2.d.xix
“Greed!” Tanya
called out when she was finally within sight of The Greed-boy’s body. She trudged forward. He didn’t seem to pay her any attention, but
an increased flailing of his tentacle limbs advised her of the contrary.
She ducked and
dodged and scooted and spun and dove and even cart-wheeled her way closer.
“Greed!” she yelled. When he ignored her again Tanya yelled
another grunting scream, grabbed a handful of change from the jar, and pitched
the coins at The Greed-boy.
She was hoping
the minor nuisance would possibly gain his attention. What she didn’t expect was for the coins to
sizzle and hiss, like holy water on a vampire, when they struck his body.
The Greed
bellowed like an elephant as the coins embedded in his flesh and slowly burned
their way deeper. His flailing tentacle
limbs stiffened, flexing straight. A
creamy, gelatinous, poopy ooze bubbled from the coin wounds.
Tanya hesitated
for a moment and then flicked a dime at one of The Greed’s nearby
tentacles. It struck, embedded, and
hissed; melting the flesh like gasoline on a Styrofoam cup. She tossed a quarter at another tentacle and
the effect was twice as violent.
A smile spread
across Tanya’s lips and when spoke, her voice was loud and authoritative.
“You people
should be disgusted with yourselves.
Look how far The Greed has gotten into you. Literally.
It’s sick. You’re overly
concerned with material goods, possessions, and getting more, more, more. There are little girls like this out there
who are in need.”
She hoisted
the donation jar above her head and jittering vibrations pulsed through The
Greed’s tentacle limbs.
“She needs a
heart transplant, people. How many
discount televisions and gallon-sized jugs of Muscle Fuel do you really think
you need in comparison to that? Perhaps
all of you need a new heart.”
There was a still
moment in which Tanya doubted whether her words had produced any practical
effect. And then one of the tentacle
arms popped, vaporizing in a whiff of reddish, copper-scented dust. The bludgeoned woman at the end of the
tentacle dropped twenty feet to the concrete floor of the Price Killers
Wholesale Superstore where she writhed in both physical and emotional agony.
A series of
similar metallic explosions, with a cadence not unlike a bag of popping corn,
echoed throughout the store as The Greed’s limbs self-destructed.
“I’ve still
got the boy,” The Greed-boy gurgled, his body spurting nasty fluids from the coin-sized
wounds.
“I’ve got a
whole jug of change here, Greed. I’m
willing to bet it will drive you out.
And there are a few bills in here too.
If a quarter donation inflicts more damage than a dime, think of how
severe the effects of a buck or a fiver will be. Oh.
Look. Someone was charitable
enough to donate a twenty.”
Tanya grabbed
the twenty from the jar and waved it back and fourth, taunting The Greed like a
matador teasing a bull.
