Pickleberry & Cannon-Head

Chapter One: page 2

Now this wasn't the first time Mr. Pickleberry's head had been cut off. There was an interesting instance with a French guillotine in a private museum once. He had also been bludgeoned, beaten, poisoned, starved, stabbed, shot, strangled, and served to a secret society of cannibals for their annual Thanksgiving feast. In short, Syphilis tended to die decently often. On occasion, it was most definitely his fault. He did bastardize the English language. Other times, such as this one, it was surprisingly not his fault. This seemed to not matter, as he was currently decapitated.

He woke up with a needle poking into his flesh. The thread trailing behind it slowly looped its way from the bottom to the top of his separated skin. Up and down, left to right. Oxygen rushed into his lungs and the feeling of a huge paper cut wrapped around his throat. Gingerly, Simon opened his eyes a smidgeon.

"Simon?" The deep rumbling voice murmured next to his ear. The man shuffled closer. "It's Charlie. I'm sewing you back up." He let out a groan as he felt hot blood trickle down his collar. "This is the second time this month for god's sake."

"Shit, who was I' this time?" Pickleberry slurred. The strong taste of sweetened iron filled all of his senses.

"I don't think I should tell you, you'll just go after them." Charlie did another loop. The older man sighed. "Pretty sure it was Dave Soxx though. He prefers working with a machete."

With a click, Simon's spine pieced itself back together with a loud crunch. Both grimaced at the noise. Reaching the end of the messy circle, he half assed a knot. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I tried going after him but you were already apart and didn't want to leave you in the alley."

"Ts' alright. Better than the morgue I suppose. Hard to explain those ones" Pickleberry lolled his head in Charlie's direction. "Cannon-Head, that bloody bastard is going to get what's coming for him." He loosely grinned, blood dripping down his chin. He flopped his hand messily around for effect. "I do hope you won't stop me."

Charlie grimly stared at him with his dark eyes.

"I don't approve, but I don't think I will this time."

With a cough, Simon looked down at himself. Red pooled around where he was propped against the old brick tiles of the wall. "Didn't piss myself this time."

Cannon-Head stood up and offered a hand. "Come on, I'll walk you home." Simon took the offered hand and swayed in place.

"No hot cocoa?" He asked.

"Not today no, you look horrible." Charlie chuckled. He lent his support to the smaller man.

He stumbled their way back 150 steps. Untangling himself, Pickleberry turned to Cannon-Head. "I can go the rest."

"Are you sure? That death was brutal." He stopped.

Simon began to limp down the street. He waved his arm in the air as he parted. "Still don't trust you at my place, dear savior."