Speaking Of Excess... [Part 1 of 2]
In hindsight the accountant regretted his choice to leave the voicemail on today. Come on, its the weekend! Most of the people who'll call are telemarketers and I need my day off! So he began that day with a whole carton of Triple-Cream-and-Meringue icecream (richest and most suicidal icecream ever... seriously, you can taste the buttery saturated fat as it melts in your mouth) which he enjoyed while taking a few shots of whiskey. After that, he got himself a half-dozen Krispy Kremes (Chocolate-Iced Creme flavored) as well as a nachos that was drowned in cheese and salsa and sour cream (and served on Nacho Cheese doritos) and began consuming them with glee. He put on one of his favorite horror films ever made, specifically The Human Centipede and laughed at the thoughts of sewing Chuck and evil-Scott together mouth-to-anus (hey, I'm allowed my goddamned revenge fantasies!) before he decided to up the ante; after finishing the nachos, he took out a certain little bag from a certain safe hidden behind a certain painting and grinned.
The contents, of course, were a familiar white granular powder. Sure, he was half-drunk, overfed and hyped up on sugar but the next film to watch was Hellraiser: Hellworld (which will suck, but hey, good for laughs) and he had planned on a few more titles later. He opened up the baggie and poured it out onto the coffee table before him; he began to line up the Schedule 1 controlled substance with his platinum Amex. After finishing the final bite of his half-dozen Krispy Kremes, he took a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and rolled it up before putting it into his nose and leaning down.
The insufflation felt like someone was opening a bottle of champagne inside his head - a bubbly rush moved through his consciousness. Impulsively he grabbed the phone and listened to the messages. Ehh, there's only three...
Telemarketer...
Someone asking me to vote for some anti-mutant law-and-order candidate...
Then the third message came and he shivered; it was Ragnar's voice, infused with whispered panic. And 'cult of Dark Gods'. And 'Heresy'. The accountant paused for a moment before he remembered the chainsword being pointed at his face when he first met the psycho-viking-space-paladin.
And the message was received more than two hours ago. Oh fuck no!