The Brothers Crunk Read Online Free PDF Page A

tiny and weak to lift its gigantic body. The weight of the beast seems to boom-rattle the entire planet.
     
    Its flesh is black with tiny flecks of red and yellow spotted throughout. Its head is set much lower than its shoulders and its neck extends out from its chest. Its arms are like two giant serrated fillet knives with points at the ends instead of hands. Drool runs from its mouth in steady strings. The rest of its head is covered entirely with eyeballs.
     
    The beast arches back and takes a deep breath. Veins expand and protrude through its rubber insect skin as it tightens its muscles. The beast leans over them and shrieks like a banshee into their faces.
     
    Reynold, with his hands still cupped over his ears, stares at the abomination standing in front of him in horror.
     
    “ Fack . . .” he manages to mutter under his breath.
     
    The behemoth raises its razor arms into the air, threatening to turn them into bloody pin cushions.
     
    All at once, everything bursts. The Wasp Women, the behemoth—everything, everyone—is dead . . . except for Reynold. The nest, the mountain, and even Reynold himself, are now covered in the bright lime green of insect blood. Rivers of it pour down the mountain in long rushing streams and pool in the valley below.
     
    Reynold looks around for an answer, some sort of explanation for this strange occurrence. Divey. He is standing in the distance behind him. His hand is resting on an NES controller installed in his left forearm. A cheat code. Divey had entered a cheat code and destroyed the enemies!
     
    But, no, this isn’t Divey. It is something different. He raises his hands to his face and removes the skin, Divey’s skin, away from his skull like a hood. The face underneath is terrifying. Its head is bald and tiny, much too small for its massive body. One eye squints while the other remains wide and pupil-less. It has no nose and its teeth hang from its face like bony razor blade icicles.
     
    His name is Vandenboom, a TV demon from Tokyo, but Reynold knows nothing of this. He stares at this strange new being in terrifying wonder. What has this monster done with Divey? Is it Divey? What does he want from us?
     
    Without a word, Vandenboom turns his head and walks down a dirt path leading down the mountain.
     
    Reynold feels as if his heart has stopped. He quickly regains composure, gathers up the slabs of Pete, and follows the purple monster down the trail.
     
    He must find his brother.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    ELEVEN
     
    THE ROBOCOCKS
     
     
     
    The bastard disappears.
     
    Reynold follows his footsteps down a worn trail spiraling down the mountain. The footprints are lazy, stretching across the dirt in thin, erratic lines, as if he is too weak to carry his own weight.
     
    The trail winds and ends at the mouth of a colossal scrap heap stretching as far as his eye can see. Mega-mountains of metal jut out from the dusty earth like industrial stalagmites, silhouetted by the light of the sun. He hears a shuffling in the distance. He carefully tiptoes through the valleys to avoid being seen.
     
    Vandenboom is ripping the guts out of an old Chevy Nova, wiping parts clean and examining each of them individually before either tossing them away or piling them on the dirt at his feet.
     
    Reynold slips inside the backseat of a baby blue Cadillac, tossing the slabs of Pete down onto the floorboards. He watches Vandenboom dig carefully through the scraps. Toss, toss, toss, keep, toss. He is preparing to build something.
     
    Vandenboom digs deep into one of the scrap heaps, removing a big piece of sheet-metal. Large blue and green birds scuttle out from behind it, ten . . . twenty . . . thirty. They rush out in the same manner as angry ants once their hill has been terrorized by the sole of a boot. Robococks.
     
    These giant cybernetic peacocks surround Vandenboom. They waddle and shimmy, darting their necks out as if their heads are