The Meek Adventures…Cntd.

This is a rough draft. This is just for fun, this is dark fiction. The characters are meant to be comical. The story is going to evolve. The writing is graphic, the characters are profane, and hold nothing sacred, not even their own genre tropes. (this is in more traditional narrative form for the sake of my head space, I beg your forgiveness for it’s roughness-ness-ness) and maybe… just maybe Mr. Meek got a new name today… As always, I’ll give a fairly clear warning about exactly what you can expect in this blurb. More profanity, weird characters, blasphemy, graphic content not as much as last time sorry! This is more of a story piece so I can keep these characters moving along. Writing this is really just for kicks, but I’d love any and all feed-back(Critique is excellent). If you’re worried about being offended, I appreciate the click, but you probably will be so I urge you not to scroll down unless you just have to know whats going on this wild world that is my imagination… You were warned. I’m not sorry.

“The Meek Adventures of Shelly and Stoker”

“So it’s been like a month since you broke into the Psichphuk’s house, what the hell are you doing next Death?” “Well I certainly don’t know, Mr. Meek” Cough, Cough, “Are you losing it other Meek, yes, yes you are.” Wait.. is that from Archer? Did I like Archer? What the fuck even is Archer? Mr. Meek pondered out loud and to himself. He shivered, not out of cold, which it was but it didn’t seem to bother him. Rain gushed from the gutter onto the asphalt in the streets. Mr. Meek’s tattered Vans were soaked through, he kept trudging down the alley. Aimless. But certain of something.

He was being followed. He wasn’t sure by what, he hadn’t seen whatever the fuck it was that called itself “Death” since the day he broke into the Psichphuk’s. For whatever reason he doubted it was human, well actually he knew it wasn’t human. Humans had beating hearts, he could hear the beats counting down on the death drum. Each heartbeat was one less the human heart could bear, tragic really.

“Whatever the fuck you are, why not just come out and play?” Mr Meek said very loudly to whatever was following him. The who that was following him didn’t seem perturbed in the least. “WHAT IF I TURN LEFT HERE!” Meek shouted as he turned right as the alley reached a road. It was late or very early, depending on how you look at it. Nobody was out that had any place to go. The other aimless night wanderers had all found hide-aways for the night, refuge from the dank cold of the night.

Splash, splash. Meek did an about-face so fast you could’ve sworn been walking the other direction and the casual on-looker would never have noticed. Nothing was behind him. He could see very well in the night, he hadn’t been out in the day much, on accounts that his face looked more like a sewn up butcher shop horror story than a human face.

“Come the fuck on. Either pop up and have it out with me, or leave me the fuck alone.” Meek said in a mock british accent. He shadowboxed in the direction of the splashes. “C’mon chap, cheerio let’s have a round of fisti…” Meek was slammed to the left ten feet into a nearby building. Bones crunched as he collided with the wall, he slumped into the alley. A figure emerged from a nearby side-alley, walked up to Meeks limp form laying at the base of the brick wall and kicked him again. “SURPRISE MOTHER FUCKER.” All  of the bass’s dropped in Meeks imagination. Meek leapt to his feet and on his way delivered a firm upper cut to his would-be assailant, or would’ve.

“What in the world are you?” A lithe female voice slipped out, despite the dim light of the alley, and the pouring rain, Meek could make out gorgeous red lips. In a no bull shit british accent. She sighed. “I was just gonna keep watching you, until I figured out exactly what you were. Only you couldn’t keep your ‘mouff shut could yah’? Alright now spill or ill keep breaking shit till you do.” Her face was nearly obscured under the thick hood of her rain-slick shiny black duster. She stood about five feet eight inches by Meeks guess. Her duster was form fitted and looked custom tailored, she looked sculpted and eloquent, to Meek’s haggard and feral.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours first!” Meek said, coughing up black blood Wait, what?  I can bleed?  “You didn’t have to fucking blind-side me. Jesus that probably hurt.”

“Probably? Oh, and show and tell is fair game, Mister Intriguing and Unknown. But you start, I’ll even say please.” Her tongue darted across two daggers that formed formidable  canines.

“So you’re a vampire.” Meek stated. Chuckling a bit.

“N…no. I’m not.” -Unknown Female Vampire

“Alright, now, now no need to stammer Stoker, I’m Shelly nice to meet you.” Meek, “Hahahaha…” Meek laughed and laughed, and then laughed some more. Until Stoker’s leapt into the air and heel dropped Meek.

“Done yet you Franken-Freak ?” Stoker.

“HA… HA…” Meek, “You’re fucking savage lady. What if you had killed me? I’m not actually sure if you can re-kill the undead, would that make me re-dead, or part of the dead-undead? AND WHAT IF I CAME BACK? Would I be the undead-dead-undead?” Meek.

“What are you even on about?” Stoker.

“FUCKING ZOMBIES LADY ZOMBIES.” Meek “So two months ago, I was out doing something or other, and then I wake up and I don’t really remember who I am, where I am, or even what I am. It’s just fucking franken-time. So yeah, I’m in this lab and shit, and I’m in a pile of what I assume is discarded experiments, there were I dunno maybe, six bodies, all of the parts looked like they’d been changed around, but all of them were dudes….” Meek was cut off.

“…and so you snuck out, when they weren’t watching and then went back and murdered your makers, classic franken-fuck-boy. Be more cliché! Holy shit!” Stoker

“YOU CUT ME OFF BEFORE THE BEST PART HOLY SHIT… AS I WAS SAYING… I was in the pile of bodies, all of us were dudes, but yeah, like we were piled around this operation table, and this couple was just going to fucking town on the operation table.”

“And by ‘going to fucking town’ you mean coitus?” Stoker

“Correct. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” Meek

“Jesus, sorry, continue please.” Stoker

“So yeah, I just kinda hang out in what has to be the creepiest skin flick anyone could ever imagine, waited for them to finish up, which took way to long. So yeah. They pass out and I slip out. I probably would’ve left them be if I wasn’t so fucking pissed off about the weird sex shit they were into.” Meek.

“Well… That’s fucked.” Stoker



The Meek Adventures of Shelly and Stoker shall continue.

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