Friday McDaniels and the Case of the Missing Nutsack

Part 12: Into The Ground-pt 2

Friday’s vision blurred—flickered. For a moment he was encompassed in black, the only sensory thing was the pounding of his heart, and a white hot fire burning in his chest.  He came to with a metal yardstick in hand, ramming it into the thick glass of the gumball machine. Blood ran from his hands from the metal cutting into his flesh. A crack in the surface emerged. He took another swing, the crack elongating.           

"Enough!" Candystripe’s voice cracked the air.

The yard stick ripped from his hand and clatter to the floor at Sir Candystripe's feet. Candystripe threw a hand out. Friday’s throat closed. He pawed at it, but there was nothing holding there. Just the jeering, cackling face of Candystripe, his hand balled in a fist choking him from 30 feet away. Panic settled deep in Friday’s stomach and he fought to preserve what was left of his courage. Friday could hear a distant noise coming from inside the gumball machine—cracking glass, pounding. These sounds were starting to fade little by little. A timer went off somewhere. Where had he put his knife?        

A force hit him from his left side as the gumball machine burst open. A spray of glass, gumballs, and Wednesday came down on top of him and he fell to the floor. A yell pierced the air and the pressure lifted from Friday's throat. He sprawled out several feet away, awash on a sea of rolling gumballs. Above him and to his right he saw the blade of his knife gleaming in the light glow of the oven. He got to his feet and sprang for it, slipping on the gumballs. He regained his footing, took the knife, and stood. Wednesday got to his feet mere inches from Candystripe who held the stolen nut sack in his hands, letting it dangle from his fingertips as he smiled.

Friday reared his hand back, pressing the blade between his thumb and forefinger. He cast a steely gaze upon the swinging sack dangling from Sir Candystripe's fingers. He flung the knife, watching with bated breath as it tore the sack from the fiend's grasp and stuck itself in the wall adjacent. Wednesday lunged Sir Candystripe. He landed his shoulder into the man's chest, knocking the breath from his lungs and sending him to the floor. Friday let out his breath and started for the nut sack when Candystripe sprang from the floor and pushed his hands out towards the brothers, sending them flying backward, Friday into the hot brick of the fireplace and Wednesday into the tiered caked.

"No!" Candystripe yelled as his creation tore into pieces and fell in messy crumbs over top Wednesday. Friday struggled to his feet, his arms burning from the oven door, his head throbbing. Candystripe pulled the sack from the wall, took the rolling pin from the floor, and smashed the sack in one quick movement. Friday held his breath.

The wicked smile faded from Candystripe's face as the magic from the sack failed to burst forth. Wednesday, with no clue of the magic, yelled in protest. Friday went to him, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay." he said, then, when seeing the look of confusion on his brother's face, "I'll explain later.

Friday pulled out his phone and dialed Sargeant Brandt’s number. Just as the phone rang, Candystripe burst into flames. He disappeared into a thick cloud of smoke and the two brothers watched as it floated up and through the exhaust fan.

"What the hell was that?" Wednesday said.       

Friday closed his phone and put it back into his pocket. He put his arm around Wednesday and led him out of the room, “Let’s get you out of here.”