Hiya!!! I'm so sad!! This is the LAST chapter!!!........read and enjoy!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade!!
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Chapter 5: Bumpity, Bumpity, Bump
By the time Voltaire had reached Dranzer Street, his other foot had started showing signs of looseness at the ankle. And the damage done to his spinal tendons gave him a tendency to hunch over slightly when he walked.
His clothes weren't in good condition either because of the explosion and the colonies of maggots and earthworms in his right leg- well, it's a good thing those nerves had rotted away or he would've been in excruciating pain. Voltaire then accidentally ran into a thorn bush and found that it hurt.
Those nerves hadn't rotted!
The worse part of all was the hacking cough he couldn't seem to get rid of. With every step he took, the irritating tickle stayed with him and his coughing fits made his body shake, sending pieces of rotten flesh flying everywhere. To Voltaire, it felt as though his lungs had been stuffed with sawdust and cotton balls. Although he wasn't too sure, he could've sworn his body was giving off the faint scent of mothballs. But of course, the rest of his body smelt like a thousand dead fishes.
A further annoyance was the fact that his eyes had started decaying as well. He was able to see but everything appeared blurry, especially if what he was looking at was far away. As a result, the first house he chose had been the wrong one. Instead, drunken Tyson answered but he sobered up real quick when he saw what, not who, was at the door. Tyson was met with the putrefying face of Voltaire Hiwatari.
His face was covered in sores and rotten flesh dripped off of the underlying tissue in yellow heaps. Tyson fainted dead-away on the floor. Max came to the door, wondering what was going on, and clamped his mouth shut to stop an ear-shattering scream from escaping. He stood frozen in terror.
Voltaire opened his mouth to apologize but his tongue dropped to the ground. Max too, fainted, dead-away, right on top of Tyson.
'Hopefully, those two won't be neglected to be embalmed by Mr. Dickenson', Voltaire said to nobody in particular.
After spending the whole night house-hunting, at the crack of dawn, Voltaire finally found the right house. It was pretty strange that Voltaire couldn't find his house; on account of his house was the biggest on the block. He wasn't 100 sure if it was the right house, but was satisfied when he ripped his rotting flesh on Claire's prize rose bushes. Voltaire tried, unsuccessfully, to open the front door.
It was locked.
He walked around the house, remembering the ladder behind the garage. He paused for a moment to retrieve a loose rib that dropped from his shirt and kick the raccoon that ran off with it.
It was difficult to position the ladder beneath his wife's window since both his wrists and elbow joints were threatening to give out, but he eventually got it.
Then came the agonizing task of actually climbing the ladder.
Voltaire had gotten about halfway up when his wrists gave out. He found himself tangled in his wife's prize roses. The taste of such a small victory spurred him on. He suddenly remembered the spare key hidden under the useless 'welcome' mat on the porch steps. It was useless because they never had many visitors.
Just as he was bending down, a newspaper flew in his direction.
Before he could even jump out of the way, there was a sickening snap and Voltaire's head flew off, on impact with the newspaper, and rolled across the driveway into a hedge against the Kon's house. Voltaire was horribly aware of all this and when his head stopped rolling, by straining his eyes, he was able to see his broken body lying beside the Sunday newspaper.
The raccoon was back now. Voltaire watched helplessly as it pulled loose another rib and disappeared with it. As he lay there through the night, the raccoon kept returning, bringing friends with him every time. By dawn, the body was completely disposed of except for a few scraps of skin and cloth.
And the head of course.
For a long time, Voltaire's head laid there, unnoticed. He was still horribly conscious and spent day after day wondering how long it would be 'till he completely dissolved into dust. He wondered if it was either the bush hiding him or the now warm spring air persevering him like a mummy because by now, the raccoons must have buried all of the parts they didn't eat of his body, all over town.
It was late afternoon when Voltaire's 'favourite' raccoon found his hiding spot. The raccoon sniffed at him and with brute force, kicked him away as it prepared to answer nature's call. Fortunately, Voltaire's head rolled on the lawn, near the edge of the driveway and away from the raccoon.
About three hours later, a shadow fell across his non-seeing gaze. Voltaire saw two small pale hands reach down towards his head and found himself looking into the blank face of little Kai Hiwatari, his grandson. Kai's crimson eyes were as blank as the empty expression he wore on his face.
'What's he doing here at Kon's old house? He probably still misses his friend'. With that thought, Voltaire started to grin cruelly, but stopped instantly when Kai gave him a smile of his own.
It was the most insane smile Voltaire had ever seen.
The way Kai was smiling chilled Voltaire to the bone- or what ever he had left. Voltaire tried to cry out but it was no use. His voice box seemed to be 'out of order' and his jaw muscles had turned to the consistency of old rubber tires.
'Where is he taking me?' Voltaire pondered. Then he felt the vibrations as Kai walked up the stairs. He counted the jolts.
One,
Two,
Three,
Four...
Eleven,
Twelve,
Thirteen.
'Now what, Oh no!' his mind screamed.
Bumpity,
Bumpity,
Bumpity,
Bump...
Thirteen times. Down the stairs Voltaire's head bounced just like a rubber ball. And it hurt because those nerves hadn't rotted away!
Then up the stairs again.
Yupp, it didn't take much to amuse little Kai.
Bumpity,
Bumpity,
Bumpity,
Bump...
Especially the way he was now.
Bumpity,
Bumpity,
Bumpity,
Bump...
Simple pleasures for simple minds.
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OMG!! I'm so sad!! The last chapter...in a way I'm actually relieved that it's over. It took me a REALLY long time to write. I was working on it over the summer actually. It may have seemed short but in my notebook it's pretty long. I know some of you out there may be a little angry that I killed Max and Tyson but it was vital for the plot. Come on people! Work with me here! That's the best excuse I could come up with on such short notice. Lol. I had fun writing it anyways and I hope y'all had fun reading it. Bye-bye 'till next time...and don't forget to review!
- T-Bisqit