Yes, ladies and gentlemen! The second chapter is up! Review it, before everyone loses interest.
To my reviewers:
loonygr90: I think so too! Har di har di har!
Caroline: Don't worry It was the story, and not the food. Oh, and please don't track me down. I value my privacy.
Chapter 2. Tracking the creature
"It seems that we must proceed by foot, Mr. Arse. But do not try to run," said Fartemit, with a slyness of a drunk beggar (which isn't a lot), "or you shall get an extremely unpleasant feeling below your belt" He then immediately lost himself in a sea of giggles, ending up on the muddy ground. His clothes were ruined, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not yet, anyway.
"Weel, y'see, Mastuur Ool, I kinnae. Thees allewee is too than, eend urm stook!" said Upyure. It translates into: I can't. I'm stuck. And indeed he was. His belly was firmly wedged between both walls. People were starting to get annoyed, trying to see what the hold-up was (same as car traffic, basically).
Fartemit decided to free Upyure, but only because he wanted the information. He ordered Buttleg to push. And Buttleg did, or rather tried. He really did try. But the fat man wouldn't budge. Buttleg bounced straight back, crashing into the crowd. Upyure seemed to have felt nothing. I must slash Buttleg's salary when I get back, thought Fartemit. He then proceeded to plant his handy, pocketsize wedge between the wall and the Scotsman's belly. Using the laws of pivots, he pulled sharply, and Upyure became unstuck with a plop, and fell on Fartemit. Fartemit was thoroughly squashed, and not even the 'amazing' strength of Buttleg could get him up.
Fartemit was now starting to choke. Buttleg's efforts were efforts were wasted, and everybody around calmly proceeded to pick the wallets of the three foreigners in the commotion. Soon, only Fartemit had everything he had brought, for he was buried under the Scottish eater. Buttleg and Upyure were left with only their underpants. One of the pickpockets had even attempted to pinch Buttleg's manly parts for some strange concoction or another (female, of course), but that Buttleg would not allow under any circumstances. And he succeeded to save them, but instead his armpit hair was shaved off. Why couldn't we have gone to Australia or something, thought Buttleg irritably, as he tried for the umpteenth time to pull Upyure off Fartemit. He knew that if he didn't get the huge Scot off his employer, he would be licking the floors clean at the apartment. And the floor was covered with thick, rough carpet, and he wasn't going to like letting his tongue through the forest of snot and leftovers.
By now, Fartemit was near the last minutes of his life. If he weren't taken to a hospital fast, he wouldn't recover. But Upyure was presently snoring his head off, being no help whatsoever. And Buttleg had collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. When there seemed to be no hope left for the young prodigy, Upyure suddenly jumped up, and ran off like the wind, holding his parts. Buttleg crawled slowly to Fartemit, picked him up with agonizing slowness, and walked to the closest hospital.
After two hours of frantic walking, he finally reached a proper hospital. And amazingly, Fartemit was still alive. Doctors and nurses casually turned to the dirtied pair of Europeans. They didn't exactly rush to help them. But they eventually took Fartemit into their operating theatre, and worked on him.
Three weeks later, Fartemit regained consciousness. And after a mere two days, they were up again, and tracked down Upyure again. Apparently, he was just about to start packing his bags, when the pair burst into his apartment.He had been watching Cartoon Network, drinking a beer, and eating from a huge bar of milk chocolate when they grabbed him. And now the protesting and moaning tub of lard was leading Fartemit and Buttleg to the creature.
Upyure led them through an abandoned fire escape, and they arrived at a place that was totally out of place in the poor atmosphere. It was all shiny and clean, with automatic doors, and a neon sign saying, "Insanesbury's", no doubt trying to copy one of England's most successful supermarkets. Every few minutes, a group of children or teenagers (each one different of course, otherwise that would have been freaky) would rush out, carrying a whole load of food and drinks. Soon, the supermarket will run out of supplies, thought Fartemit. We'd better go in before the supermarket closes, thought Buttleg. Oi woonder whoot theer seelin', thought Upyure.
And so, with all these thoughts in mind, they walked in. Unfortunately, the automatic door system needed quite a bit of help, and it didn't open. Upyure walked straight into the door. Fartemit, not realising that the door wasn't wielding, swiftly moved to the side of Upyure, and also got a flattened nose. Buttleg, perhaps with the most common sense, smashed the glass, pulled the shards away, and let the two dimwits in. The two were still rubbing their noses when Buttleg's head made contact with the doorframe. The trio were given a lot of curious glances as they rubbed wherever the pain was. All three were muttering something along the lines of 'damn door' or '!?#$& doorway'.
Upyure led them to the lanes of cashiers, and approached the Insanesbury's ExpressLaneï½®. He pointed at the teenager there, reading a newspaper and smoking. On her nametag, it said; 'Ima Faerie'. Fartemit assumed she was not Nigerian. With a name like that, you probably came from the sky. Fartemit didn't know just how right he was.
Don't despair. The next chapter will be coming soon, I guarantee it.