Anthia of Assconia

The smell of flatulence spread out across the murky skies. A few clouds blinked as if they were ready to rain down havoc on the residents of Assconia. Anthia, the young, merciless mechanic stared into the abyss, searching for anything of entertainment. But there was nothing amusing about where he resided. At times, he almost ran away and joined the GIA rebels, but there was no hope in that. They were losing the war badly.

Maybe if they would have more intelligent commanders. Heck, maybe if they had better equipment, they could bring a better fight to the overlords. But that was just a wild idea that ran through his small brilliant mind. He kept staring at the clouds, trying to make out shapes.

That one looks like Dumbo, he thought, scratching the grease on his hairy belly with his gritty nails.

“Hey asshole, get back to work!” the boss lady bellied, as she hit him across the top of his head with a thick, hard piece of dog poo she had scooped up behind the shop.

“Ahhh…” He rubbed his head and stared at the poo on the ground. “Damn it, that’s gross you old hag!”

“You want to know what’s gross? You, your face just makes me hurl every time I see it.”

He clenched his fists and puckered his lips. Knowing that she could easily fire him, he just rolled with the punches. There were so many things that he wanted to say, like that everyone called her buck nasty but didn’t bother uttering another word to her. Ever since his mom caught mole rat face disease, he needed the job more than ever.

I bet joining those fools would have been way better than taking cheap shots by this crazy hag, he thought, making his way back to the shop.

She kept staring at him, teasing him in every humanly way possible. Her nasty image faded in the back of his peripheral. He picked up the large orange pipe wrench from the floor and stared at it.

The rage inside couldn’t be bottled anymore. He had had enough of her shit, of her smelly self. The pressure built up even more, lighting him up like the fourth of July. Almost as if the fireworks had gone off inside that little skull of his, which resembled a raccoon for some odd reason, he ran outside the job and approached her.

The sudden move startled her, making her jump with her back against the wall.

“Calm your tits!” he screamed as he clunked her with the wrench upside her head.

In an instant she got baby legs and stumbled over. She didn’t even muster a word or a scream. Nothing. She went night, night like if she were dead. And that worried him. He nudged her a bit but she didn’t respond at all.

“Oh my god I killed her. What am I going to do? Now I’m going to be in deep shit.”

His mind began creating wild theories about what was going to happen to him. He would most likely end up at the gallows and receive death row. Or maybe he will just get his left hand chopped off. Who knew, those Rangers were gruesome, corrupt police forces.

Maybe they will be kind after knowing how hideous she is, he thought.

“No, no, no…get up!”

***

to be continued…


by Mad Villain

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