and now mine:
Chapter 1
Yit looked down at the mudokon he had just pummelled to the floor, he smiled to himself, the quivering wreck cowered at his iron feet awaiting another crack but it didn’t come, the mudokon looked up shielding his eyes from the bright hand moon, “Now fack off you pile of fleechcrap, if I catch you here again ill hang you by your neck and slug you through your little heart”! The mudokon stood up his legs giving way, it ran off as fast as it could, Yit fired a shot at it so it knew he wasn’t messing.
Yit watched the mudokon fade into the smog of rupture farms and he turned “Gorky”! shouted Yit in his nicest tone (which wasn’t so nice with his prosthetic voice enhancer) a big slog crawled out of a small metal hut and waddled up to the sligs side, “Whose a good boy huh Gorky, you are you little mudcrap”! The slig smiled down to the slog and it barked back, Yit spotted a fleech crawling towards a small fuzzle stuck in some barbed wire, he fired his rifle at it and the fleech dropped, blood pouring from its stomach, the slig wandered over to it and prodded it with the butt of his gun to check it was truly incapitated which it was, Yit turned and shouted to his slog, “Git ‘im”! The slog sprinted over and lunged at the carcass, it chewed at it noisily every now and again staring up at his owner and barking quickly to prove his satisfaction.
After it finished the fleech Gorky sniffed at the fuzzle which bared its teeth but when the slog bared his it backed away and started squeaking miserably “No Gorky, oi, I said no” shouted Yit, when the slog ignored him Yit’s eyes flared, he picked up his holstered truncheon and knocked Gorky clean over the head, Gorky reeled and barked angrily.
The slig sighed and looked out at what he could make out of rupture farms, he wondered what it was like and if it had changed from when he had worked there, he wondered about the juicy taste of the scrab cakes and if they still the used the same unnatural odditives, oh Butt-flo was fantastic he remembered, and Snotrocker!
He walked gingerly down the narrow platforms around the edges of the scrab pens, watching for missteps, one wrong foot and he’d land down in an iron cage match with a scrab more dangerous than a fleech riding a paramite. Gorky followed in his footsteps barking at the fire flies. New thoughts flowed around Yit’s head like an angry sceekfly, unearthed by the disintegrating paths he was re-walking, “poor scrabs, eh boy”. Yit said, the slog looked at him and cocked his head, “yer, I’m probably getting to soft aye”!
Yit kept walking until the path was completely ruined, he learnt over and eased himself onto his metal knees, the scrab before him looked up and gave a short screech, Yit bared his hand and the scrab rubbed its tusk against it, it grazed it but, for a scrab that was pretty soft, “Easy girl, careful, good, sorry I ain’t got no food, I gave it to that ungrateful little oddpile over there”. Yit pointed at Gorky who whined unsure if Yit was serious or not. The scrab howled at the unfortunate news, like Yit, the scrab lay at the very back of the stockyards; no one remembered it so no one fed it, unless Yit did. He breathed heavily and watched his breath spiral in the cold air. He spent a few more quiet minutes in the company of his two friends watching the hand moon (that’s what a mud called it that he let go) His slog started to pant and grow restless so Yit pulled himself and trudged back to his hut.
Scrabtrapman
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Oh yeah, fair point. Maybe he was just tortured until he lost consciousness.
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