by Derek Slaton
EPILOGUE
Deep in the belly of the warehouse, the body of the King of the Beach floated in a crimson ocean with only half a head. He was cold and useless now, except for the one pinky finger of his right hand that twitched slightly.
The head of a rusty 9-iron smashed down on that hand, obliterating it to smithereens.
“Aw hell no,” Silky grunted as he continued to bring his legendary weapon down into the body of the demon. “We ain’t havin’ that shit.”
When there was nothing left but a pulpy mess inside the pool of blood, Silky set down the club like a cane and spread his feet into a power stance. He raised his chin, sunglasses reflecting in the fluorescent light as he grinned, revealing his glittering golden teeth.
His jacket blew gently in the breeze, and he inclined his head to the Mexican man standing there with the comically large fan.
“Muy Bueno, Enrique.”
COMING SOON:
GRINDHOUSE CHRONICLES VOLUME 2
MIDGET WITH A CHAINSAW
UPDATES AT
www.GrindhouseChronicles.com
