Page 140 of Break Out the Girl

“Tell you what, let's make a deal,” I tell him. “How about you lend me old basher there, and I take it and beat some brains with it. Your tool, my swing.” I do a little miming to illustrate the plan.

He looks up at me, nods, slowly bending down to retrieve old iron-y. His small fingers are shaking as he stands straight and hands it over to me like a runner passing the Olympic torch.

The longest torch-run was in 2008. The Beijing Olympics. Eighty-five thousand miles.

“Thanks, London,” Fuckwad says in a tone that sounds like it would be made much happier by eating some dippy egg.

I point at his plate. “Go eat your soldiers, I’ll report back the details soon.” Then I step out into the freezing air to collect some vengeance and mete out some dues.

Lulu is already waiting, and though it’s probably hard for some people to tell, I know he’s as pumped as I am.

“Ready?” Kitten’s posh brother asks.

“Ready as Eddie, with just the same glow.”

Beside me, Lulu nods.

Posh-bro raises his hand and does a wiggle. “I’m making a sound bubble. The kids in the trailer don’t need to hear their screams.”

Thinking of Fuckwad’s bleak little face, I nod. “That’s a good idea because they’ll scream quite a bit when we saw off their willies,” I say happily.

Posh-bro raises an eyebrow. “You do you, goat.”

Looking down at the two monster-men, a wave of pukiness hits my stomach—like butter gone rancid. I do want to wallop their wangs, but should I?

Slice and dice, or put that thought on ice?

“What do you think, mates? I'm beginning to talk myself out of it," I sigh, shaking my head. “If I can’t perform a penectomy, what does it say about me?”

As I begin to hum the tune to, ‘'Tain't What You Do (It's the Way That You Do It)’, Lulu muscles past me. He places a hand on my shoulder for a brief moment, then the next second is smashing a heavy, steel-toed boot down on the crotch of Bozo. Lulu grinds his massive foot back and forth like he’s stomping out a giant pile of cigarette butts.

The sound that Bozo makes will live happily in my dreams forever more.

Same goes for Coco’s wailing when it’s his time for the dick-destroying.

I’m almost giddy with glee. “Alright, maties, this one is for Fuckwad.” I lift the special little bar and whack it across Bozo’s face. At least a couple of teeth fly out. As Lulu uses his fists to pound on Coco, I surreptitiously slip the teeth in my pocket. I’ll turn them into earrings and gift them to my boy later.

After several more hearty thwacks, it’s obvious that me and Lu’s job is done.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, children of all ages…the show is over.”

50: AURORA

London declared they ‘did the business’ so that necessitated a proper ‘shindig’.

And in London’s world, a proper shindig appears to be feeding us all massive amounts of mashed potato and sausages—I mean bangers—surrounded by a deep moat of brown gravy.

The slightly charred sausages give me pause. Cosmo and I had disposed of the bodies.

All it had taken was my brother’s dragon-fire, whipped into cremator flames by my wind.

That wasn’t the only thing getting destroyed.

By tomorrow, ‘Candy Kaelen’ will be no more. Cosmo assured me that with their access to the WMO mainframe, and his friend Max's skills, it would be like Candy never existed.

“So,” London says, leaning his elbows on the table, as Sky finishes up the last of her mash. “I had an idea about a new surname for you, Skylight.”

I grin. This should be good.