Olaf Vikingsson

EDIT: Before anyone mentions how incredibly wierdly and sing-song the opening reads, I'd like to mention the fact that I was using that section as a chance to try a new writing style. For some reason, I can't even tell if it was successful or not.

EDITEDITEDIT: Can and will not be arsed to proofread this shit. Someone else do it if it bothers you.

EDITEDITEDITEDITEDIT: Blah blah language blah gore blah blah rated M fuck.

---------------------------------------------------------

Vikus was a man who got by in the world using his face. Vikus had the type of face that made men think 'I'll defenestrate him if he so much as breathes in the direction of my daughter'. His face was the type of face that you would briefly say a few words to before turning away, scratching your head and wondering why you just gave away the tidy roll of credit notes that you had in your pocket a moment ago. There wasn't much that Vikus couldn't overcome with a few nice words and cheeky grin.

Vikus was a man who got by in the world using his face and he had just lost control of his bladder in abject terror.

Vikus was used to feeling shaken. After all, he was a man who coasted through the world using his face. A few run-ins with angry suitors of his latest bedfellows and a few unhappy chappies who regretted agreeing to become negative-interest loan sharks were par-the-course. What Vikus wasn't used to, however, was the prospect of an ugly and potentially very painful death at the hands of a glowering, chitinous thing with too many appendages that looked like its many barbs could cut you open just by being in the same room as you. Dangling from where the thing had lifted him up by the ankle with a gnarled, pincer-like growth, Vikus could only think about one thing.

Where did it go wrong?

A few minutes ago, Vikus had not been dangling from some glowering, chitinous thing's pincer-like growth. He was stumbling around in a euphoric daze with stars flying around his head and a busty wench wearing not-very-much and a bussiness-like look on her face glued to his arm. He couldn't remember whether he was happy. He rarely could, these days. Regardless, the only things he could recall with any clarity after that were the wench bursting into tattered ribbons of meat and a glowering, chitinous thing with too many appendages grabbing him by the ankle.

Vikus could see it now, a flailing, prehensile tongue slithering from where he assumed the thing's mouth was. Vikus shivered a little bit with the wierdness of it all as the tongue wrapped itself around his head.

The good times that he and his face had together was the last thing Vikus thought about before he soiled himself and felt the glowering, chitinous thing eat the front half of his head.

---------------------------------------------------------
Sequence 1
---------------------------------------------------------

It didn't smell of blood. Blood didn't really smell of blood after so much of it had been left to air in a damp-ridden apartment room for the best part of half a day. What it did smell of was something that I wanted to be away from for fear of contracting something that would most likely result in some part of me exploding at an inconvenient time.

'Ah! Good evening, inspector. You didn't need to go through the trouble of turning up; I forgot that I had called you in.'

Rudolph Ingram. I always did suspect that the man had adopted the persona of The Snark Knight not to aid in fighting crime but to spite the cruel, cruel master and mistress who gave us something to laugh at every time his name popped up on roster-calling.

Never mind the fact I was half an hour late to the scene, for want of some much-needed sobriety.

I turned around to empty a half-digested Chinese takeaway into the corner of the room.

'A little piquant, this one. You can go home now. I just wanted to give you something interesting to look at tonight,' remarked the smirking bastard, somehow unpreturbed by the smell of the contents of an unrefrigerated morgue rearing to give you a group-hug.

I mumbled something in reply.

'Sorry? You're going to have to speak up. I can't hear you over the sound of how hilarious the colour of your face is.'

'Shut up and what the fuck is this?' I managed, dabbing at my my face with a scrap of serviette pinched from a cupboard.

'It's man without the front half of his body and most of his organs, enough unidentified gunk to warrant a level three biohazard and a woman somewhere in there.'

'A w-... What did you say?'

'Don't worry. We only know she's here because there's a fuckton more blood than there should be and of the fact that her feet are somewhere over there with a pair of very cute shoes on.'

I looked over, despite my better judgement. Indeed, there was a pair of feet lying curiously next to the bed, near the doorframe. Little tufts of bone protruded where the ankles should have been.

'Care to do what you're paid for and hazard a guess, inspector?' snarked the snarking snarker with his arms folded, most likely to cover up the snark emblem on the latex jumpsuit that I just KNEW he wore under his work clothes.

I turned around and left the room.

CHOICE TIME!

Do I...

A. Dry-vomit and lean against the wall, feeling sorry for myself before opening the door and stepping back in to inspect the half-of-a-man...
B. Dry-vomit and lean against the wall, feeling sorry for myself before opening the door and stepping back in to see if I can find more bits of woman...
C. Dry-vomit and lean against the wall, feeling sorry for myself before opening the door and stepping back in to slap Ingram, ordering him to take over the case before heading home for a shower and unconsciousness...
D. Wake up and realise that it was all a dream because ViS is a douche and a terrible writer.

__________________

Pyro

D. Wake up and realise that it was all a dream because ViS is a douche and a terrible writer.

A. Dry-vomit and lean against the wall, feeling sorry for myself before opening the door and stepping back in to inspect the half-of-a-man...

__________________

Voodoo

E: crass joke about thread title
Also
F: I'll read it later :/ it's too late.

__________________

My YouTube Channel

SgtJoo

All I saw was defenestrate, good use of the word but there's no way way I will read the whole thing. I have the attention span of a coked out ferret.

__________________

Cloud

B! Dry-vomit and lean against the wall, feeling sorry for myself before opening the door and stepping back in to see if I can find more bits of woman...

__________________

Megika

A!

pantstofry

D=StandardTrollResponse

A.

oneinchwunda

Impressive. I personally would choose option A. However, I probably know very little about creative writing.

__________________

Olaf Vikingsson

What is a crass joke about a crass joke?

Me neither. That's why I'm not even going to fool myself into thinking that I'll actually bring this anywhere near to any semblance of completion.

Option A, it is. Will write after lunch.

__________________

oneinchwunda

Fair enough. I'll look forward to it.

__________________

Olaf Vikingsson

By lunch, I meant before bed.

__________________