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Freddy Barnett's

And Then Things Got Weird….

Month

June 2017

The Further Adventures of the Cannibalistic Sawney Beane Clan.

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(An excerpt from Shark Fin Soup — A tale of sharks, cannibals, gods and true love.) 

The Beane Stalkers

Once Magistrate Wallass had been given the description of the two trampled Beane children with their unicorn pony, everything suddenly came together in his mind…. Missing people, pickled parts near the beaches where the mysterious Beanes were sometimes spotted. Wallass quickly dispatched a Guaranteed-Over-Month-Delivery message to King James to request reinforcements. 

Wallass needed at least a hundred men to deal with the large Beane family. The outraged King himself joined his best officers plus 400 of his personal guard to deal with this threat to decency and local tourism.

Two months later, The King’s men “immediately” began to sweep the Galloway area.  While patrolling the rocky shore near the cave, search dogs began to howl. The scent of death hovered in the approaching thick fog. Some of the hounds began to dig through the wet sand near the water covered entrance of the cave. As the soldiers rode along the shoreline the tide started to recede. Within an hour the saturated blood-soaked sandstone arch of the cave entrance, and a terrible stench was revealed (Would you like flies with that?).

With flaming torches and swords drawn, the Kings men began to experience the living quarters of “a really unique group of individuals.”

Within the glimmering light of their torches, the damp walls of the cave revealed human body parts-not hung like the spoiled sides of beef on rusty old hooks as in Connor’s Meat Shop-but tastefully displayed, in glorious tableaus, much like one would find painted on the side of an ancient erotic Greek vase. The ghostly glow of the soldier’s torches, divulged bundles of fine clothes and piles of jewelry in many side rooms.

Then little Sprout’s own treasure room was discovered. “Sprout’s Mountain of Bones” the crude sign on the draped door proudly announced (Sprout had learned to read while wandering through victim’s belongings). Inside the cavernous room an amazing sculpture, resembling “a terrible fearsome fish” was displayed as if in a modern natural history museum. It was a grotesque 90 foot monstrosity that had been growing and growing, bone by human bone, for over 8 years.

The terrible Fish Goddess Urtha, also known as Egad.

Count your Beanes

Since they were a very “close” family, the authorities found all 48 Beanes (Yes, there were many new Beaney babies), together in the Great Dining Hall. They had prepared themselves a great “Stew”-Lord Stewart of Gahoolie, and were busy eating him at the Great Round Dinner Table. They did not notice the intrusion of the 400 party crashers.

The quiet family dinner suddenly erupted into chaos when one of the hidden King’s men accidentally passed gas and other soldiers started to groan and chuckle within the shadows.

Deep, Delicate, Fruity, Peppery and Elegant.

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REBIRTH

And hallelujah, Bernie Benedict was to be reborn.

A voice called him ‘apotheothenai’ during his dream. It meant that Bernie had become one of “the apotheosized ones, reborn as a god” just as Hercules and Dionysus had done before him.

Artemis had his body and soul expedited through the River Styx where it went through its final upgrade. Upon Bernie’s golden cart, were his accolades, a God Certificate, a custom monogrammed bathrobe, an official and uncomfortable  golden head wreath along with a fifty-dollar meal credit coupon for the Thank ME,  It’s Friday’s restaurant, inside the Olympus Mall.

After being boinked to death by the goddess Artemis, Bernie now resembled Cary Grant and was fully registered as an “unclassified god.”

He was assigned the new name, Cupcaecius and was given a temporary number by Zeus, until a new position on Olympus was created.

Cupcaecius #6753XB had become the newest addition to the great Pantheon on Mount Olympus, after the induction of Salsalius #6754XB, who’d been named “The God of Tacos.”

Cupcaecius emerged from the Styx coffee bar wearing his new bathrobe and holding a steaming cup of Dauna, the shark goddess’, premium blend, Warp-Speed-Get-The-Fuck-Outta-My-Way-Asshole coffee — a product of the blood-soaked island of Kupiao, Fiji.

______________________

A few hours later, Bernie found himself back in his earthly hotel room, watching The God Channel, back in Cleveland at the Flamingo Arms Hotel. The sun was up. Artemis was gone, but her intoxicating scent lingered on his lips; deep, delicate, fruity, peppery and elegant.

Bernie could only remember a few sexy seconds about his date night with the now devirginized Artemis on the moon — Whoa! — vowing that he’d never get that drunk again.

The next afternoon, Artemis and Bomba the Kitty God drove Bernie back up to Mount Olympus to buy more clothing. Still groggy, in his robe, he appeared to be like any other brain-dead god who’d ever been dragged through Olympus Mall. Artemis helped him find a few god-in-training outfits, comprising of a handsome selection of suits and day and evening wear imported from London’s Savile Row. No more blinding Bermuda shorts for the ex Bolsa Chico Surf Patrol Chief. He was now a god and was expected to dress accordingly.

Bernie, despite feeling drained of all bodily fluids, felt more fit than he’d ever felt when he was a lowly human bug.

The next morning, he would pack for a trip down to Earth, where all fucked-out and all reborn-n’-shit, he would join the other love of his life-death-life, Dauna, the shark goddess, at JFK Airport… where, if she saw his ruined chastity trap, there would be some ‘splainin’ to dooooooo.’

Next stop: The Battle Royale of the Shark Gods, on New Year’s Eve, in Jamaica Bay, in Fuckin’ New Yawk.

Love among the Thorns of Peonari Castle

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“Groan.”

“Vhat the fote????” Said Vlad.

“Grooooaaaannn…” said a voice from within the crowd of the newly ‘evolved’ Hell’s Angles architect/bikers.

“Grooooaaaannn!”

Vlad’s eyes, full of venom, scanned his new army for the source of the interruption. “Such impudence! Who…?”

“Grooooaaaannn…” said the walking-dead-as-a-walking-doornail wretched maidservant Penelope as she began to shamble between the motorcycles, through the thorns and down the moonlit hill.

Curious about the zombie’s motives, the crowd watched her in silence.

“Mwoooooohhhhh annnnhhh,” groaned piteous Penelope, continuing her trademark shamble.

“What did she say?” asked Chester. “Where is the unfortunate creature headed, Your Highness?”

The Countess Bathory answered, “Penelope is telling us that through these thorns (sniff), brambles, and poison ivy (sniff) is the path…to true love. She was always the optimist, that poor, poor shell of a woman.”

Penelope’s heartbreaking groans faded as she headed deeper into the dense brush. “Mnnnnnungph…!”

“Jeez, she smells,” said one of the newly badass-ed motorcyclists.

Which was a good thing, because…

Downwind, at Poenari Castle, Huthbert Grieves, Vlad’s downcast moping zombie butler, who had bravely remained behind to defend the castle, had caught a scent of something he hadn’t dreamt about for nearly two hundred years. His neck creaked as he looked up toward the ridge outside. No, not smell like  brains. What was that? He sniffed the air and inhelled a smell as sweet and familiar as dead flowers. “P-P-P-P-P…It’sssss herrrrrrr!” He dropped his serving tray and shambled toward the cold moonlight streaming through the window.

Huthbert’s first smile in centuries cracked the parchment skin around his dusty mouth. Her name, buried in his desiccated heart, rumbled and found its way out of his papery lungs and across the lolling stub that was once his tongue. The sound, seeking life, broke to the surface. “Peh-Pehnelllllopeeeee…”

Mayhem and Mayday Aboard the Vinnie Maru

New Shark Fin Titled

Dauna, the shark goddess, feeling all sharky an’ shit, partied as she snapped and slashed at MacHeath’s crew. Suddenly, the entire cannibal crew of the Vinnie Maru, following the example of their crazed leader MacHeath were involved in a defiant bird-finger flipping frenzy. All were screaming:

“Son of a bitch!”

“दुष्ट!”

“κάθαρμα!”

“Drittsekk!”

“Figlio di una cagna!”

“זון פון אַ הור!”

“王八蛋!”

Cannibal heads rolled across the deck, knocking other cannibals over the railings like bowling pins.

Within seconds, Dauna had destroyed all but Captain Debas and…Where’s that yellow-belly MacHeath?

Above the thunder and wind, their fellow half -timbered agent T.K. toppled upon Captain Debas. The two struggled, stood, and tumbled over the railing, the captain defiantly and prominently displayed his yata yata yata blah blah blah for the last time.

Bernie slid backward, covering himself with the blue tarp while trying to avoid Dauna, the shark goddess’ lethal teeth, tail and toxic Tourettes that would make old Barnacle Bill, himself blush.

Bernie would never forget looking into Dauna’s deep brown eyes. “Don’t!” he pleaded. Her eyes were staring directly through Bernie’s while he tried in vain to back away and slipped into the unforgiving metal gunwale, hitting his head. Bernie was nearly unconscious when Dauna,—Sorry about this, sailor— bit into his groin. Snap!

“Chomp, chomp! (“No, I didn’t change his religion,” Dauna would later tell Frankie. “It was only a nibble.”)  That was the last thing that Bernie heard that afternoon, except when Dauna went into another obscenity-laced discourse on the benefits of public mastication.

 

Delirious, Bernie awoke inside of one of the ship’s cabins to the smell of cigarette smoke. A baritone voice repeated as if in a song, “You’re safe now. Are you still with us?”

Frankie had packed Bernie’s groin area with a rank poultice made of pulverized sea stars and seaweed peeled off of the Vinnie Maru’s giant nets.

Bernie had peeked at one point. What the hell is Frankie knitting down there? A sweater? And why is he smoking and sipping a cocktail while he’s OUCH!?

“Stay with me, pal. C’mon, buddy boy? You shouldn’t be wearing bloodstains after five, Clyde. Life’s too short to dress like a shark attack victim.”

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