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STRANGE TIMES FOR SAMCRO
Chapter 6 WHAT COULD BE WORSE THAN CUPCAKES, FANCY COFFEE AND SOCCER MOMS?
Clay leaned back in his chair. He didn't believe for a minute Chuckie was bringing bad news. He was as much of a drama queen as the men of SAMCRO.
"I saw this purple Vespa . . ." Chuckie began.
Clay almost fell over. Tig grabbed Clay's chair just in time to keep him from falling over backwards and hitting his head.
"Is it still there?" Juice asked, his voice breaking with a mix of hope and fear.
"No. He took off. He . . . he . . ."
"What is it, boy? Speak!" Clay said, encouraging the little dog.
"He showed me Juice's cut and then he put a note on me. He put it in my pocket."
"What does it say?" Juice asked.
Clay shook his head. It was too much to ask a dog to speak and read. What the hell was Juice thinking?
"I can't get it out of my pocket."
"Which pocket did he put it in?" Chibs asked.
"My back pocket. He touched my butt."
"Damn those purple unicorns!" Clay exploded with rage again. Some guy getting flirty with a little dog was just going too far. Even Tig didn't touch dogs.
Dogs were one on the few animals that were safe from Tig's perversions. Cows, sheep, goats and fish needed to watch themselves around Tig. He was an equal opportunity pervert.
"I could get it out of the pocket for you." Piney offered.
Chuckie nodded his head.
"What's it say?" Juice asked.
Piney carefully got the note out of Chuckie's pocket taking care to have minimal contact with Chuckie's butt. He then passed the note to Clay observing MC protocol.
Clay read the note aloud.
"Greetings Pussies and Gashes: We are coming for you. If you're smart you will run away screaming like the little girls that you are. The cut I took off that loser you have for a member is just the first. Vespa Purple Unicorns Rule! We're Coming for You! Run! Hide! Die! That asshole uses too many exclamation points. One would have been enough," Clay said, surprisingly finding nothing else wrong with the note.
"Thanks, Chuckie," Jax said. "Go get yourself a nice orange Fanta."
Chuckie nodded his head, trotted to the door and shut it behind him.
"Oh, my God," Juice said with tears in his eyes. "They are coming for the whole club."
Clay's eyes seemed to bug out of his head and he pounded the table with both fists, a move he would regret seconds later.
"Those bastards. Those sons of bitches. It is on!"
"You know the expression son of a bitch is really less a reflection on the man it's directed at and more a reflection on the man's mother," Jax said.
Clay stared at Jax.
He was talking in that precious English accent again. Who the hell did he think he was? Madonna? And why the hell couldn't the little pussy say the letter "r"? He says "motha". He told Gemma he needed to go to speech therapy, but she wouldn't hear of it. She thought the way he talked was sexy.
Oh, shit! What kind of mother says that shit? And there was the picture of Jax taped to the ceiling in their bedroom just above the bed. He just figured it out. She put it there so she could pretend he was Jax when they were having sex. That's some seriously twisted shit.
With great effort, Clay focused on the immediate danger. Once again the guys were dazed, confused and terrified. This was far worse than cupcakes, fancy coffee and even soccer moms. This could be a charter ending event.
NEXT UP Projectile
Next Up: Battle Plans Defects
The guys make plans to eliminate their enemies. Gemma makes breakfast and someone begins a passive aggressive campaign against Clay.