Freddy Runs The Voodoo Down / PublishDrive (ePub)

Being a freelance villain is a boomand bust business, and Freddy has seen a lot of banks go boom since he survivedRed Rhino's drive-by. Now known as "e;Mr. Big Stuff,"e; Freddy is finallymaking a name for himself. But all is not well in Old Polly's underworld. IfFreddy wants to survive, he's going to have to make nice with the bloodthirstybosozoku and outsmart a monster that can read his mind.~~~~~Excerpt ~~~~~Howard opened the backpack. What hepulled out resembled a clear plastic blow dryer. The handle was oversized andhis fingers slid into rubbery grooves that made his hand flush with the edges.Inside the blow dryer were all sorts of plastic gears and compartments, most ofthe chamber filled with a dull yellow liquid. Hung from the handle was a glossymaroon bag, and by the way the bag sloshed Freddy could tell it was also fullof liquid."e;What is that?"e;Howard stroked the plastic. "e;Youknow how your farts are bad, but bearable, but other people's farts are justterrible?"e;Freddy eyed the plastic gun warily. "e;Yeah?"e;"e;It has a lot to do with biology."e;Howard squeezed the bag. "e;Withenough base enzymes and raw proteins you can produce all sorts of effects. Takefor instance this gun. I made it as a way to relax after all the scramblers we'vebeen through this month. They're not as easy to make as you think they are."e;"e;I got a demand and I'm filling it,"e;said Freddy. "e;It was your brightidea."e;"e;I made this to unwind,"e; saidHoward. He pulled the gun and bag all the way out of the backpack and trailed ablack cord from the back of the round chamber. "e;It can't run on its own poweryet so it plugs into the wall. But what it does..."e; He wrapped his fingersaround the rubber chutes. "e;Isscan your DNA. When it gets something it can work with, you pull the trigger."e;Howard tapped the thick purple button at the apex of the handle. "e;And it converts the chemicals insidethe bag to a gas that is relatively inoffensive to the user."e;"e;You made a fart gun,"e; said Freddy.Howard grinned madly."e;That's not possible."e;"e;I'm a genius,"e; said Howard. Hissincerity was always touching.They studied the thick plastic inHoward's hand as he turned it over and the water and casing caught the sparselights of the apartment. The glossy bag shined. "e;So are you having a good time?"e;he asked."e;I'm having a perfectly reasonablegood time,"e; said Freddy. He studied the gun with refreshed curiosity."e;Cool,"e; said Howard. He took theblack cord and plugged it into the wall. He passed the gun over to Freddy.Freddy put his beer down and took the gun by the handle. His fingers slid intothe rubber grooves and he felt the plastic vibrate pleasantly in his palm."e;Pardon me!"e; said Freddy. Thecrowded room turned with expectation. The ones wedged into the kitchen nook andoutside on the patio leaned in to get a look at him."e;Point it at the ceiling,"e; whisperedHoward. He pulled a gas mask out of his backpack and quickly strapped it overhis head."e;Um,"e; said Freddy. "e;Oh, hell."e; He thrust the gun aloft and depressed the trigger. Athick, olive fog pounded the ceiling with the hiss of a bagpipe full of cottagecheese. It chased the partygoers like a phantom, filling the apartment,flowing, gushing its way into the kitchen nook and every other human cranny itcould fill. Women shrieked. Men clambered over each other to escape. Thickfraternity brothers who might have tackled Freddy otherwise tore in theopposite direction from the pervading odor they would remember as worse than askunk, worse than an outhouse after a week of Finals and fast food. It sank tothe floor, it inhabited their clothes.Howard was at Freddy's side,laughing into the gas mask like a hysterical mosquito.