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Whumptober 2024 Day 7: Unconventional Weapon
No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES
Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."
248 words, Ginger & the 666, WW2-era
“Well,” said “Ferocity” Ferris, with a certain sense of finality. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a pack of errant nonsense in my entire life.”
“You weren’t here for the bloodworm lilies, then,” commented Taffy with a ironic lilt. He turned to Ginger, who had just finished yet another unlikely tale of their adventures with Doctor Duck. “Though he does have a point, like.” He lit a cigarette as Ginger sputtered in irritation.
“The chances of any chap being deathly allergic to bananas seems miniscule to begin with,” agreed Bertie Lissie, who had wandered in halfway through the story and stayed around out of morbid curiosity. He had taken up a position behind Ginger’s armchair, his forearms resting against the high back, monocle firmly screwed in place. “But for a thrown specimen to nail him right in the teeth… it does beggar belief just a little.”
“You’ve no imagination, the lot of you,” sneered Ginger. He took a sip from his cup of coffee and winced. “Anyway, Algy’ll back me up.”
“Lacey would back you up if you told us the sky was green with pink polka-dots,” said Bertie, with some amusement. “Doesn’t signify, eh?”
Ginger rolled his eyes, then perked up slightly. “You’ve just reminded me – did I ever tell you all about the time–?”
The alarm cut off whatever story Ginger had been about to tell. Taffy held in a sigh of relief - he enjoyed Ginger’s stories, but they really were best served in moderation.
Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."
248 words, Ginger & the 666, WW2-era
“Well,” said “Ferocity” Ferris, with a certain sense of finality. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a pack of errant nonsense in my entire life.”
“You weren’t here for the bloodworm lilies, then,” commented Taffy with a ironic lilt. He turned to Ginger, who had just finished yet another unlikely tale of their adventures with Doctor Duck. “Though he does have a point, like.” He lit a cigarette as Ginger sputtered in irritation.
“The chances of any chap being deathly allergic to bananas seems miniscule to begin with,” agreed Bertie Lissie, who had wandered in halfway through the story and stayed around out of morbid curiosity. He had taken up a position behind Ginger’s armchair, his forearms resting against the high back, monocle firmly screwed in place. “But for a thrown specimen to nail him right in the teeth… it does beggar belief just a little.”
“You’ve no imagination, the lot of you,” sneered Ginger. He took a sip from his cup of coffee and winced. “Anyway, Algy’ll back me up.”
“Lacey would back you up if you told us the sky was green with pink polka-dots,” said Bertie, with some amusement. “Doesn’t signify, eh?”
Ginger rolled his eyes, then perked up slightly. “You’ve just reminded me – did I ever tell you all about the time–?”
The alarm cut off whatever story Ginger had been about to tell. Taffy held in a sigh of relief - he enjoyed Ginger’s stories, but they really were best served in moderation.
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