GASOMASS: EVIL GUY PART ONE
21 January 2003
In his semi-detached, two up, two down in deep suburbia Mr Gasomas sat in his comfy armchair next to the log fire. His feet felt warm and snug as he puffed on his pipe.
He was looking through holiday brochers as Mrs Gasomas sat opersit him on the comfy sofa knitting a woolen cardigon in colours red and green. The rain driven by the wind hit the window pain like giants spittle on this cold, dark winters evening.
'Have you chose somewhere nice to go on holiday to next summer dear?' asked Mrs Gasomas looking up from her knitting.
'Possibly Dorset' Mr Gasomas, a man of sixty two with greying hair murmerd.
'That would be nice' said his wife.
There was a short silence as the carrige clock on the mantal piece steadily ticked away.
'Shall I put some music on dear?' his wife suggested after awhile.
'That would be nice darling' said Mr Gasomas still brausing through the holiday catalogs.
'Shall I play your faverite' she said dropping her half knitted cardigon on the sofa and walking over to the old nineteen seventies Phillips hi fi.
'Yes. "Prince Charming" by Adam and the Ants' he suggested. His wife put the 45 on.
"Prince Charming, Prince Charming".
Mr Gasomas tapped his foot and smoked his pipe.
Mr and Mrs Gasomas went to bed at ten as usual. Mrs Gasomas held her hot water bottle that Mr Gasomas had made for her close to her chest. Mr Gasomas stopped reading his book on the historyof lawn mowers and switched off the table lamp.
'Good night wife' he said as they settled down to sleep.
At two in the morning he turned on the light again. He sat up in bed. And with an exspesion of determination and straining he let off a fart that lasted thirty seconds. He could hear the bed springs rattle as he did so. Then he pushed his unsuspecting wifes head under the covers and held her there. Her arms thrashed about as she was forced to breath in the methain.
'Christ. Its realy eggy' she was heard to cry.
Mr Gasomas laughed cheekily as he held her under the covers as long as he could.
The next morning Gasomas came down into the kitchen. His wife was frying breakfast.
'Morning wife' he said pulling up a chair.
'Hallo dear. Are you ready to eat? I've fried you four eggs.'
'Eggs are good for me. Doctors orders.'
She put a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. 'Why are there suit cases in the hall dear? ' she asked.
'I told you last night' he said swollowing a egg whole. 'I'm going on holiday to Dorset.'
'But its winter dear.'
'I don't care. Its an adventure.'
'Arnt I coming too?'
'No. I want to get away from your constant pressence once and for all.'
'how are you getting there? By train?'
'No. I thought I would drive.'
'But we haven't got a car'.
'I will hire one. I will go to Hertz car hire and get an estate.'
Mr Gasomas waled in the drizzling rain to his bus stop to go into town. Siting in the shelter was a man in a suit with a brief case. Obviously he worked in a office. A mother with her nine month old baby in a push chair. And a very old man he must have been in his ,late eightys, shaking with cold clutching a walking stick.
'Who are you? Gasomas asked the old man.
'I served in the war' he replied.
'Which one?'
'Both.'
Gasomas turned and pressed his bottom into the old mans face, lifted his right leg and farted.
'Ahhh Mustard gas' cried the old man clutching his hart.
'Wrong. Eggs' said Gasomas punching him to the ground. 'Ha ha ha. One less Chelsea pentioner.'
'Well done sir' said the office type. 'Its people like him I have to pay taxes for.'
'Grrr' growled Gasomas. His temper rising at this statement. But he managed to contain his anger till he got to the car higher place.
'Welcome to Hertz car hire.' Said a fresh faced company rep. Gasomas trashed the counter and their computers in an instant.
'don't do that sir' said the company rep.
'Shut up. Get the manager and all the staff in hee at once.
Befor they knew it Gasomas had all that worked there tied up on the floor.
'don't kill us sir' pleaded the manager. 'Take our money. Take any car you want. Just don't kill us.'
Gasomas ignored him. Instead he poured a can of petrol over all of them.
'Why are you doing this?' asked the manager wetting himself.
'Because I am an evil guy' he said lighting a match.
'Wife I have got the car. Load all the suitcases in it at once. At once I say.
Poor Mrs Gasomas reluctantly picked up some suit cases.
'Wait' said Gasomas holding up his hand. 'Let me consult my book'. He flicked through a leather bound copy of the Marquis de Sades "A hundred and sixty days of Sodom"
'Lets see. Day twenty nine. Ah yes that's it.' Turning to his wife he anounced. 'You shall wear nipple clamps as you load the car.'
SEXTON MING