Filthy moolah freaky fin.., p.3
Filthy Moolah (Freaky Finders Book 3), page 3
I stared at my audience, waiting for applause at such excellent storytelling but all I got were frowns.
"That's such bullshit," said Mimi. "How can you eat your own head? How can you eat without a body? You can't keep eating yourself until you're all gone, that's not possible."
"You forget one thing," I told her. "He was a wizard. He'd cast spells on himself, done weird shit to allow himself to eat himself, and he'd been at it for years. Guess he learned a trick or two."
"Bollocks," Mimi countered.
"Suit yourself," I shrugged.
"What was the point of this story anyway?" asked Mimi.
"I was getting to that. We have the honor, no, the privilege, of going and getting him and delivering him to God himself. Look, Aunty and I even have tattoos, how cool is that?"
I showed them mine and Aunty reluctantly revealed her own ink timer.
"I'm out," said Mimi. "Guess this is what all that was about earlier with the fighting and whatnot?"
"Of course it was!"
"So, yeah, I'm out." Mimi left.
"Me too," said Hanna. "Sounds boring and stupid." She left too.
"But this all your fault " I shouted after her. It was, or mostly.
"Boris not like story." He left too.
"Guess that leaves you and me. The ace duo," I told Aunty.
Aunty left too. Then she came back and my heart leaped.
"Almost forgot."
I smiled.
She gave me the finger. Then she left.
She didn't come back.
Disappointing
"It pays a million in gold," I whispered, just to test if what I'd long thought true actually was.
I grinned as I heard a stampede coming down the stairs. Everyone burst back into the kitchen and began chattering excitedly.
"Whoa, calm down. Here's the deal. Half the money is for the business, the rest gets split between us for payment. So that's a hundred grand each. Do we have a deal?"
"Boris never had so much money. Will buy Greggs shop."
"That is tempting," said Mimi, no stranger to good payouts but this took it to a whole other level.
"I guess I could help out," said Hanna.
"Fine," said Aunty. "Not that I have a choice anyway." She held up her tattooed arm like I'd forgotten all about it.
"That's great! Okay, let's get ourselves sorted out then we'll all meet in the office in shall we say fifteen minutes? Make a battle plan, that kind of thing."
And so it was that Freaky Finders took on the case of retrieving a cannibalistic self-eater currently residing in Hell. And all because Hanna gave an awesome wedgie.
Office Meeting
The red office phone sat on the cluttered reception desk like a warning to us all. You better ring regularly or you'll all remain poor. Luckily, the old-fashioned plastic phone had rung a few times these past months, and we had been successful in our jobs, but we still didn't exactly have a stellar reputation. We were freaky even by Freak standards, and unpredictable to boot. Unconventional is what we were.
The mismatched battered desks were piled with random papers I assumed had no other purpose than to make the place look like we did stuff, there were books and waste baskets that needed emptying, and the huge whiteboard that Boris kept drawing pies on just in case anyone decided to go buy him some.
And it was mine. Okay, ours. Our business hub, our center of operations, the place where all the cunning plans were dreamed up. At least if we weren't hanging around in the kitchen slurping tea and searching for snacks.
One hour and ten minutes later, everyone was assembled, which was pretty good going by our standards. Of course, once everyone was present, Boris had to leave immediately for a wee, Aunty decided to go make toast, and Hanna refused to discuss a plan until I told the story of Meatman again. She listened, rapt this time, and kept asking for more details when I got to the gory bits.
Eventually, we got down to business, and a hush fell over the room.
"Nothing? Nobody's got a plan? Any ideas?" People suddenly became interested in their fingernails or the view to the garden.
"What's your plan?" asked Mimi with a smirk.
"Don't get smart with me, young lady," I warned.
"We're about the same age, remember?"
"Whatever. Look, the obvious plan is to just get down into Hell and go find him. But it's a big place and they don't exactly like me down there, you either, Mimi, so I'd rather we got a bit more detailed about this before jumping in headfirst and just hoping for the best."
"That's how we do all our work though," protested Mimi. "We get going and see what happens. Simple."
"And then we set ourselves up for a world of trouble. No, let's have a proper plan this time, one we can follow. We could try to find out exactly where he's being held, what his personal Hell is. How about that as a starting place?"
"And how do we do that?" asked Hanna. "How do you find out where a dead person is if they're in purgatory? Is there a map?"
"Don't be stupid. Um… Actually, there is a map. Yes, good thinking."
Hanna beamed. "Really, it was a good idea?"
"Yeah, very. Hell has a map so they can keep track of where everyone is. It's a fucking huge place so they need to have a system. They're utterly behind the times though. No computers, all parchment and paper trails. It's a wonder it works at all. They definitely need an overhaul. But yes, the Janitor showed me the map once. It's this bloody massive room that covers Hell but in miniature. It's spooky. You look down on the terrain, which goes from freezing wastelands to burning deserts and everything in-between and you can see tiny people in various states of torture and the endless, infinite cells where people are locked in and—"
"How can you see it if it's infinite?" asked Mimi, always the trouble-maker.
"Because it's Hell and normal rules don't apply." I held up my hand before she interrupted again. "But it's all laid out there. It's actually a good idea. You tell this 3D map who you are looking for and then it kind of zooms in and there are markers above people's heads with their details, their crime, how long they'll be punished for and how long they are to have their current punishment."
"That sounds so cool," said Hanna. "Can we get one?"
"No, honey, they're very expensive," said Aunty.
"Aw, shame."
"So, we need to find this room then we can find Meatman. Then we can go get him and bring him back." I was liking this more and more.
"How do we get from the map to Meatman though?" asked Mimi.
"Um, I guess we go down a Path once we're there and can pinpoint him."
"And how do we bring him back? I mean, he's dead, isn't he?"
"Mimi, you are spoiling a perfect plan. Look, I guess we'll have to figure that out along the way. But if we're being sent to get him then we must be able to. Maybe by finding him and taking him, we'll be able to bring him back and he'll be re-embodied as we return."
"You have no idea do you?" she asked.
"Look, I've been down there loads of times, you too, and we didn't keep our solid bodies but it felt real. And when we returned we were back to being us. That's not something you can explain, is it? So there must be a way. Maybe it will be that simple."
"And how do we get into Hell to begin with?" asked Aunty.
"Aha, now, that I can arrange." I swept my arms wide and smiled at my motley group of fools.
"Go Team Freaky." I punched the air.
Everyone wandered off for snacks. Maybe I should have mentioned Aunty and I had less than nine hours before we died. Doubt it would have made any difference though.
Bit Stupid
Hell is, well, let's not beat about the bush, it's Hellish.
It's where the bad people go.
And then they are punished.
For eternity. Or as close to it as you can get. Obviously, none of the inhabitants have ever been damned eternally yet as tomorrow is another day. But if this was the last day ever then I suppose they all have been tormented until the end of days. My point is that it sucks, big time. You go there because you were bad, rotten on the inside, and what happens to you depends on exactly how despicable a human being you were whilst alive.
There are degrees of punishment, but only up to a point, as you don't get sent to the nether regions for nicking a pint of milk, you go there because you killed your granny for her pension then did weird stuff to her dead body like turn it into a footstool, or you wore a "comedy" tie, or some "hilarious" socks. So just the folk that really deserve it. We all know who they are, what they are like, and if there is any doubt about their goodness then God and Satan sort it out amongst themselves. There are rules the likes of us aren't privy to but it all seems to work out in the end. Good guys and gals go up, bad guys and gals go down.
Then you suffer. And keep on suffering in your own private Hell created especially for you. It doesn't matter if you believe in an after life, that's human nature to question the existence of God and the Devil, but there is good and bad, karma and even reincarnation, and for some, the cruelest punishment is to be reborn and live a life on planet earth all over again.
There's a system in place, all created by the big guy upstairs, who also created Satan as he didn't want to have to do bad things to bad people himself as that went against the grain, against his morals. But here's the quandary. If he knew what he was doing by creating his opposite, and what the result would be, then surely he is responsible? Free will, I hear you say. Exactly. It's all rather complicated and I find it best not to dwell on matters of spirituality or religion as the whole thing can send you spiraling into madness. Life's complicated enough, who needs to add to it by trying to uncover the truth behind reality when nobody even knows.
God doesn't, as He's been around forever, but ask Him who created Him, and so on and so on, and what was there before He created everything, and you get a blank look then are told to leave.
Such is life, and death.
Believe it or not, it makes no difference in the end. One way or another, you get what you deserve and your opinion on the matter matters not one iota.
Screw 'em, I say, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. No disrespect intended. I knew God saw the funny side of what we did to him. After all, he was just our interpretation of the cosmic forces that created the universe, it wasn't like he actually was a dude sitting cross-legged on a cloud. Just a visualization, something we could understand, not really real.
Or was he?
Hmm, sometimes I had my doubts, but mostly, as mentioned, I never thought about it as I'm just a bloke with problems of his own.
So, why not pop down to Hell, have a jolly, and earn some filthy moolah?
Exactly. There wasn't one good reason not to.
Maybe one.
Hanna.
And Boris.
So maybe two.
And the risk of Hellish pain for eternity.
So, yeah, loads of reasons not to go, but God was on our side and that had to count for something.
Dirty Bird
After snacks, then a cup of tea, a moan about the state of the kitchen, and a worrying incident with something green and verging on sentience in a mug behind the toaster, we were ready to go. Then we all needed a wee, and nobody could decide what to wear, so although it was winter we settled on vests or lightweight tops because Hell is well hot. I chose jeans and boots though, as you don't want to go doing heroic shit wearing shorts. Who trusts a hero who exposes his calves in public? That's right—nobody.
Then we really were ready.
We assembled in the office-cum-hangout and milled about, nobody sure if this was it or if one of us was about to nip off for another wee or decide they needed a jumper after all.
Nobody needed anything, so we just stood around waiting. Tension was palpable, nervous tics began to surface, Boris ate all the pies and doodled more pies on the whiteboard, Aunty actually tidied some papers although I found it hard to believe we really needed so much paper when there was never much of anything to write down and our work reports were all digitized anyway, and Hanna just lazed about with her legs over the side of a chair looking bored. Aunty and Mimi tapped, knocked, kicked, whistled, hummed, then tapped again, which was super annoying, but I wasn't much better as I kept putting on then taking off my sunglasses to clean them and tried to think of something I'd forgotten.
In other words none of us wanted to begin as once we did it would suck and we'd be trapped down in Hell with all the naughty people.
Eventually even the humming and tapping stopped and we just hung out, saying nothing, waiting for something, anything to distract us.
Nothing did.
Everyone stared at me.
"What? Stop staring, it's rude."
"Sticking your finger up a stranger's bum then licking his ear is rude, staring is just staring," said Hanna as she stifled a yawn.
"I'm not even going to respond to that," I told her. "Just know that you have issues."
"I know it," she replied with a grin.
The silence resumed. I watched dust dance through a stray ray of sunlight clearly unaware it was cloudy out and winter in the UK so shouldn't be here for months yet, and then only briefly.
"All right, darling? Ooh, like the vest," cackled Pete the blue jay as he perched on Hanna's shoulder and peeked down her vest. To be fair, there was ample cleavage to inspect, and he did have a good view.
Hanna casually lifted him up by his head with two fingers then pinched until his head popped. She flung the remains against the ceiling. He stuck, then landed with a gentle thud.
"Blimey, you lot are never pleased to see me. Okay, you are, Spencer, but not the ladies," said Pete as he popped back into existence and his old body vanished, which was better than the gore tripping someone up later. Somehow, the tiny bird managed to make the word ladies sound insulting, slimy, perverted, and like he had all manner of disgusting things on his mind. Which he probably did.
"We were just, ah…"
"Trying to think of a reason not to begin our job," prompted Aunty. "Oi, gerrof me, you creep." Pete had landed headfirst down Aunty's cleavage and then turned around and popped his head out.
"How's this for a distraction then?" he chirped happily.
Aunty picked him up between thumb and forefinger then threw him against the wall. He sort of splatted a little, slid down the wall, landed on the floor, shook out his feathers, then took to the wing and circled the room.
"That was not cool," he moaned. "Here I am, just in the nick of time, and this is the thanks I get? Great, just great."
"Sorry, I may have under-reacted," said Aunty.
"You mean over-reacted," corrected Pete, looking like he'd been through a tumble dryer his feathers were now so fluffy.
"No, I really don't."
"Well, I'm glad to see you," I told him. "Although where have you been, buddy? Could have done with your help a while back. We had an incident with a faery golem and you could have really helped us out."
"I know, it was fun to watch." Pete managed to cackle, no easy thing when you have a beak. But then, he could talk, and that wasn't possible either.
Oh, Shit
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I moaned, coming out in a cold sweat. I read the message on my phone again then put it away before I smashed it.
"See you later," the message had said. Argh, see you later? My hands were clammy, my neck felt flushed, my armpits were soaked, and I swear even my feet were running with fear and stress-induced sweat. "No, no, no, I can't believe I forgot. Okay, everyone, change of plan. No job today, at least not until tonight. Damn, how could I forget this? Shit, what's the time?" I glanced at my watch then did a little high-pitched yelp. "Christ, this is gonna be tight, but I can make it. Yeah, sure, no problem, it's all under control, haha." I rubbed at my face, my forearm came away soaked.
"Spencer, what is it?" asked Aunty, looking worried.
"Damn, damn, damn. It's ugh, well…"
"What? Stop it, you're freaking me out."
"Yeah, me too," chimed in Pete. "What's with you? Thought you were off to Hell on a jolly?"
"That's sounding peachy right about now. No, this is much worse," I told the room. "My brother and his wife and kid are coming for lunch. Today. In three hours. Here, to eat. With us." I stared at them all in turn, hoping they understood the importance of what I was telling them. Hanna shrugged, bored, Boris was staring at the whiteboard with his tongue lolling out, Mimi looked confused, Aunty nodded knowingly.
"So what's the problem?" asked Mimi.
"She doesn't get it, does she?" I asked Aunty.
Aunty shook her head. "No, she doesn't.
"Get what? It's just lunch. He's your brother and he's coming for lunch. Big deal."
"Actually, yes, it is," I lectured, feeling hot and bothered and cold all at the same time. "You don't understand. He's straight, super straight. He's not like us. He's a Normal, and his wife is even more of a Normal than him, if that's even possible. He lives in a semi, he mows his lawn every Sunday, wears a tie, goes to work every day. They have a weekly planner for meals for God's sake! They're Normal!" I may have been shouting rather hysterically by this point. What had I let myself in for? Why had I asked him to come for lunch? What was wrong with me?
To be fair to my brother, the last time we'd seen each other he'd been quite nice, at least by his standards. Mind you, my house had just burned down. He hadn't seen the new place, so I'd called and invited him in a fit of brotherly love. Now I was seriously questioning my sanity. This was a terrible idea. It was easy to forget how different we were to regular folk. Odd Ones, our kind are called, and for a reason. Still, how bad could it be really? We'd be on our best behavior, they'd come for a few hours, then it would be back to being freaky.
Who was I kidding? This would be a disaster of epic proportions.
"I can be normal too," said Mimi.
