Lovely Hyena

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short story about the atrocities of today's world. Humor + horror = fun fun fun fun

Hannah was a sweet young journalist. As for her job in a newspaper called Dreamy Wallachia, she managed to get it by fucking. It was quite easy. She was standing by the entrance and approached the first publicist who came around. He wasn't really handsome. Moreover, he had strong glasses and an ugly potbelly but she decided to withstand these disadvantages.

She got in his way and directly uttered this sentence:

"You can bang me if you get me a job among your editorial staff."

He liked her. Of course, who wouldn't like a young lass without any experience or university education. She could have been a model since she had long legs and anorexia nervosa. As if she was a picture on the cover of a men's magazine.

"And how do you know I'm a journalist?"

"Just guessing. Show me your voucher card, to be sure."

"Show me your boobs first", he reacted swiftly.

Hannah had no problems with being an exhibitionist. She took off her bra so she was wearing her pink trainers and transparent panties only. The publicist began to stare at her fantastic titties and to drool the saliva of pure horniness, whereupon he spontaneously came. In his crotch, there appeared an ugly stain causing an unpleasant feeling of ostentative embarassment that proved he did. But maybe he just pissed himself... Who knows.

 

*

A week after, Hannah got laid by Robin Nightingale, the general editor himself. This 6'5'' tall man with swastika earrings actually proposed to her. So charming were her looks. And she accepted his offer.

To avoid the costs of a divorce, he hired an expert to destroy his wife and the two children he had with her.

He simply googled: Assasin – Mildew, and then read through individual references. A cove named Boyer Boak had the best ratings. The police of the Anonymous Republic gave him five stars out of five, which was the best possible rating. Thus, he made an appointment with Boyer and they settled the price.

Boyer's tariff rate was three hundred thousand tantims per corpse. Thus, it completely amounted to nine hundred thousands. Robin was a multimillionaire. Therefore, it was a mere fleabite for him. They made a deal.

 

*

After two weeks, Dreamy Wallachia published an article about extraordinarily brutal decease of Mrs. Nightingale and her children. Naturally, there were illustrative photographs attached as well. Readers like blood and primitive violence.

The victims of Boyer's bluster were identified by their severed heads. There was nothing else left. A homeless man found them in a remote street. Thus, he was suspected as a murderer and a cannibal and sentenced for fifteen years... He wasn't hung just because his guilt wasn't proven.

Mr. Nightingale was happy as Boyer did a perfect job. He settled a pompous mourning banquet and also invited the Minister of Justice and the Chief of Police. There were reams of champagne, caviar and bribes. Hannah, sitting next to her fiancé, was caught the fancy of the director of a public TV station, Trot Bucket. He was a bald bloke capable of anything, embellished with golden chains. His chest was very hairy and dick eminently long. Whenever he got angry, steam rose from his ears and fire came out his mouth.

He fiendishly winked at Hannah and she licked her lips. Of course she knew who he was and naturally couldn't just toss up the opportunity. Mr. Nightingale didn't persuade her to stay. Trot Bucket had so much damaging material about Robin that it would have been quite easy to arrange a death penalty.

 

*

Hannah was dying. She was greasy and pathologically ambitious but it didn't prevent her from ending up terribly, as she had no clue that Trot Bucket released sulphuric acid instead of sperm.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked and felt the gook corroding her vagina and continuing onwards to her viscera.

He didn't answer and just called a servant who put Hannah in a black plastic bag, and threw her in a dumpster on the yard of his master's mansion.

 

*

Robin Nightingale didn't stay alone for very long. He was only thirty five years old. Waiting in front of a primary school, he simply balled first loli he found interesting. He offered her nothing but money for regular sexual intercourse. However, he used also little gifts, mainly jewels and flowers. Deep inside, he was a helpless romantic.


Submitted: May 17, 2013

© Copyright 2020 PetrMerka. All rights reserved.

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