COUGH!!
"Seriously dude!? You had to spray that shit on my face?! *COUGH*!!" the devious Whiteface wheezed heavily.
"Where's Hila!? Tell me now!!" I shout with so much rage in my voice I shed a steaming tear.
"Dude...it's not that serious, oh and, by the way, those beige atriocities should burn in the white flame of white hell- where zewhitedevil will be slumbering-*COUGH!!*" Whiteface jabbered away.
"Goddamn you!!" I snap.
"Zewhitedevil will damn you!!" Whiteface hissed.
As I lose all hope of finding Hila to this white scum, the Beanie God appears in all of his glory saying: "Dude, have you seriously not been able to notice that golden spray-can in your possession?!" he yells at me in annoyance.
"Oh," I quietly gasp.
Reaching for my golden spray, I pointed it at Whiteface and eyed him down. Flinching back, Whiteface hisses and numerous coughs escape his throat. He threatens me with his white lip-balm and I glare at it, my head full of ideas and most importantly Hila.
"It's either-*COUGH!!*- you or me and I know my desicion already," Whiteface wheezes and hisses, like a savage creature.
"So, let's see who wins this one, you whitedevil bastard," I smirk deviously, bracing my weapon for use.
Hiss!!
Lunging towards me, White face attempts a full swipe of lipstick onto my face. I duck fabulously under his arm and reaching back up behind him, only to fire a full blast of golden spray at him.
HISS!!! COUGH!!!
"*COUGH* You might have won this war, but I will be hiding in your hideously coloured closets-"*COUGH*-only to strike in the most unexpected of timings!" cackled Whiteface, crawling away into a dark corner.
The BG appears next to me only to give me a simple message:"Well that was over quick! Anyway remember your primary objective! And clearly you have shown the first signs of redemption! Peace out dude."
And with the same trippy flash of light he was gone.
"Ethan?!"Hilla called out to me.
YOU ARE READING
Buried in Shirts
Science FictionI am sinking in many shirts that are of many sizes. They are all cleaned perfectly- crisp edges finishing off the final touches. Only one man can take the weight of two hundred shirts. Only one man can handle his multiple chins being buried in the f...
