The Case of The Missing Hamster: Part Two

 

The Second Bit:  Don’t go near the fruit.

 

 

“You drug taking, perverted, wee malicious, perverted, chain smoking, self-abusing, perverted, degenerate, six inch tall, perverted, fruit molesting, psychotic perverted wee little perverted bastard of an Homunculus, Humphrey.”

“Did you really have to use the word ‘perverted’ so many times in that sentence Faustus?” Pete said.  Pete.  My business partner.  Half Angel, half Daemon, half human.  Don’t get hung up on the maths.  He looks like an anorexic pipe cleaner.  He’s too nice for his own good.  Apart from when he pulls some Goon’s head off. Then he’s useful.

“Did you see what the Dirty Little Pervert did to the fruit bowl?” I said, throwing a smoke out of the car’s window.   “Did you?  You didn’t, did you?”

“Ohhh.  That reminds me.”  Pete reached into his pocket and took out a pear.  “I brought some fruit for the journey.”  He took a big juicy bite from the pear, dabbing at the juice on his chin with a hankie.  “The fruit tastes fine.  I don’t know why you electrified the fruit bowl in the first place.”  He munched away at his pear.

“I did that because the Dirty Little Pervert has been drilling holes into the fruit again and shagging it.”  True.  I did wait until he’d finished the pair before I said it.  “He says it never once asked him to stop.”

There was a short period of time, while Pete threw up.  I may have smirked and smoked at the same time.  Humphrey may have begged to be let out of the glove box.  I ignored him.

Humphrey is a… problem.  He is technically… family.  My Son.  Technically as I gave birth to the little bastard, through my nose as the result of a nasty little run in with a Research Wizard.  Sort who’d break the Universe just to see how it worked.  I couldn’t get rid of him.  No matter how many times I post him off to people, he finds his way home.

And then he discovered the Interweb.

They let any Pervert on there.  Strange to think that he’s not even nearly the worst.

And that was the reason we were in the Arse End of England, surrounded by fucking trees, green stuff on the floor and bushes with flower in them.  County.  Chocolate Box Britain.  Not a decent alley to hide in anywhere.

All because Humphrey wanted to get laid and had offered our services to a Dame.

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