CitPC Chapter IV, part 2.
Alright, here it is.
Rating: R, I think... for cursing, violence, and making-out.
Caught in the Python's Coils
Chapter IV: Paradox, part 2.
“Erm, what?” John asked to make sure he wasn’t hearing things.
“You killed Terry and Alison.”
“You are joking right?”
John shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of his accuser.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” He muttered.
“I can’t believe you would kill 'em,”
“I NEVER!” John snapped angrily.
“I SAW YOU DO IT!” Graham barked back.
“PROVE IT THEN CLEVER DICK!”
Graham gave him a saddened expression, then began sulking pitifully.
John sighed heavily and placed his hands upon his hips, a scornful look across his face.
“Just as I thought. You can’t prove it, because I never killed them,” He watched as Graham began to scratch his head and direct his eyes away yet again. “I bet you killed them, didn’t you Graham?” he added.
“Yes I did,” Graham said, grinning evilly to himself. It was clear by John’s sudden gasp that he really wasn’t expecting that response.
“How-- How could you?!” he yelped.
Graham shrugged, acting all oblivious, “Dunno. Maybe I was high on something,” he replied, outwardly relaxed. He smirked at John, which only made John arch his eyebrows and scowl even more. Then Gray’s eyes grew wide when he just realised what stupid thing he had said.
“No, wait! Wait! I didn’t kill them!”
“You’ve just owned up to it!” John spat out.
Gray returned to his calm look and grinned proudly, proceeding again to break eye contact with John.
“Yeah, well I was joking, alright? Neither of us killed ‘em,” He brought his hand up to his head and began knocking it lightly. “My brain’s acting up again. I think the Gin got to me good last night.”
“You mean, you went out drinking before Terry’s FUNERAL?!” He shouted, trying his hardest to hold himself back from beating Gray to a bloody pulp.
“I… think so,” Gray muttered innocently, still refusing to look in John’s direction.
“And I’m guessing this was also why you missed the Python meeting on Monday, correct?!” John growled back.
John hissed loudly, his nostrils flaring with rage. “You’re one EGOTISTIC BASTARD, AREN’T YOU?!” he roared at Graham.
Gray ignored him and whistled to himself.
“Hey you two!” Both Pythons stopped their activities as they heard a familiar voice approach them. It was Eric.
“Hey.” They both said.
“I was lookin’ everywhere for you guys. You comin’ for a coffee, then maybe a pint down the pub?”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Grinned Gray.
Eric smirked then turned round and ran back.
Gray was about to make his way down the path to follow Eric, when John stopped him by holding out his right hand right in front of his face. John turned his head and whispered in Gray’s ear:
“Listen to me. I told myself that I would kill the person who murdered Terry and his wife. If you are that person, well… I’m on to you Graham… just so you know. I’ll be watching you.”
Gray remained still without making eye contact with John. He snorted and calmly moved John’s hand out his way.
“Whatever you say… snake boy.”
And with that, Graham steadily rode forward towards where Eric and the others were standing a few yards away. John stood stationary for a moment, uneasiness and confusion etched on his face.
Snake boy? He wondered to himself…
Sunday, February 13th. 11:57pm, outside the Duke of Wellington Pub, Marylebone, London.
“God, how many pints did youuuu have tonight?!” slurred a very pissed Mrs Idle to an even more pissed Mr Gilliam whilst waddling down Crawford St, arm in arm. “Yourr as drunk… as a skuuunk!”
“Weeeell, a couple of Guinness’s, then some lagers, two bockles of cider, and then a bockle of cheap white wine ter wash it alllllllll doooooon!!”
“Ach, you are tooooo shemexy, Mr Gilliam.”
“W-where is everybody, huuuh?”
“Well Mikey, ‘is wife and some people went ‘ome hours ago, ‘ave no idea where John an’ Gray went off to, and Eric got sooooo smashed, ‘e got taken away by an ambulance. I couldn’t be bothered ter follow ‘im, y’know.”
“I hope yer ‘usband don’t mind me cuddling up ter yer and licking yer alllllllll overrr. ANOMNOMNOM!”
Lyn screamed and laughed manically as Terry began to playfully nibble at her ear and tickle her in the ribs.
“Oooooh! Don’t eat me yer beefy American baboooooon!” she chuckled, then also proceeded to tickle him back.
Terry purred and roughly grabbed her heavy shoulders and pinned her to a wall.
“A’right den,” he said, sniggering to himself, “Let us make sweet monkeh luuurve.”
Lyn growled suggestively at Terry’s proposal and licked her lips. Terry smirked and quickly moved Lyn into a damp alleyway. Terry roughly grabbed the back of Lyn’s head, brought it forward and pressed his lips firmly against Lyn’s mouth. She widened her eyes in shock, but then relaxed. Lyn moaned and wrapped her arms around Terry’s neck. She could almost taste the beer still soaked around Terry’s lips. Terry’s arms slowly manoeuvred down her body and began to drape themselves around her waist. Both closed their eyes and groaned in sheer pleasure as their lips began to intertwine, and their tongues began inserting themselves and moving around inside each other’s mouths. They embraced for a long period, with Terry stroking and caressing Lyn’s back, and Lyn grasping onto Terry’s long hair. Finally Terry pulled away.
“Shit,” Lyn gasped, staggering back against the wall trying to get her breath back, “Yourrrrr one ‘ell of a snogger!”
Terry only chuckled at Lyn’s remarks, a proud look on his face.
“Yer a feisty lady, aren’t cha?”
And with that, Lyn leaped up and hurtled herself at Terry and forcefully pushed her lips hard against his own. Terry closed his eyes again and let her tongue enter his mouth once again. More moans and suggestive embracing followed until Lyn suddenly froze. Terry opened his eyes and backed off slightly. He looked confused.
“Heeeeey, why did yer stop?” Terry asked, stroking Lyn’s face.
She didn’t reply. Her eyes were wide and staring straight out at him, her mouth half-open. It was only when Terry let go of her completely that he realised. She suddenly fell flat on her face, a pool of blood beginning to surround her.
“Ooops, sowwy,” Terry garbled, thinking this was all a joke.
Since he was as hammered as hell, it took him maybe 5 minutes of trying to shake her awake that he finally noticed a large carving knife sticking out her back. Terry gave a goofy grin.
“Ooooh, pretty.” He said, toying about with the knife like a 5 year old.
He stopped when he suddenly felt a presence towering over him. Terry picked himself up, and looked at the man straight in the eye without any second thought.
“Hey, who are youu?”
The man didn’t reply.
“I can see yer like ‘er. You’s in love with ‘er too, yeah?”
“Oh you’s ignorin’ me now, wise guy? You askin’ for a fight or somat?”
The figure only continued to glare at Terry’s taunts, never moving an inch. Terry sighed and turned round.
“Well, I can’t beh bothered ter fight with cha. I’m goin’ ‘ome,”
His voice trailed off as he stumbled out the alleyway and back onto Crawford St, whilst gargling a bad rendition of ‘Tears of a Clown’ by Smokey Robinson. The being ignored the drunk and knelt down before the dead woman and began to… well, chop her up, I suppose…
“Oh yeah!” shouted the drunken American, suddenly popping his head round the corner, which startled the mysterious man.
The man turned to face Terry with the same murderous glare. Terry never noticed and simply pointed at the dead Mrs Idle, and said:
“Yer can keep ‘er tho, but she’s like really horny and stuff,” and then disappeared again from view.
The man remained silent and then continued his ruthless butchery. Once completed, he gathered up the pieces of the once Mrs Idle, stashed them into a familiar looking black box, and calmly strolled away into the darkness…
Snake… take girl.
He proceeded to an open field and made a makeshift bonfire. He next brought out the chopped pieces of meat. He licked his lips hungrily. What he did next was so disturbing and somewhat disgusting that for legal reasons I cannot possibly describe it to you.
Snake… like chargrill…