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Teddy
Bear Cannibal Massacre Sample
Clob
by Michael Stone
Aye, you know how it is. You're lonely and a pretty girl smiles at you. You begin to compare the smiles she gives other guys with the smile she graces you. Did the raised eyebrows and half-smile she gave to Doctor Murray the ENT specialist rate more than the nodding smile to the Security man who carefully watched her reverse her little Fiat Uno in every morning? And how did the 'Good morning' and accompanying beam she flashed at me compare to the admonishing smirk she invariably posed to Doctor Capdeville, St. Chad's dental surgeon?
I made the mistake of asking Clob.
"You want to get into this bird's knickers?"
I drew a sharp breath. "There's more to it than that. Why do you have to be so base?"
"It's what I am." Clob shifted his weight on the pepper pot and fixed me with a lopsided grin. We were having this 'discussion' in the staff canteen. (It's a very small canteen - just sixteen chairs at four tables.)
"And," I continued, "I know for a fact that she doesn't put it about. She is a nice girl. Decent and respectable."
"Oh, right. You mean frigid. I can see why she appeals to you then. All your hang-ups about sex." His small eyes glinted with pure malice. "Virgin."
Little bastard.
I can't remember precisely how old I was when Clob first put in an appearance, but it would be when I was about fourteen or fifteen. To begin with he was a blue fish with a goggle-mask and a tank on his back full of water. I remember telling Mum about him.