Page 76
Kidnapping attempt successfully averted by Every.
Yay.
He turns to the mouse king with a shooing gesture of his hand. “Sorry, but no one is for sale here. Go back to the Stone Age.”
What a sassy CEO.
Fernando, the ketchup-flavored popcorn he is for some reason, looks at him blankly, unable to tell whether the supposedly great hero before him is serious or not (for your information, he is). “Then maybe tomorrow.”
“Maybe then, if you’re still here at all. After all, ‘until tomorrow, today is the stupidest day yet.’”
And Lily is back to looking up at her man with admiration. “Babe, that quote is the smartest thing I’ve ever heard from you in the whole time that we were together.”
“But we still are.”
“Thank you, grammar police. Looks like punching mice men helped you grow extra brain cells,” Lily answers him, the sarcastic, witty, weird girl she is.
And that is how she reminds the leaders of the two opposite sides about the war still raging around them. Too bad they are seconds from signing a peace treaty with each other, after remembering that there is no real point in the whole war in the first place and they both are taking it a little too far for such a friendly competition.
In that way, the war resumes.
Lily watches as Every, the pink pants warrior, punches the mouse king. His arm muscles are so strong that the enemy goes flying from the main street’s multicolored candy cobblestone pathways all the way up to the Nerds candy-laden pavement. His poor victim may have cracked his back a little too, his spine hitting the little beads with such a great force.
Where are his bodyguards now?
Well, guess what, he didn’t have any since the start.
The candy cane lamp post he hit with the tip of his head shakes, and the curved wing holding up a little green box encasing unlit embers falls to the ground, leaving only a straight spike.
With such a bad quality, the oversized candy cane must have been bought online.
He leans up against the said online-delivery-obtained candy cane lamp post, wheezing, the air knocked out of him. Lily sure understands him well. When she was still a child living in the trailer park, a neighbor boy once punched her in the diagram, and she thought she was going to die, not that this fact matters at the moment.
But that’s just how Lily’s head works: all jumbled up.
“My vertebrae,” Fernando wails in pain when he finally finds his voice, though the sound comes off more like that of a laughing hyena.
So, terrified chickens and laughing hyenas.
What an animalistic chapter.
“The fuck does that mean?” Every asks him, unable to stop himself from the childish curiosity threatening to consume his head if he doesn’t get to voice his question.
“It’s kindergarten biology, you little shit.”
“It’s what biology again?”
The mouse king sighs between one of his groans of pain. “You sound like someone whose brainwaves are smooth.”
Every unconsciously nods to his remark. “That’s quite a creative insult.”
But even without his brains, our billionaire CEO male lead sure has his brawn. He grabs him by his sweaty hair and throws his archenemy up into the air like a fucking basketball. Fernando spins, before landing his ass right onto the pole and sticking there, his jeans ripped. Rigid and spine straight.
Oh damn, Lily’s sure her man didn’t mean to go that far.
She winces.
At once, all motion in the makeshift battlefield of a town ceases, with everyone, no matter what side, standing still in solidarity, like when a loved one had just died and all the relatives, even ones with bad blood and lawsuits between them, get together to mourn the deceased.
