Page 63 of Love vs The Ooze Monster!
Mabel had half-heartedly protested Lew’s innocence, because she was a dutiful daughter, but she wasn’t about to outright lie to Boyd. “You might have noticed that the new courthouse was built, not long afterwards. I’m fairly sure I paid for most of it.”
Boyd liked that confession. She had a feeling he would. “See, Iknewit wasn’t the subnaturals who lost that pond.” He chuckled in delight. “Was the old man gold mining up here? Is that what he was doing with all the dynamite?”
She made a face, not even bothering to pretend outrage. “No, nothing so sensible. Lew just liked to blow things up.”
The area around the pond was shaded with trees and used as a park. Already picnickers were gathered, sitting on blankets and setting up games of horseshoes. It was a lovely late-summer morning and no one seemed to be dissolving into orange goo, yet. That was an excellent sign.
“There!” Mabel pointed ahead to where a truck was parked under some elm trees. She could see their men unloading a barrel of beer. “Thank God! They haven’t sold it to Mr. Schmidt, yet.”
Boyd drove over the grass, halting the Rolls right next to the truck. “Stop!” He shouted, vaulting out of the car with the motor still running.
Ross and Trace looked up in surprise. “Hi, boss. What’er you doing here.”
“Donotopen that barrel.” Boyd ordered, marching towards them. “It’s not for sale.”
Ross and Trace were not the brightest of Boyd’s employees. “Huh?”
“Hey now!” Walter Schmidt objected. He was a bald, disagreeable man who always wore his suit a size too small. He was also the one buying the beer from them and he clearly wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Boyd reneging on their deal. “I placed this order months ago. You can’t just…”
Boyd cut him off. “Icanjust.” He assured Mr. Schmidt, barely looking his way.
Mabel climbed out of the car, scanning the surrounding woods for any signs of danger. Everything was still and quiet. In Nevermore County, quiet stillness was always worrisome.
Boyd’s attention stayed on Ross and Trace. “Get that barrel back on the truck, take it to the warehouse, and dump it off the docks.”
“Sure, boss.” Ross agreed readily. “What do you want us to do with those ones?” He pointed to three other barrels, which were arranged under the trees and already cracked open in preparation of serving.
Mabel’s heart dropped. “Oh no.”
Boyd’s eyes widened in horror. He rounded on Walter Schmidt. “Have you sold any of that?”
“Not yet. People keep saying they don’t drink until at least ten in the morning.” Mr. Schmidt’s forehead wrinkled. “Disappointing.”
“First time I was ever glad Volstead has some standards.” Boyd gestured towards Ross and Trace. “Get those barrels closed up,now.”
Bullets sprayed.
Everyone dove for cover, as somebody in the tree line shot holes in all the barrels. Gallons of tainted beer erupted out, blasting all over the men and soaking their clothing. Pools of liquid saturated the ground, sinking into the thick grass and seeping into the earth below.
Boyd wiped a hand over his face, cleaning off the orange liquid. “Fucking Rico.” He muttered in annoyance, sheltered behind a tree trunk.
“Don’t get that beer in your mouth!” Mabel screamed at him. She was still on the other side of the car, so she hadn’t gotten wet. That didn’t stop her panic, though, because Boyd was covered in the noxious, monster-making sludge. That scared her more than the bullets flying.
“I’m trying not to.” He shouted back. “You hear that, fellas? Donotdrink any of the beer. It’s poisoned.”
Ross and Trace frantically scrubbed at their bodies, trying to clean off the toxic beer.
“Poisoned!?” Mr. Schmidt yelped, jumping to his feet and swiping at his ill-fitting suit. “That’s it, Cassiday. Idemanda discount. Otherwise, I’m telling everyone how you tried to sell me poisoned ale.”
Mabel was outraged by the negative customer feedback. “We didn’t poison the beer. Westoppedyou from serving it. We’re not giving you a discount on anything!”
Boyd grabbed for Mr. Schmidt’s arm. “Get down, you ass…”
Boom!
Mr. Schmidt’s skull exploded like a watermelon hit with a hammer.
Mabel winced at the carnage. Although the man really could have been a nicer person, he didn’t deserve to have his brains blown out. Maimed…? Maybe. But death was going a bit far. Now, they would never get paid.
