's blood covered body on to a stretcher, and rushed him away.
"Oh bloody hell, lighten up! He's alive, ain't he?" roared Murdoc as several police officers began to drag him away. "It was a sodding misunderstanding!"
"Not what we've heard, sir. It's our belief that you planned to ransack this store." retorted one of the policemen.
Who the bloody hell toldja that?" Murdoc yelled in rage. It was true, he had. But only Little Jimmy Mason knew this, so how coul the police have found out?
"Sorry, Mudds. There's cash innit, y'know. Proper money, better than this organ crap." Jimmy appeared from behind some wreckage, running £50 notes through his hands.
"You bloody rat! When I get outta here I'm gonna get you! You better BLOODY RUN FOR YER LIFE!" Murdoc screamed, as he was hauled into the back of a police van...
