The Cannibals Of Mablethorpe – Part Two

The story so far …

Discovering gnawed human bones in the Banana Lounge and Grillette of the Dunes Family Leisure Complex, maverick policeman Snake Wolfbane has come to the conclusion that cannibals stalk the mean streets of Mablethorpe. With the future of the Grillette’s £8.99 all-you-can-eat beef, turkey and gammon over-fifties special in peril – and his over-fifties boss breathing down his neck – time is running out not only for Snake, but also for the success of the whole Mablethorpe summer season (and the aforementioned all-you-can-eat beef, turkey and gammon over-fifties special, obviously).

* * *

I was having a cup of tea and a jumbo sausage sandwich at Eric’s All Day Everyday on the Parade when my phone rang. I’m on a Tesco Mobile monthly contract.

“Wolfbane,” I answered, wiping brown sauce off of my chin with a napkin.

“Snake,” a familiar voice chuckled.

It was Detective Inspector Viper Malone of Skegness Holiday Police Constabulary. The man was an arsehole. He’d always been an arsehole. I’d been with him at Lincolnshire Holiday Police Training College, and he’d been a right royal arsehole back then. He was still an arsehole now, the arsehole.

“What do you want, Viper?” I asked.

“I hear you’ve been having a bit of trouble,” he smirked (probably).

“Nothing I can’t handle, Viper,” I muttered.

“Rumour has it you’ve got a cannibal problem up there.”

“So they tell me.”

“I better have a word with Troy Futters,” the bugger replied. “It’s not too late to transfer the Jim Davidson Comeback Jamboree to the Sandcastles …”

“You’ll do no such thing, Viper,” I shouted.

Troy Futters, the general manager of Skegness’s world-famous Sandcastles Bingo Fortress and Family Theatre Complex, had been itching to get his hands on the Jim Davidson Comeback Jamboree ever since the comedian announced his new tour back in June last year. It was a publicity coup for the town that he’d chosen Mablethorpe over Skegness. Takings were expected to rocket during the show’s three day run.

“Are you sure that’s wise, Snake? I don’t know what the Skegness, Ingoldmells and Mablethorpe Mercury would say if they found out the audience for the Jim Davidson Comeback Jamboree was in danger of getting all eaten off of cannibals because you bumpkins up there in the sticks can’t find your arses from your elbows.”

“You keep the papers out of this, you fucking arsehole!” I bellowed. “I’ll find these bastards, don’t you worry about that …”

“Well I’ll keep Troy’s number on speed-dial, just in case …” he laughed.

“You’ll do no such fucking thing!”

But he’d already hung up.

* * *

I was in the Lagonda smoking a cigar, listening to Chicago’s classic 1976 studio album, Chicago X. The beast thundered down the promenade at ninety six miles per hour, pedestrians leaping for the safety of the pavement. Chips came on the special police radio.

“Snake?”

“Talk to me, Chips,” I shouted over the roar of the Lagonda’s mighty V8 engine (and Chicago).

“You’re not going to like this,” Chips replied. “I’ve had a reporter from the Mercury on the phone, asking about cannibals.”

“Shit!” I smashed my fist on the Lagonda’s real leather steering wheel, spilling cigar ash all over my imported Yugoslavian Polynyrolene™ trousers. “That bastard Viper! Lock ‘em down, Chips, lock ‘em fucking down.”

“I’ll do my best, Snake,” Chips replied. “I’m not sure how successful I’ll be. You know what bloodhounds they are over at the Mercury …”

Didn’t I just. Two years ago, Mablethorpe had come under attack from a nuclear Godzilla. I’d done my best to keep the news from spreading and causing panic among the tourists, but it was hard-going with Lester ‘Scoop’ Jackson constantly sniffing around.

It also didn’t help when the nuclear Godzilla set fire to the sewage works.

“Perhaps you should have a word, Snake?” Chips said. “Use your legendary powers of persuasion?”

“Yeah,” I replied, slamming the Lagonda into fifth gear. “I’ll head over there now.”

And by ‘now’, I meant after I’d pulled the beast into Poundland’s staff car park and calmed the hell down by listening to the whole glorious three minutes and fifty eight seconds of Chicago’s If You Leave Me Now.

A man needs to have priorities.

* * *

I handbrake-turned the Lagonda into the car park of the Mercury and did some doughnuts. Parking the beast sideways across two disabled bays, I grabbed my dark beige leatherette jacket from the back seat and jumped out of the motor car.

I could hear the screams before I got to the Mercury’s front door.

Inside it was like my tour of the Falklands all over again. Flashbacks cascaded through my shattered mind: The Deuce with his guts out up on Beefburger Rise; Bernie ‘O’ crying for his mother with what remained of his arms clutched between his broken legs; a dead-eyed Argentinian boy with half a face pleading for mercy as I rammed my knife up his particulars.

There was blood everywhere in reception. Human bones littered the floor and there were innards all up the walls. The receptionist, a pretty young blonde with massive tits, was shrieking hysterically. I struck her with the flat of my hand across the face.

“Calm down, woman!” I shouted.

“Oh God, oh God!” she wailed. “They’re all gone! They’re all gone!”

“Who’s gone? What the hell’s happened here?”

She sank to her knees and began weeping uncontrollably. Absolutely no bloody use in a crisis, women.

I stepped over to the nearest pile of bones. From the shape of the skull and the nicotine stains on the teeth, I could tell it was ace reporter, Lester ‘Scoop’ Jackson. Lester’s bony head bore all the hallmarks of a frantic feeding frenzy.

“God help us,” I muttered. “The cannibals of Mablethorpe have struck again!”

I looked back at the gibbering woman. A light had gone out in her eyes. It was going to take a hell of a lot of Chicago to restore her faith in humanity.

By Christ, she had big tits.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED …

Tags: bastards, big tits, cannibal, cannibalism, cannibals, chicago, chicago x, godzilla, holiday, hot sex, if you leave me now, lagonda, mablethorpe, mercury, murder, police, sex, skegness, the dunes, the falklands