Slicer’s sitting on a beach somewhere, while Random swims in the surf and Frettchen is nowhere to be seen.
Yeah, so much for staying in one place. The house burned down. I don’t know, maybe the universe is trying to tell us something, but fuck that, we’re not listening.
Anyway, it wasn’t our fault. Random got lost in the woods because she had promised Tasty Dinner the racooon to feed his family. After a while, Frettchen and I followed her, found her and by the time we got back some gang had invaded the house. There were a bit too many to take on face to face, but Frettchen wanted to wreak some havoc and who am I to stop her.
A couple of crashed cars and shot gangers later the guys were panicking a bit. We pulled back, kept our heads down for a minute or two and then Frettchen went to get one of the gangers. His friends had left him outside and he was still alive, so he could tell us all about them. Problem was, they already had people on the roof with rifles and Frettchen ran right into a bullet.
Didn’t slow her down much. We didn’t get around to asking the guy questions, though. I think the sniper thought he had hit some kind of zombie or shit – there are not that many elves who get up after a direct hit like that, They brought out some dogs and I’m pretty sure those were Barghests. But I still know these swamps well enough to lose anyone here.
In the morning, we went back and they were gone. So was the pickup. Our stuff, hidden away in the house between some junk, was still there. And so was the Gibson Frettchen had pilfered some the junk. When she grabbed it, the amp exploded and she got covered in whatever the gangers had cooked up, it burned like hell,whatever it was. I put her out under the pump and Random ran back into the house to save the fucking guitar. The thing’s beat to shit, but Frettchen thinks she can save her. If any guitar has earned the name Lucille , it’s that one.
Without a car, we walked for a bit until we found a roadside vending machine. Frettchen vandalized it and we hunkered down, waiting for the repairman. Who turned out to be repair-just out of high school-girl. She didn’t see us coming and by the time she came round again, we were long gone, with the car. Sold it for another pickup the next town over.
And here we are, making our way up the coast to New Orleans. Frettchen wants a voodoo doll and I want to see if I can turn up some real Hougan or Mambo, I don’t care which actually. It’s been awhile, maybe too long. It would be good to be part of this again, I think.
He turns when a beat-up pickup comes to a sliding stop on the road and Frettchen yells out of the window: Get your asses into the car before the cops are here! Slicer doesn’t even ask, he just gets up, picks up Random and runs to the car. The last thing seen is Frettchen’s happy grin as she floors the accelerator