Something Completely Different

Well I've finished the new upgraded Criminal Record at last and I'll be publishing it on Friday. I may even get time to pump out a bit more Lady Ann before then if we're lucky.

In the meantime, here's an excerpt from my the middle of my other novel, Lynch Heinouson, that you may enjoy a chuckle over.

 

Lynch and the Department Store Santas

Lynch Heinouson: Psycho Vampire opened his super powered vampire eyes for the first time and said “Now that’s what I call cool!”

He had seen a lot of vampire films in his day (although it irritated him the number of people who wrote vampire stories rather than inventing something new and original) but seeing it from the inside was something else entirely.

He felt such incredible strength and power in all of his limbs. He felt like he could do anything! Like he could tear a human being apart down the centre or toss a pineapple so hard it would go right up somebody’s arse and come out their mouth. Or say “I’ll see you in hell,” and not actually mean it.

It was bloody great!

No. Better than that.

It was fucking ace.

He felt his front teeth. “Ow, shit!” His fangs really were needle sharp. He was going to have to be really careful if he was strapped for cash and had to give blow jobs from now on. Not that he’d done that before (at least after he passed thirteen), but it was worth considering if he did ever have some bloke’s cock in his mouth.

“I must say this is pretty darn good Percy,” said Lynch. “I don’t say this often – people are usually dead and all – but thank you. I really appreciate this.” He flexed his muscles in a manly way. “Let’s have a proper look at these teeth.”

Lynch went over to the mirror in the hallway (read dental chair) but paused surprised at the empty glass before he remembered about the no-reflection thing.

“That’s a bit of a pisser,” he said. “I wanted to check out my new chompers.”

“I know,” replied Percy. “It is rather inconvenient. Sometimes I go out with a big tuft of hair sticking up and I don’t realise until somebody tells me.”

“So I can never see my reflection again?”

“No. Er, except in the er... You can see your reflection in the eyes of your victims. Not that I’ve had much cause to experience that... too often. Although one time I had a really important interview so I was forced to drain the blood of a department store Father Christmas so I could check whether my tie was straight.”

“You did a good deed,” said Lynch. “I hate those fuckers.”

“You hate... department store Santas?”

“Don’t even say the words. I... hate them... so much.”

“May I... enquire why?”

Lynch sat down and stared vacantly into the flames in the grate. “I was twenty four years old. I went into a department store. I don’t remember why now – probably something to do with gunning somebody down. I saw Santa.”

“Yes...”

“Twenty minutes later I happened to be in another department store.”

“Gunning somebody down?”

“Probably. You lose track. Anyway, there was Santa.” His voice went low, almost rasping, as he recalled the events of that day. “I remember thinking to myself how remarkable it was that he’d managed to give away all his toys in the first shop and still managed to get to this second one before me, especially with all the police cars blocking the street. But there he was, chuckling and handing out presents, proud as you please.”

“Er...”

“A little while later I was in another department store.”

“Gunning people down?”

“What, do you think I’m some kind of psycho? No. I was buying Christmas gifts.”

“Who for?”

“A guy I was going to gun down later. But when I walked in, there was Santa.”

“And you er... you started to get suspicious.”

“You bet I did,” said Lynch. “I mean, everyone knows that Father Christmas has got magic powers; that he can travel with incredible speed and go down chimneys, right?”

“Er, yeah...”

“Any fool can tell you that. So it was possible Santa had managed to beat me to each of these places. But then I noticed that the Santa I was looking at was this big black dude.”

“I see.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Lynch. “I don’t have anything against nig nogs; but every child knows that Santa Claus is white.” He nodded sombrely. “That fucker was impersonating Father Christmas. That whole department store was profiting off the reputation of a good honest man – a kindly old gentleman who gives his entire life to bring toys to children.”

Lynch stood up angrily and started pacing, gesticulating wildly. “Do you know how cold it is at the north pole? Do you? It is tossing cold! But that doesn’t stop Santa. He slaves all year long to make toys with his elves then spends all Christmas Eve night racing round the globe giving out the toys he’s made. He deserves our respect!”

Pausing, Lynch looked down for several moments. When he lifted his head there were tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I got so angry I killed everyone there. I tortured the fake Santa. I killed all the staff who’d gone along with his sham facade. I killed the parents and the children – who could tell which of them were in on it?

“Then I went to the other two stores.”

“And they were fake too?” asked Percy.

“Oh yeah.”

“How could you tell?”

“By cutting their heads off.”

“You cut their heads off?”

“It follows the same logic as dunking witches,” said Lynch.

“Where you hold a suspected witch underwater and if she drowns... she’s not a witch?”

“Correct. Obviously the real Father Christmas would be able to avoid being decapitated. He’d have some special anti-decapitation power or something.”

There was a long pause.

“Okay!” said Percy, in the manner of someone who has just realised what a complete fruit loop the person he was talking to was. “Er... one question though.”

“Yes?”

“You’re sure Father Christmas really exists?”

“What, are you stupid? Of course he’s real. He brings me presents every Christmas.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Doesn’t he bring you any?”

“No. I mean my parents used to... Do you have parents who might... help Santa bring the presents?”

“No.”

“Well... Hmmm,” said Percy. “And you live alone.”

“I have had a few lodgers over the years. But they usually get killed.”

“Well, right. Er... what were we talking about?”

“Killing people?”

“Oh yes!” said Percy. “You were just enjoying your newfound powers and I was about to ask you to help me to understand the nature of evil.”

“Oh yes,” said Lynch. “About that...”