Artymiss was a 12-year-old idiot. He had splotchy pale skin and a slicked back mop of hair, which hung down to his shoulders. He wore headphones which were always blasting rap, baggy jeans with stains and holes, and a transparent white tank-top, which showed off his painted-on mascara 13 pack, something which wasn’t possible unless, of course, you didn’t have abs. His countless heists of banks and national monuments were the talk of the century, but it wasn’t Artymiss who had done the deeds
In fact, Artymiss couldn’t sharpen a pencil if the sharpener were right in front of him and the sharper was electric. It was his bodyguard, Buttlah. Buttlah was a genius mastermind from Moscow, the dirtier part of Russia. His arms were so packed with muscles, he couldn’t touch his elbows together. His combined IQ of approximately 238 and his sculped body made it impossible for anything to go wrong when he was on watch.
Buttlah had been hired by Artymiss’s parents, Joe and Marine, who were severely concerned that their child would be arrested and convicted several counts of third-degree murder if he didn’t have someone watching over him. This made Buttlah the perfect candidate to keep Artymiss out of trouble.
One day, Buttlah and Artymiss went to a French restaurant in London. Artymiss was bobbing up to the newest hip hop trend, Buttlah could hear the bass reverberating through his own flesh. Artymiss shrieked like a wild boar, strumming an invisible electric guitar along to the singer in the music. He leaped onto the table, strewing forks, knifes, and glasses of water everywhere. Everyone in the restaurant stared at Artymiss as he fell to his knees, chorusing like an out-of-tune trumpet.
The maître d’ rushed over, trying to stop Artymiss from disturbing the other customers. Buttlah grunted, reached out a thick hard arm, and grabbed Artymiss by the neck like a rubber chicken. Artymiss went limp in Buttlah’s grip, winding his karaoke like a bomb siren, giggling insanely. His eyes bugled in their sockets, and his face turned blue. Buttlah held his hand around his young charge’s neck, before letting go, letting Artymiss fall into his seat.
“You disgust me. You are little vagrant child.” Buttlah muttered to Artymiss. Suddenly, from the door of the restaurant, burst Oval Bokoi, the fairy criminal who had betrayed the fairy people. Glass shattered everywhere, and most of the customers quickly got up from there seats, escaping while they could. Stickups in London restaurants were very common, the result of tourist’s eating snails and wanting revenge. Bokoi had green-tinged skin, pointed ears, a sharp nose, and devilish yellow eyes. Her right eye was milky-white, the result of her thinking her mouth was where her eye was.
“Artymiss Fowal, my greatest enemy! You shall now be relinquished of your life!”
Artymiss cackled in his high-pitched voice. “Ehe, you look like a peanut butter, Oval!” His brain was running at top speed, to be able to string together words as fast as they could, almost real-time.
Koboi snarled, raised her fairy laser gun, and fired. A green plasma bolt blasted Artymiss in the head, instantly eradicating the idiotic 12-year-old. Buttlah roared with anger, and leaped forward, grabbing Oval by the neck, and easily snapping it in two. The light in Oval’s eyes burned out, forever dead, but it wouldn’t ever replace the death of his young charge, Artymiss. Buttlah would have to do something drastic to get him back.
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