Cozy Moscow


Cozy Moscow


Cozy Moscow

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Fred Thornton had always loved cozy Moscow with its tasteless, thirsty tunnels. It was a place where he felt anxious.

He was a stupid, hilarious, port drinker with dirty abs and pretty moles. His friends saw him as a high, horrible hero. Once, he had even saved a squiggled old man that was stuck in a drain. That’s the sort of man he was.

Fred walked over to the window and reflected on his grey surroundings. The sleet rained like boating cats.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Toby Connor. Toby was a remarkable brute with solid abs and greasy moles.

Fred gulped. He was not prepared for Toby.

As Fred stepped outside and Toby came closer, he could see the tense smile on his face.

“Look Fred,” growled Toby, with a sweet glare that reminded Fred of remarkable ostriches. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want justice. You owe me 5531 gold pieces.”

In fact, there were three things about this encounter that worried Fred: one – it hadn’t happened in front of all his buddies; two– it didn’t involve any giant mollusks, despite what you might be thinking from Toby’s amazing body odor and thirdly – Toby was carrying a huge and dangerous club.

This thing looked ancient enough to have been used by the Norse gods themselves.

The day would come when that mighty hunk of wood was going to make fun of Toby’s hairless dome.

Fred trembled at the thought, yet Toby seemed so relaxed and confident that it only made matters worse. This situation really needed a few beers to diffuse it before he got killed and set into the ground just as an entrance for a tunnel network.

He didn’t even know why he still lived. Was it because he wanted to prove himself? Or did he enjoy it too much to stop, or possibly both?

Fred wondered how many other people shared these feelings. Not very, probably. They either grew up and decided to settle down and become important or they simply gave up completely. And then the world was filled with boring, mean-spirited idiots who ate potatoes instead of beefburgers.

Who went out into space instead of searching for hidden treasure, like they should have done all along. Why shouldn’t people eat food anyway? They weren’t humans anymore; they were vegetables! But no matter. That wasn’t what bothered Fred so much. It was that feeling inside him that told him he was never going back…

Toby leaned across and hugged Fred tight. He smelled of sweat and roast chicken. It actually tasted quite nice in comparison.

“… and you are so hard to get dear Fred…” he whispered while his sausage fingers roamed over Fred’s chest.

Fred stiffened. Then suddenly, it became very clear to Fred what was wrong here. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Fred was meant to fight for survival, dignity, and self-respect. So he gave Toby exactly what he deserved.

It only took a few moments before he heard the crunching sound of Toby’s ribs breaking under the blow. Then Fred fell backward onto the filthy floor and watched as a large pink mole creature climbed up on top of Toby like a crescent moon being pushed off the edge of a circle. At this point, the demon lets go of Toby’s arms and legs.

Fred couldn’t see anything past its mammoth feet and low neckline. Its black, ugly head reached downwards until it touched the ground again, allowing Fred some idea of its size.

And the size it was! On a side view, you would have seen a narrow body curling round like an amphora, thick muscles moving underneath the skin and making the surface smooth. Finally, there were the thighs, which were so wide apart and long that the demon resembled nothing more than a fat octopus sitting on a pole.

It twisted slightly, turning right towards Fred, making sure that its massive claws hung over each other like fat men waiting in line to ride the roller coaster. Only once every inch was covered in the sand could it stand upright. Even so, it barely looked stable, its tail lashing left and right, threatening to dislodge it from its perch.

Even at such close range, the demon didn’t seem intimidating at all. There was something really disgusting and pathetic about it, which probably accounted for Fred’s newfound resolve. He realized that fighting this creature had helped to cool his anger; maybe it was his new perspective on life. Maybe it wasn’t just about killing him, it was also about giving his own bloodcurdling screams as he died a slow, painful death.

Fred closed in with determination. Toby backed away until his hand reached the massive weapon strapped to his back. Then Toby turned around and walked slowly away. A minute later, the giant slug disappeared through the mouth hole. Fred could hear it slurp loudly while the dirt blocked its escape route.

Soon after, he heard heavy footsteps that caused the earth beneath Fred to shake violently and fall down into the pit, creating a small cloud of dust.

Despite being unsure of whether it was good news, Fred felt relief wash over his entire body. Yet it didn’t last long before he realized what this might mean: the whole place was going to collapse. If the land had supported Toby, it certainly wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of two tonnes of dead muscle and fat.

Fred quickly started counting. His stomach churned at the prospect. It had taken them almost three hours to find the mine tunnels, but it only took another couple of seconds for his mind to process how long it would take him to reach the end of it.

Fred did not believe that there was anything to protect him, except for perhaps some sort of metal bars protecting the entrance to a secret cellar. The soil looked loose enough that the demon could dig a hole straight down and pull him down with ease. Would his friends come running to help, if only they knew where the opening was?

No—there was no one to rely on any longer. No one would help him. All Fred could do now was wait and hope he woke up before the cavern collapsed.

Toby didn’t show signs of returning within minutes. So Fred stood cautiously in front of the doorway. How deep would it go? Could the ground swallow him whole if he went too fast or moved back too far? Was there a safety net below to catch the air, should he make a mistake and dive right into the pit?

Fred approached carefully, ready to jump back to avoid the dirt and loose stones sliding out from under him. Although he tried not to look too closely at the ground, he still managed to step directly into a patch of damp leaves, spreading their cold juices all over his leg and foot.

Fred immediately leaped back a meter, managing to keep himself from slipping and falling on top of the demon’s corpse, but it soon became clear that this was futile.

A wave of nausea surged through him, leaving him dizzy and shivering. His heart threatened to stop beating, the blood drained from his face and cheeks, and he realized he had gone completely numb.

Something hot suddenly shot through his veins. Fearing the worst, he clenched both hands tightly and forced them through his hair, trying to clear his head of thoughts that shouldn’t even exist. And then—it passed without causing further damage to Fred, whose energy was already fading along with his desire for life.

He hoped his next steps would bring him closer to freedom. However, Fred felt certain that he’d made his last mistake when he stepped off a rock, which cracked under his feet. As if feeling his pain, the sound of rocks crumbling echoed through the dark corridor.

Suddenly, the dirt fell down onto Fred’s head and shoulders, throwing him backward. This time he tumbled into the darkness, lying flat on his back. At least the void stopped pulling him further, stopping him halfway between heaven and hell.

After spending several seconds in a state of panic, Fred got up, hoping he hadn’t hit his head against the wall. The sudden shift of gravity disoriented him more than ever before, and for the first five meters, his hand kept pressing against something solid, which alleviated a little of his worry.

But eventually, the walls turned into soft clay mud, the soil dug out by the colossal feet of the monster that he found buried beside him. His hopes dwindled with each breath as the ceiling grew lower and darker.

For a moment, he forgot the way outside the cave. Fear returned full force, taking Fred by surprise and paralyzing his muscles. Not yet. I’m not dead yet! With an effort, he focused on breathing calmly and regularly, which helped to stabilize his heartbeat and stop his racing mind from thinking of terrible possibilities.

When he finally caught sight of light, however, Fred was so tired he couldn’t see where it was coming from. Slowly his eyelids lifted to reveal a narrow slit above him. And standing in the middle of the shaft were four people, looking straight at him.

At once, Fred recognized Misha. “Are you alive? Are you okay?”

The boy stared straight into Fred’s eyes, his worried expression slowly turning to anger. “Don’t get up,” he yelled fiercely.

“What about my parents?” Fred asked feebly, barely able to move his lips.

Without answering Fred, Misha’s friend stared intently at him for a moment before speaking again. “We’ve brought your father.”

The others pulled Fred out of the tunnel, his legs unsteady from shock. He instinctively tried to grab hold of his brother’s shirt, but just as quickly let go when the weight came crashing down on his left arm. From somewhere behind him he heard a sharp crack, followed shortly thereafter by another loud snap, which seemed strangely familiar.

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