Page 13 of The Good Char (Soul Taker)
DZIK
The sun was shining outside as usual in this wretched city. I could still feel Kimmy’s bright aura as she left the bay. My skin always prickled in awareness when she was around. It pissed me off. I had enough of her happiness for the day so I decided to make her leave for my own sanity.
I tied my apron again and prepared myself for the bustle of the evening rush.
There was about an hour left before we closed and last minute hungry customers would soon be flocking to my stand.
Like roaches, the rush began, weaving around Kimmy as she once again removed her coverings.
Office workers and tourists alike flocked to me, all eagerly placing their orders for dipped weiners made of human flesh.
The sizzle of the fryer was a constant background buzz as hungry eyes and growling stomachs stood at the ready. The aroma of cooked flesh wafted through the food court and I wickedly grinned as Justin glared at me from his bay.
Disappointingly, the sound of something I hated more than Kimmy's singing floated toward me—a group of rowdy teenage boys.
They were a motley crew of boiled-faced kids, their laughter echoing through the food court. Triumphing over Justin’s disgusting pastry treats out of my mind, I glowered in the direction of these gangling humans as they approached my counter.
Dealing with ingrates like these made for longer days during my sentence. My fingers itched to rip their flesh and devour it as I jammed their bones into their orifices, cackling with mirth as I listened to their screams of agony.
Once the boils were peeled off, their flesh would be the same as the others once grounded together. I debated whether I should donate a few bodies to Melkgard. The master wouldn’t notice a few extra souls, surely.
“Whoooo! You see that chick that walked by with the black hair? I can show her a thing or two,” one of them laughed.
Vile creatures. The master knew exactly what he was doing when he placed me in this teenage trap to be tortured by the idiots of the flock. I would rather deal with the ancient ones walking in circles than?—
"Yeah, I promise you all I need is three minutes and a rubber," The other one replied before slapping their hands together in the air in a strange human custom referred to as a high five.
Why they were celebrating something that apparently hadn’t happened was beyond me.
Idiots, the lot of them.
“I bet we could catch up to her. I’ve seen her here before. She’s got a bicycle parked out in front. Let’s grab some corndogs and go after her. Heck, maybe she’ll take some more clothes off,” the third one crowed after wagging his eyebrows.
My nostrils flared as I shoved the latest order into the guy’s chest, pushed him aside and shot out my arm to grab the scruff of the closest idiot’s shirt.
"Who exactly are you looking at?" I growled, reading to take a bite out of the tip of his nose and spit it back in his face.
“I-I—” the idiot stammered and I threw him against the other one, knocking them both down.
Calmly, I stepped from behind the counter and made my way toward the third who was backing away slowly with his hands raised in supplication. I could feel my flesh suit threaten to tear the more I closed the distance.
I watched with scrutiny as his Adam's apple bobbed from a dry swallow before he stood his ground and pretended to face me without fear. His wavering voice said otherwise. "H-Hey, man, give me a weiner with extra pickles and cheese.”
The rest of the patrons who stood behind them began to back away and disperse. Good riddance. I would feed them their own flesh another day. They would be back. They always came back like lambs to the slaughter.
I stared at this pimple-faced meat sack before pointing at the menu which clearly stated the options available.
"We don't have pickles or cheese as toppings," I gritted out slowly, enunciating each word.
The teenager frowned and turned to his friends with false bravado. "Did you hear that, guys? This guy doesn't have pickles or cheese! What kind of weiner place is this?"
The other two, now back on their feet, let out humorless laughs.
“Come on man, let’s just go and grab something from The Flaming Chopstick,” one of them whispered, keeping his eyes averted.
Pathetic.
Once they all scrambled away, I returned behind the counter and crossed my arms, glaring in their direction.
Time clicked by slowly and I debated whether to follow them after they left the mall. I would show them exactly what I could do with a piece of rubber… and the flames of hellfire.
"I want a weiner with avocado and bacon on top."
Snapping my eyes to the customer in front of me, I curled my lip without offering a response. Flexing my forearms to hold myself back from murder, my muscles rippled beneath my flesh suit, the skin on my back beginning to tear beneath my clothes.
I wouldn’t hear the end of it if the other guys heard about random corndog murder scenes that led to my temporary prison being shut down.
I could only imagine what other punishments the master would have in store for me.
The Good Char was already sending me over the edge.
I’d sooner jump into a vat of fire before being placed somewhere like that foul store on the other side of Hellscape Mall that looked as though a pink monster exploded and painted the interior with its entrails.
The teenager scoffed, refusing to leave my presence. "Come on, man! Don't you know anything about gourmet hotdogs? Avocado and bacon are the way to go!"
My eye twitched right before my hand shot out with a crunch right into his face. His body flopped like the dead as he landed face first into the floor, eliciting gasps of horror around us.
“Someone call an ambulance!”
“What are they fighting over?”
“Weiners…”
I leaned over the counter and snarled at his unconscious form. "You should thank me. You won’t be able to see your boils anymore, just a fist print. Anything else with that knuckle sandwich?" I grinned.