Previously on Mark Flynn: Revenge
“Daddy…”

“HEY. I HAVE NOT BEEN HANGING OUT WITH PETER GILMOUR, OKAY?”

“HE’S GOT A WRENCH! HE’S GOING TO BREAK IN!”

“FUCK YOU!”

“DAVID, CALL THE COPS!”

"NOT THE JAMS!"

And now… the next chapter of Mark Flynn: Revenge


"Someone MURDER THAT MOTHERFUCKER!!!"

Echoing through out every corner of the store.

“EVERYONE.”

“MURDER.”

“THAT.”

“MOTHER.”

“FUCKER!”


Everyone stops. Not really sure how to take that order. Kind of an extreme ethical dilemma for a team of grocery store employees

“I WILL FUCKING PUT MY ANNUAL SALARY UP TO WHOEVER MURDERS THAT FUCKING GUY ON THE REGISTER!”

And suddenly, morality flies out the window.

Anton calls out, “I GOT HIM!”

That fucking guy, by the way, is on the register, dressed in wrestling tights…

Is using the conveyor belt on Register Eight like a treadmill…

Slowly building up speed…

Just as 240 pound former high school linebacker, bald Anton from the deli, dives for his legs…

Flynn leaps!... Into the air…

In time for Anton to miss the tips of his feet…

And completely take Register Eight off the floor with his shoulder.

The whole fucking machine slams to the ground on its side, wires sparking and frying in the air from the bottom of the machine as Anton pushes his body off the machine and springs back to his feet…

As it is programmed to do when it loses power and must become an analog cash register, the slot shoots open and dollar bills and change spill out onto the floor…

Flynn narrowly avoids landing in the ever growing mass of jam underneath the space between registers 8 and 9…

And tries to pull himself to the top of the shelf…

“TAKE HIS FUCKING ASS DOWN! I'LL MAKE IT TWO YEARS SALARY!”

Nadine, the obese fiery auburn-maned cashier who could really use some extra dough for botox, latches onto Flynn’s foot.

“Come easy now, Mama needs a new pair of cheeks…”

Flynn reels his foot out of her grip, raising his knee and tucking into his chest...

“FAH FAH FAH…”

Then, Flynn extends it in a missile kick, delivering a swift heel to Nadine’s chin.

“FUCK YOU!”

Flynn’s mantra goes from a shout to a low muttering over and over again as he reaches past the broken jar glass and disgusting hibiscus goo into inner reaches the top shelf…

Suddenly that 240 pound mass shoots through the air from Register 8 and clasps just under Flynn…

Anton has leapt beside Flynn onto the shelf, planting his right hand onto the second highest shelf and wrapping his left arm around Flynn’s waist… He begins to shake Flynn, trying to loosen his grip…

Flynn reaches deeper behind the jam as Anton struggles to pull him off the shelf…

“Come on, motherfucker, leggo! GET OFF H-E-B PROPERTY!”

Flynn seethes, saliva spewing as he bares his teeth…

His fingers… Find it.

Flynn smiles.

His right arm shoots into the air.

“FUCK YOU!”

And his previously speared lead pipe comes down on top of Anton’s fingers.

“AH!”

Anton releases the second highest shelf and collapses, landing back on his ass cradling his hand.

“SON OF A FUCKING BITCH! HE GOT MY FINGERS!”

Anton shakes his fingers, trying to get the feeling back in them just as Flynn finally pulls himself up onto the shelf between aisles 8 and 9.

David laments, surrounded by dollar bills and change… all sinking and staining in the overgrowing ooze of hibiscus jam…

Everything… Ruined forever…

He howls again into his radio…

“BRING THAT FUCKER DOWN!”

Kyle dives on top of David, pinning his arms to the side.

“DAVID, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”

“INSUBORDINATION! MUTINY!”

David wriggles, side-to-side, using his seventy pound weight advantage on Kyle to rip his right arm free…

“DAVID, IF GRIFF SEES YOU LAYING DOWN COMMANDS TO WRECK HIS FUCKING STORE, HE IS LITERALLY GOING TO MURDER YOU! WHAT DO YOU CARE ABOUT THAT GU-”

David then punches Kyle square in the face.

‘Glass Jaw’ Kyle collapses to the ground as David rolls back over onto his belly.

“I know enough about who that fucker is. And I am getting my revenge.”

David spits to the side.

He cups his hands around his eyes, as if a general eyeing the battle through binoculars.

“READY…”

Nadine, the fiery overweight redhead, and Phillip, (who had just finished stocking the dairy aisle and wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but really enjoys being part of the team), pressed their hands against the metal sides of aisle 9…

“AND…”

Flynn looks down from the top of the shelf at the duo testing his balance.… Lead pipe in hand… Eyes black as midnight…

“FUCK YOU!”

“PUSH!”

Nadine and Phillip launch aisle 9… propelled by the slickness of the jam-covered floor…

Ends up crashing into aisle 8…

Flynn leaps onto aisle 7…

Which is propelled forward by aisle 8…

Flynn steps, running from aisle to aisle…

Exploding in aisle 8… Chips going everywhere…

The metal crushes the falling bags against the floor and the pressure causes the contents to explode… A big-bang esque crushing and subsequent explosion of Ruffles, Cheetos, Doritos, Tostitos, Fritos…

And Benito, who had not been following the events or orders over the radio and in fact did not speak a word of English.

He was in fact trapped under the aisle.

“Ayudame!”

No one hears Benito’s cries. Trapped for hours, like the Chilean miner he once was before coming to America.

Spoiler Alert: Flashbacks would haunt him the remainder of his days... He would never feel happiness again.

Coating the peanut butter and sandwich-oriented condiments… Crushed onto the floor with the toppling of aisle 7…

All coalescing into the mass of jam, chips and money…

Thunderstrikes of rattled shelves and dropping chiming silverware heard from within the store as metal crushes and bends under its own weight and gravity…

Tile cracks… And still Flynn sprints from aisle 5 to aisle 4…

David chortles as he peers at Flynn through his cupped hands, head swiveling to keep up with Flynn’s sprint atop the shelves…

“You magnificent bastard, I WATCHED YOUR TAPES!!!!”

Flynn peers down at Aisle 3…

Soda…

He plants his feet… Bends his knees...

As his shelf topples...

And soars from aisle 4…

To aisle 1…

Just as aisle 3… Is crushed…

…

Silence…

…

UNTIL AN EXPLOSION OF SPRITE MOUNTAIN DEW AND DR THUNDER ALL RUMBLES FROM UNDERNEATH !

THE SUDDEN COMPRESSION OF THE CANS CAUSING EACH TO SHOOT THROUGH THE STORE LIKE A BOTTLE ROCKET!

A FRESCA CAN SHATTERS THE GLASS IN FRONT OF THE BAKERY’S CAKES.

A SERIES OF ERRANT TAB CANS SLAM THEMSELVES INTO THE CEILING, SPEWING TERRIBLE TASTING SODA IN ALL DIRECTIONS! LIKE A RAIN CLOUD SCATTERING DEW OVER THE CHAOS…

A CAN OF DIET VANILLA CHERRY COKE WITH LIME SHOOTS THROUGH THE AIR…

BACK TOWARDS AISLE 8! TOWARDS THE REGISTER

David’s eyes open wide…

“OH SHI-“

The can catches him just above the eye…

COLLIDING WITH HIS SKULL!

…

And knocking him unconscious…

Flynn meanwhile has his back against the wall… Very carefully balancing on top of Aisle 1…

Which very shakily balances against the edge of the pharmacy gate…

Flynn tip toe runs from the middle back to the front of the store… Toward the aisle of bulk foods opposite the cash registers…

Just as Anton traps him…

Just as Anton leaps between Flynn and the exit.

Closing in.

Hands at the ready, poised to wrench down his opponent.

Feet tapping like in his glory days on the football field.

Cornering him... Locking him in…

"WHERE YOU GOING... WHERE YOU GOING?!?"

Flynn...

Mentally Compares himself physically to Anton...

And realizing he's lacking 40 pounds and 8 inches...

...

Instead rolls, scrambling for the wall of bulk foods at the front...

"YOU DONE SON...!"

"FUCK YOU!"

Anton closes within ten feet... tackling distance...

Just as Flynn wraps his pipe around two levers and yanks them both down...

Dried mango chips and unsalted almonds cover the ground as the twisted twisting machine spews its contents, overflowing, rapid like a demonic gum ball machine.

Nadine and Phillip dash around the corner to provide backup...

Just in time to be bowled over by Anton...

All three collapse on top of each other... Anton still crawling... No, butterfly stroking through the air, desperately trying to get away.

Nadine gets ahold of his shoulders.

"Anton, the Hell's the matter with you?"

Anton stammers, shaking, as if he'd just escaped certain death...

"N-N-N-NUT ALLERGY! ALMONDS!!! ALMONDS EVERYWHERE!"

"Shit, this just got personal."

Flynn pulls down every lever he can, unleashing every of kind of dry bulk food on the growing devouring blob of trail mix...

ASCENDING OVER TEN FEET IN THE AIR... FIFTEEN...

QUINOA!

YOGURT PRETZELS!

DEHYDRATED APPLE SLICES!

UNSWEETENED CRANBERRY BITS!

ZERO-CALORIE ALL-NATURAL ZEVIA SWEETENER PACKETS!

WITH YOUR POWERS COMBINED I AM AN INEDIBLE MOUNTAIN!!!

"Fuck."

Nadine snaps.

"Phil. Wade through that trail mix pond and get that fucker. Anton and I will head him off at the back."

Phillip gets a big mouthful of air...

And dives into the trail mix pile...

Nadine adjusts her hair back to a suitable level of neatness as she drags a catatonic Anton by the arm.

“We’re going to need wheels… TO THE FRONT!”

Right arm.

Left arm.

Chewing through the occasional patch of apple butter, that being his favorite.

The stream of food stuffs, firing continuously into his side like a jet stream in a jacuzzi.

Finally, Phil’s arms breathe emerging on the other side of the boy of trail-mix, his fingers feeling freedom.

His arms emerge...

His face presses through...

His lungs re-fill with air.

He gasps as his eyes open...

To see no one on the other side.

Phillip reaches for his heart and flips the tab on his radio.

"Nadine, he's gone! He must've crawled under the aisle... He'll be headed your way!"

"GOTCHA! We're on it!"

Nadine and Anton rev up the rascal at the front of the store… Nadine driving, her luscious hair blowing in the wind, her sides extending well past the bounds of the chair… Anton sits behind the chair… His arms wrapped around her waist…

Anton shakes Nadine’s sleeve.

“The floor’s covered in jam and chips, the wheels won’t get traction! You'll crash the rascal!”

Nadine shakes off his arm.

“Yeah, yeah. I know how to drive on jam, sweetie, I been doing it for decades!”

“…Oh…Wait, rea-“

Nadine kicks the rascal into its highest gear!

Second gear.

The rascal shoots down aisle 9 at 15, perhaps even 20 miles an hour.

“Tuck your head!”

“What?”

Anton doesn’t follow Nadine’s lead. And in fact his head breaks through the price checker at the end of aisle 10… Another piece of technology senselessly destroyed by Anton’s skull… Rebounds off the ground and glass shatters, now causing a mess at the back of the store… And fall into the oozing puddle of jam-chips-soda...

“Aw man… Is all this gonna come out of our pay checks?”

“Shut up, we got him now!”

Nadine makes a technically flawless 90 degree turn in the rascal.. Anton’s feet swinging out the side to stay balanced…

“He’s not in the back aisle! WE BEAT HIM HERE! WE GOT HIM TRAPPED NOW!”

The rascal huffs and chugs down from aisle 10… to aisle 1 in a matter of seconds…

Nadine stops the rascal and Anton leaps off the back…

“All right…”

Nadine presses the radio on her chest.

“Phillip, stay posted there at the bulk foods! We’ve got him trapped under aisle 1!”

*BUZZ*

“Yeah! We got him! We avenged David!”

“Uh… sure, fine.”

After pulling the key out of the Rascal, Nadine squeezes out of the chair and joins Anton’s side waiting at the other end of the aisle…

“We just gotta post up here… He can’t stay down there forever…”

Anton nods, smiling… Then frowns…

“Well, I dunno about that, Nadine. Remember that time a rat just slept in a loaf of Wonderbread and we didn’t find out until that one mom brought it to the reg-“

“This is different.”

Nadine pounds her hand into her fist.

“We’re actually good at THIS job…”

Nadine and Anton… continued to wait…


Listening…

Waiting for the intruder to scurry out from his hole…

…




………








…………….








...




Little did they know they were waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen…

Flynn had in fact beaten them to the back aisle.

Had opened up the milk section and stepped through the door…

Into the back section of the HEB… Into the dark mysterious recesses of the back inventory....

Flynn handled his lead pipe nervously… Twisting in his hand…

Eyes darting back and forth…

Searching in the darkness for escape…

Freezing cold… 30 degrees…

His hand finds a wall, he follows it... letting the barrier guide him to the end of this maze...

At last… he sees it…

The faint red glow…

Of the exit sign… Hovering over HEB's employees only exit...

Flynn stumbles forward…

Another triumph over a group of inferior enemies...

The people in that fucking store were a bunch of punk bi-

KERACK!



Flynn tumbles to his knees…

Through reflex managing to roll away from whatever the fuck just conked him on the head…

Which was David. Sipping the remnants at the bottom of a can of Diet Vanilla Cherry Coke...

That he had just used to bludgeon Flynn about the side of the skull...

6’3”.

247 pounds.

Bleeding from the top of his head.

His red smock, pristine somehow despite his slacks, arms and face being covered in jam and soda stains...

Salivating, foam dripping from his mouth like a rabid dog…

“Hey...You can't use the exit... You're not an employee..."

"...You're Mark Flynn…”

Flynn rubs the side of his head…

Trying to shake his vision clear…

David… slips back into the darkness of the inventory…

“I know who you are… I remembered who you were when I saw you dive on that cash register…”

His voice bouncing of the walls… Untraceable…

“I watched your Fighting System Tapes. I know your every move…”

“You come into my domain…? And think you can just willy nilly destroy THE ONLY THING I’VE EVER LOVED!”

Flynn’s head spins dizzy…Like a whirlpool...

The blow to his temple blurring his vision…

His hand shoots against the wall again...

Fighting to stabilize...

He sees…

A familiar figure… Disappear into the shadows...

He sees…

What he wants to see… To fight back…

He reels back his lead pipe!

"YOU WON'T LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE!"

“FUCK YOU!”

To be continued…