So Malthus thought of a way to decide the winner.
And clearly he failed his economics tests. Or he passed. I don’t know.
No matter how I see it, it’s a lose-lose for . To win, I have to eat his heart, which I don’t want. And if I don’t fight then he will eat mine, which I also don’t want because well, I would like to keep my cholesterol to myself.
Therefore...
"Whoever eats the other’s heart?" I blinked. "What are you, a dieval Gordon Ramsay?"
"Silence!" Malthus barked, his voice echoing like a hangover headache. "This is the only way to settle it."
"Settle it? This isn’t a cooking show, you psychopath." I rubbed my forehead. "What next? You gonna make julienne my liver for a side dish?"
Sexis leaned closer, whispering into my ear. "I don’t know what julienne ans, but it sounds delicious."
"You don’t know what it ans? Your nickna is dictionary fucker. You should know its aning."
"Wha- who gave this na?"
"."
"At least tell the person whom you are giving a na. Well, tell now?"
"What?"
"What does julienne an?"
"Google it."
"There is no google here! My antennas are just for show, rember? I don’t catch signals."
"I wasn’t talking to you."
"Then?"
"I was talking to those who can use Google."
"Oh... I see." Sexis nodded in full understanding until, "I didn’t get any of that. You talk bullshit. Anyway, when do I get to eat your thing?"
I shot him a glare. "Focus, Sexis. This isn’t a Cannibals get-together."
Sexis sighed and then Erect tapped my shoulder. "I have an idea."
"Spare ," I sighed. "You just tried to stab a guy in his crotch only to cause noise pollution and embarrassnt."
"But this one is different!"
"Let guess, you’ll try to headbutt his chest? Maybe pinch his nipples? That’s the only spot you haven’t tested yet."
Malthus crossed his massive arms, the muscles in his biceps flexing like a mountain range.
"Enough chatter. Prepare yourself, human king. The battle to consu each other’s hearts begins now."
"Shit," I turned to Sexis. "This guy really wants to taste my insides. Maybe we should get him a hobby."
Sexis raised his scythe-like arm. "Perhaps he should try poetry. It’s said to be a great outlet for repressed aggression. Though, tasting insides isn’t that bad of a choice in the first place."
I shook my head. "I asked the wrong person."
Erect chipped in, "He could try pottery. I heard it’s a way to relax your mind and increase your focus."
"Oh," Sexis’ eyes found a glint. " Covered in mud while touching a soft material. Yes. Not bad of a deal."
"Are you seriously discussing hobbies while I am about to turn you into a buffet?" Malthus barked, still trying to process how his life had co to this.
"Look, man. I know I said that I agree with your suggestion but this is too much alright. Besides, I am vegetarian. I only eat vegetarian at."
"I don’t give a shit, human king."
He took a step closer, his eyes glowing like the screen of a gar’s PC at 3 a.m.
"I shall devour your heart, human."
I swallowed. "Damn, bro. At least buy dinner first."
Sexis, always a sucker for a good line, chuckled. "Hoho. Good one."
Erect added, "Invite too when he buys you dinner, my lord."
We three shared another laugh, completely ignoring the giant red demon in front of us.
Malthus looked like a father trying to scold his kids but realizing he can’t because he is jobless and doubts that they are not his children.
"I will end you," He growled, clearly tired of our nonsense.
"Yeah, yeah. You said that ten Chapters ago." I sighed. "How about this? We settle it with a dance-off instead?"
Sexis clapped his scythe-hands together. "Yes! I’m good at interpretive dance!"
Erect flexed. "I can do the worm and the snake too."
I facepald. "Why did I team up with you guys?"
"What’s wrong with the snake dance, my lord?"
"Anyone can do it. We need so Michael Jackson stuff if we want to win the dance-off."
Sexis chipped, flaunting his black skin. "I can do Michael Jackson. I even match his post surgery skin color."
"... Good for you, I guess."
"Who is Michael Jackson, my lord?"
"You don’t need to know."
Erect nodded.
Sexis nodded too.
"Alright, Racis. Let’s win this dance-off."
"Yeah. Let’s do it."
"You dickheads! I haven’t even agreed to the Dance-off! At least ask first!"
"Right. So do you want to do a dance-off?" I asked.
Malthus replied instantly. "Of course not! I am a warrior. I thrive in blood. The only dance I see is the dance of death."
"So you don’t want to dance?"
"Yes!"
"Then you should have refused from the start! You wasted so much of our ti discussing who will do which dance."
Malthus pointed at himself, his eyes acting like he just saw his ex in a public place. "I wasted your ti? I should have refused from the start?"
"Yeah. I even started practicing the sun walk." Sexis chid.
I frowned. "The sun walk?"
"Yeah. It’s my original version. Different from moonwalk."
"Oh. Show ."
"Sure."
Sexis put his hands inside his pockets and... walked forward.
He walked a few steps and then turned around.
Then he walked towards again and stopped beside , standing on the sa spot from where he began.
"... That’s the sun walk?" I asked.
"Yes." Sexis answered, his chest puffed.
"My lord," Erect looked at . "Didn’t he just.."
"Yeah." I nodded and held Sexis’ antennas again.
"You cheating Alien, that was just you walking forward with your hands in your pocket! If that was a dance move then I am a dancer for all my life."
I jerked his antennas once more like a fisherman pulling a stubborn octopus from his net.
Sexis’ head bobbled left and right, his eyes spinning like a slot machine.
"Don’t say that, Racis. I invented the opposite of moonwalk. He walked backwards and I walked forward. What else were you expecting?"
"Thank god Malthus refused the dance-off. We would have lost in that shit."
"Talking about Malthus, where is he, my lord?" Erect’s voice stopped from giving Sexis another well-deserved antenna yank.
I looked where Malthus was supposed to be, right in front of us, but the red athead was nowhere to be seen.
"Did he run away?" I wondered aloud until—
"Behind you."
Malthus’ voice rang out, deep and nacing, like a custor in a drive-thru who just realized they forgot to order fries.
We three turned around, and there he was, standing just a few steps far from us, arms crossed and eyes glowing like a toaster left on too long.
"Why were you behi—"
"No more questions."
I blinked. This guy really loved cutting off.
He stepped closer, his shadow falling over us like a dad about to ground his kids for revealing how he farts at night to the whole neighborhood.
Erect was to my right, and Sexis to my left, their faces still twisted in their usual dumb grins, completely unaware of the danger.
Malthus raised his massive hands, his fingers cracking like a chiropractor with a grudge, and placed them on top of Erect’s and Sexis’ heads.
I froze.
Then, with a fed-up, irritated face, like a custor canceling his internet subscription after an hour on hold, he clenched his fists.
BURST!
BURST!
Two bursts. Not the festive kind. The wet, aty kind.
My face went pale, and my knees buckled like an old lawn chair.
The bursts...
It wasn’t fireworks.
It wasn’t party poppers.
It was...
Erect’s and Sexis’ heads.
Gone.
Just like that.
My throat tightened as the realization hit . My two only friends, the only idiots who were dumb enough to stand by in this hellhole...
Erect and Sexis...
Died.
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