Uschi! (11 page)

She didn’t move. Fear kept her rooted to where she stood at the end of the aisle.

Li’l Bocephus closed the distance between them in a short amount of time. He ran his cold hands up her arms and settled them firmly on the shoulders. His three-fingered zombie bit hand was duct tape doctored the same as his other wounds; the tape sounded like dried cornhusks dragged over sandpaper as it rubbed against the polyester material of Rainbow’s blouse. The buzzing flies that flocked him were now aggravating her as well, dive bombing her face and getting in her mouth, their buzzing a continual noise in her ears.

Tears running down her cheeks, she found the will to speak. “Don’t do anything bad to me.” Her voice reminded him of the cries of an injured baby bird, weak and defenseless. “You gonna rape me? Please don’t. I’m begging you. Won’t be any fun for you. I’ve been told that down there I’m about as dry as the ashes at the bottom of a barbecue pit and wide open as the doors on a horse trailer. And don’t kill me none, either. I’m not ready to die. I really want to keep on living.”

“Aw honeybee, for what it’s worth, there’s nothing personal to any of this. I can promise you that much. I’m hungry. That’s about it. You ain’t anything more to me than food. Honestly sorry if that should damage your pride any. You just try and relax, maybe think on a few happy thoughts you might have handy in your head, and let this son of Count Chockula do that voodoo he do so well. Now, here come the teeth.”

Li’l Bocephus opened wide and went down on Rainbow. Fangs violated the neck, tapping one of his top three favorite arteries. This yelp of pain that couldn’t have been any louder than an infant’s belch hopped out of her. He fed quickly, fat kid at a picnic greedily sucking it down at a rate he feared there weren’t going to be no tomorrow. He had found a winner here. Rainbow’s plasma was salty-sweet and delicious, like how he remembered a pineapple slice off of a glazed baked ham tasting.

Somehow, despite the carnage inside him, all was properly digested. The blood that poured down his esophagus and filled him all stayed where it should. Not so much as a single ruby red drop got through the duct tape and dribbled out of him.

The mishandled entrails returned to the inside of him took excitedly to the feeding. The fresh blood seemed to rile them up. They became even more animated than they were before, jumpy and thrashing about, almost caffeine hyper. The duct tape over his belly rippled and waved as the renegade motions intensified beneath, threatening to burst loose.

Whether or not this wild hair up the ass business was positive or negative for his recuperation, Li’l Bocephus had the inclination to calm it down some. Never missing a beat in his feeding, he lowered his hand and slapped himself across the stomach a few times, disciplining the unruly parts of himself. Make them ornery guts behave.

It worked. Things calmed a noticeable degree.

Soon Rainbow’s eyes were swimming in an unfocused light, staring at a world she could no longer recognize. Her heart rate plummeted to almost nothing and breathing became this chore she no longer seemed to find the need to bother with anymore. Rainbow would have toppled to the floor by now and formed a puddle of useless bone and meat if not for Li’l Bocephus taking hold of her under the arms and keeping her propped up. Bowel control abandoned her; a chunky river of excrement flowed down the back of both of her legs. The smell of the shit was the new dominant stink for the next five aisles over.

Rainbow was denied having her life flash before her eyes. There just wasn’t time for any type of show in her mind. Not even a few brief snippets of family, friends, things she had done or wanted to do before her life concluded. Death came up too goddamn fast and snatched her away. Here one second, gone and never to return the exact next. That’s it. Good-bye. Thanks for playing. So sorry, but no second chances.

After he supped and had proudly made Rainbow excessively deceased, he took the moment to conceal her body on one of the lower shelves, behind a stack of air-conditioning filters. Leave her ass there and let it be a not soon forgotten random homicide surprise for some dipstick stockboy to come upon in a day or so.

Following that mini chore, a feeling positive and hopeful for the future Li’l Bocephus eased himself in a totally unnoticed way on out of the Home Depot. He got to his faithful canary bird yellow 1978 Chevrolet Silverado pick ’em up truck, which wasn’t too far away, just across the road and parked in the rear of a twenty-four hour International House of Pancakes. The truck had a roof mounted CB radio antenna reaching high enough into the air to pert near become a hazard for any low flying aircraft and a roomy diamond plate aluminum toolbox arc-welded to the cargo bed in back.

He reached into the truck’s cab to fetch a new shirt. It was western cut and with shiny pearl snap buttons and its sleeves long ago cut away from it. He closed the cab door and locked his truck up once he was dressed.

The lid on the truck bed’s toolbox he opened next. His long and skinny cowboy frame was seemingly boneless as it casually oozed like smoke up the side of the pickup. He entered the toolbox boots first and closed and locked the lid behind him after he was all the way inside and situated in a comfortable position. Turning in early tonight. Here he would stay through the daylight hours, happily asleep and healing at an impossibly fast rate. Li’l Bocephus was doing good and had it all under his control.

Chapter Five

S
ome hours later, but well before time to get up and start getting ready for work, Denny came awake. Nothing was wrong; it wasn’t like he was abruptly jolted out of his sleep by a loud noise or escaping a horrible nightmare. He simply stopped sleeping and eased into a wakeful state. His mind was calm and body feeling fine.

On the night table next to his side of the bed, along with about a hundred pages into it Edward Lee paperback novel and a WWF Jake “the Snake” Roberts wrestling action figure, was a digital alarm clock. It produced enough of a glow to stand in well enough for a nightlight. Denny stayed still on his back and watched how the shadows settled over the horror movie posters and pictures hanging on his bedroom walls. He was acutely aware that there was a difference to his bed tonight. It was alien territory, this having another body lying next to him.

Do zombies sleep? Uschi did. She was snuggled up close to Denny, joining him under the sheets. One of her arms was draped over his chest and holding him to her. She smelled nice: Ivory soap and hair shampoo and exhumed body putrescence. Strands of her clean and luxurious platinum hair were tossed onto his face, clingy and filmy on his skin as if he had walked into a spider’s web.

She snored in an adorable unladylike way. He raised his head off his pillow and watched her decaying face. Her big lips were slightly parted and for the first time he noticed she had an overbite. Her implants sandbagged chest rose and fell in steady respiration. Her dark nipples were relaxed and smooth.

The taste of her pussy was still plentiful in Denny’s mouth. It was a fantastic taste. It was official—cunnilingus rocked. He had treated that fish taco to the licking and loving it so rightfully deserved. Until tonight Denny had been a virgin when it came to the giving half of oral sex. Uschi, patient and knowledgeable, guided him brilliantly through the operation. She came twice with Denny kissing her deep between her fetid thighs. Uschi had squirmed in wicked delight on the Darth Vader decorated bedsheets, her legs draped over Denny’s shoulders and toes curled while hips rolled and pushed herself more into his mouth.

The night felt different, and not only because of the bed partner and new experiences in pussy eating. The world was feeling to Denny mute and frozen in place. The trailer’s air-conditioning had finished its blowing cycle and the place was now quiet. Way quiet. It was unnatural for the Big Kahuna Trailer Park Oasis to be so silent, so still. No Black Sabbath or Garth Brooks playing at top volume, chained pit bull dogs not barking their heads off as they so commonly do all hours, any of the more profound white trashy couples fighting over unemployment checks or who drank the last Pabst Blue Ribbon. That doesn’t seem normal. Like God all of a sudden needed a bathroom break and so He got hold of the remote control and hit the PAUSE button.

And speaking of needing to take a pause for the cause, Denny Gleeth himself was starting to feel the urge to go. He careful as could be slowly and quietly extracted himself out of bed. Uschi rolled onto her back, continued uninterrupted in her snoring and farted once potent enough to ruffle the sheets as she resituated her position on her pillow. In the bathroom, he aimed his urine stream to the side of the commode’s bowl, hoping to curb the loud and far carrying watery noise and not disturb her sleep. He passed on flushing, but did think ahead and put the seat down in case she should need a visit.

He stopped to examine himself in the mirror.

Well, hello, handsome.
He scratched at his butthole, making a skid mark in the seat of his underwear that was big and dirty and proud to be there and attracting the attention.

Whole hell of a lot of things going on in his little life right now to be worried and fearful over. Standing there in the bathroom, hand still planted on his shitty ass, this awful weight of depression and panic wanted to come down over him, suck him into an unavoidable and quite familiar pitch-black tunnel of despair and self-pity that had no bottom. But he refused to give in to any of that, resisted with this reserve of will power Denny was surprised to find he kept in stock. He reasoned there was plenty of time for feeling sorry about himself later. Right now enjoy what you’ve got for as long as it may last and be happy. Try and be happy.

He went back to bed. Uschi sensed his return and rolled over to spoon him. She wrapped a leg around his waist and her boobs mashed hard into the back of his ribs. They were this jellied bulk pressing against him that made him feel as if he were being prison yard shived with a Stretch Armstrong doll. That was good stuff. Denny felt safe and protected and loved.

Uschi feared nothing. Uschi was always going to be there for Denny. The love they shared would see them through any obstacle or hardship. Whatever she wanted to do, he’d be there right beside her. Fuck yeah. Believe it.

Denny soon enough eased into a dreamless and undisturbed sleep.

Chapter Six

U
schi stepped outside the trailer home and confronted the new day. On her spoiled cadaver green face was a bright and cheerful smile. She wore camel toe alert tight cut-off jeans offering a major majority of ass cheeks hanging out of the frayed backside and Mork from Ork fashion rainbow suspenders strategically arranged to cover her twin oil stains on a garage floor dark nipples. The side boobage she had on display was positively massive. On her feet were plastic flip-flops. Earlier she had found pushed to the back of a kitchen cabinet shelf an old and forgotten table center piece that belonged to the people that rented the trailer before Denny. She broke off one of its plastic flowers, washed it clean of dust bunnies and mouse turds and now was wearing it behind her ear. The skill and expertness of her makeup’s application was suitable of earning Uschi employment at the cosmetics counter at any Wal-Mart in America. The hornet and wasp killer spray she liberally doused herself with before stepping out gave her a heavy chemical miasma.

Let’s see what sort of mischief I can get myself fucked up in.

And she set off, strutting her stuff through the Big Kahuna Trailer Park Oasis.

The hum of thriving in the August morning heat cicadas in the trees throughout the trailer park was coming in all directions. Only the rumble of numerous hard working air-conditioning compressors was louder. Kids were running around unsupervised and behaving apeshit crazy in their playing, laughing and screaming, enjoying these precious last few days of summer before the new school season got under way. This good music-appreciating dude was not too far off in his driveway washing his cherry ‘69 Dodge Charger and had his boombox turned up and sharing with everyone The Cramps performing “Cornfed Dames.” Uschi quickly found her step in rhythm with the song’s sweet and decadent psychobilly beat.

In one yard a pair of Mexican boys, grossly fat and the juvenile diabetes practically oozing from their pores, were going around barefoot and busy pestering a fireant mound with sticks. They stopped still and stared in wide-eyed amazement at the king-size maracas packing walking dead that came shaking her ass by.

“Hey, booger-eaters,” she said to them in a neighborly tone of voice and not giving a damn whether they knew a word of the English or not. “Y’all keep your shit straight and mind your parents.”

They didn’t come out of their dumbfuzzled daze until the fireants started stinging their feet and legs. Screaming in pain, they hustled and got their fat little asses inside. It’d be quite the period of time before either one of them felt the urge to be playing outdoors again.

Pets, sensing her Satanic origins, cowered and retreated at her approach and were none better in disposition after she moved on. She waved to a senior citizen dressed in boxer shorts and a wife beater T-shirt sitting on his patio porch and enjoying his first pack of cigarettes of the day. The old timer had eyes milky and blurred from a pronounced cataracts condition and was already feeling a fair share loose thanks to the healthy amount of vodka he’d mixed together with his breakfast of instant Sanka coffee and Pop Tarts. He waved back at the fuzzy image of the polite lady.

A housewife hanging clothes to dry on a line and whose own teenage daughter recently started to rebel and had turned herself into some kind of freaky walking and talking horror movie monster Goth thing caught sight of Uschi coming down the path and couldn’t hold her opinion inside.

Momma took the clothespins from her mouth and wagged a condemning finger and told it as she saw it. “I happen to have it on very good authority baby Jesus don’t have much patience for young women who dress too trashy and weird.”