Nine Lives
folder
M through R › Predator
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
6,298
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Predator
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
6,298
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Predator movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Six
Chapter Six
………These aliens might have thought they were bad, cruel, even evil, but they didn’t know what true torture was until now. Some simply looked frightened, others were backing away shaking their heads in pain and confusion. Those closest to me, the ones sitting at the bar, were grabbing small, scurrying creatures that looked like a cross between mice and cockroaches and stuffing them into their ears. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a natural concern about my own hideous death by barbeque, I simply had a spiteful stubborn streak that was much bigger. You want me to sing, I’ll sing. But you’ll be sooooooooorry.
Pecs, for his part, was sitting on the floor holding Boris against one ear and a small bar patron against the other. The bar patron was terrified and fainted every ninety seconds but Boris thought this was pretty great. He was used to my strangeness and simply amused himself by chewing the predator’s dreads. I think this is what may have contributed to my early removal from the stage. If he’d left well enough alone, Pecs might have let me carry on until everyone else had died of burst eardrums. Unfortunately, having his sensitive dreads chewed on a by a being who was sixty percent butt and forty percent pointy bits was too distracting.
Ironically, it was only when he lifted me up by the scruff of the neck and my voice went up a strangled octave that someone’s head actually did explode. This happened to be the creature running the barbeque area. While I tried, outwardly, to look ashamed and sombre, inside some part of me pumped its fists vigorously in the air and did the happy dance.
Pecs swung me round, my feet about half a metre off the ground, and looked me in the eye with a low growl.
“What?” I squeaked. “That’s how we sing where I come from!”
He just glared at me, one mandible doing an admirable impression of Clint Eastwood’s famous sneer.
“OK, I’m sorry I made everyone scream and that guy’s head explode. I had no idea I had those kind of powers. Honestly!”
Pecs sighed, shrugged and looked somewhat defeated.
SHIT. HAPPENS.
Oh Christ on a dildo I’m in a Forrest Gump crossover. Dude if you have a box of chocolates I’ll love you forever.
………At that point the guy that seemed to be in charge of the bar came over and mumbled something in as vicious a tone of voice it is possible to mumble something. The result of this was a swift punch to his head from Pecs and a large rag of dubious origins being stuffed in my mouth and tied behind my head. I had a feeling that this may have been one of the things that Boris had mentioned tasted of mouse.
I believe this is approaching the point where we came in.
Hey, Mum, what are you eating that for? There’s plenty of foo…oh.
“Mmmph. Muffwhmmph. OOOM.”
Well don’t have a go at me; I was only having a bit of fun.
“FUU! Whm FUH! I OROOST OT AHEHOOH!”
Well yeah, but I don’t think his head’s growing back so you should be safe there.
“………”
I’m grounded when we get home aren’t I?
“!!!!!!!”
Um. I’ll get back to you on that one.
I watched his large butt sway haughtily off towards the bar, where he proceeded to scamper in between jars, glasses and bowls after the mouseroaches I’d seen earlier. I hoped that no-one mistook him for a particularly large and tasty snack. I rethought this and started hoping that no-one mistook me for a large and tasty snack; Boris had enough pointy bits to defend himself. My only weapon had been stuffed with what I was coming to believe may have been part of someone’s loincloth in the not too distant past.
These thoughts were cut off with a sharp mental URK! as Pecs dragged flung himself onto a large comfy chair and me onto his lap. Trust me, rigor mortis is not something that only the dead enjoy. Every single muscle in my body was frozen stiff and my mind was desperately trying to eliminate words like ‘loincloth’, ‘stiff’ and ‘lap’ from its currently limited vocabulary.
………A large hand pulled me roughly against the chest of a being that had so far incarcerated me, watched me pee and held me up by my neck. The other hand grabbed the top of my head and turned my face towards the present entertainment. An hysterical giggle managed to escape the confines of the penis-covering inhabiting my mouth.
Pole dancing predators. Male ones. In leather bikinis.
I feel that this was not what Wyclef Jean had in mind.
………These aliens might have thought they were bad, cruel, even evil, but they didn’t know what true torture was until now. Some simply looked frightened, others were backing away shaking their heads in pain and confusion. Those closest to me, the ones sitting at the bar, were grabbing small, scurrying creatures that looked like a cross between mice and cockroaches and stuffing them into their ears. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a natural concern about my own hideous death by barbeque, I simply had a spiteful stubborn streak that was much bigger. You want me to sing, I’ll sing. But you’ll be sooooooooorry.
Pecs, for his part, was sitting on the floor holding Boris against one ear and a small bar patron against the other. The bar patron was terrified and fainted every ninety seconds but Boris thought this was pretty great. He was used to my strangeness and simply amused himself by chewing the predator’s dreads. I think this is what may have contributed to my early removal from the stage. If he’d left well enough alone, Pecs might have let me carry on until everyone else had died of burst eardrums. Unfortunately, having his sensitive dreads chewed on a by a being who was sixty percent butt and forty percent pointy bits was too distracting.
Ironically, it was only when he lifted me up by the scruff of the neck and my voice went up a strangled octave that someone’s head actually did explode. This happened to be the creature running the barbeque area. While I tried, outwardly, to look ashamed and sombre, inside some part of me pumped its fists vigorously in the air and did the happy dance.
Pecs swung me round, my feet about half a metre off the ground, and looked me in the eye with a low growl.
“What?” I squeaked. “That’s how we sing where I come from!”
He just glared at me, one mandible doing an admirable impression of Clint Eastwood’s famous sneer.
“OK, I’m sorry I made everyone scream and that guy’s head explode. I had no idea I had those kind of powers. Honestly!”
Pecs sighed, shrugged and looked somewhat defeated.
SHIT. HAPPENS.
Oh Christ on a dildo I’m in a Forrest Gump crossover. Dude if you have a box of chocolates I’ll love you forever.
………At that point the guy that seemed to be in charge of the bar came over and mumbled something in as vicious a tone of voice it is possible to mumble something. The result of this was a swift punch to his head from Pecs and a large rag of dubious origins being stuffed in my mouth and tied behind my head. I had a feeling that this may have been one of the things that Boris had mentioned tasted of mouse.
I believe this is approaching the point where we came in.
Hey, Mum, what are you eating that for? There’s plenty of foo…oh.
“Mmmph. Muffwhmmph. OOOM.”
Well don’t have a go at me; I was only having a bit of fun.
“FUU! Whm FUH! I OROOST OT AHEHOOH!”
Well yeah, but I don’t think his head’s growing back so you should be safe there.
“………”
I’m grounded when we get home aren’t I?
“!!!!!!!”
Um. I’ll get back to you on that one.
I watched his large butt sway haughtily off towards the bar, where he proceeded to scamper in between jars, glasses and bowls after the mouseroaches I’d seen earlier. I hoped that no-one mistook him for a particularly large and tasty snack. I rethought this and started hoping that no-one mistook me for a large and tasty snack; Boris had enough pointy bits to defend himself. My only weapon had been stuffed with what I was coming to believe may have been part of someone’s loincloth in the not too distant past.
These thoughts were cut off with a sharp mental URK! as Pecs dragged flung himself onto a large comfy chair and me onto his lap. Trust me, rigor mortis is not something that only the dead enjoy. Every single muscle in my body was frozen stiff and my mind was desperately trying to eliminate words like ‘loincloth’, ‘stiff’ and ‘lap’ from its currently limited vocabulary.
………A large hand pulled me roughly against the chest of a being that had so far incarcerated me, watched me pee and held me up by my neck. The other hand grabbed the top of my head and turned my face towards the present entertainment. An hysterical giggle managed to escape the confines of the penis-covering inhabiting my mouth.
Pole dancing predators. Male ones. In leather bikinis.
I feel that this was not what Wyclef Jean had in mind.