Alright, chapter three, still bad at writing and feeling like punching myself in the face after reading over the last two chapters again. Thanks again for the review, SLG, and for pointing out the whole Pickles/Charles age thing, I'll just stretch out the aging a bit and say that Charles is in his early twenties or something. Here's another awful chapter of this awful story from this awful writer.
(And yes, another mandatory reminder that italics still mean foreign languages.)
Murderface's eyes shot open. He was already late for school. He still stung from grandma Stella's spoon beating last night, he couldn't afford another one today. Instead of enduring the pain, he quickly dove out of the window of his room and raced out to school. He would much rather go through his hundredth detention than another "spoon session'.
Barging into the doors, he ran straight into the main office.
"Alright, I'm late, you can schend me to detentchion now!"
The receptionist shot a brief look up at William, pointing out toward the room he knew all too well. He figured that sitting in a desk doing absolutely nothing was much better than sitting in a desk doing schoolwork. He would simply fall asleep to the ticking of the clock and wait to be woken up by someone.
William turned to the other kids in detention and cleared his throat.
"Alrighty, none of you fuckbagsch dischturb me, and I won't dischturb your fucking bonesch, deal?"
He eyed a small boy with disturbingly black hair and an empty look in his eyes.
"That'sch double for you, Tonto!"
He threw himself down into a desk and was about to shut his eyes when he saw something strange outside the window. A small black car, parked on the side of the road, a suit-wearing man fiddling with the engine while two children lay inside. In fact, one of them looked all too familiar. There was only one child on Earth with hair as wild and brightly orange as that.
"Picklesch? Oh my god."
Murderface climbed through his second window that day as he raced out to see what was going on. Before he could reach them, however, he heard the sound of a motorized scooter. Taking a look to the left, there came his grandmother, spoon in hand.
"William! Get back in that school, or I will replace the spoon with the fork! In fact, I'll replace it with the knife if I have to!"
William ran to the black car, running to the window to see if Pickles noticed him. He hadn't thought of how Pickles would save him from his grandmother in the first place. Perhaps she'd just beat him first.
"Picklesch! It'sch me, Murderfacshe!"
He stepped back as he saw Pickles' bloodied face.
"Picklesch! What the fuck did you to do him, you pschycho!?"
He charged toward the suited man at the front of the car, arms outstretched. He had not expected for the man's hand to calmly come down onto his forehead and stop him from charging.
"Um, if you don't mind, I'm, ah, in the middle of something rather important."
William crossed his arms.
"Oh, yeah, like murdering Picklesch and putting the body in the back scheat with that other kid!?"
The man sighed.
"He isn't dead, but he will be if you don't let me fix this car and take him to a hospital."
Charles knew that there was no way Pickles could die from blood loss from some light head trauma, but this child could not have been more than twelve years old, and Charles sensed that this child was partcularly dim, so he would believe it. But after taking a look at the child, he had to do a double-take.
"Wait...Is your name, ah, by chance, William?"
William backed up and raised his eyebrows.
"William Murderfacshe, the fuck'sch it to you?"
Charles had a feeling that this one would take some convincing.
"I don't suppose that if I said "Come with me" you would do so?"
Murderface's eyes narrowed.
"Oh, yesch, I'm going to get in a car that belongsch to the man who killed a kid from my schchool. Schure, pal."
Charles glanced down the sidewalk.
"You know..."
He pointed to Stella, inching along the sidewalk in her scooter, spoon in hand. William sighed.
"Alright, I know you're going to kill me, but it'sch better than the schpoon."
He hopped into the car next to Toki, which sped off.
"Get back here with my goddamn grandson!"
Stella, in a desperate final attempt to give William his punishment, threw her spoon at Ofdensen's car, shattering the back window and bringing glass down onto Pickles. Charles took one, grim look at Pickles and then looked at Murderface.
"Well, now he really IS going to bleed out if we don't get him somewhere soon."
Toki took a nervous look at Murderface.
"Um...hello."
Murderface raised an eyebrow to Charles.
"What the fuck did that kid schay?"
Charles rubbed his temple with one arm as he drove with the other.
"Look, I'll explain later, just...oh dear god."
Stella, somehow, had caught up to the car, and she had more spoons at her disposal. Her massive arms flung the spoons into Ofdensen's car. Charles knew she would eventually hit another window and possibly kill him or one of the children, so he acted fast.
Opening the driver's side window, he faced Stella with his side of the car. As he suspected, she aimed for his head, which was now a clear target. With a swift movement of the hand, Charles caught the spoon in mid-air. He drove the car past Stella and fired the spoon at her, hitting her clean in the head and knocking her to the ground.
"Spooning is bad for you, kids."
A third, even harder pinch to his own nose, and Charles raced to the town hospital, pleading to forces he did not believe in that he would get there before Pickles bled out.