Thursday, September 1, 2011

Dead Rite chapter 75.03

Dill looked down. Four storeys was a long way up. If he was capable of feeling vertigo, his head would have resembled a gyroscope right now, or one of those bobble-headed toys chavs stuck on their dashboard. It didn't help he was overlooking the stableyard with its expanse of damp tarmac. Even if he lowered himself down it was still a forty-foot drop.

He stepped away from the edge and shook his head. “I can't.”

The tall gentleman with the dark skin and glowing red eyes raised an eyebrow. “Why not? It's hardly more than a step.”

“For you maybe. For me it'd be curtains.”

“Hardly, old bean. You're a zombie. You'd get up again afterwards and shamble merrily off.”

“I'm really not into shambling. Besides, how many bones would I shatter? I'd need to consume a lot of body parts to repair that amount of damage. It's hard enough to keep up with general putrefaction as it is.”

The demon sniffed. “Right. Not doing such a great job of that either, are you?”

“Why?” Dill lifted up an arm to sniff at his armpit. “I don't smell anything.”

“That's because you've no longer got the senses you were born with. Take it from me, old son. You smell worse than an abattoir on Bank Holiday Monday.”

“Really? Sorry. Got any deodorant?”

“Sure.” Jasfoup pulled an aerosol from his breast pocket. “Here.”

“This is fly spray.”

“I had lunch with Beelzebub. Trust me. It'll be an improvement.”

“Right.” Dill sprayed his armpits, undid his trousers and sprayed his groin as well. “Better?”

“Much.” Jasfoup recovered the can. “Now hurry. We need to get down without the police or the social services seeing us.”

“Isn't there an easier way down?”

“Wings?”

Dill pointed. “I was thinking more along the lines of that fire escape.”

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