Fast Food Eddy: The Crazy Life Of A Delivery Boy

By Kenneth Guthrie

It all started with getting called in on his day off. Now over a series of stories we will see the torture of Eddy - delivery boy for the dodgiest takeout in town. Rapists, Mafia, meat runs and a metric ton of madness and mayhem await Eddy. Can our hero survival all the crazy city that he lives in can throw at him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lunatic Ink Publishing
• Release date: Sep 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465753861

Kenneth Guthrie

Kenneth Guthrie mainly writes crime fiction with a touch of sci-fi and fantasy here and there.Cover image credit: Fernando Cortés at Fotolia.com

Book preview

THE SHOP

Eddy jumped the curve and came down hard in front of Kim. Tires squealed as they hit a hard 50kmph on the final straight. The house was only a few meters away, could he make it?

HIS DAY OFF

Eddy pulled his t-shirt a little further down over his belly. Fucking Chow and his damn shop. Why was he being dragged in like this on his day off? The fucker had even sent over his freaken' little son. That bastard had seen all the beer and shit in the apartment. He'd nark him in for sure. All he had wanted to do was sit at home and get pissed while watching some shit arse action film. Damn it!

He turned the little delivery bike into the back of the little American hamburger take out. It was a shitty little dump on the edge of nowhere in this city. The only way it made money was super low wages - bordering on guaranteed poverty low - and the owner enslaving his own family to do his dirty work. It was a stinking pot of piss that poisoned the local community one customer at a time.

He walked through the back door and threw his keys on the small table there. Immediately the shit started to hit the fan.

You fucker. You fucking avoid work again, eh? I send good son to get you lazy fuck arse to come in. Why you avoid my phone calls, macho man?

Spit and worse flew out of the 40ish fat bastard's Asian mouth. It wasn't really that he disliked Mr. Chow, his boss; it was just that the guy added curse words to almost everything - even when he was being nice to you.

Dude, give me a break. The old fart pointed at two dozen boxes of take out.

You think mother fucking customer like go hungry because your lazy arse too fat to get out of bed, eh, arse wiper?

He picked up a box of take out and opened it. The glorious stench of food that looked half way safe filled Ed's nose as the old man forced it there.

Looking at it now, He would have eaten it, if offered. That is if he hadn't known the sort of shit that went into this take out's food. Most likely if one person hadn't spat in the oil then another would have dropped some of it on the floor before scooping it up with the dust pan and putting it back in the box. This stuff should have been classified toxic waste a long time ago. Eddy still didn't know how Chow got away with it.

You like how that shit stinks, fat arse Eddy?

Eddy patted his gut. This was a beer gut. Eddy hardily ever ate because of working at this place.

You get on bike. Esteemed god of customers wait good food from fucking take joint!

Eddy sniggered. Take joint - you addict.

Eddy picked up the food and stacked it in the big heat insolated bag that would sit on the back of the bike in the makeshift carrier that Chow had constructed from sticks and a bit of tape.

Eddy walked out the door. He really needed a new job, but this dump was all that was hiring and he had been here awhile. He got on the bike and rode out. Time to play delivery boy.

ESTEEMED CUSTOMER ONE: MISS TIMS

Eddy knew the block of apartments well. He looked down at the delivery sheet. She had been creative this time and given a false name. Fuck.

He trudged over to the battered lift. This was going to suck big time.

The numbers passed by and he reached the sixth floor. Only a few more steps and he would be there.

The door opened as he was about to knock.

Eddy! You handsome man you!

The 45ish woman with her rollers