“W-w-w-w-w-w-hat do you want?” I asked with totally abject fear.
“Oh, you know,” he replied brandishing those knives in a brutally obtuse way.
Suddenly there was a clatter behind me and Slait’s eyes widened in unadulterated horror.
“W-w-w-w-w-w-hat is THAT?” he asked in a flabbergasted way.
I turned around and there was Jerome and a dangling dead head storming into the room. With a roar he headed towards Slait who dropped the knives and then dropped himself to the floor.
After a few twitches, he lay still.
“Is he……dead?” I asked in quite the subdued way.
Jerome walked over to the prone body, tore off the dangling head and pummeled Slait’s still body with the head until it was nothing more than a puddle of mush and bones.
“Well, he is now,” Jerome said without a trace of irony and headed back to the basement/laboratory.
Then the doorbell rang. Since it still is the season for PCH, I stepped over the puddle of grue and flung open the door.
Instead of PCH, I found myself staring down the barrels of sharpened boomerangs.
Behind those boomerangs was Slait Piperiz.
And he looked really angry.
“Remember me?” he asked as he forced his way into my home.