Kindle Edition
mark C Sutton Author
Category:
Humor
Publisher: Mark C Sutton
Type: Fiction
Pages: 118
Copyright: Oct 02 2014
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
The 'killer crinklies' of Crabley-on-Sea return in book two of the 'Bingo and Bullets' saga.
With rival gang 'The Krabley Krew' safely disposed of, the Mafiosa-styled 'Borzelliero Bunch' - a collective of foul-mouthed, homicidal old ladies who are led by a mysterious, wheelchair-bound woman called Edna Borzelliero - have to deal with betrayal in their own ranks, in the form of the treacherous and psychopathic 'Scarpelli Scorpions'.
'Bingo and Bullets - Book Two: The Scarpelli Scorpions' is the deliciously dark tale of a town under siege from its own elderly, and incredibly violent, female contingent, and is written by Mark C Sutton, author of the 'Grandad Miller, Serial Killer' series.
Excerpt
My name is Ulcers Scarpelli. I never used to be called that… problem is, I can’t actually remember what I was known as before I changed and became a member of The Borzelliero Bunch. I remember that I was married to a man called Henry, a good, handsome and hard-working person who I happened to love very much. He died, ten years back… the fucking cancer got him. One minute, Henry was doing just fine, but then he started getting blood in his shit every fucking morning. He thought that it was just the arse-piles, which he’d suffered from before, at first, but the bleeding didn’t stop. He went to the quack’s about it, and was referred to the local hospital; the results that came back from Henry’s examination weren’t good, in fact, that’s an understatement… they were fucking awful. My husband was diagnosed with bowel cancer, and we were told that it had already spread to some of his other organs… he was, basically, fucked. Henry went downhill pretty damned quick after that particular revelation; he was with me for another four months, and then he died, in fucking agony, upstairs in our marital bed. I remember being heartbroken at the time, but when I think back, now, I don’t really feel anything. It’s like the old me is another person entirely.
I know that I have two sons, Mark and Bobby. Mark is with Henry in the great beyond; he was a fucking junkie, and the dirty, scummy drugs killed him in the end. He was only in his early thirties, when he died with a fucking needle still stuck in his heavily-scarred arm. My other son, Bobby, is still alive and well and married to a woman called Sue. They used to come and see me a lot, but since I altered, they don’t bother to visit anymore. I guess that they’re not too keen on the person that I’ve become. I should be sad, but I ain’t… they’re not really important to me these days… they don’t matter. What DOES matter to me is… well, me. A few months ago, all I cared about was serving The Borzelliero’s. Then, one day, I got pissed up and trashed some fucking two-bit restaurant, not realising that it belonged to the son of The Borzelliero Bunch’s consigliere, a woman called Edith Arpeldo-Gallespie. I was punished, severely; the bastards nailed me to a fucking black cross and part-crucified me for over an hour. I was lucky to have survived… I know of two others that were forced up onto that fucking thing, out in the middle of some cow-shit ridden field, and they didn’t come down alive. I’ll say one thing for The Borzelliero’s; the bastards really know how to fucking punish someone if they want to.
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