The busy bar was based on The Hrym’s readings of modern Japanese literature. It was his own take on Monkey Brain Sushi. He abducted devotees of his favourite soap opera, locked their heads into a vice like structure that sat on the edge of his pine wood bars, and gave them a quick jolt with an electronic device that liquefied the contents. Then his customers drove a narrow titanium tube through the weakened cranium and sucked out the gelatinous brains, like a glorified milk shake. This way, The Hrym joked to his dinner guests, they really did have brains like mush, instead of simply seeming like it.
The four friends sat at the bar wondering how they were going to get out of this one. The choice wasn’t so much which brand of cola or ginger beer, but which nationality. ‘Schripp sat unhappily on his rotating stool playing with his titanium straw.
They had gone through endless walkways of mind-numbing banality. Expecting a dark underground world of fire and nightmare traps, Constantine meets Raiders of the Lost Ark. It had instead been mile upon mile of vacant and numbing arcades, malls and precincts, all brightly neon lit with bland neutral shades.
‘Schripp was a man on the edge and clearly about to snap.
Gregory grabbed the light but strong metallic straw from the counter, powered it down through the temporal lobe of the rigidly held smartly coiffed head, and sucked with a mighty slurp.
It was too much for ‘Schripp. As the beautiful but vacuous barmaid leaned forward to see if he required assistance, he pivoted in his seat, his razor sharp blade whistled with the sound of its passing, and stopped one millimetre away from her beautiful although rather anorexic looking neck.
“No thank you.”
With that all hell broke loose. Alarms went off, and with concussive retorts, the heads of all the other customers exploded, covering the friends with a fine patina of neural phlegm.
With blank resignation the barmaid’s slightly pouty lips blew ‘Schripp a kiss and then her head too exploded. Bone fragments embedded in his face and his vision destroyed, the polite but exasperated warrior passed his blade to Stiletto, took a napkin from the bar and wiped the dura mater from his agonised and newly blinded eyes.