Kindle Edition
markcsuttonauthor
Category:
Humor
Publisher: Mark C Sutton
Type: Fiction
Pages: 174
Copyright: Oct 31 2015
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Meet 'Mr Momoh'... a morose and unhappy man with frustrated desires, a show home that he can barely afford, a wife that hates him, and a mean-spirited boss that treats her sullen and miserable moustached employee with nothing but contempt. Meet 'Mr Momoh'... a man who is about to snap, and declare war on those who delight in dragging him down...
Meet 'Mr Momoh'... a morose and unhappy man with frustrated desires, a show home that he can barely afford, a wife that hates him, and a mean-spirited boss that treats her sullen and miserable moustached employee with nothing but contempt. Meet 'Mr Momoh'... a man who is about to snap, and declare war on those who delight in dragging him down...
Excerpt
Mr Momoh had no choice but to turn his car around, then drive away from the city centre; the road ahead of him was still blocked because of the road traffic accident involving the bus and the motorbike. I’ll head east for a half-mile, get onto the Hogswood New Road… that’s another main route back into the city… it’s a pain up the arse, but I haven’t got much choice, he thought to himself. Mr Momoh wondered to himself why he had felt so concerned about the injured motorcyclist; it was a mystery to him. Here I am, on my way into work, with the sole intention of murdering my immediate boss and her father… having not long despatched my wife from off the face of this Earth forever… and yet I was genuinely really worried about how that motorbike rider was… I don’t understand myself, sometimes, Mr Momoh admitted. I guess that none of it is black and white. Because that’s what the world wants us to believe, most of the time… that everything is black and white. Evil is evil and good is good, and there’s no in-between bits to muddle and confuse everything… but that’s just NOT the way things really are, he considered.
Mr Momoh glanced at himself in the rear-view mirror. Jesus, I look rough this morning… my head’s still pounding from drinking all of that ruddy whisky last night… it’s just about typical really, my last morning on Earth, and it’s spent with a sodding hangover, he thought, as he drove his vehicle off the main Brentboro to Merivale arterial road, and through some backstreets that skirted the edge of the city centre.
“Ah, I used to know this place so well.” Grinned Mr Momoh, as his car passed through an area called Hannerley, which just happened to be Merivale’s main red-light district. Mr Momoh, always over-sexed but unfulfilled, had started using prostitutes extensively during Mimi Momoh’s spell in the secure psychiatric hospital, following the death of Bobby. Mr Momoh recalled his favourite hooker, a woman called Mandy; she was everything that Mimi Momoh wasn’t. Petite, curvaceous, blonde. “Oh, how I loved Mandy!” Said Mr Momoh, wearing a large smile, and not concentrating on his driving. He remembered, with lust, how it felt to be given a blow-job by Mandy the prostitute. “She just had those big, juicy lips… oh good heavens, sliding my cock in-between those was like…” suddenly, a blue car in front of Mr Momohs vehicle slammed on its brakes at a zebra crossing. Mr Momoh, completely distracted by memories of Mandy the hooker and her fantastic blow-jobs, didn’t have time to react quickly enough, and his car hit the vehicle in front with a nasty ‘bang’.
The middle-aged man with the balding hairline and Freddie Mercury style moustache sat in his car, stunned, for a few seconds, then he rubbed at his neck, which had just been slightly whiplashed during the collision between the two vehicles.
“Oh, for fucks sake…” mumbled Mr Momoh. He raised himself up a little, so that he could see the front bonnet of his car; it looked slightly crumpled, but he couldn’t properly assess the damage whilst inside the motor. Mr Momoh undid his seatbelt, and climbed out of the car. At the very same time, two men, both aged about twenty years old, were clambering out of the other vehicle involved in the accident. The driver, a tall and skinny man wearing a baseball cap, came striding over to Mr Momoh, with his friend in tow.
“Why the fuck didn’t you brake?” He shouted at Mr Momoh, before turning around to inspect the damage to the rear-end of his vehicle, which, truth be known, wasn’t too bad at all.
“Why the bloody hell did you suddenly slam the brakes on?” Countered Mr Momoh, who wasn’t in the mood for cocky youths to start mouthing off at him. The driver’s friend joined in the argument.
“We were at a zebra crossing. What did you expect us to do? Drive straight over it?” Said the young man, who was shorter than the driver of the other car, but wearing an equally ridiculous-looking baseball cap.
“Well you must have been speeding then, if you had to brake like that.” Argued Mr Momoh, who then pushed past the two younger men so that he could inspect the front of his vehicle.
Having examined the front of his orange Velida Mark 4, Mr Momoh turned back to the two younger men.
“There’s not much damage… look, I’ll take full responsibility for what’s just happened. Hang on a minute, and I’ll get you my insurance cover details.” He said, content with the knowledge that he’d be dead before the day was out anyway, and would never see a rise in his policy payments.
“Fair enough.” Responded the other driver, shrugging his shoulders.
“Do we get an apology?” Snapped the other, shorter youth.
“Shut up, Ryan.” The driver said to his friend. “He’s said that he’ll take responsibility, okay?” But Ryan, a hot-headed idiot with ‘little man syndrome’ was spoiling for a fight. As always.
“No, it’s not okay, Aaron.” Replied Ryan. He turned and stared at Mr Momoh.
“You should apologise.” Ryan demanded. Mr Momoh stared back at the younger man.
“I already told you that the accident was my fault. I wasn’t concentrating…”
“So apologise then!” Snarled Ryan. Aaron grabbed his friend by the shoulder.
“Just fucking leave it, Ryan. The guy’s said…”
“Get your hand off of me, Aaron.” Ordered Ryan, and he wriggled out from the grip of his friend.
Mr Momoh watched as the two men from the other vehicle began to squabble amongst themselves. I haven’t got time for this shit, he thought, getting back into his car and opening up the glove compartment, in order to grab his insurance policy insurance documents. Suddenly, a thick, stubby hand reached inside the vehicle and clutched roughly at the top of Mr Momoh’s arm. It was Ryan.
“Oi, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” The young man demanded to know.
“Steady on, lad, I’m just getting my details for your friend.” Replied Mr Momoh, feeling his temper beginning to rise.
“Bollocks, you were gonna just drive off.” Accused Ryan. “Make a run for it.” He added.
“I can assure you, that I…”
“Get out of the bleedin’ car, now!” Growled Ryan, his face turning bright red. Mr Momoh looked past the aggressive youth, towards the apparently more sensible, and reasonable, Aaron.
“Is your friend always like this?” He smirked, before staring hard into Ryan’s eyes. “Take your hand off me, or you’ll regret it.” Threatened Mr Momoh, who was slowly reaching across to the passenger seat… and the rucksack containing great uncle Neville’s machete.
“Not until you get back out of your fucking car, man.” Ryan responded. “Come on… out… NOW!” He shouted.
“No.” Grinned Mr Momoh, as he slid the machete from out of the rucksack. Ryan suddenly noticed the large metallic weapon that his opponent was pulling from the backpack, and he instantly let go of Mr Momoh, before beginning to back away.
Mr Momoh emerged from the orange car, machete in his hand. He looked at the gob-smacked young driver called Aaron.
“You might want to get out of here.” Mr Momoh suggested.
“Why?” Intervened Ryan, trying to act tough. “Do you reckon that you’re gonna try and use that thing on me?” He jeered, in a shaky voice. Mr Momoh took a step towards him.
“Oh, trust me, son… if I want to use this on you, then I will.” He warned, taking another step towards Ryan. In a flash, Mr Momoh grabbed Ryan by his arm, and pulled him over to the orange Velida, slamming the younger man up against the vehicle.
“Let go of me, you prick!” Spat Ryan.
“No. You need to be taught a lesson.” Responded Mr Momoh, and he stretched out Ryan’s arm across the bonnet of the car, before raising the machete into the air. Ryan felt his bladder, and bowels, suddenly loosen. “Sodding little trouble-causer.” Continued Mr Momoh, before bringing down the machete blade hard onto Ryan’s forearm…
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