New Series

Episode 1

The steel grey eyes narrowed agaist the oncoming snow, patiently watching for his target. The sound of crunching footsteps came towards him as he crouched among the snow drifts. From out of the blizzard appeared two dark figures, the AK74s slung across their backs. The waiting man braced himself for action and cocked his blunderbus.
"Come and get it you pair of b*stards," he muttered under his breath, smiling in anticipation of a kill. The figures were level with him when he struck like a cobra, blasting one of the men in the chest, before spinning towards the other and despatching him with a smack from the butt of the blunderbus, square in the face. The man lay clutching his nose in agony but was soon quieted by a solid stamp from a brown, leather riding boot complete with silver spurs.
The kill was satisfying and the man smiled and reloaded his blunderbus with great care and fondness.
"Lets move to the next one shall we Mable," the man said fondly to his blunderbus, and walked into the blizzard. The man wouldn't rest till the job was complete, and a man like Colonel Pimperton Smythe would always finish a job, or die trying.


Colonel Pimperton Smythe reached into his pocket and grabbed some prozac tabs, tipped his head back and dropped the prozac into his gaping mouth as he did so he tripped and dropped mable who went off and Colonel Pimperton Smythe copped 8oz of assorted scrap metal just behind his right ear, he promptly died. The End.
Colonel Pimperton Smythe awoke with a start, cold sweat dripping from his finely trimmed moustache. He often had nightmares about his own death but he'd never died at the hands of his trusty Mable.
He got out of his four poster bed and slipped on his burgandy smoking jacket. It was a Sunday morning and he had no need to dress today, for the killing would resume tomorrow.
He glided down the stairs via the banister which he did every morning. It was the only exercise the Colonel got these days, apart from all the shagging of course. His latest conquest, a fifteen stone trollop from the local pub, had left late last night nursing very sore kidneys.
The colonel sat in his favourite armchair by the window overlooking his garden rifle range. He rumaged in his pocket and got out his pipe and cherry tobacco. He lit it and drew in a satisfying lungful of smokey cherry goodness.
"I wonder which horrible creature I'll come home with tonight," he muttered to himself, and laughed a hearty laugh. He had something special up his smoking jacket sleeve for tonights lady.

TO BE CONTINUED..................
Episode 3

Meanwhile on the road outside, Fred Blekinsop, 53 was driving an articulated tanker filled with sulphuric acid. Unfortunately at that very moment Fred's heart gave out, and as he spasmed in agony he inadvertently turned the wheel to the left, sending his lovely new Scania, and 35,000 litres of sulphuric acid crashing through the Colonels garden and straight into the lounge where the Colonel sat.

Lying under the rear axle of the lorry, the Colonel looked down at his shattered legs, which were thankfully hidden by the massive tyres. Just then the Colonel felt something dripping onto his head, then it started to burn....

As more and more acid dripped onto the Colonels now fleshless skull, his last thoughts were of his priceless oriental rug which was about to be ruined.

The end.
And then I gang raped his acidic corpse with the help of my multiple personalities.

Colonel Pimperton Smythe was so startled by the loud crash that he nearly dropped his pipe. He crossed to the bay window at the front of the house and peered out. He could see the back end of a large tanker poking out from the house across the road. It was the home of another retired Colonel called Sminky Pinky Jones.
"Better go and see what's what," Pimperton Smythe said, and went to an antique rosewood desk in the corner and pulled an old Webley revolver from one of the drawers. He slipped on a pair of mohair moccasins and opened the front door. He crossed the road quickly and entered the house of Sminky Pinky Jones. He could see old Jonesy was done for as his flesh had been totally eaten away by the acid, all apart from one of his nipples.
Pimperton Smythe could see the tanker driver writhing in agony in the cab of the truck so he opened the door and put the driver out of his misery with a clean shot from the Webley.
He then crouched next to the acid eaten corpse of sminky and plucked the nipple from the ribcage and slipped it into the pocket of his smoking jacket.
"That'll do for lunch," he said to himself and grinned as he crossed the road to his house.

MORE TO COME..................

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