Chapter 75

2.d.xxv

Tanya heard the strange screaming but did not dare risk a look over her shoulder to see what it was.  A thudding sound, followed by gasps of pain, confirmed her suspicions that another of The Greed’s human fists had fallen to the floor.

“You touch me with that twenty and it will kill the boy,” The Greed-boy said, his host body still dribbling a nasty gel-paste where the charitable coins had lodged.

“Somehow I doubt that,” said Tanya.

“You’ll have to get close to me to use it,” said The Greed-boy.  “You can’t pitch a bill like a coin.”

“That won’t be–” Tanya started, but a foul smelling, wild-eyed teen snatched the twenty from her hand as he screamed past her.  He looked down at the money as if confused by its sudden appearance in his hand.  When he looked back up he was only a step away from The Greed-boy.

Both boyish forms shrieked like girls and held their hands up in preparation for the imminent collision.  Only one had a charitable twenty dollar bill in his hand.  There was a noise that sounded like a bug zapper, a dry belch, and an M-80.  Following this improbable noise was a burst of brown light, reddish dust, and sticky tendrils, as if someone set off charges in a rotten pumpkin full of iron rich dirt.

When the cloud of debris settled, Tanya could see the two boys lying on the ground, covered in dust and sticky strings.  Three brownish slug creatures the size of large sausages slowly inched away from the point of impact.  They looked like a mix of gelatin and fibrous ground beef.

Mr. Jones stepped forward with a freezer bag and captured the fleeing slug creatures.  “Well, I guess these freezer bags of yours were an appropriate size after all,” he said.

“I think we need to get out of here, Jonsey.  You okay to walk?”

“I’m fine,” said Mr. Jones.  “In fact, I’m more than that.  Everything’s so clear now.  I think… I think I’m Corporate Man again.  Let’s go get my necktie cape.”

Chapter 74

2.d.xxiv

In his blind panic shorty shorts tech boy could only process so much information.  Most of his thoughts centered on a place called “away” and the quickest possible manner in which to get there.  Was that a mannequin displaying a nice suit that he’d just run into?  Since when do mannequins swear and cry out in pain?

Oooh.  A dancing lady.  And she’s giving out money. 

It is scientifically proven that, even in a blind panic, most teenaged boys are genetically programmed to notice the female form above all else.  With blood already speeding through the veins it is much easier for that adrenaline filled fluid to veer southward into the more erogenous zones. 

Science has yet to realize that a woman dancing with money, showing intent to reallocate said funds, is the most fundamentally erotic image housed in the male psyche, dating back thousands of years to a common fantasy, shared by most men of the time, involving the employees of the oldest profession offering up a refund to a particularly gifted patron.

Chapter 73

2.d.xxiii

Mr. Jones held the package of freezer bags, but he was still unsure of their intended purpose.  Tanya was nearby taunting an oozing boy with a twenty dollar bill.  Somehow this seemed more comprehensible than his need for freezer bags.  A screaming sound turned his attention for a moment and he swiveled just in time to see two people occupy the same space.  One clad in shorty shorts, the other in an expensive looking suit.

Apparently the price of the suit did not matter in the end, offering up little protection against the flailing, unclothed legs.  The suited man crumpled, gasping and clutching at his side.  The shorty short boys barely stumbled and continued forward in a terrified panic.

He was headed right for Tanya.

Chapter 72

2.d.xxii

The bossman held a flannel shirt he’d swiped from a discount bin over his face.  He was not about to inhale this stuff.  The dust stung his eyes and he contemplated a detour through the athletic department to check for swimming goggles, but it was taking far too long for him to locate codename: The Bull – aka Corporate Man – as it was.  Think about what the possible composition of the brownish dust might really be seriously unnerved him. 

And then he spotted his target.

The bossman’s eyes flared.  This allowed more of the reddish-brown dust to land on his exposed eyeballs causing excessive blinking and tears.  He should have narrowed his eyes.  The desired effect would have been similar and far more appropriate considering the airborne circumstances.

Corporate Man was near the woman, subject: Ms. Adams.  He was stooping, trying to pick up a box of, what looked like, freezer bags.  She was waving around a twenty dollar bill in a manner that was quite tawdry.

Both had their backs turned toward him. 

This should be easy.

There was a cessation of those strange exploding sounds, the ones that signaled the eruption of greed-tentacles, and released this dreadful dust.  But then there was another sound.  A deranged wailing, war cry of a sound.

The bossman turned and the last thing he saw before three of his ribs snapped was a terrifying image of a pasty, bare legs, pumping madly as a screaming man-boy wearing shorty shorts crashed into him.

Chapter 71

2.d.xxi

The tech boys were still huddled in the bathroom, sitting in various corners, as far from the toilets as possible.  A scout, venturing as far as the door whispered in a hiss, “Something’s happening.  Those poopy worm things are popping.”

“Then let’s get out there,” the blazered tech boy yelled.  The tech boys jumped to their feet, ready to charge the door.

“Wait,” said the scout, “there’s some kind of brown dust.  When the things pop it leaves clouds of the stuff.”

The standard issue tech boys halted and looked around at each other, fairly certain that no one would be venturing out until the poop-dust had cleared.

They all returned to their various corners and took up brave, seated positions once more.

Chapter 70

2.d.xx

Mr. Jones had found his feet once again and was stumbling about the store.  Sifts of red dust kept getting in his eyes and he coughed when he breathed it in.

He didn’t know why, but he desperately wanted to find a plastic bag.

Chapter 69

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.

Chapter 68

2.d.xviii

The bossman was on all fours, speed crawling through the debris and unconscious shoppers strewn about the superstore.  A steady stream of one syllable expletives beginning with the letter “F” poured from his mouth.

He crawled right past Mr. Jones.

Chapter 67

2.d.vii

The woman with too many teeth opened the door from the special stairway  and stepped onto the sales floor where she was immediately struck with a Price Killers Wholesale Superstore customer and knocked unconscious.  She lost another handful of pearly white teeth in the collision but still had more teeth than the average person.

Chapter 66

2.d.vi

Shorty shorts tech boy had not stopped screaming.  From the moment he ran onto the Price Killers Wholesale Superstore sales floor he’d been in constant shriek.  The Greed’s tentacle arms had yet to touch him though many a narrow miss had contributed to shorty shorts’s prolonged squealing.

Chapter 65

2.d.v

Mr. Jones found himself in a slouched position beneath a cash register.  His eyes couldn’t seem to agree as to what he should focus on.  He was also having trouble keeping his head from rolling around on his neck.

Chapter 64

2.d.xiv

Tanya fought through the tangle of flailing greed-tentacles, dodging the abused fists as they made every attempt to level her.

It was as if The Greed knew she held something toxic to him and was herding her as far from his central host body as he could.

Tanya pressed onward.

Chapter 63

2.d.xiii

The bossman’s car screeched to a halt at the front entrance to the Price Killers.  There were streaks of automobile paint scratched down the length the driver’s side and broken bits of taillights lodged into the front bumper.  The bossman exited the vehicle, a huge, satisfied grin on his face, and thoughts of those teenaged bastards trying to explain to angry parents just what had happened to their speedy little cars drifting pleasantly through his mind.

Chapter 62

2.d.xii

The remaining conscious tech boys regrouped in the superstore restrooms.  The blazered one barked orders but most of the orders had to do with going back out onto the sales floor and none of the standard issue techs were willing to do that.

Chapter 61

2.d.xi

A helicopter landed on the roof of the Price Killers Wholesale Superstore and the woman with too many teeth got out.  She ducked her head and made her way to the rooftop door that exists on all large corporate structures for just such helicoptered-in visitors.  

Chapter 60

2.d.x

Tanya dodged another patron-fisted attack as she made her way to Mr. Jones.  The impact with the body builder had nearly taken his head off and he was rolling around defenseless.  She dove over a swinging tentacle and ducked as a mustachioed man whipped overhead.

The Greed was cackling and shouting words of triumph as his customer capped fists grew ever redder.

Tanya tried to tug Mr. Jones to his feet, but he flinched and rolled away from her.  He was clutching his chest.  Was he having a heart attack?  Or was he holding on to something?  Tanya grabbed him again and rolled him over.  His hands, knuckles completely white, were clenched around a plastic donation jug full of loose change and small bills.

“Jones!  Are you okay?  Jones!  Hey Jonesy.  What’s with the donation jar?  Is it part of your plan to take out The Greed?  And what about these baggies?”

Tanya lunged to the side, narrowly avoiding a bloodied up Price Killers customer.  Mr. Jones was not so lucky and received a shoulder and an elbow to the upper abdomen and crotch, respectively.

Mr. Jones gasped and moaned and groped for his injured parts.

“Sorry, Jones.  Let’s get you out of the line of fire,” Tanya said, dragging him under a cash register.  “What’s with the jar, Jonesy?”

The sounds that came out of Mr. Jones’s mouth were nothing close to intelligible; not even close to English.  The confused look in his eyes was enough to convince Tanya that her partner had taken too much of a pounding to recall what, if any, significance the donation jar actually held.

One glance at the sad little girl pictured on the jar left Tanya with a pang of guilt; ashamed that material goods were more important to most people these days than they well being of a fellow human.  At least some had cared enough to donate.  Tanya’s eyes flared briefly.  Then she wrestled the jar from Mr. Jones and charged out into the chaos of the superstore.

Chapter 59

2.d.ix

Blood streamed down Mr. Jones’s face but it was impossible to tell if it was his blood or blood from the customers that The Greed had pummeled him with.  Mr. Jones had taken at least six good, hard hits from these patron fists.  His vision had gone blurry on the second shot when the forehead of a fat woman slammed into his left temple.  The next few swings either missed or glanced off his body, but a third, direct hit, left him with a high pitched ringing sound in his ears.

Mr. Jones scurried along the floor, The Greed’s fists hammering all around him destroying store shelves and merchandise displays.  When he reached the checkout stands, Mr. Jones groped for a donation jar, the image of the bald little girl was the last thing he saw before a large, well-muscled man who’d been stocking up on body building supplements, connected with Mr. Jones’s face.

Chapter 58

2.d.viii

“Move it you teenaged fucks!” the bossman shouted. 

What was wrong with the youth of today?  Were they all pussies?  In his time there were only two ways to drive a car: fast and faster.  He was certain that this had not changed, that kids today still felt that the accelerator belonged on the floor.  So how did they instinctively know to slow down when they were in front of him?

He should never have chanced driving past the highschool on his way to the Price Killers Wholesale Superstore.  Now he had three jackassed teens boxing him in, all exploding with laughter whenever he pounded the dash or screamed expletives at them.

Chapter 57

2.d.vii

The woman with too many teeth was so happy it was pissing her off.  It felt like all of her teeth were trying to jam themselves into one gigantic Cheshire grin and she knew this was wreaking havoc on the wrinkle-less parts of her face.  As for the areas already plagued with age lines they were, no doubt, suffering utter catastrophe.

Still, she could not help it.  Her tech boys had ferreted out Corporate Man and she was moments from landing on the roof of the Price Killers Wholesale Superstore.

Chapter 56

2.d.vi

“Move!  Move!  Move!” the blazered tech boy shouted, motioning his agents through the entrance to the Price Killers Wholesale Superstore.  “Scout team reports major activity with our targets.  Head directly to the back of the store.  Double time it ladies.  This is our moment to shine.”

The standard issue tech boys charged onto the sales floor shouting various peppy slogans.

“Let’s show ‘em what we’re made of!”

“Death before dishonor!”

Of the boys at the head of the charge, only one managed to squeak out an “oh crap” before being pummeled by a greed-puppetted patron.  Unconsciousness took them immediately.

The tech boys in the middle of the pack were able to scream multiple variations of “oh crap” as they slid to a stop, more than eager to turn back.  A few even called out for their mommies as they were beaten limp by the bodies of compromised customers jammed on the ends of wild swinging greed-tentacles.

Those bringing up the rear of the charge scattered without any physical damage, but more than one would suffer the dishonor of discharging a few involuntary squirts of urine into his pants as he frantically sought shelter.

The scene was too much for the fragile mind of shorty-shorts tech boy.  He completely lost it and ran screaming. But, without his wits, he ran headlong into the heart of the superstore, not out.