ROGER'S FABULOUS VOYAGES, PART 2, CHAPTER 10. (standard:humor, 2501 words) [10/12] show all parts
Author: Danny Zil	Added: Jun 14 2012	Views/Reads: 1908/1458	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Roger gets 'executed'.

TEN 

The execution party was in full swing when they arrived back. Despite
the fact that Roger had only been away a couple of hours, already most 
everyone was half-drunk and or stoned. 

Reggae boomed out from one section of the crowd and lots of people were
up dancing. In another area, folks were just hanging around, drinking 
and smoking and yacking. 

Big Lucas was standing chatting with the Uhuruland Baptist Choir, Low
Hummin Section. They had been warned about their behaviour though – 
they could hum and wobble a bit but if they got out of hand they would 
wind up as part of the foundations of the Uhuruland Spiritual Centre 
and Take Away which was soon to be built. 

As the red sports car pulled up, Big Lucas strolled over to meet them.
Hub Cap and Clarence slid out. Roger floated out. 

“Hi,” Big Lucas said to him. 

“As a kite,” Roger admitted and grinned. 

“Wot you bin givin the wite boy?” Big Lucas asked Hub Cap. 

“Oh, just some weed, Boss,” Hub Cap replied. “Numb him up for the
execution.” 

Big Lucas nodded. “Okay but no more. He looks like he floatin up to the
angels already.” 

Hub Cap grinned. He strolled closer to Big Lucas. “Talkin bout the
execution,” he whispered. “Wants me an Clarence hea to take care of the 
body afta it? You knows – bury it?” 

Big Lucas considered this. “Good idea,” he agreed. “Saves me the trouble
organisin it.” He grinned then turned and waved over to one of the 
buxom Baptist Choir ladies. “Anyways, Ah's got ma eye on one o the 
sistas in the Choir!” he admitted. 

Hub Cap laughed then permitted himself to jab the Dear Leader in the
chest. “Horny! Horny! Horny!” he reprimanded. 

Big Lucas threw back his large head and laughed largely. Hub Cap grinned
then slapped palms with him. Roger, meantime, was staring up at the sky 
at something pretty amazing that was going on inside his head. 

“So, wite boy,” Big Lucas said, nudging him, “wot you bin thinkin o
Uhuruland?” 

Roger dragged his eyes back from the sky. “Well, yeah, it's,” he began,
“it's, pretty...ah...pretty...uh...pretty!” he finished and giggled. 

“Serious, wite boy, wot you thinkin o ma kingdom?” 

“Uh, not enough white people,” Roger volunteered. 

Big Lucas laughed. “Correct, wite boy! An rite soon, there won't be
none!” He turned to the crowd. “Where's ma SAS Guards!?” he bellowed. 

The Captain of Big Lucas' elite Special Arse Section sashayed up to
them. He was an impressive sight – over six feet tall, studded black 
leather uniform, black leather boots and black leather gloves. 

“No need t' be roarin, Big L,” he minced at Big Lucas, licking a gloved
pinkie and tucking an imagined stray wisp of hair back under his black 
leather cap. 

“Git this boy up to the Execution Post,” Big Lucas ordered. 

The Captain ran an approving eye over Roger. “My my, wot a lovely wite
boy,” he said admiringly. “Do we has t' kill him?” 

“Course we's x'in him! Git him up to the Post. Now!” 



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