Personal Literary Archaeology, Part II

For more explanation see Part I.

Erik turned the car's stereo up a little louder and pushed the gas pedal down hard. This was the last delivery of the night. Once he got rid of this pizza he would be free for three whole days. And what glorious days they would be! The science fiction channel was going to be broadcasting seventy two straight hours of Doctor Who episodes. A bunch of the other fen were going to come to his place and they were going to have a marathon viewing session. Of course there would be times when he would have to go to the bathroom or something, but that was okay, he was going to tape the whole thing. He had a fresh box of video tapes on the seat next to him for that express purpose. He grinned in anticipation and wished the night could be over. As if in answer to his prayers he spotted the address he was looking for. He grabbed the delivery bag and hopped out, pausing only to make sure that the celery on his lapel was at the right angle. You never know when you might meet an attractive femme fen. He was almost to the door when a noise made him turn and look to his left. "Pardon me," said a deep gravelly voice, "but I think your boutonniere is wilting. Allow me to provide you with a new one." Then there was a twang and he felt an impact in his chest. He looked down. A green bolt which appeared to be made of frozen celery was sticking out from between his ribs. His strength left him and he slumped to the ground. "Why?" he asked. "There can be only one," was all the answer he ever got.

To be continued.

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