|You've got such a-peel
October 15 2001 at 11:37 AM
|Harbinger of Death
|“This sucks!” Aquillea grumbled. “We
are level TWO Debs. We shouldn’t be peeling grapes.”
“You know there aren’t any active Level Ones,” replied Aquila.
Channdrah sighed. “It still doesn’t seem fair.”
“Since when is Deb U fair?” asked Faith Ayn. “Its very principles are based on an ‘anything goes’ philosophy.”
“If you can call debauchery a principle,” countered Thalia.
“Well, this still sucks.” Aquillea tossed another grape into the barrel.
“You people are pessimists,” said Roiche. “You fail to realize that soon our bosses will be in the afterlife, and we can abandon this drudgery in their absence.”
“You’ve been hanging around with axman too much,” said Channdrah.
“Yeah,” said FaithAyn. “You sound just like him. Or at least you’re trying to use big words like him.”
“He doesn’t use big words. He uses little sharp ones that poke holes in your argument and your ego. It’s an admirable practice.”
“ALL of you shut up.” At that last voice, which was entirely unfamiliar, the girls did just that, looking around to see who said it. They were amazed to see that it was a big giant grape, probably seven feet tall, and it was looking extremely ticked.
“What do you think you’re doing?” it asked angrily, pointed to their hands, where partially-skinned grapes lay.
“Uh…just doing our jobs…” Aquila said, trembling.
“You’re mangling my brothers!”
“We’re sorry!!” Thalia squeaked.
“It’s too late for sorry,” the grape thundered, and several more like him appeared behind him. They were all equally enraged. “We are going to do to you what you Debs have done to us for generations.” They brandished knives, and each one grabbed a screaming, kicking Level Two. In moments, six skinless bodies were tossed into the barrel. Their blood mingled with the juice of the fruits beneath them to make a potent wine.