Paintball madness

a loss of a job leads to a terrible explosion

Paintball madness

“You want these,” said Simon, pointing at a box of cigarettes that were exactly the same as the ones the customer had just put on the counter, except the price, which was twice as much. “Or you could have them both. I'll give you a discount. Instead of paying £9 you pay £8.99. Bargain!”

“Sounds good.” said the somewhat stupid customer. He took cigarette packets, paid and walked out.

“Another customer conned.” said Simon, rubbing his hands. “Time to go home.”

He stepped out into the street and ran a hand through his hair, or at least tried to, before he remembered he didn't have any. He walked up to a shiny mercedes that gleamed in the afternoon sun. He put his key in the lock and pulled the door handle. Then he sighed and left the merc, moving to the rusty old car he'd bought from his parents 5 years ago. He actually unlocked this car and got in.

The steering wheel was missing. Simon groaned and reached under the dashboard. Yes, there it was. He pushed it back where it went and drove off, back to his poky flat where he and his irish wife, Agnes, lived. He'd bought the flat off his parents a few years back.

 

Taloolah sat in her house. He downed another can of non alcoholic beer (she'd given up drinking a few years back) and put her head in her hands.

“Why?” she shouted into the kitchen table. “Did I not advice on careers well enough? Was I not an adequate careers advisor. More than adequate in fact.” She slammed her fist on the table and grabbed another can of non alcoholic beer.

“And there's those stupid flats across the road. They ruined everything. If they hadn't built those flats...” She brought the can to her mouth but found it to be empty. She crumpled it up and threw it out the window. She wasn't an excellent shot, but she did hit the windsreen of a rusty old car that was turning into the flat's car park.

 

Simon Streep jumped when the beer can hit his windscreen. He accidentally pulled the wheel off and swore. He slammed the brake, and rolled into the back of a three wheeled van. It rolled on to it's side, as these things do. He jumped out the car and swore in the vague direction that the can had come from

 

Taloolah frowned. Why was the man swearing at Mrs Dodd's flat downstairs?

 

Simon slammed the door of his flat and stomped down the hall.

“lock the door,” called his wife in her strong irish accent. Simon sighed and did so.

The kitchen was a bombsite. The dirty plates were stacked up to the roof. His pig-like wife, Agnes, had taken a week off work to clean them all. She was standing at the sink now, her piggy stature blocking it from view.

The table was covered in burn marks. Simon had no idea why. He had bought it from his parents last summer. For £352. His parents were even better conmen than himself.

As he slumped at the ashen table he reflected on his pathetic existence. It was all Agnes's fault. His parents had told him not to marry her. Trouble was, experience had though him never to believe a word his parents said. They recently offered him £500 to help refurbish the flat. He took it, eagerly. They didn't mention until after he'd spent it all that he would have to pay it back with the debt increasing by 15% every week he didn't pay it all.

“some help would be nice.” said his wife, sloshing water on to the floor.

“Tough,” he told her, grabbing some non-alcoholic beer.

“You're not having any food this evening if you don't help.” said Agnes, sternly.

“I'm not having any food anyway.” he said, miserably. “We're broke remember?” He dug out the £8.99 he'd earned that day and slammed it on the table.

“Great.” said Agnes. “Now go out and get us some food. A microwavable pasty of something.”

He shook his head. “We sold the microwave last week, remember. We got three meals for it.”

“Of course. How could I forget.” Agnes smiled. “Three days of delicious tesco value ready meals.”

“I'll see what I can find for 9 quid.” Simon stood up. “See ya.”

“lock the door. We don't want those kids next door getting in.”

Simon grabbed his key and left the flat.

 

Taloolah flicked on her fan in the bedroom and lay on the bed. The cold breeze was soothing on her face. Well, it was until there was a click, a spark and the fan, as well as all the lights in the flat, went off. She leapt up and screamed. This was so unfair.

“I've had enough.” she went into her old airing cupboard, with the boiler that hadn't worked for years, and dug out an old paintball gun. The gun went back to the days she had worked inn a corrupt paintball arena that was plotting to destroy the house of commons with explosive paintballs. She discovered she'd rather be a careers advisor though, and left. The plot hadn't actually gone anywhere.

There were still some of the old explosive pellets. Most of the paint was dried up now, but she thought she might be able to make some more of her own.

She went into the kitchen and searched the flat for something to fill the shells with. The best she could find was homouse.

 

It was late and all the shops were closed, but Simon knew one that would be easy to break into . Streep's convenience stores.” It had been passed down from his parents (for a small fee). He checked no one was looking, then hurled a bin lid through the window. It shattered and he leapt through it. He scanned the shelves. He settled on a ready cooked chicken and some potato salad. He went to the till to pay.

But they were on special offer. He swore and added the other 99p to the £8 the food had already cost, then quickly wrote an IOU for £3. Then he left.

He made 3 steps before a policeman stopped him.

“ello, ello, ello, what do we ave ere then?” asked the copper.

“I just bought some tea.” said Simon, holding out the food.

“Looks tasty.” said the policeman, but then he narrowed his eyes. “But you stole it.”

“No, no I paid. Rip off really. Daylight robbery.”

“But you broke in.”

“I can. I'm the owner. I'm allowed to break into my own shop.”

“Why did you smash the window if your the owner?”

“I forgot the keys.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” the copper moved on. “Gonna cost you a pretty penny to repair, though.”
Simon swore. “Why didn't you say that before I broke it. I'm already £3 in debt to that shop.”

The policeman stared at him for a few moments, then moved on.

 

Taloolah moved to the kitchen window and aimed the loaded paintball gun at the flats opposite. Then a rusty old car turned the corner and she smiled. She could test it first.

A little pellet of paint and homouse shot out and sprayed over the car windscreen. For the second time that evening Simon leapt out of his car to swear at Taloolah. It was probably a good thing. The car exploded and Simon was thrown forward. On the bright side, he survived. He looked up at Taloolah, staring maniacally out the window. Then he looked at his ruined car.

“What are you doing?” he asked, incredulously.

“I'm ruined. I lost my job, now I'm ruined. So I'm gonna ruin your precious flats too!”

“You're crazy, you know that?”

“Yup.” said Taloolah.

“What a moment.” Simon frowned at her. “Don't I know you?”

“Hey, maybe.” Taloolah lowered her gun a moment and stared at him.

“Hey, you're that woman from the paintball place. Talooloo or something.”

Taloolah glared at him. “Taloolah, you idiot.”

“You left us, just before the final part of the plot.” cried Simon.

“You were going nowhere anyway. I decided my fortune lied elsewhere.”

“We still blew up the house of commons. And the house of lords too!”

No you didn't. I'd have noticed.”

“It was on the news.”

“I wouldn't know. I sold the telly.”

“Conned 'em I bet. Really badly.”

“No, I didn't. I wanted to be honest. That's partly why I'm ruined now.”

“Idiot. Honesty just isn't the way to go.!

“Anyway.” Taloolah raised her gun again. “I'm now gonna blow up your flats.”

“You can't do that, you monster!” Simon took a step forward and raised his hand pathetically.

“Just you try stop me!” Taloolah was crazy now, a terrible glint in her eyes.

“Wait!” Simon looked up at the window of his flat. “Maybe it's a good thing. If my flats are gone, I can go trick my parents into giving me a cheap new one, then I can make a fortune. And I'll be shot of Agnes.”

“Good. Then' I'll get on with it.”

“Wait, let me help you. Just give me five minutes.” Simon patted his pockets, and realised that his keys had been in the car. He dashed inside and up the stairs. He knocked madly on the door of his flat.

“Go away!” called Agnes.

“It's me, Simon. I've lost my keys.”

“Oh.” Simon heard a clatter. “Be there in a minute.”

A minute and a half later Agnes opened the door.

“Where's the food?”

“I lost that too.” Simon pushed past her and opened their pointless cupboard.

“Did you here that explosion just then?” asked Agnes, shutting and carefully locking the door.

“Yes. It's a mess out there.” said Simon, absently, as he rooted through the pointless stuff in his pointless cupboard.

“That it be.” said Agnes. She went back to her washing up.

Simon grabbed his own paintball gun and checked the paint was still fresh. It wasn't so old, so very little was dry.

He hurried out of the flat.

“Simon! Simon!” Agnes called. “Simon, lock the door. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Simon was already 3 floors down, bursting out the front doors of the building. As he did so paint slammed into the wall a little way off. There was an explosion and some mana screamed out.

“That wasn't five minutes!” Simon cried.

“No. It was six.” said Taloolah.

“Oh well. I'm ready now.” Simon got as far away from his former home as he could and began firing. Soon paint and homouse was exploding all over the building. The screams were music to Simon and Taloolah's ears. It reminded him of the time he'd destroyed the house of commons.

Before an hour had passed all that was left was a smoking wreck, with a random sheep wondering across it.

“Now we run.” said Simon.

“Agreed.” agreed Taloolah. She leapt out her window and together they jumped into a car that was handily parked just a few feet away, unlocked. Simon drove as fast as he dared, which was slow as he was used to his own broken car.

The sheep sniffed at the smoking bricks.

“Baaah.” it bleeted.