XXVIII Explosions: Random Tangent, #3

By Chris Hollywood

Dorothy Gale once said, "There's no place like home." At the time she was in the land of Oz – a magical realm of witches, impractically-built cities of glass, and unusual colour palettes – and just wanted to return home. Had she been in Dunttstown at the time, Dorothy would be longing for the simpler life in Oz.

 

The trip home from Cuba brought many meetings for our plucky hero, Mongrel Stevens. On the flight he is introduced to the woman of his dreams, whom he chooses to pursue even though she's not only out of his league, but not even playing the same sport. Once home, Mongrel encountered the woman of his nightmares: his long lost estranged and deranged mother. The two ladies thrust many complications into his life, leading him to Bossa Nova, the head of the Dunttstown mafia. Mr. Nova has a good side the size of a pea, and Mongrel finds staying on it is a doomed enterprise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Hollywood
• Release date: Mar 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201352943

Book preview

Mongrel Stevens was not someone you would call a frequent flyer. He wouldn’t even be an infrequent flyer. He was not a flyer, period. In fact, the closest he’d ever come to flying was as a child, when he’d flown off a swing set and woke up in the hospital with stitches on his head as well as voices in it. Both were thankfully short-lived. He also once drove passed the airport in the nearby city of Shchevret. That counts too, I suppose.

He did not purposely avoid aerial transportation; it simply wasn’t a part of his life. That being said, Mongrel was not a good flyer. He belched loudly and often, screamed periodically, and ran up and down the aisles many times before eventually having to be surgically attached to his seat. He also ate an obscene amount of peanuts before losing the use of his hands.

Can I have some more peanuts? Mongrel asked the stewardess as she walked by. He had already eaten twenty-eight bags, and planned on going for another twenty-eight if he could stomach them. It was hard to say no to free peanuts, after all.

The stewardess was a heavenly beauty with a body worthy of going to Hell for. She leaned down close to Mongrel, giving him an up-close and personal look down her blouse. Mr. Stevens, she said, how many bags of peanuts do you plan to eat on this flight? Her tone indicated, if nothing else, that she hated her job, and probably should have strived for a career in serial killing.

Mongrel was mesmerized by the glow of her soft red hair, cascading softly over her shoulders. This was not your ordinary kind of cascading; her hair cascaded over one shoulder, and then the other. It takes a lot of training to get hair to cascade just like that, and it showed that this woman had way too much time on her hands.

I’m going to eat them until I throw up, he told her.

The stewardess grumbled but remained professional. I can’t let you do that, sir, because I’d have to clean it up, and vomit just makes me sick, so I’d throw up. But then I’d have to clean that up, which would make me even sicker, and I’d throw up again. Do you see the pattern?

No, Mongrel said, disappointed. But how about if I just eat them until I explode?

She sighed and rubbed her temples. You know what, sure, go nuts. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing about cleaning up viscera in my contract.

Mongrel looked her up and down, and then up and down again. Unlike the other stewardess, she wore flats instead of heels. Her slender, though voluptuous figure made it a breeze to pass through the cramped cabin. She was striking in her uniform – though Mongrel surmised she’d look good in a garbage bag – and he wasn’t the only one to notice. Some men took advantage of the close quarters, being aggressively flirtatious and touchy-feely with her. She suffered their gratuitous attention with poise and grace, and even smiled.

But it was obvious to Mongrel that this was a facade for the passengers. The woman was not a happy camper. Her face was adorned with a constellation of freckles, but along with astronomy, Mongrel didn’t understand beauty. As unsightly as he was, Mongrel couldn’t identify with the tribulations of her life. How could someone so beautiful be so unhappy? He wished he could help her.

Finally his inner child screamed at his subconscious to get doing something about the situation, figuratively