Banto Carbon and the Pre-Historic Proboscis
CHAPTER ONE. Mr. Sphincter pays a visit.
Thump. Thump. Thump!
The intrusive pounding on the apartment door caused Mr. Carbon to instinctively jackknife awake from a very deep sleep, and he grabbed the 45, flipped off the bed, and crawled instantly into his closet. The rattling doorknob increased his heartrate and Mr. Carbon’s formerly somnolent breathing transmogrified into short heaving gasps while forbidden images crawled into his life once again.
They want in. They want in, the dirty, rotten....
Mixed images from the years with SS4 raced through his head, horrible visions he valiantly tried once again to erase forever from his tumbling mind.
Oh, good heavens. That was years ago, before becoming an American citizen, before the work at the Museum. Jackal. Jackal has found me. At long last we can have this out, you lousy, no good...Wait: maybe that's not Jackal. Could be a drunk, trying to get in the wrong apartment.