Ok. One more silly not horror horror-flash. I’m on my own dime here. And, to be completely unfair and project the blame, it’s G’s fault. She said something to the effect that you can’t use standard horror themes unless you come at them sideways. So, for those of you keeping score at home, that’s one were-squirrel flash, this one, a sort of faux vampire Goth girlfriend flash and, I’m sure, there’s one more coming, just because three is right. One would have been horribly wrong, two would just be mundane bad taste, so, having already left that barn door open, there’s got to be a third. A Frankenstein’s Monster tale with Bob Fosse’s brain but hands incapable of doing ‘jazz hands’? A paranoid Poe-esque tale but instead of being buried alive with brick and mortar dude is just dry walled into a tract home? A killer ventriloquist dummy who comes to life and does nothing but Milton Berle one liners? Elitist Zombies who only eat legacy brains that pledge frat houses at Harvard, Yale and Princeton? A rat in a coke bottle from the POV of another rat horrified at the calorie count?
“I just can’t believe you let her do that shit to you”
“It’s over Carol, I told you about it because I don’t want it to seem like some secret in a year, or two or ten”
“Awww honey, that’s really sweet, ten years? It’s bullshit, but sweet.”
“C’mon, that’s how I am. Christ Carol, you had sex with me, like a lot, all in a row and different times, missionary, doggy ---“
“Yeah, I was there, your point?”
“You fuck a lot of strangers?”
“Maybe. I know what you’re saying, but still …”
“Darlin’, I’ve drunk the Carol kool aid now, you could tell me you killed a guy and not just in self-defense or by accident but because he rubbed you the wrong way. I’d ask how deep you want me to dig his hole? And sure, I’d probably be cautious about which way I rubbed you, but it wouldn’t stop me from rubbing you.”
“Now that you mention it … it’s pretty soft in the back forty, best go seven foot, keep him from floating when the rains come”
“Does that mean we’re back to joking?”
“Who’s joking?”
“Good, cause I don’t like talking about her.”
“Dude, you just ran your mouth fo0r an hour about her.”
“First off you’ll address me as Dude, Oh My Dude, like Robin Williams in Dead Whitman (he’s into dudes) Society. Secondly, an hour wasn’t enough? Thirdly are you going eat those?”
“My panties? No, all yours”
“Fourthly, wait, fourthmost, hmmm, fourthward? The fourth thing is it’s pretty one sided.”
“Huh? I wasn’t there.”
“I told you that fantasy?”
“No and ewww. I mean I don’t have a side … oh, sorry, I drank your kool aid too Dude, Oh my Dude, thou graybeard loon.”
“Oooo, tossing in some coolige, I like it, efstoons. Um, I mean I’m sure she has a side to the story too.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Um, the bitch ain’t here to defend herself?”
“Better. Though I can’t possibly imagine any reasonable sane defense. For that matter you don’t come off as the poster child for rationale adult male in the Tale of The Bitch yourself.”
“I didn’t file down my teeth.”
“But you did drink the blood. It’s a far cry from Kool Aid and it’s not figurative.”
“She made me and all the kids were doing it.”
“Heh, adding anti-social thinking disorders to your list of crimes? Smooth.”
“It was a thing though, for real, here, Google it.”
“Ah, the oxymoron for the misinformation age. I know it was a real thing, but it was between consenting maladjusted nutjobs. Y’all bit innocent bystanders.”
“Yeah, it was an ugly time. Out of curiosity and just because I already drank your kool aid and would sort of like to know the recipe, what does a bystanders have to be guilty of to make it ok to bite him and/or her? Or are you one of those sexist not-on-my-jury-jurors who think that if someone walks around with their jugular exposed they are just asking for it?”
“Shut up and eat your panties.”
“You said I could have yours.”
“Is there anything you do that doesn’t wind up in your mouth?”
“mmmmppphhh”
Loading comments...