Just Another Chav Town Freak Out by Al Calm (best mystery novels of all time txt) 📖

Right, so that's what the box is for. I really need to drink but I draw the line at piss. Even though I've had my fair share of golden showers, I reckon I can blag some water out of my captors. I pretend to have a fit. I'm hoping there's a camera. To my luck there is! A midget, looking like NikNak spliced with Beaker the muppet with some dodgy perm, appears from some trapdoor and gives me some water. He also wipes my butt with some sort of surgical wipe. I didn't ask him to do that. Anyway, I gulp the water down and get a really good rush, a familiar one: damn, they've gone and spiked my water with crystal meth! That's a weird one. And a rare freebie. But it's kinda weird.

Yeah, the next part is really weird because NikNak brings a suitcase out of his trapdoor and starts to offer me clothes. Like, random retro clothes, tracksuits, jeans, some tight fighting leathers. I opt for the tracksuit, it's cool - but I can't help nicking the leathers for later on. Who knows what might happen? They just might be useful. I might be able to sell them. I'm sure I'm thinking slow, that freaky NikNak pretends not to notice the slowest five finger discount ever. But we both laugh, though I don't know why. I don't know shit, I don't even know where I am. It's a nice feeling, at times. Yeah, NikNak likes a party, NikNak is pumping some tribal beats I don't know what it is, but it's loud and heavy and goes all industrial now and again.

NIkNak plays anything I want to hear to help me burn off some crazy energy. NikNak turns off the lights and monitors appear all around the room. He's got porno on every screen. It's mute. He wants to party and starts trying to dance like Michael Flatley cloned with Cab Calloway. So we're burning off steam, I won't go into the weird bit where he sorta lap dances for me and I pole dance for him. Not now, maybe later. I don't want to think about it. 

Yeah anyway, during 'Construction Time Again', I finally try to sleep, my body can't take no more - but I can't sleep. Can't get no sleep? Sounds familiar alright! Wouldn’t mind a bit of Faithless, or 808 State, I dig those vibes. I'm not strong enough to knock myself out, I want to dance forever. But NikNak gets a phone call on a tiny mobile phone. It's a really quick call. He grunts down it and bows.

"Come on, mooster dick, come", he chirps to me in his NikNak lilt

"Where man? Tell me where, little man?"

"You moost phallow me und not ask too moony quizztions. Litten. Litten. Liz und Willy have expluned it all. Litten fren, you litten?" NikNik laughs, flouncing his afro.

"Shit, you're not NikNak, you're fucking NikNakWillow? Where those cute little fairies? Where they go? I love everything man!!!"

It's at this point NikNak pistol whips me with his Desert Eagle. Fuck! The nasty little fucker! Yeah, he's tough for a little retro turd. My nose is fucked; this midget has fucked me nose. He really fucked me up. I can count myself among the many who get taken down by angry little dudes. Shit. I'm a sucker for pain, it can't get enough of me and helps me sleep. I fight it and NikNak is just smirking at me. 

Seriously, I'm usually kinda tough, not in a Bruce Lee or a Vinnie Jones - even a Steven Seagal - tough way. More sort've Danny Dyer tough. A bit cheeky, but can be beaten, though it's kinda rare. OK, not that rare for me! But I have to think of myself as a little tougher than normal, it's ninety percent in the head. P.M.A. I think I haven't mixed it up with something else, it's different from P.M.S. right? Got to watch P.M.M.A tripping. NikNak's just lucky I wasn't sharper. That's only a cheapshot. I'm crying at this point and my eyes go all blurry. I do actually need some real water. 

Yeah, I should mention I've built up strong arm muscles due to intensive Navy SEAL exercises. Although, it's not as fun as masturbating or having lots of sex. You know that perfect domestic regime of when you're not having sex, you're masturbating; and when you're not masturbating, you're having sex. Lots of it, hopefully. But I think of Melissa again and curse that Goofball fuckup. I'm thinking I can't remember Chip Girl's number either. That's just my fucking luck when things go black again. Got Stones in me head, Paint It Black with Rockwell's Detroit. I love that vibe!

I can't help all this shit, but I proper blacked out. Whatta fucking pain! I just blacked out for a bit, mind you. I kinda got trapped in my own mind for what seemed like ages, some bubblebrain vibes from cosmocentral. I'll think nothing of it in the morning. Yeah, I might be dead but I'll see birds like Roger Rabbit and dream of fucking Jessica Rabbit .

><  ><                              ><                    >< 

There's the birds, I didn't see any stars. Those super stars were a bit old. I did dream about fucking Jessica Rabbit, though.   

The weird thing is, I'm slowly coming round a day or two later, who knows when, and I'm in a car. A fucking massive car! I'm being taken somewhere. OK, that's kinda obvious - but this piece of shit's going so slow. There's some cloaked man in the back of the car. It's all dark as it's the thing badass fuckers do! It's a stretch hearst of some kind. NikNak is there with some syringe guns -  the kind you see in cheapo sci-fi flicks, that's a pretty cool scare tactic. I didn't flinch. I drooled way too much, then I vomited over myself. NikNak says something I can't hear and the cloaked man just goes:

"Well done Lothario, you've done well", the cloaked man manages to hiss.

"Thonks mooster! Thonk you mooster! I do plan fifty-fifty now?"

Shit! Lothario bumlicks hard.

"Yes, Lothario. Take him back to my parliament dungeon apartment. Tell them we have another nosy private eye trying to capture the Goofball Celebrity Cannibal. Remind them, Lothario, it's the only way the politicians can get control of things again. By killing all celebrities and the turdy culture that goes with it.The Goofball will not fail, Lothario. He's well trained and I'll get him immunity." 

Lothario nods at all this, looking excited, getting really turned on by the wannabe Hooded Claw's imitation Simon Cowell prattle.

That's when I think: private eye? Me? No way! They got that really fucking wrong. I couldn't say anything though, nothing to correct them, apart from a lewd looking tongue wriggle. That's not a cool thing to do to ruthless powerful capitalist motherfuckers. It really meant another long sleep in knockoutland for me.

I think my eyes open up. Just a bit. Everything's still blurry - kinda like Fellini vision. I sweat like a Gorilla's balls. Fine. Nothing new there! Shit, where am I again? It's not that weird - being spaced in a dungeon is so 90s. I've been here before: I remember the midget, the crazy politician and all the dungeon shit. Shit, now fucking way! I'm in some dungeon banquet hall now though. People somewhere else in the dungeon hell hole are screaming, getting paddled, clamped, strangled and electrocuted. 

I look around some more and clock the place is a fuck fest! Fucking cool as fuck! Loads of weird movie extra looking goths are all going for the BDSM Olympics or something. I want to tell them that the film wrapped time ago, I just wave at them - but they just ignore me, it's as if they're just not interested in me. Probably think I'm some rough chav fucker who'll give them herpes. Fuck, even though I dig Super American Rabbit more, I bet they can smell the pure Captain America vibes on me man!Those Captain America pills were not that strong in the end - they weren't bad though!

Shit dudes, my wasted instincts always had an idea that this kinda thing goes on under Parliament! Talk about spot on! Knew some mothership connection vibes. It really is just one big club! I should've tried to crash this place earlier! I can hear that Knife party tune remix, yeah the Prototypes bootleg. What a banger! But I can’t get into the vibe, I got to keep cool. I scan the room again, just looking for someone I know. Hangers on are global man! Serious business, the hanging on thing. We're in the age of the entourage. OK, I  really want to join in, even if I'm still real sore. I slowly think I've been set up. I don't know what made me think all para.

I can just remember that Goofball's a government freak on a leash. It has to be a wind-up! A fucking government controlled cannibal who only eats celebs. Someone's got their files mixed up. There's probably a joke in there somewhere! Goofball wants to be famous too, he's probably said shit about his celeb status dream - he's one crazy fucker!

I sure don't know Goofball - I boxed him up and that's that! My bad! Shit, how can you tell when someone's really fucked up? I know, there's no escaping it - I got to ring Melissa again. She's really going to blame me. And I'll want to fuck her even more if she starts crying. She's really down to earth and a real good sort. Even if she does fuck around a lot more than she likes to admit. She might really kick off at me though. I can't handle direct confrontation vibes man. 

I'm waking up a bit more, and I try not to think too much about all that sorta shit. I keep thinking, as I look around, that this looks like a serious party. '9AM Acid Trip' playing from somewhere else, and there's other little rooms playing different types of music - from reggae to cheesy commercial house - and showing loads of porn from all over the world. Probably where all the big decisions get made! I dig the soft furnishings too.

It's a nice touch to have bowls of pure cocaine and whatever else you can get, scattered around the place - real handy near the big soft cushions. Wicked Kush there, Super Polm there.  Even got squidgy black. This place is fucking heaven. Just need Brockie and Det to turn up then it really will be banging! I sink into a cushion. You know the type of cushions? The kind you see in a Bob Marley chillout area in a club. The whole place looks like it. They're all getting loaded. And I need a good smoke just to focus my mind a bit. But the bowl of coke will do for now.

There's another bowl of the worst shit ever - probably cut with everything from talcum powder to rat poison and the BDSM goth people are shovelling it up, in loadsa ways - shooting it, snorting it, hooting it, even blowing it up their arses with straws - they ignore me with the bowl of pure coke. I hope some of that Mexican H is knocking around here, but I'm kinda weirded out. They probably know it's decent coke. I wonder if these freebies are priced