Welcome to the serialized story of Mr. Harmless Bullet! A new chapter will be published every Wednesday (FREE to read). For audio - scroll down.
Genre: satire, absurdist comedy, adult humor (16+)
Written with the Tristan Tzara method - read about it here
Complete story, chapter by chapter:
Angela Marrant
CHAPTER 12. SCREW QUARTER
I greeted the first rays of the sun with enthusiastic cheer. After a long journey - full of obstacles, spiritual slumber and excessive heat - I felt like a bear, awake and moving towards the dawning light.
We arrived at the eastern shore of Gunung Kinabalu closer to lunch.
Three cars, one of them a beautiful 1952 Bentley R-Type Continental, were waiting for us. The second car, a Buick Roadmaster Skylark, had flowers and fruit carved on both sides of the doors; it gleamed with a deep red light.
All I could think of was how much I'd like to slide into that Buick, to be carried away from Hamilton's madness, from my new professional responsibilities, somewhere far away, to a stylish house with a proper bath and, of course, a bedroom with crisp Egyptian sheets.
Near the third car - a Model V Stuffy, a 21st-century electric giant - stood a sunburnt Arcadio. He was dressed in an ivory linen shirt, beige beach pants, and a wide, welcoming smile.
He ran down to our tired procession, put his strong arm around King Hamilton's waist, and tried to steer her to his car.
"My darling, all is arranged for your arrival," said Arcadio Hardstone.
Then, he barked something to her three sisters, who didn't look very pleased by his order but did what they'd been told: they tied Martha and me to the roof of the grey Bentley.
Lucky Ms. Downhill Tasty got a spare place inside, between two soft pillows, where the famous armadillo Jack had already snored.
To my surprise, the driver of our vehicle was Ms. Glorious. She was wearing blue swimming shorts and a yellow kaftan. The other lady near her was wrapped in a green towel and looked like an angry mosquito.
The third woman, who sat at the back, glanced coldly around; she held a bulk sketchbook, a pencil, and a phone in her hands.
"Are you ready for a whoopee-troopee trip, Dr. Harmless?" Ms. Glorious tapped on the ceiling and started the engine.
Our destination, known as the 'Warrior Farm,' was seventeen miles away.
The road was bumpy and dusty, and the sky was too dazzling to look at, turning from turquoise to pink, from yellow to red. The closer we came to the town, the noisier our environment became. Ginger-colored exotic insects—silent, hateful, persistent—followed our journey on the sandy track.
Finally, the road ended abruptly as the cars halted near the narrow tunnel with a golden gate marking the entrance to the green hill where the famous town of Gunung Kinabalu was hidden.
After our arrival, the crowd's eyes inspected my aching body and face, covered in rolls of insects, the tissue of luxurious cigarettes, brown fur, and orange feathers in various sizes.
Ms. Glorious covered her mouth with her hand and chuckled, "What has happened to you, Doctor?"
"I fell off the roof... a couple of times. Martha helped me up, though. Nothing to worry about," I replied.
Life isn't fair: I dreamed of impressing the ladies at the Warrior Farm, but I failed again...
The place was surprisingly modern: tall towers, polished streets with electric lamps and vehicles, soft music from balconies, and laughter at the bar's steps—the rhythm of civilization, so different from what I'd experienced during the past week.
The woman with a sheriff's badge hugged me without any introduction. I stopped breathing. She could easily have been the most beautiful sheriff I'd ever seen—on the screen or in real life—dressed in a silky purple kimono with ample décolletage.
"I can't believe this is the man who will cure 11 thousand of our sick warriors! Does he know anything about the dangerous LKED virus? He looks like a rat..." the women in the crowd whispered.
"Rat? I beg your pardon!" I turned around, scanning the unfamiliar faces to locate the offender.
"They might mean the guinea pig," Ms. Downhill Tasty giggled.
The group dissolved: some women went to the saloon, others to the hairdresser, bar, or spa. They didn't look too sick.
My eyes roamed with satisfaction around this little perfect Kingdom. I breathed in all the sounds and scents of Gunung Kinabalu, convincing myself that this is where I was meant to be now, at this precise moment in my life.
The gentle jolt on my back pulled me from my deep thoughts.
"There's a party on the Dope yacht tonight to celebrate your arrival at Screw Quarter," the stunning sheriff informed me.
"Screw Quarter? I thought this was a Warrior Farm," I blinked.
"Hoooney, Warrior Farm is seven miles away, behind thirty-meter-high steel walls, surrounded by the cold river on one side and the deadly forest on the other. Your lovely but mad patients are locked in there," the sheriff said, pausing to make a sickening clicking sound. "And tomorrow, you'll be delivered inside, together with your cook Martha, for a closer inspection and, hopefully, the right diagnosis and careful treatment. You'll find the necessary weapons and new clothes in the room above Death-Watch Tower, in the far south of Screw Quarter, behind the drug store of Ms. Sedative. Just ask around..."
"Weapons? What? No, I'm a doctor!" I shouted.
"Well, Warrior Farm is a dangerous place. Every night, there's more and more violence," the sheriff instinctively lowered her voice and leaned in closer.
"What kind of violence?"
The sheriff's widening eyes and the fluffy rings from her luxury cigarette spoke volumes.
"Can I use a phone? I saw one in the car during the trip to Screw Quarter," I begged.
"Ah, that thing... sure, but it doesn't work. Only the Beluga Clan has a direct satellite connection, and they rarely share access with us. We’re in the middle of a war, as you know. I heard your friend Arcadio is trying to negotiate better terms."
The realization of my situation hit me hard. I walked into the saloon, slowly dragging my weary feet toward the stimulating drug of whatever was served...
to be continued...
WANT TO LISTEN?
Are you new here? Check out my WHO IS ANGELA page to learn more about me. I write spicy absurd, satire, comedy, and adult humor.
Do you have a friend who could use more fun in their life? :) Feel free to share this (or any) post with anyone interested in absurdity or surreal humor.
