well, that would be tailoring to one persons preferences, and i've never really had any trouble concerning readers and my use of colourful language in non-Oddworld fiction before. so, sorry but no. thanks for commenting, though.
i may as well throw in the second half of this chapter, now. this one hasn't been checked nearly as often as the first half, so you may find a few errors in it.
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Chapter 1 Cont.
“Bill, lets go!” Marty shouted from the drivers seat, already strapped in and ready to go.
“Only time you shift your arse is when its in a bloody car.” Bill retorted as he jumped in the van, Marty speeding off before Bill had even shut the door.
John Cossway had already reached his house, and mounted the curb at a dangerous speed, skidding to a stop on a small field just outside his house, a group of youths playing football at the time looked over in curiosity.
John leapt out of his car, leaving the door open, and entered his home. His daughter was all he had left, and that Lowson bastard better not have gotten one of his greasy members to break into his house. If he had done, John wouldn't care what Jerry said, it'd be war. He wasn't about to put his darling daughter through any danger just so he could remain part of the Mannons group.
He ventured into the house, first through the kitchen, treading on broken glass from a smashed window. He couldn't hear a sound, maybe they'd already gone? Taken Louise? This new thought made him speed up.
As he ran into the living room, he received a metal bar to the mouth, knocking him over backwards. Lying on the floor, he saw a man wearing a balaclava standing over him, crowbar in hand. His lips were numb but the inside of his mouth was not, and the pain steadily rose until he emitted a groan, which was better than a scream.
In these seconds, the man raised his crowbar to strike John once again, but heard a noise from the kitchen: the sound of broken glass being trod on.
“John! You alright?” He heard from out of the room.
John took his chance and seized the intruders legs, pulling them toward himself and forcing the man to land on his back, almost smashing his head on the floor. The intruder, however, managed to hit John hard in the stomach before he had a chance to get in another attack. Standing up once more, John winded by the blow, he beat John with the crowbar all over his body, his victim curling up into a ball, trying to cover his head.
The man, out of breath, was seized by Marty and Bill once they finally entered the room, but managed to escape with a crowbar induced smash to Marty's chest. Marty fell, another one winded, and Bill couldn't hold him on his own, letting him go in the struggle. The man retreated from the house, and a car could be heard starting up and screeching away.
Bill turned to Marty and John on the floor, noticing John's rather nasty facial injury.
“Jesus Christ, John, have you got any teeth left? We need to clean you up.” He said, then walking into the kitchen to find a towel of some sort.
“Gah.” Marty emitted, clutching his chest and turning to John. “I'm just winded, you okay?”
John spat out a mouthful of blood next to him, containing two teeth, and replied “Winded and soosless.”
“Oh shit.” Marty answered, managing to stand up. Bill returned with a blue cloth.
“All I could find, John. You really need more towels here. My house is full of 'em. Can't get enough of 'em.”
John snatched the towel from Bill's outstretched hand, saying “Slanks for that. Nexs sime I'm not gesin' my face smashed in, I'll buy some more, because Bill said so.” then holding the cloth to his mouth.
“I was only sayin'.” Bill answered with a little disappointment, walking further into the messy living room.
Suddenly realising his thought moments previous, John spluttered “Seck Louise is safe!” On these words, Bill marched briskly out the opposite door, and up the stairs.
Marty tried to help John up, but he shrugged him off and managed to stand up on his own, still holding the now blood soaked cloth to his mouth.
“Reckon Rich'll be able to, you know, sort your mouth out?” Marty tested.
“He can pull a few out, nossin' much more san slat.” John said, invoking a fit of coughs.
Bill re-entered. “She ain't nowhere upstairs, John. I...dunno where else she could be.”
“Phone Danny, in the phone book sling over sere.” He said as he sat himself in an armchair, pointing at the windowsill where a phone and notepad sat. “Probably at her fucking boyfriends.”
Bill flicked through the notepad as Marty asked “Alright if I have a brew, Johnny boy? I'm gaspin'.” Bill chuckling at the prospect.
“Yeah, whatever Marsy.” John replied, Marty then venturing into the kitchen.
“I can't find this bloody number, John.” Bill started. “You need a proper phone diary. Our house has-”
“Very nice, Bill. Should be on the fourth page.” John interrupted.
“John, you want one?” A voice from the kitchen asked.
“I don't sink so.” John said with a pained laugh.
“What?”
“I said I don't fucking sink so!” He yelled.
“Oh yeah.”
“Got it.” Bill murmured, then picking up the receiver and dialling a number, as his eyes stayed fixed to the notepad.
“Yeah, hello?...its Bill...you know, Bill...old?...cheeky bugger...”
“Bill, come on! I'm gettin' charged for this!” John said, slapping his forehead with his free hand. “Fucking christ, iss like working with soo circus monkeys.”
“Sorry John mate...yeah, your dad...so you're at Danny's for the night?...err, is that alright, John?” Bill asked, turning towards him.
“Yeah, fine.” John answered, head back with his hand still on his forehead.
“Okay, that's alright. Make sure you phone your dad when you get a chance tomorrow, though...righto...okay...”
Marty stood in the doorway to the kitchen, sipping a cup of hot tea and watching Bill.
“Yep, taraa.” Bill finished at last, placing the receiver back on the phone. “She can talk for England.”
“She can?” John retorted, lifting his head back up and looking at Bill.
“Oi...where's my drink?” Bill directed at Marty, who looked sheepish.
“Come on, back soo the mees-up. Jerry's probably goin' spare.” John said, standing up and dropping the cloth into the kitchen sink as Bill and Marty followed him out.
“And next time you try and go on a killing spree,” Bill began. “Don't take the bloody group car! We had to come up in-”
“If my daughsers in shrouble I'll sake whatever the fuck I wans! Yeah?” John shouted, spinning around unexpectedly and pointing a finger in Bills face, displaying a bloody mouth lacking many front teeth.
“Yeah...no problems John, mate.” Bill said, frozen. John continued out of the house as Marty gave Bill an expression of mixed surprise and confusion. Bill just shrugged.
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