Search

Freddy Barnett's

And Then Things Got Weird….

Category

Transylvania

The Tragic Death and Death of Igorrina

cropped-dracula-bat.jpg

“I’m bored,” said young Mina, who sat with her face in her hands.

“Me too. Can we go now?” asked the whiny, childish Jonathan while plunking on his dreadfully-out-of-tune guitar.

“Oh, children. I thought that you were enjoying our picnic,” said the very adult and reprehensi… I mean, responsible Countess Elizabeth. 

“There’s hardly anything left of Nic to pick on,” moaned Mina.

“You kids these days,” Elizabeth continued. “Let me tell you a story about patience. There was once a lonely little girl named Igorrina who lived just down the road in the haunted forest.”

“Is there any other kind of forest?” asked Mina.

“No. Now listen, my children of the night. Igorinna, who couldn’t even find a friend to play Toe Tag with, was convinced that there was nothing in her future. So, not giving a damn,  she always took her futen time doing things. She was never in a big hurry to go…anywhere. 

One day, Igorinna decided that she’d had enough of this world. She tied the end of a rope around the neck that connected her useless head to her body and the other end of the rope to a young spruce tree, determined to stay there until either death took her away or her dream-boy Prince Charmin’ arrived on his white steed to rescue her from her misery. Even the local wolves, lynx, and bears found Igorinna uninteresting and unappetizing. Poor Igorrina spent most of her life tied to that spruce tree in Hoia-Baciu Forest, watching the bats and ghosts fly by in the evening, while protected only by vicious badgers who lived in the dens that circled her. 

Why did they protect her? The badgers didn’t care for Igorrina, but were curious to see what might happen to her in the end. They kept her minimally fed with worms, grubs, and insects. Over time, Igorrina had begun to grow old and ugly while tied to the same branch of that same tree for forty-five years until …”

“Until what, Countess?” asked Jonathan. “A handsome woodsman came along?”

“Fah!” said Uncle Vlad.

“A knight in shining armor?” asked Mina.

“Fat futin’ chance!” said Elizabeth. “You children can be so gruesome.”

“Of course! The handsome prince!” said Granny Lupta Axe.

“No vay,” said Vlad. “Prince Charmin’, the ass vipe, never showed up.”

Elizabeth continued. “So, sad Igorrina sat, leaning against the tree trunk until, you know, one lovely grey day the spruce finally grew tall enough…tall enough to slowly pull Igorrina up by her neck and hang her.”

“No guano! That is so cool,” said Jonathan.

“Talk about patience!” said Mina.

“You kids should see her,” said Vlad. “Igorrina can vear a choker, a string of pearls, a locket, and ten necklaces…at vonce!”

Vlad’s eyes seemed to catch fire. His mustache bristled. “Fute patience!” He pounded the table. “I vant all of the Wisitors and tourists out of my castle! Now!”

Prey-Lewd (Introduction of ^^ö^^ Bats)

BATS-FINAL LG>Prey-Lewd
(Enemy Territory)
Čachtice, Slovakia (Formerly Hungary)

 

Inside his melon-sized head, the bus driver heard the menacing voice of Boris Karloff: “Even your bus is dead, Kimo.”

Please! Anywhere but here. Not in front of creepy Čachtice Castle, thought the Type A Tours driver with the name tag: ‘Aloha, My name is Big Kimo.’

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kimo announced, “we may be here awhile, so you can get out of the bus, walk around a little and stretch if you like.”

Bats and huge fanged moths — the kind that would happily eat your shorts—with you in them — were attracted to the lights within the bus and began pounding themselves against the windows. Anyone who was about to ‘go outside and stretch’ quickly gave up on the foolish idea.

“Look, driver!” Someone stood and pointed out of the right side of the bus. Big Kimo couldn’t see anything, at first.

“It’s a lady!” said a British woman in back.

Oh, boy…and she has dogs!” said her son. Four shadows trotted from the parked Bats Mobile and took their places behind the Countess. They held baskets in their mouths.

Sure enough, a tall beautiful woman was approaching the bus from the car. She was bathed in moonlight. She wore a bouffant hairdo and a checkered blue homemakers dress straight out of the 1950s. The lovely redhead waved at Kimo through the closed door. She held up a pitcher of an ice-cold beverage and a stack of Dixie Cups. He relaxed.

“Oh goody, goody!” a child in the front seat squealed. “The nice lady brought us Kool-Aid!”

What the tourists thought was rain, started to hit the windows. The drops were plague tears. The sound of the wind was a sickening wheeze.

“Let her in, driver! The poor woman’s blouse is soaked,” a woman from Ireland called out. All of the men were suddenly interested. “It must be the lady of the house,” she said.

I hope it isn’t the lady of the house, thought Kimo. The Bloody Countess, Elizabeth Bathory once lived here. That was centuries ago. Still, it is Čachtice!

The canines stood guard in shadows behind their mistress. Kimo opened the glass door—Oh, what the hell—with a hiss. “The dogs will have to stay outside.” The tall beauty, a very well-put-together June Cleaverhe thought, stepped up into the bus taking a wide stance in front in of the passengers. The “nice lady,” wet, was a great deal “nicer” than most had expected. She captured everyone’s complete attention despite their age, sex, race, nationality, or even in the case of Mrs. Bernstein in the back, species.

“Hello, you nice people. I’m Mrs. June Cleaver!” Elizabeth Bathory, The Bloody Countess lied.

Kimo was taken back. Cleaver? Why don’t I like that name?

Her audience was riveted on the icy pitcher of swirling sky blue liquid that she displayed.

“I brought you some refreshments while you are waiting to be rescued,” said the beguiling housewife. “I’ve got dozens of our best local Batina’s cookies and something to quench your thirst. Here! Pass them back. Thank you. If it’s all right with Big Kimo, maybe I could teach you nice folks a little bit about our local cuisine.”

The tired driver nodded, stared out the bus window into the falling tears of regret and moaning thunder, and decided that he didn’t like the size of those dogs. They were very well behaved and they were all wearing white kerchiefs. No, those are bibs! Cleaver. Cleaver. The name still made him nervous.

“We’re proud of our Fritz Haarmann cutlery,” said the perky housewife. “Mr. Haarmann was originally a meat salesman from Germany, but now he makes and tests his fine cutlery products right here in Transylvania.” She smiled at the man sitting in front of her. “Are you from Germany? Then you would certainly appreciate the craftsmanship. I mean, just look at this beautiful cleeeeeeeeaver!” The big bald German didn’t understand one word. While he smiled up at the outline of her ‘chilled’ nipples above, she stared down at the reflection of the blade on his shiny head. She raised her cleaver, “Just feel this edge!”

Soon, Mrs. Cleaver/Elizabeth was doing the backstroke up and down the blood-filled center aisle of the bus as her good doggies dragged piles of tourist vittles into the Countess’ sob-flooded front yard.

The Countess Elizabeth’s housekeeper, Penelope, disposed of the bus with an explosion fueled by bat guano.

All of this took five minutes.

The flapping bats applauded.

Elizabeth, curtsied, leapt into her muscle car, and floored the gas pedal five-hundred miles to Poenari.

 

goreybat.jpg

Boldizsár, I Came to Kick Your Bony Ass.

anitas-bald-guy
“Boldizsár, I Came to Kick Your Bony Ass.”

Because of Laszlo’s large skeletal bald head, which appeared on the back cover of all his novels, Laszlo Toth was easily recognized by his legions of fans. Though Laszlo became famous by writing about the supernatural, he based his novels on fact and prided himself on being a rational man.

Laszlo did believe in science and while studying genetics for his new novel became involved with the a group called blameyourancestors.com. Within two weeks after sending their headquarters a DNA sample he discovered he was 87% Hungarian and, apparently, 13 % cheese, citing a few stray genetic threads to Luxembourg, Switzerland and four other cheesy countries.

Thanks to blameyourancestors.com, Laszlo was also able to narrow his search back to his Hungarian family, the Tóths. After a little bit of digging, he discovered a recent family portrait. The Tóths all looked ‘polished,’ like Laszlo. Cueballs. Melon heads. The men, women and children all suffered from a severe form of early male-pattern baldness (androgenic alopecia).

anitas-bald-family

Laszlo sent more money to expand his DNA search and soon received the results that he’d been hoping for. The ‘bald problem’ that plagued his life was traced back to a —  singular —  human —  monster, Count Oszkár Tóth.

During the 16th century, Oszkár ruled Walachia and was known for his long-flowing locks that made him look like a golden hero on the cover of a bodice-ripping romance novel. The vain Oszkár combed his proud mane day and night. One evening he summoned his magic golden comb only to find out that it had been stolen!

Oszkár’s spouse, the beautiful countess Cynthia, told her husband that she had seen a well known local magician, Madik, running away from the castle and into the Nagyon (Very)  Sotet (Dark) Forest carrying a shiny yellow object in his hand.

After apprehending Madik, Laszlo ordered the Magician to be burned at the stake. At the Barbecue, Laszlo, himself, was cursed by the magician’s wife, the powerful witch, Eegahd.

The next morning, while Oszkár combed and combed, his glorious mane began to shed. The hair that made the count ‘such a wench magnet’ alllll fell to the ground.

As a result of Eegahd’s curse, all of Count Oszkár’s children, male and female, became bald as well; that is until in October 31, 1712, when the entire clan were tortured, murdered, dismembered, and turned into a savory paprika goulash by a nomadic Gibor hoard.

Only one Tóth escaped the massacre, the youngest noble in line, Boldizsár, who continued to selfishly spread the Tóth family curse throughout the western world.

“Fiend!” cried Laszlo. Tendrils of revenge worked their way into the author’s rational mind. Online, he hired a Hungarian scholar, János Harker, to help him track down Boldizsár’s resting place. That is when Laszlo made the first irrational decision since his seventh marriage, to visit his cursed ancestor’s crypt and ‘kick his bony ass to Hell.’

The following October, before the frost set in, Laszlo made his trip, alone, to Walachia.

Unfazed by local superstition, Laszlo arrived ten minutes before midnight at Tóth Citadel in rural  Ploiești. He quietly drove his rent-a-car around the back to the cemetery, parked, opened the trunk, and removed his new Road Rager Crowbar.

Laszlo found the rusty cemetery gate open, and by the light of the full moon, jimmied his way into the Tóth Mausoleum. Once inside, he lit his lantern, shooed away the vermin to begin his unholy undertaking. Laszlo located Boldizsár’s resting place and slid the heavy lid off the ancient stone coffin.

Jubilant, he dragged the Count’s loosely connected skeleton outside among the gravestones.

MIDNIGHT

 Laszlo kicked Boldizsár’s bony ass all over the churchyard until he could kick no more. After a short rest and a drink from his flask, Laszlo dragged the broken Boldizsár parts back inside the mausoleum, dumped them back inside the coffin and took a selfies, one   in front of the inscription on the wall above the sarcophagus:

‘Lehet, hogy meghalt, de még mindig halott.’ 

Laszlo, satisfied with the bony ass kicking, didn’t review the inscription on the photo until he arrived back home in the states. Something had changed. In red letters, his name had been added to the wording :

‘Lehet, hogy meghalt, Laszlo, de még mindig halott.’

Translation:

(Mua hahahahahahaha)

“I may be dead, Laszlo, but you’re still bald.”

anitas-ghost

A Return to Damnalot — BATS ^^ö^^

13. Final Tragic Mountain LARGE FLATTENED

Buy Bats HERE >>> https://www.amazon.com/Bats-Fred-Barnett-ebook/dp/B00T2XBVYU/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

***

Vlad’s Castle was surrounded by amusement park rides, lights, and sported a new fifty-foot neon sign: Black Flags Tragic Mountain. Vlad kicked at the old skulls rimming the ditch. An unusually large noggin clamped its jaws down on his boot. “Ah! The great doctor! Look, Elizabeth! It’s old Abraham Van Helsing himself!” Vlad lifted his foot to show the skull his castle. “Say goodbye to your grandchildren, Abe. Or maybe it vill be hello.” The Prince swung the foot into a rock and smashed Abe’s bony brain bucket to smithereens. “Elizabeth, the love of my death, vhy am I here attacking my own castle? Never again!”

The Bats Mobile stood idle, growling and ready, with the bodies of Gibors stuck in its tire treads and front grill (Gibors were only worth two points apiece). I’ll open the trunk!” said Mina. “Let’s let the zombie out. She could use some fresh dust.”

Penelope fell from the trunk and crawled toward her master, Elizabeth. Was the moldy oldie actually trying to smile? Freezing rain began to pelt the Transylvanians. It felt wonderful to Elizabeth as it steamed off of her hot skin.

Penelope grabbed onto Vlad’s cape and pulled herself up from the muddy ground. Proudly she joined the other Transylvanians. Hand in hand, paw in paw, wing in wing, hand on butt cheeks, with the blood-red moon breaking through the clouds behind them, their brave silhouettes lined the ridge. The ridge was once home to a grand display of impaled enemy corpses that had long since rotted away and had once served as a very effective warning to invaders. The moon rose and illuminated the captive castle below. They had no guns. The Transylvanians were their own best weapons, when and if they ever let go of each other’s butt cheeks.

Bats ^^ö^^ The Witch Meets the Bikers

BATS-FINAL LG>

Find the book BATS at: https://www.amazon.com/Bats-Fred-Barnett-ebook/dp/B00T2XBVYU/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

“Who are you and what do you know about Infinity Upton-Downes?” thundered Tor, the largest of the motorcycle club known as the Hell’s Angles (Architects on vacation). “How would you know that Infinity Upton-Downes ain’t home? Her Witchipedia biography says that she lives in Transylvania year-round. I know everything about her…’cept what she looks like. I imagine that she’s pretty hot after readin’ her novels.”

“Oh. Howwwww do I know she isn’t home, snowflake? ’Cause you’re talkin’ to her, ya big ugly bastard! What happened to your eye?”

“Huh?”

“Your eye! Are ya deaf too? Bend down and let me take a look you got something…right there!” She poked it. “Nyuk, nyuk.”

“Ow! Old bat!”

“You’re fine, petal. Look through this telescope. See!” The telescope left a big black greasy circle around Tor’s poked eye. “So, you don’t believe that I am the famous Infinity? Have you read Tragic Lust #34? Of course you haven’t! I just finished writing it. It’s a romantic called Go-Go West, Young Man.”

Lupta, who used Infinity Upton Downes as her pen name, waved her cane and began to recite:

“Ahem… Time. Stood. Still. Broken by an intensifying vibration, Thunder Thigh’s glistening bronze body began to quake. Handsome Jack’s mighty maracas nearly shook loose. The Paiute guide howled when she clamped down and crushed the stunned studly Spillwell’s notorious hardened spike… The wagon master’s dying wail triggered the legendary Montana avalanche known by all school-age children today as ‘Fuckin’ awesome!’”

Tor turned to his leader, Chester. “Holy Swiss cheese, Chester!”

“Holy…It’s really her!” said Brutehilda, Chester’s monstrous spouse.

Fuckin’ illiterates, thought Lupta.

“Yup. That’s Infinity,” said a Viking-helmeted man in a business suit, named Lutefisk.

Willowy Mina shook her head. She still couldn’t believe that her own aunty, Lupta Axe, was the famous author of the disturbing books that she had been hiding beneath her mattress with her deluxe Willie Wanker Bar.

Seven-foot Tor bent down and kissed Lupta’s black heavy heeled shoes and began to bawl like a baby.

“Enough, my Swedish meatball. You kids won’t find the god-blessed Countess and Prince Vlad at home neither!”

“Of course they’re not home,” said Brutehilda. “Vlad the Impaler and Bathory the Bloody Countess died hundreds of years ago.”

Lupta pointed her crooked cane at Elizabeth’s rumbling Challenger. “Do you see the hottie behind the wheel with red pinstripes in her hair and glowing boobs next to the guy with the funny mustache smoking god-knows-what-unfortunate-creature in his pipe while wiping the unicorn shit off of his shoe? Well, that’s them sitting in the car, turd loaf. You’re looking at the genuine Prince Vlad the Impaler Dracula Tepes,” (From behind the windshield, Vlad smiled and mimed “Hi!” as he lifted his Meerschaum pipe and eyebrows.) “and the Bloody Countess Elizabeth ‘Hot Wheels’ Bathory, the real deal.”  — Elizabeth grinned like a bear trap while flashing her glowing red-hot nipples …. . .-.. .-.. —, which in Morse code translated to “Hello.” They even beeped.

Bats ^^Ö^^ The Dinner Hall Scene

“No one tells my Gibor children what to do, Gretel Van Helsing!”roared the twenty-foot tall Saturn who had burst through the door and took a place in front of Vlad’s crew. He squatted and opened his arms to the stupid trusting Gibors. “Come to Daddy, kids!”

“This doesn’t look good, brother!”said Gretel. “We should make like lightning, and bolt!”

Always obedient, the repulsive Gibors ran into the arms of their daddy, who had created their miserable but delectable race long ago in ancient Mesopotamia. Daddy Saturn began to bite their heads off in quick succession. The entire room, already sick to their stomachs, was startled to see a continuous splattering loop of Francisco Goya’s Saturn Eating His Son. Drooling, the giant smiled with his mouth full, burped and asked, “Who’s got the Sriracha?”― from “Bats”

^^Ö^^

https://read.amazon.com/kp/kshare?asin=B00T2XBVYU&id=Uu0mDM37T0ytYenmK4-pdg&reshareId=1V1PQ9PGQSKVH69GKF7J&reshareChannel=system

Yay! Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow

Yay! Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow
(an Excerpt from Fred Barnett’s ‘Bats’)

Riding in the 1970 Dodge Challenger are Vlad and Elizabeth (bloodsuckers), young Jonathan and Mina (up & coming bloodsuckers) and everyone’s favorite aunty, Lupta Axe, the Witch.

Elizabeth paid the fee and they parked. The crew of five piled out of her Barracuda and walked toward the VSD picnic area. Vlad knelt down on the newly dead grass. “This is the very spot where I found that stone that Elizabeth is wearing now.”
Mina looked at Elizabeth’s black diamond pendant wide-eyed. “Right here? Do you have any idea what that stone is worth? We could buy back the entire …” Mina stopped and stared.
A tall black robed figure approached them from the woods. Vlad thought Ah, yes, just what the world needs another freakin’ gothy black-robed figure. It was ‘the one and only Shadow,’ as in ‘The Shadow of the Valley of Death.’
The group froze before the Shadow’s frightening specter.
The Shadow turned slowly and spoke to Elizabeth. “What’s up, bitch?”
“Bitch? I was telling my family here just what a miserable little…” The Countess paused. “Listen flushabye, we came here to tell you that a group of the Van Helsing’s mercenaries are on their way to cut down all of your precious trees.”
“No way. Why would you warn me? After you called me, like, a ‘bit of a dick.”
“I’m shocked!” said Mina. “You called Shadow of Death a dick? No way!”
“Whatever! And my last name is O’Death.” said Shadow. “You can like, eat my shorts, skank!”
“Ewww. Not Even,” said Mina.
“I see that you are familiar with the language of the Valley, lithesome one?” asked the robed dick.
“Stop that.Everyone!” demanded Elizabeth. “The Van Helsing’s soldiers will be here in a few minutes. We need to surprise them.”
Vlad stepped forward. “We will hide, but in plain sight. Mr. O’Death would you be so kind to fetch some black robes, and, maybe some cups and plates. Let’s make it look like a family picnic.”
“All right, I’ll go check out my extensive wardrobe.” said Shadow. “It will cost you!”
“He is a dick, isn’t he? ” said Jonathan. He turned to Shadow who was gliding back toward his cabin in the trees “We’re here to save your valley, you ungrateful dead pric…!” Jonathan stopped speaking when he saw that the ground was completely covered in huge black gleaming diamonds. “Unholy fute! Wow!”
Shadow soon glided back toward the picnic area with a pile of neatly folded and monogrammed robes. “These belong to my family. The ‘M’ is for Marchand O’Death. He is my brother. We call him the Merchant, Angel, my sister and my parents, Void O’Death and my mom, Abyss or Abbie. I keep clean robes here for when they visit. Put them on, and sit at the table. I also brought along a bottle of O- plasma.” Shadow set a picnic basket down on the bench. “Have a drink.”
(Two minutes later …)
“Here come the mercenaries.” said Lupta. “Just keep talking. Anti-Christ! What in the heaven are they wearing?”
The Mercenaries, were dressed in pastel colored jumpsuits, heavily armed and equipped with chainsaws. They approached the picnic bench.
Vlad’s group carried on as if the mercenaries were not even there.
As if.
“Dude,” Shadow said to Jonathan.“Your babe is totally hot.”
 “Tre. As if! As if you’ll ever get to score any, looooooser.” said Jonathan, pretending to answer his cell phone.
 “Whoa! Who’s being a pulă (dick) now?” said Shadow, pretending to dial his.
The apparent leader of the mercenaries, dressed in avocado green, rapped his knuckles on the table. “I am Arsch Hut (Ass Hat)!” he said. “We are Die Kleinen Pferde (The Little Horsies) and we are taking control of this valley. Let me introduce a few of my colleagues. This is Tasse Kuchen (Cup Cake), and Numnum Knödel (Numnum Dumpling) among a few of my other favorites.
The colorfully dressed Horsies loomed over the picnic table, above the black figures who continued chatting, drinking plasma from Dixie Cups and ignoring them.
“Who isssss in charge here?” demanded Arsch Hut (Ass Hat).
“I’m the big Kahuna around here,” said Shadow. “I like the outfits. Cute. Festive!”
“You really like them?” asked Silber Tanga (Silver Thong). “We did the rhinestones ourselves,”
“We’re also part of a men’s chorus called the Van Hell Singers,” added the multi-colored Regenbogen Zuhälter (Rainbow Pimp).
Pastie Funkeln (Pastie Sparkle) curtsied then pulled the rope on his blue chainsaw (the one that matched his eyes and outfit). He stomped on the ground when he was unable to start it.
“Gnarly Chainsaws.” said Shadow. “What are you guys planning to do?”
“Cut down all of your trees.”
“For skateboards?”
“No silly,” said Numnum Knödel. “Parking spots for the new amusement park.”
Jonathan began talking to Mina. “Janis says that she is dating Steve!” He stuck his index finger into his throat making believe he was going to, like, hurl.
“Like oh my god. For real? That’s sick!” said Elizabeth “I’d better let Ashley hear this.” She dialed her phone.
“Steve? The poser?” said Vlad, opening his phone. “He deals ecstacy.”
“Not even!.” said Lupta.
 “Even!” said Mina, who was also making believe that she was talking to her best friend Courtney.
“Not even!” said Jonathan, said Jonathan into his phone.
 “Even!”said Shadow, who was texting.
“Achtung! Excuse me!” said, Arsch Hut, the Horsie’s commander. He was becoming very angry.
Vlad was sexting Elizabeth a picture of his looooong tongue, while speaking to Mina . “I would like totally hang up on the dude. He’s no Baldwin,”
They all heard a far away rumbling was heard. Lupta Axe perked her ears up. No! It can’t be! After months away, her twenty-foot-tall wayward husband, Saturn, was stomping his way home through the forest, whistling while he whittled a load of sharpened branches, most of which he carried on his huge shoulder.
The group needed to keep talking and killing time. Vlad, the big-shot warrior, was trying to think of a plan when Elizabeth had just sexted him back a nude portrait she had posed for in the 17th century.
“Well, I’m seeing Susan Anderson now,” bragged Shadow.
“Ewwwwww. Total slutbag.” said Jonathan.
“No way.”said Shadow.
Arsch banged on the table. Elizabeth looked up calmly. “Have a seat. Take a chill pill.”
“Fick you, and your ugly Challenger,” replied the very rude and impatient Horsie commander.
“Elizabeth! Dudette!” said Lupta while looking toward the edge of the park. “These douches totally egged your wheels in the parking lot!”
Elizabeth was seething. “Noooooo fucking wayyyy!” She couldn’t attack until Vlad had a plan. She texted Vlad: “Plan, Darling??? Hurry d fk up!” He sexted her back a shot of his middle finger between his legs under his robe.
“Excuse me!” said, Arsch Hut. “What are all of these black rocks? Valuable?”
“Black diamonds, guacamole dude.” said Shadow. “Take ‘em. Just leave the trees alone. Careful, they’ll cut right through your … the assholes are wearing disco boots?
“Really? First, we have orders to cut down all…Oh, mein Gott! The ground is covered with them?!” said the wide-eyed Arsch.
“They are not man-made cheapos. They are made of Human bones stressed for a minimum of three centuries.”
“Three centuries?” asked Luftigen Brötchen (Breezy Buns). “How are they pressurized so quickly?”
“Extreme stress,” said Shadow.
“You mean pressure?” asked Arsch Hut.
“No, Stress,” said Shadow. “These diamonds come from the bones of people who’d done nothing in life. Their souls remain within the bones until they are reincarnated into something useful, like a family pet, a dildo or a pizza. The first thing that we do, every day, is wake the bones with a loud alarm clock. Then we turn on the guilt. “Dead is no excuse.” I tell them. “I’m dead, but you don’t see me laying around. Look at your dead brother. He was a millionaire doctor! Get your feet off of the couch!”
Next, we give them irrational things to worry about by playing the TV news sixteen hours a day.
When “rest period” comes, we wake them every fifteen minutes with a combination of heavy bass disco, incessant barking dogs, power tools and crying babies. Oh, and sulphuric fart gas that they cannot escape from.
Then we threaten them all day with divorce, symptoms of illness, loss of work, hair, sexual dysfunction, and finances, lawsuits, teenage acne, unwanted hair, public embarrassment …well, you get the idea.
Before you know it, their bones have become huge black diamonds.”
“Fer shur.” said Elizabeth. “You’re okay, Shadow.”
Arsch Hut and his men bent down at the waist to gather the stones, failing to look behind them.
Several sharpened tree limbs shot from the woods, impaling all of the Horsies right up their big wazoozies as they were bent over in a line. A booming voice followed. “Hi honey, I’m home!”
“Saturn!” Lupta screamed.
“Uncle Saturn!” said Elizabeth. “Let’s decorate! I also feel festive!”
Saturn got to work stabbing the skewered bodies into the soil along the path toward the trees. “They look like popsicles. Can I eat one?” he said, proud of his display.
A frog fell from the sky as a flurry of roaches ran through the woods, heralding the new Plague Season,
“Plague season, again?” asked Jonathan.
“Three times a year, Jonny. Isn’t it just lovely?” said the very happy Lupta.
“Toooh-tally tubular!” said Mina.
“Radical!” said Shadow.
Four-and-a- half-foot-tall Lupta and twenty-foot-tall Saturn walked back toward the lot hand-in-hand beside Shadow. “You’re okay, Shadow.” she said. “You’re not such a tool after all. As a reward, in my next novel, I’ll let you bone Elmira.”
“Elmira, the evil queen?”
“No. The entire town of Elmira, California, stud.”
“Awesome! I want to marry your books. Seriously!”

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: