Asinine: Random Tangent, #4

By Chris Hollywood

No good deed goes unrewarded. Unless it's in Dunttstown, the most baffling suburb this side of reality, in which case it's mostly the bad deeds that earn rewards. You need to be underhanded, completely insane, or outright evil to get by. This was why Mongrel was a failure.

 

Due to a cast of uncooperative characters lead by Mongrel Stevens, the narrator has to abruptly return from vacation. Spitefully, he thrusts upon Mongrel a bevy of curses, chiefly one in his rear end. Wandering the streets of Dunttstown looking for a solution to his problems that don't involve a trip to the ER, Mongrel accepts the hospitality of an eccentric midget, who forces him to adopt the last of his slaves, and boy named Biscuits.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Hollywood
• Release date: Mar 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201467777

Book preview

Asinine

Sunlight shone through the curtains and onto Mongrel Stevens’ face, waiting patiently for him to awaken and appreciate its warmth. The smell of damp Earth from the morning spring shower drifted around the room, soon to be inhaled and acknowledged. The feeling of utter contentment held him deep in slumber, and he wrapped bliss around him like a blanket. But it couldn’t last forever. He woke up eventually due to some birds chirping rather loudly outside his window. Clearly they wanted everyone to know their business, yet were too dense to realize that no one understood what squawk meant.

He jumped out of bed and ran to his closet. Inside was a wide selection of pants (in pairs), shirts, socks, ties, shoes, gloves, underwear (not in pairs), hats, and a gorilla suit. He selected some items to wear, quickly put them on, and ran to the window to shoo away the unwanted visitors. Then he went to find something to toss into his tummy.

Bustling about in the kitchen already were Hershule: his mother, dumpy and dimwitted but well-meaning; and Beby: a lovely redheaded flight attendant who was currently using up her sick days. Mongrel looked around cautiously as he entered the room, as if expecting someone to jump out at him and yell ‘Boo!’ Pancakes were being prepared to start the day off. If this seemed to worry Hershule, then Mongrel was terrified.

Mom? he asked nervously. You’re...cooking?

She looked gravely at him. Is...is that what it’s called? We’ve all been all weird all morning all the time. I know I’m always weird, but this is all wrong, although-

All right! Mongrel silenced her.

Beby nodded in agreement. I even looked at my shadow this morning without being frightened off. How’s that for strange?

Mongrel sat down at the table as Hershule placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. Are they okay? he asked, referring to the food on the plate, stabbing them with his fork. They didn’t cower, jump, fight back, or try to run away; they just sat there, acting like pancakes. He began singing, Something’s wrong with the world today, I don’t know what it is...

Well, we’ve been eating them all morning, Beby said, leaning down to give him a kiss. What? she screamed, jerking her head back. Hold on a damn minute! If I even look at that hunk of shit I throw up so hard it twists my spine! She then realized, after glancing at Mongrel, that she’d have to make good on her threat, and ran off to the bathroom.

Listen buddy, Mongrel shouted to Taffy McHed-bert (not ‘buddy’), as horrendous vomiting noises oscillated in the background, Beby and I have a love-hate relationship, and by that I mean I love her, and she hates me. I thought we established that in the last episode. And who or what is the Taffy Mc-whatever?

The narrator, Taffy McHed-bert, was sorry for the inconvenience, but the old narrator was on a much-needed vacation, and wouldn’t be back for a few weeks.

Oh! Mongrel exclaimed. That explains everything. The clean floors, the garbage being taken out, the apparent extermination of the rats...

I was wondering where they’d gotten off to, Hershule pondered out loud in a poignant manner. They were supposed to be breakfast. That’s why I’m making pancakes.

Mongrel looked sharply at her in horror. You were going to kill Bartimus?

Rats had infested Hershule’s house for so long that they were practically family pets. After her husband, Pharquard, had passed on she’d been alone with no one to talk to for a couple days, and when the rats started showing up again she was just happy to have someone else in the house; the place was just too quiet at night. She named and fed each one, growing attached to them all – Mongrel had specifically taken a liking to Bartimus – but without a breadwinner on the farm, the food was running out. Hershule didn’t know much about cooking, and after slaughtering the livestock and roasting everything over an open fire, the rats were next on the chopping block.

Well we’ve eaten everything else, she said, sitting down at the table next to him. And without any other food in the house they all started eating whatever they could get their paws on. Lunchmeat wouldn’t stop chewing on the sofa. He loved that thing. Sooner or later I would’ve been next. It was eat or be eaten, so don’t feel sorry for them.

Mon, said the mon, coming into the room and