Authors: Tony Ungawa
Uschi looked worriedly upon him. “Is my best thing gonna be okay? I know nobody ever enjoys being reminded of impending bad news. And that there is some serious big ass bad news. Do you need to have a shit fit? If you like, we can go for a quick ride and find somebody for you to murder? Perhaps a wino or a crack whore? Crack whore killing could be a good time. That might take some of the edge off. Never underestimate random homicides, they can be quite therapeutic.”
He smiled and calmly told her, “I’m okay.”
That was the truth. This didn’t freak Denny out. No, really, he was okay with this. He hadn’t forgotten the price paid for Uschi. Denny was a damned soul. And he was cool with it.
“I’m taking things this way,” he explained. “What I did to have you I did with a clear head and open heart and take full responsibility for. Having you with me is so fucking worth the price I’m going to have to pay one day. Hell will have me. But, Good Lord willing, not right away. With a little luck and clean living we can hold that burning for eternity business off for a spell. Don’t you worry any about me, Uschi; I have a lot of living and loving you yet to do. And, I’m hoping, you have a lot more wonders to show me and things to teach me.”
It would have been fine for Uschi to weep after hearing such tender and loving words from Denny. The moment certainly seemed ideal for girl tears. But that would not happen. Zombies do not cry. The best she could manage was to get up and come over there next to him and give him the best and most heartfelt kiss and hug she could do and tell him, “Oh, best thing, I am always going to do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
“I know you will, sugar cube. Now let’s eat. Thrashing around in the ocean can work up a powerful hunger in a man.”
Their midnight dinner consisted of Dr Pepper and tortilla chips and bologna sandwiches for Denny. For Uschi it was Sprite and tortilla chips and Li’l Bocephus sandwiches.
She threw back a beach towel and revealed hiding beneath it her dinner laying face up in the sand. There he was, Li’l Bocephus. Yes, he was still around and keeping reluctant company with Uschi and Denny.
The redneck cousin to Count Dracula weren’t at all looking robust and healthy. Uschi had some time ago stripped him naked and hacked off his arms and legs, capped the raw stumps with stapled down in place multiple pages taken from motel room Bibles. That way the wounds were kept perpetually burnt and cauterized and prevented limbs from regenerating over night and causing anybody any trouble. His disclosed genitalia were just as overly pale and freckled as his face. The collection of ginger pubic hairs was widespread and identical to a Brillo pad consumed by rust. During the daytime he was kept in the trunk of the Mary Kay pink Caddy Uschi and Denny were cruising around Texas in as if he were no more than just another spare tire. His good ol’ country boy existence these days was all pig’s blood and piss-poor gloom.
He twisted his neck and raised two of the most pitiful eyes imaginable up toward the homemade zombie girlfriend. “And a how do to y’all tonight. Any chance could this be the night you finally find in your heart a touch of tender compassion and kill me once and for all? Please be a kemo sabe and say yes.”
Uschi borrowed Van Sloan from Denny and reached toward Li’l Bocephus with it. He tried to cower and worm away from the descending blade, but was unable to accomplish anything. He whimpered like a dying old dog as Uschi carved into him and removed his liver and slapped the big and bloody raw thing down between two slices of Mrs. Baird’s bread.
“Oooo, baby.” She was positively drooling as she was going in for her first bite. “Here do be the good shit.”
“I guess not,” said Li’l Bocephus.
Their beach picnic was enjoyed. Then things naturally progressed to the more amorous.
They indulged their X-rated urges, getting their beach blanket bingo on like a hot and horny demonic Frankie and Annette. The moonlight illuminated their energetically writhing forms while wave after wave rolled in and crashed on the beach. Their sexual intercourse was primal and animalistic, dynamic and enjoyed down to the very last detail. Sand got into places it really should never be, but in the heat of the moment nobody cared.
Li’l Bocephus had no choice but to be a spectator to their nauseating lovemaking. It was nasty to watch, but it wasn’t like there was anything else going on to hold his attention.
“Y’all just thoroughly disgust me, you know that?” he happily informed as they fucked. “You’re unnatural and obscene and about as tacky as tacky can get up off its lazy ass and hope to strive to be. Boy, you really shouldn’t allow that girl to put her hand up inside your asshole like that. At least not in public. What if people were to suddenly walk up on y’all right this moment? Nobody cares to see her go five-finger spelunking in your personal Carlsbad Caverns. And don’t you put your tongue in her there. That’s a right smart way to contract a disease scary enough to make penicillin shit its britches. Where is the decency?”
When post-coital, they held on tight to one another and shared their beyond satisfactory afterglow.
“Y’know, it’s funny,” pillow talked Denny. “Guys like me aren’t supposed to have happy endings. Somewhere along the way I should have been screwed over by the devil and cheated out of my side of the deal and sent straight to hell. At least that’s how it always winds up in the old Robert Bloch stories.”
“Shit, best thing, that ain’t nothing. Look at me. I’m a monster. When’s the last time you heard of the monster getting the boy and being able to ride off into the sunset happily ever after? We’re both trailblazers. For us everything is new and fresh and belongs only to us. We kicked the impossible in the balls and stole its lunch money. Young and in love and have got the whole world before us. Oh, the misconduct and thrill-a-minute adventures we are going to get ourselves fucked up in. I can not wait. I promise you we are going to have a long and unique life together.”
• • •
Ga’Hantor will return in
HERCULES VS. THE KU KLUX KLAN
• • •
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HE
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Copyright © 2012 by Tony Womack
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real people, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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