Barns, Blood and Rock and Roll

by Joe Zito

“OH! And her lights are out like New York City folks and here comes the pack again right on the home team like flies on shit.” An announcer wearing a silk shirt looking as if a flower garden vomited rotten roses all over it, gave the play by play of the roller derby finals at the county fairground skate rink to a mostly male audience of white trailer trash and truckers.

  It was summer, 1977, and true anarchy was sweeping through the streets of New York City due to the blackout by a major power outage from a bolt of lightning. But 700 miles west of the big apple in the state of Indiana, a different kind of storm was brewing in the mind of Betty Bezerker, squad leader of the women’s roller derby team Witches on Wheels. They were ready to take home the trophy in the state finals against opposing team In Heat. For Betty, the sound of champagne bottles popping in a locker room among sweaty and rowdy females was far from her mind. She had a different agenda in mind; one that was written in blood. Betty’s team gathered in a huddle, minutes before the buzzer rang. She addressed them with authority.

  “All right ladies, we have these cunt’s right where we want them. No fuck ups, especially you Melissa, (aka Melissa Mangler).

  “Uh sorry Betty, I’m on my fucking period, give me a break.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Betty said with a disgusted look on her face.

  “Nope, bleeding like Carrie on her prom night,” Melissa said with a proud smile.

  “That’s disgusting!” Jugulator Judy hissed at Melissa.

  Killer Kendra chimed in. “You know, my Aunt saw that movie last year with her boyfriend; grossed him out so bad he fucking threw up on the people in front of them.”

  “Eeeww,” Melissa moaned.

  Betty was getting annoyed hearing her teammates talk of their troubles with bleeding and vomiting. Sweat was dripping down her face from under her black helmet. It began smearing her blue punkish looking mascara.

  “Excuse me but this ain’t fucking chit chat tea time ladies. Melissa you keep on Darlene. Judy I wanna see you practically humping Traci, and Kendra you just knock bitches down like a motherfucker all except for Cherry. I got that little bitch’s ass!”

  Melissa said, “Now Betty, go easy on Ms. Cherry Slaughter. She is Indiana’s reigning fuck queen, that little eighteen year old whorehouse on legs. Don’t want to bust her snatch all up.”

  “Ah she’s legal eh,” Judy said, “If I was a lez I’d dogfuck the shit outta that little girl, but luckily ladies I like the cock.”

  “Hey sluts we need to focus!” Betty yelled. The buzzer rang indicating the final round.

  The announcer spoke into the microphone. “All right, here we go!”

  The crowd roared.

  “Let’s knock some bitches out!” Killer Kendra said while pounding her gloved fists together.

  “Go get’em blondie,” Melissa Mangler said to her teammate and winked at her.

  Betty slipped her skull mask over her circa 1975 Gilda Radner style frizzy brown hair. It was an intimidating sight. Rebel Rebel by David Bowie began to play over the pa as the pumped up females of Witches on Wheels made their way around the track. Some hillbilly dad in the stands started swinging his cowboy hat around while hooting and hollering as the ladies whisked past the crowd. He accidently spilled his beer on his son’s Kiss trading cards. The kid looked at him with angry possessed eyes. The ladies were in kill mode now. Elbows jab into stomachs. Fists pounded kidneys. Fingernails scratched at skin.

  Jugulator Judy threatened the announcer when she passed by him, “You better play my song you bald fuck! And play it loud!”

  “You got it Judy.” He said.

  Judy is a Punk by the Ramones began blaring over the pa at a nearly illegal volume level.

  Jugulator Judy saw her prey just up ahead. Her eyes glowed with violence. Like a spider ready to attack, she swung the opposing team member into the wrath of Killer Kendra. “Yo Kendra, knock this bitch out!” Kendra knocked the unlucky redhead of In Heat flat on her back and then straddled her with her thighs wrapped tight around her neck. Killer Kendra proceeded to smother her enemy’s face with her snatch that stunk of four hour old sex.

  “Eat it bitch, eat it!” Killer Kendra laughed and screamed maniacally while forcing the redhead’s face into her smelly vagina. A referee came to the rescue of the poor In Heat player. He pulled Killer Kendra off of her. The sound of angry boo’s came from the crowd.

  Betty Berzerker was drifting along the opposite side of the rink as her teammates entertained the crowd. Her mind ran rampant as she circled around the ring honing in on Cherry like a hawk stalking its prey. Cherry glanced over her shoulder. Betty’s skulls face was well within Cherry’s view weaving in and out of the other skaters. She was getting closer.

  Betty’s mind drifted back to the other day when she came home from work early and saw her man Greg on top of Cherry Slaughter, fucking the shit out of her. Little whore! Her black hair hung over the edge of the bed and her eyes rolled back into her head and blue, thick veins popped out from her neck. Sweet sounds floated from her mouth like aroused butterflies. The cheating, horny couple was too busy to even notice Betty standing there just behind the cracked door, looking in with hurt and angry tears filling her eyes. ZZ Top silenced her fingernails scratching on the bedroom door.

  Betty picked up her speed as she went around a turn. The roaring crowd had no effect on her concentration. She had her target in perfect sight now. Cherry’s black hair flowed behind her in a straight horizontal line. She looked like a witch in hell blazing past obnoxious and hairy spectators. Betty’s skates rolled quickly along the glossy floor of the rink. She thought of the other night when she was alone with Greg inside their trailer.

  Glad to see you go by the Ramones spun around on the record player in the living room of Betty and Greg’s trailer around 8:30 two nights ago. A crest of light peered from the bathroom door where Greg stood in front of the mirror examining his hair. He was getting ready for the nights festivities of sixers, smokes and pool. Betty used caution when walking across the carpeted hallway towards the bathroom. She held a large wrench in her hand. It was her brothers. He let her borrow it to tighten the leaking pipe under the kitchen sink. Damn cheap trailers! It’s amazing how a simple tool can be so versatile. One minute you’re fixing a common household problem, the next you’re bludgeoning your cheating boyfriend to death in the bathroom.

  She struck the back of his head with violent force. He fell to his knees and his head hit the toilet seat. The side of his face met the cold white seat and Betty relentlessly pounded his skull with the wrench. Good ol’ trusty wrench! A fine mist of blood sprayed onto her face with each hit. Two lines of blood crisscrossed each other as they sloped down the toilet bowl looking like a murderous barber shop pole. Her eyes were wide and wild with raging, killing excitement. She breathed heavily in and out as if climbing a treacherous mountain. Her man Greg lay dead on the bathroom floor. His lop sided head against the toilet seat was the only thing holding him up.

  An elbow to Betty’s kidneys jolted her back into the present. The pack of witches surrounded Cherry with Betty close behind.

  “What’s up whores. I see you’re using big girl skates tonight, no training wheels.” Cherry said.

  “Suck it Cherry!” Melissa shouted.

  “Oh I sucked it all right.” Cherry mockingly wiped the sides of her thick and glossy red lips. She exhaled a small evil laugh but it was followed by a startled gasp from the sight of Betty’s skull face mask right behind her.

  “Hey cunt, rumor is you like being on your back!” Betty said clenching her teeth. Cherry released a confused huff of air making her sweet, pretty face blush with puzzlement. Betty grabbed a fistful of Cherry’s soft, black hair and yanked her head hard, snapping her neck making her slip backwards to the floor.

  The back of eighteen year old Cherry’s head met the cold white skating rink floor. It made a crunching splat sound that made the pack of Witches on Wheels grind to a halting stop. Their large, brown skate wheels glided through b
lood, bone and black strands of hair on the skating rink floor. Horrified O’s formed on their mouths. Killer Kendra shrieked at the sight of Cherry’s smashed and bloody head. Melissa Mangler covered her mouth in disbelief. It nauseated her. The others just looked on in terror at what their leader had done; their eyes moving slowly back and forth between Betty and Cherry who was all fucked up, shaking, bleeding and dying on the floor. Blood gushed from her mouth as she shook.

  As for Betty, she stood over Cherry’s convulsing, jerking body and felt not an ounce of remorse but only the natural high and extreme satisfaction of killing Cherry. She pulled her skull mask over her head revealing a sick smile. She fell to her knees. Her head cocked to the side as though studying Cherry’s body. She wiped a line of drool from the corner of her mouth and began laughing maniacally with her eyes insane and lost in a bloody dementia. She didn’t notice the other players of Witches on Wheels standing around her in a circle crying and holding their gloved hands over their mouths, or the crowd yelling and spitting obscenities, throwing beer cups, or even the Sex Pistols pretty vacant roaring over the pa.

  The metallic click sound of handcuffs snapping shut pulled her out of her murder high when two policemen grabbed her by her wrists and cuffed her. The two cops pulled her up hard and started escorting her out of the now riot struck skate rink. She walked amongst raining cups of beer with a twisted, snarl of a smile on her face as she exited the skating rink. Betty was prison bound, which was also homebound.

  Later that evening 700 miles east of Indiana, mayhem tore through the streets of New York City when Mayor Abe Beame declared a state of emergency. The city was pitch black. The darkness was suffocating.

  The Gretchens

  Dusk would soon be settling down on the small town of Helt, Indiana and a white, two story Victorian house nestled in a peaceful neighborhood would be covered in its shadowy blanket. Upstairs in that old house were three young female friends of the same age. They were all eighteen; one with brown hair, one with blonde and one with red, all pretty and straight A students. They called themselves the Gretchen’s. They were a unique clique if there ever was one. Their parents were rich and indulged them with cars, horses and the finest clothing.

  The girls brushed their hair in unison while sitting in front of a large dresser mirror. Mozart played in the background. It filled the room. The deep orange glow of the lowering sun reflected into the mirror, coloring the sisters Gretchen in the color gold. The girl with the long blonde hair known as Gretchen number one and the Gretchen’s leader, sat in between Gretchen number two and three. She laid her pretty eyes on them in the mirror. “It is almost time,” she said. Tonight was recruitment night, for the Gretchen’s were once four but now they were three. Previous Gretchen number four did not play by the rules, so she had to go. She was buried somewhere out in the cornfield behind Gretchen number one’s parents Victorian house.

  The clock on the wall showed eight thirty. Soon it would be nine. The Gretchen’s pinned up their hair of three different colors into tight, neat buns but they did not look like prudes. Their pretty faces were smooth and perfect and they wore pretty red lipstick on their pretty mouths. Sweet, lovely Gretchen sisters. Just a touch of perfume to their necks was the final touch and then it was nine o’clock. “Shall we sisters?” Gretchen number one said. “We shall.” Gretchen number two and three said in unison. They proceeded to put on three long wigs of the same length and of the same pitch black color. Then looking very pretty and smelling very nice, Gretchen number one crossed her arms and took her Gretchen sisters by their hands pulling them in close to her where they slid their tongues into her mouth simultaneously. All three were as one. The kiss ended. And the final accessory lay before them in an open suitcase sitting on top of the dresser. Three masks of the same white color stared back at them. These are the Gretchens and off they went into the night. Stalking, lurking and waiting.

  Back in the saddle by Aerosmith began to play on Devin’s tape deck of his ’72 Camaro as he pulled into the parking lot of the ‘Freeze it’ drive-in. A medium sized sign on the roof displayed a frozen dairy treat wearing a sheriff’s hat. Above the character were the words “Ya’ll freeze it!” It was the summer of 1976 and only one week left of school and already the teenage festivities of summer were in full swing: late night drive-in movies, all night outside beer parties and late night double dipped ice cream and cheeseburger runs. Devin’s best friend Russ was in the passenger’s seat, their girlfriends Candice and April were in the back primping their hair and applying cherry red lipstick under the barely visible glow of a compact mirror light.

  Devin eased into a parking space where there was a metal framed menu to his left. He killed the engine. A family of moths danced around a set of bright tubular lights attached to the outside of the building. Somewhere the sound of a little boy and girl that were up way past their bedtime could be heard screaming and laughing in their parents Buick. A virtual soundtrack of summer played from parked cars with the windows down. King of the nighttime world by Kiss could be heard in one car, while in another a young couple made out to Stairway to Heaven; and some kids smoking a joint in the backseat sang along to Alice Cooper, No more Mr. Nice Guy.

  Devin clapped his hands together in delight and said, “Well I know what I’m having. Delirious Dave’s Double bacon cheeseburger with onion rings.”

  “You get the same thing every time man,” Russ laughed

  “It’s the best thing on the menu, plus I love all that grease.” Devin said.

  Candice in the back seat gave a gagging sound upon hearing her boyfriend’s love of grease. She told him, “That’s gross Devin. Anyway I don’t have much of an appetite after seeing that movie. It was a little gory for me.”

  “It was only at the end when they dumped that bucket of pig’s blood on…”

  “Ok Russ,” his girlfriend April broke in, “Don’t make everyone sick. I don’t think Devin would appreciate vomit all over his back seat.”

  “Thanks April,” Devin told her looking into his rearview mirror. “You want anything?”

  “No, I’m good,” she said.

  Candice finished applying her lipstick and blew out a sigh like she was bored. “I gotta pee.”

  Devin lifted his seat up so the girls could get out. Candice untucked her skin tight, red button fly shorts from her inner thigh after stepping out of the car.

  Then she said, “Now that I think of it, get me a chocolate shake.”

  “Gotcha,” Devin snapped his fingers at her and nodded.

  Candice fluttered her fingers at him, obviously feeling very sexy in her tight red shorts and black top tied in a knot showing off her belly button.

  “Be right back,” she said in a high, sing song voice.

  Her six inch tan high heels clicked away in the summer night. Devin shook his head in amazement, feeling a little embarrassed by his girlfriend’s overly done makeup and slutty appearance. Yet, he couldn’t believe he had a girl like Candice Moore. He enjoyed her wavy blonde hair and those nice, shapely legs of hers very much, but the truth was her personality was for shit and she very well could have been raised by Cruella Deville. But he sure loved fucking her; besides Candice had the gift. In Devin’s younger days he would often hear the older guys in the locker room after football practice brag about how their girlfriends would get them soaking wet during sex. Now he knew what they were talking about. And Candice did it every time. She came so hard one night in his room she shot it clear to the damn ceiling leaving a good size stain. He put his pillow over her mouth to muffle the sound of her orgasm but still got a bump on his floor from downstairs with someone yelling up, “What’s going on up there?”

  He felt disgusted with himself at times. He was just using Candice for sex. He was at a crossroads in his life. As the star quarterback of his high school football team with the hot girlfriend, he hadn’t a clue what he wanted. He was unhappy.

  “So when are you going to break it off with ol’ Candice?” Russ said.<
br />
  It was as if Devin’s best friend could read his thoughts.

  “What?” Devin responded in confusion.

  Rusty smirked at him. “What do you mean what? C’mon man, she isn’t any good for you and you know it. Just because she gets you all wet doesn’t mean shit. You’re unhappy man and I can see it. There’s better out there for you.”

  Devin really didn’t know what to say. He sat silent, looking out the window. He knew Russ was right. There was something better out there. He was just having too much fun with Candice’s sexual water park. Finally he said without looking at Russ, “Yeah I know man.”

  Meanwhile Candice and April stepped inside the women’s restroom located in the back of the building. The strong scent of female rushed into them. April stood in front of the mirror brushing her straight black hair. Candice went into one of the stalls to relieve herself from the oversized Styrofoam cup of Coca Cola she drank at the movies an hour ago. She unbuttoned her red shorts and wiggled out of them. She sat down on the toilet. She took out her lipstick case and added a little more to her lips. Vanity never stops, not even on the toilet. She gabbed as she peed.

  “So, Devin has been acting weird lately. I don’t know what his problem is. He acts all moody.”

  “You stop putting out?” April joked as she brushed her hair.

  “Uh, no,” Candice said as if insulted.

  “You don’t think he has his eyes on another do you?” April asked thoughtfully.

  “No. He likes what I got in between too much to stray, but thanks for helping me put that little bitch in her place today. That little shittard Cindy Anderson. She kept gawking at Devin today in the hall like some google eyed puppy dog and I wasn’t having it.”

  You know, she works here,” April said.

  “Oh really,” Candice said devilishly.

  She stopped peeing and then sat up with her ass hovering inches above the toilet seat. “All done. Oh wait, hold your ears hon.”