Chet & Floyd vs. The Apocalypse: Volume 1 by Justin Hunter Page A

with things when he is estranged from his best friend? I am dealing with loss.”
    The black haired man trained his rifle on Chet and pulled back the hammer.
    “Do you have any food?” The man asked.
    “I have food for the body but no food for my soul. Man needs companionship. I kicked my companion out of the car at thirty miles an hour. What kind of friend does that?”
    “Where is the food !” the man screamed, the rifle shaking with his frustration.
    “There’s about one and a half dead dogs in the back ,” Chet said, nodding in the direction of the skull bug. “You can have that them.”
    The man motioned for Chet to move away from the car. Keeping one hand on the rifle, he pulled the dog carcasses out of the back seat.
    “You have food so I’ll let you live ,” the man said. “You’re lucky. Otherwise I would be eating you right about now.”
    “It’s better to be lucky than good ,” Chet said. The guy gave him a weird look. “That’s what I always say at least.”
    “You’re kind of an odd guy. Maybe I’ll kill you anyway. You’re creeping me out.” The man raised his rifle to Chet’s forehead. Chet closed his eyes. “Any last words?”
    “Yes I do have a few words ,” Chet said. “I’m holding a grenade.”
    The man nearly dropped his gun at Chet’s words but didn’t fire the rifle. He kept the gun barrel pressed to Chet’s forehead as he let his eyes drift to Chet’s right hand. Chet was in fact holding a very scuffed grenade.
    “As you can see , the pin is out. I am able to keep the striker lever pressed even though I am under considerable duress with that rifle in my face.”
    The man looked shocked and lowered his rifle. “What are you going to do with that?”
    “I don’t know ,” Chet said, looking down at the grenade thoughtfully. “I don’t have much choice as to it going off now that I’ve released the pin. I could throw it away.”
    “Throw it away ,” the man stammered.
    “That’s the problem ,” Chet said. “I’ve never been much of an athlete . I am all bumbling butterfingers. I could just as well throw the thing backwards in the attempt.” Chet laughed. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Blow us both to kingdom come.”
    The man wasn’t laughing.
    “You don’t seem to think that’s very funny. I suppose you had a good upbringing with a dad that would take you out every day and throw the ball around. You’re a regular Brett Favre. Well it’s not my fault I didn’t have that sort of athletic support in my life. I don’t appreciate you bringing that up and then looking at me with those accusing eyes.”
    “I didn’t bring it up. I don’t….”
    “DON’T INTERRUPT ME!” Chet screamed.
    The man dropped the rifle and raised his hands to his face. Chet didn’t say anything until he dropped them. “It’s not polite. We have another issue here entirely. Even if I somehow throw this thing away, we’re going to have to deal with shrapnel. Usually you have a certain amount of time with these things, but I’ve found this situation to be so damn unpredictable . Do you know Steve Jorgenson?”
    “No ,” the man said.
    “Well!” Chet said, gesticulating wildly with the grenade. “Steve Jorgenson tried throwing these things like they were some sort of impact explosives.” Chet snorted. “These are obviously, not that. These are timed. The grenade hurler usually has about six seconds before the grenade explodes. That is an awful lot of time to duck and cover.
    “ The problem was Steve would throw these things and the person he was throwing them at would toss them back. Steve would have just enough time to toss the live grenade back yet again before it exploded. The whole ordeal was so very stressful—did you say something?” Chet asked.
    He tapped the man on the side of his face with the grenade , which made the man wince and piss himself. “I guess not. Feel free to interrupt at any time with a question. I want to make that clear. You can interrupt