It was the height of the summer season in Mablethorpe … and why were there human bones on the floor of the Dunes Family Leisure Complex?
My name is Detective Inspector Snake Wolfbane of the Mablethorpe Holiday Police Constabulary. I’d had a busy morning giving tourists directions, letting pregnant women piss in my hat and telling people the time when I got a call through on my police radio.
“Snake?”
It was Sergeant Chips Monroe of the Mablethorpe Holiday Police Constabulary. He was calling from Mablethorpe Holiday Police Constabulary HQ.
“Yeah?” I answered with my deep, manly voice.
“Snake, it’s Chips,” said Chips. “We’ve had a call come in from Vern Bottoms over at the Dunes …”
“Let me guess,” I interrupted. “The toilet company hasn’t shown up again and there are no soap cakes in the men’s urinals. He wants me to lean on ‘em, yes?”
“I’m afraid not, Snake,” Chips said, gravely. “Vern’s found a pile of human bones on the dance floor of the Banana Lounge and Grillette.”
“Human bones? Is he sure they’re human?”
We’d recently had an infestation of feral terriers. They’d been the bane of the Mablethorpe Butchers’ Guild’s life for months until they were caught and gassed by the RSPCA. For the whole of the spring warm-up season, there wasn’t an hour went by without a Jack Russell or an Airedale running down Mablethorpe Parade with a string of sausages in its mouth, chased by a furious, pink-faced man in a red and white apron.
Cannon and Ball had cancelled their show and an angry group of disappointed pensioners had led an assault on Mablethorpe Dog’s Home in an act of bloody revenge. We were still finding hind legs and noses on the beach two months on.
“You’re thinking the dogs are back?”
“That’s my thinking, Chips,” I replied. “If they’ve got in the bins behind Barrington’s, they could have easily dragged bones into the Banana Lounge and Grillette.”
“I’m afraid not. Vern says there’s skulls, Snake,” Chips said. “Human skulls.”
“I’M ON IT!” I roared, jumping in the Lagonda, firing the beast up and tearing hell-for-leather at a hundred miles per hour along the Promenade towards the Dunes.
* * *
“I can’t have another scandal, Snake,” Vern told me as he led me through the Spinners Gaming Area towards the Banana Lounge and Grillette. “Since Jimmy Cricket flipped out and took the Carradoes and Henry the Dog hostage, takings have been down twenty percent. Punters are scared, Snake, they’re damn scared.”
Jimmy Cricket was now locked away safely in a mental asylum.
“Well let’s just hope you’re wrong about these bones, Vern,” I said.
He wasn’t wrong.
On the dance floor of the Banana Lounge and Grillette were the remains of two adult humans. Bloody lumps of flesh still clung to the bones. I knelt down, put on my special police gloves and picked up a femur.
“Are these … teeth marks?”
“Good God!” Vern staggered back, clutching at his chest. He’d already had thirty seven heart attacks because he drank like a chimney. “You don’t mean …?”
“Cannibals,” I muttered. “We’ve got cannibals in Mablethorpe.”
“Shit!”
* * *
“Cannibals?” cried Dagger Harrington, my Chief Superintendent, when I informed him of my discovery. “Here, in Mablethorpe?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” I replied, gravely.
“Dear Christ, Wolfbane! What the hell are cannibals doing here? This isn’t Skegness!”
“I wish it wasn’t true, sir, but I’m afraid there’s no doubt about it. Bones McClackers has been down to have a look and he confirms the remains are cannibalised human bones.”
Bones McClackers was Mablethorpe Holiday Police Constabulary’s chief medical examiner.
“Damn it,” Harrington muttered. “And in the Banana Lounge and Grillette, no less. Christ, Snake, it’s not even been a year since Jimmy Cricket went mad and kidnapped The Carradoes and Henry the Dog. This could kill the Dunes Family Leisure Complex stone-dead. Overall income for the town could fall by twelve and a half percent over the summer fiscal quarter.”
“I know, sir,” I replied. “And what’s worse is Chas from Chas ‘n’ Dave was due to play there tonight. He’s a guaranteed money-spinner for the Lounge and now Vern’s had to cancel. He reckons this could be the final nail in the Grillette Family Evening Carvery Buffet coffin.”
“What? You mean …?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” I glowered. “Unless we can clear up this cannibalism problem quickly, you can wave goodbye to the £8.99 all-you-can-eat beef, turkey and gammon over-fifties special.”
“FIND ME THOSE DAMN CANNIBALS, WOLFBANE!” the Chief Superintendent bellowed.
He was over fifty, so this was personal.
* * *
TO BE CONTINUED …
Tags: hot sex, bastards, murder, death, cannibals, cannibalism, human bones, mablethorpe police, mablethorpe, police, lagonda, plague of dogs, butchers, the dunes, all-you-can-eat buffet, pensioner's special, henry the dog, the carradoes, jimmy cricket, the 2010 mablethorpe holiday massacre
January 25, 2012 at 12:23 pm |
I’ve had a terrible accident in my trousers, in part because of the scary story!
January 27, 2012 at 11:27 am |
[...] this or, indeed, any age should head over to The Dungeon Of Unimaginable Horrors and check out bot Part One and Part Two of my terrifying horror novellette, The Cannibals of [...]