A Sunset of Rage

Chapter 13

"Dami, have you ever wondered why the plural for house is not hice?" Frederic asked philosophically.
"Oh yeah? You think you have problems? I've been saying meese all these years and just NOW people have decided it's MOOSE!" Damien retorted.
"OH YEAH, F*CKER?! IT'S MOOSES! ANYONE WHO DISAGREES WITH ME WILL BE KICKED INTO H*LL BY MY FAT FOOT!" Cristobal roared.
"Cristobal, it's meese," Damien said stoically.
Cristobal was not in a tolerant mood. Well, when is he ever? He angrily strangled Damien with his large hands, squeezing the life out of the small emo. By now Damien's neck had gotten accustomed to being choked. It was very malleable and fit well into Cristobal's hands.
"Your highness. I think Damien's in pain," Frederic commented.
"You THINK?!" Damien choked.
Cristobal gently stapled Damien to the wall by his shirt, turning to face down the tall blonde. "Hey a**wipe. Wanna arm wrestle?" he grinned, cracking his big knuckles.
"Sure!" Frederic smiled, too dumb to see the malice in the large man's eyes. He interpreted the challenge as a mere sign of friendship, not a show of power.
"One, two HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Cristobal cackled, twisting Frederic's arm around before he was even ready. Frederic screamed, flopping on the floor. The morbidly obese lord of the FBI then smashed him into the floor with his big foot, making the floor crack. He rolled away once he was satisfied.
"Ooch. My face," Frederic whimpered, rubbing his nose.
"You think you have it bad? I'm emo," Damien muttered.
"New. CASE!!!!!!!!!!!" Cristobal screamed.
"Yes sir!" the employees said respectfully.
The manager was particularly enthused today. Did something good happen to him? "Sir, you're rather happy today," Damien commented.
"SiR yOu'Re RaThEr HaPpY tOdAy," Cristobal mocked. "You bet your a** I am!! My old enemy from 3rd grade just got murdered by his ex therapist in the burger king parking lot! Haha! Serves that f*cker right! I'm so f*ckin happy!"
"I knew it'd be something petty," Damien grumbled, rubbing his aching skull.
Cristobal was absorbed in watching different news report clips of the murder on 10 different tvs at once, immediately rewatching when they ended. He also had many copies of the obituary stapled on his wall, and a picture of the foe was burning in the trash can. This was what true happiness looked like.
"Didn't we have a CASE?!" Damien yelled, emphasizing the word "CASE" like any good FBI agent did.
"Do not question me," Cristobal said simply.
A beer commercial came on. "Aw, look Frederic! Your favorite, alcohol!" Damien sneered condescendingly.
"Heh. Beer is for the weak," Frederic chuckled, sipping vodka.
"WHAT'D YOU SAY ABOUT MOUNTAIN DEW?!" Cristobal hollered, rolling over. Yeah, he really needed that hearing aid implant.
The case documents were pulled up. Mass fast food thief on the loose. No photos had been captured of the fiend. "Slaves, embark," Cristobal ordered, clapping his large hands together rumblingly.
"Fast food thief, huh?" Damien murmured thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.
"Dami, we must investigate," Frederic input helpfully. He was ready to be a good child today.
Damien loaded his special top secret pistol, putting it in his suit pocket. "Come, foolish one. Let's catch the thief," he beckoned, stomping out the door. Frederic trotted helpfully behind him.