Maverick Jetpants in the City of Quality Read Online Free PDF

whispers.
    â€œThese guys can’t swing weapons,” Toby says. “These guys can’t fight.” He waves his hand over his nose. “And it smells like the National Auto Mechanics Convention in here.”
    But then, Necro pulls the Heavy Metal 24 th Anniversary Sword from its plastic sheath. There are cursivey-type designs along the blade. He bites down on his lip, one incisor visible. With an angry wetness in his eyes, he raises the weapon behind his head, muscles so tensed his forearms and hands shake and the sword shivers light, and he drives it, straight down, into the tree trunk. One corner of his mouth is screwed into a frown. He looks like he’s just killed someone. He folds his arms to hide that he’s gasping for air, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath this entire time.
    â€œCall now,” Necro says.
    â€œThis is weird. This is stupid,” Toby whispers to me. “This is like, you have a friend, and you find out he holds an After-Hours Taint Seminar.”
    â€œWhat’s this guys? Who has a seminar?” Lip Cheese whispers.
    Rambocream flips to the next note card. “Next, we have a great historical item, a great traditional item to be cherished, um, by the whole family.”
    Necro sets a velvet case on the table, softly, like the case is a helicopter he’s landing. The swastika on the front blazes in the lighting. He turns two tiny golden knobs on the left and right sides of the case, and two latches on the front snap upward. He dips his knees slightly, and, in this loving way, curls his fingers under the top half of the case, and hoists it open. Five knives are inside. The gleam slices through my retinas.
    â€œIntroducing the German Dress Dagger set,” Rambocream says. “Includes German Air Force Dagger, Hitler Youth Knife, German SS Leader Dagger, German Dress Dagger. Constructed to replicate the actual weaponry, this set is a steal for $49.99 …”
    No calls come in. After the hour is over, outside, some Weapons of Mankind spectators stand around a pickup, rolling cigarettes on the hood. Lip Cheese yawns. Toby breathes into his palms and places them over his ears. And Necro and Rambocream are taking forever loading up the weapons, holding mock sword fights, maneuvering like fencers.
    â€œNecro, you know, we’re not exactly in the Heated Driveway District,” I say, and wave my arm toward a groupof kids a block down who are in parkas, standing in front of a 7-Eleven, where one window has a spider web of cracked glass with a bullet-sized hole in the center.
    Necro slings his arms around me and Wicked College John.
    â€œWell if you two ladies have to take and get your eyes bleached at the spa, we can leave here quicker if you take and carry the two weapons bags left inside,” Necro says, studying his calculator watch for a few seconds. “Get the bag with the Double-Fantasy Slayers, Nate. They’re great for a fight. Provided you Shee the Fight.”
    Fuck him! Because, even though I’m third place in Holy Grail Points, there are five Uncomebackable Insults you don’t need to know about me: Did You Shee the Fight?, Sausage Academy, Mommy?, Friend to All Animals, and especially not Taped-On Dildo. If we get into Taped-On Dildo this early, I’m through. But the Weapons of Mankind people are laughing now, when I’ve explained a million times that I said “see” that way because I was riding my bike home through the woods from Necro’s house after we watched The Exorcist , and a noise startled me and I steered accidentally over a bump and bit my tongue—that scene where the girl spider-walks down the stairs is rough . You tell me that’s not signed-by-the-Grim-Reaper shit-pants inducing.
    â€œWe need to drink off this place,” Wicked College John says, flailing an arm to gesture over the entire street, scarf flinging out from under his coat collar. “I’ve been through