Steam from the freshly gutted body he’d just flung on the table was beginning to make Bob’s eyes sting. He turned to his friend, now staring at him as if to gauge his reaction.
‘Don’t you think we should put it in a bin liner or something? I mean we’ve already got enough, and what with the fridge on the blink it’s going to start smelling in a couple of days.’
‘Hours I reckon, now the air-con’s packed up as well.’ Kirk smiled, a strange gleam sparkling in his eye. He’d looked better with two eyes. Admittedly the ravaged battlefield that had been his face before the fight with the Doberman pack hadn’t been pretty. But at least he’d had a nose and not that ragged gash constantly oozing pus and blood. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. He wasn’t exactly an oil painting himself, what with no ears and all. Not to mention his hands now the eczema had made the skin turn black and scabby.
‘So, what’s it going to be, curry or chilli?’
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish