The door of the under basement was a jar and an eerie light was pulsing from it.
"I don't remember that door bein' open," Old Reg said.
"What from thirty years ago?" I replied as if he was the idiot he is.
"I've got a bad bleedin' feelin' about this," Old Reg said as we edged down the stairs.
The twins had obviously had a party in our absence and the under basement had been raided. Now we had to see what the damage was.
I gently pushed open the busted door and was bathed in a red light, it seemed to be coming from the row after row of neatly shelved video nasties.
"Bleedin' hell," Old Reg muttered beside me. "Look."
Half a dozen teenagers were hanging from the wall, they were streaked with blood and emitting low, guttural moans. It looked like something out of a video nasty, which is quite apt I suppose. In the middle of the dirty floor the twins were trussed up like Christmas turkeys. Their eyes widened as they saw us. I suppressed the urge to say Serves you right.
Old Reg nudged me and I looked in the corner, there was Desmond, glowering and skeletal his red hair now wispy falling in a matted comb over across his face.
"They tried to take the nasties," he said more to Reg than me. "They're all in order like you told me Reg."
I looked at Reg, I had no idea he'd told Desmond to do that all those years ago.
"Well done boy," Reg said weakly.
I gazed around at all the rat bones and carcases all over the place, that is obviously what Desmond had been living on. I always wondered why The Abandoned Video Shop didn't have a rat problem; now I knew.
"They're bad, they'll pay." Desmond said motioning toward the strung up teenagers.
"I think they've paid enough," Old Reg said.
"No!" Desmond screamed, his voice banging off the walls and making his captives moan even more.
Desmond moved toward us slowly like he was enjoying seeing our terror. Old Reg let out a fear fart that added a new dimension to the smell of the under basement. Desmond edged closer and we couldn't move. His face was old and contorted, but I could still, just about, see the teenager in it.
"That'll do Desmond," a voice from behind me said.
I looked around to see Mr. Apollyon's smiling face.
"I have some dinner for you," he held up a bag of squirming, squeaking rats.
Desmond snatched the bag and retreated to the corner.
I looked at Mr. Apollyon in shock.
"Nice holiday?" he enquired.
"Very nice," Old Reg said.
"Good," he smiled. "Now let me deal with this little situation."
You didn't argue with Mr. Apollyon, unless you wanted a little situation of your own.
About half an hour later all the teenagers came up from the under basement, with Mr. Apollyon laughing and singing as if nothing had happened. Mr. Apollyon pushed the twins Leslie and Lesley toward me.
"I think you should deal with these two," he said. " A rap across the knuckles."
"And Desmond?" I asked.
"Back to work organising the nasties."
With that Mr. Apollyon left with the laughing teenagers.
"On the bright side," Old Reg said. "At least Desmond didn't ask for bleedin' back pay."
The Owner
