Potato Death

Cecil Eccleswaite the 3rd was a raving lunatic. You don't mess with Cecil. He creates kaos to destruction to over the world. Currently, he's on the number 13 bus from Manchester to Bury, Lancashire. No one in Bury had any idea what would shortly happen. And only one man had a chance of stopping Cecil - Gonk, a Royal Marine.                                                                                                                                         

Cecil was upstairs. He smiled maliciously, stood up and reached into his pocket. A big breasted woman screamed and pointed, "Oh shit! That man has a suicide vest on! We're gonna get fried!"

"We're all going to die!" shouted the woman, her big cleavage wobbling like award winning spuds.

Slowly Cecil removed his hand from his green jacket. It held a potato. His smile was evil. So were his words. "Wrong! I'm the spud thrower."

"Are you on drugs?" a brown haired youth asked.

"Shut your tater hole!" Cecil angrily replied.

"Fuc..." was all the youth managed to say. A single potato hit him in the mouth, wedging there. The force smashed his head through the window. Blood jetted everywhere and his neck was broken. Panic erupted!

Cecil Eccleswaite the 3rd stopped it. His hand moved faster than Ricky Valentino with his gay lover. A medium sized spud looped through the air, bounced off a seat and hit a red haired man in his throat. "Ugh," muttered the dying man.

The blond lady jumped out of her seat and ran at Cecil. A potato hit her upper right arm, breaking it. She became violent. "You fucking weirdo!" A metre from Cecil, she jumped.