“That bitch is screwed.” Duke petted the unique thing’s ample headspace.
Flower passed the cat and the hat to Duke and started searching on her phone for vets in the area.
Duke gave one last look at the gas station store, wondering if Dove was having another stress induced fart or if there was some meat to her ass’s claim to the porcelain this time. Flower had set the GPS to speak, and Duke backed up and away from Johnson’s van, headed for Puss Pets R Us for Flower’s new goddamned cat to get some medical treatment.
Three hours later and five hundred dollars lighter, Flower, Duke, and That Bitch is Screwed were headed to the wedding.
Shannon still hadn’t found the perfect dress. Granted, her selection mostly consisted of Big Peter shirts and coconut bras.
Preston had been amazing. His dedication to the preservation of Southern or Bust’s dying culture was awe-inspiring. Sure, he had to dodge the security guard from time to time, but as soon as the bill of sale came back, Preston would be the one bossing that employee around.
It turned out all of Preston’s rocks were actually fantastic rock recreations. When Preston hit the first one with a Big Peter-headed sledgehammer, it exploded like Mighty Thor’s cum. And amidst the rubble were giant blobs of money.
Shannon asked, “My love, how did you manage to accumulate such large amounts of rock money?”
Preston dropped his pants and revealed his penis and new nuts to her. “Shannon, do you zee manhairs? They are luxurious, no? I have recently had them trimmed at le salon. When my hairs are at their full length, I sell the gorgeous growth to a wig maker. It’s like Locks of Love, but without the amour. Only the locks. Have you seen supermodels’ hair? It’s mostly the bounty of my groin they sport on their heads. I’ve made millions as a supplier for weaves.”
Shannon just had to rub her cheek against the hair harvest. It was glorious.
After investigating the owners of Southern or Bust, it turned out they only wanted twenty dollars for the whole amusement park, hotel, and chain restaurant enchilada. They owed four hundred thousand in back taxes, but Preston busted two of his rocks and that bill was paid for in cash.
There were many rocks left for the restoration, revival, and expansion King S.O.B. Preston had planned. The Franglish man was a genius. And, Shannon smiled as she lovingly noticed, he was picking up a slight Spanish accent that was melding beautifully with his French.
But more importantly, tomorrow she would become Mrs. Queen S.O.B. Shannon.
Dove clamored out of the bathroom and fell into the closet, while Johnson straightened his tie in the hotel mirror. After she righted herself, he commented on her beautiful dress.
She blushed and farted. Johnson crossed the room to gather her in his arms.
Dove buried her head in his chest, mumbling, “Sorry it smells bad. I’m a nervous traveler.”
Johnson put a finger under her chin and lifted her face and looked in her eyes. He seemed to know he could put her at ease with a simple gesture, and lifted his leg like a dog and broke wind vigorously. Dove started laughing, slapping his chest playfully.
“See, it’s just a human function Dove. We all make feces. The tools to cleanse our digestive tracks, our muscles and yes, air in which we use to expel the solid waste are miracles. The human body is a fantastic machine. No need to be embarrassed.” Johnson seemed to want to kiss her, but they both began coughing in the middle of their own corroded air. Dove left the comfort of Johnson’s strong arms to fumble through the nightstand. She lit one of the matches from the book she found there and let it burn almost to her fingers.
Johnson smiled before crossing the room to blow out the fart match with his sexy lips. Unlike the breath of his ass, the smell he was creating in his oral orifice area was quite pleasant.
Dove giggled as he took the crumpled, spent match from her fingers and kissed her with the mouth she couldn’t help staring at.
It was an easy swing of the hips that landed them both on the mattress with a bounce.
The sex was unreal. Something about the freedom of two beds and not owning the furniture brought out the tiger in Johnson and the trembling gazelle in Dove.
They growled and jumped, bit and frothed. There wasn’t a hole that wasn’t explored by their eager, angry, seeking, proud fingers. Johnson was the bee with the stinger that didn’t fall out after he stung. So he was more of a wasp. A sexy wasp, with a long, slightly curved stinger. Dove was the pincushion that gasped and pleaded and flailed.
Dove had to try to clear her head when he was naked. Everything about Johnson made her nervous. And turned on. When he was done doing delicious things between her legs with his mouth and fingers, her orgasm made her skin hypersensitive. It was like being overly ticklish, and he seemed to know it, blowing and kissing adoration on her skin that made her shiver. His lips still tasted great; it was like he was a sip from a seriously expensive bottle of wine. And when he was balls deep in her, she felt like she was guzzling a whole bottle of him.
After Johnson and Dove were done making ridiculous, life-altering, bed-breaking, spine-fracturing love, they got dressed again. He made himself busy circling a long finger at the center of her back, claiming her and reminding her what he’d just done with that very determined finger.
When they emerged from the hotel room, Dove slid on her sunglasses. She felt like everyone could see the blush he left on her cheeks. Both sets.
Shannon came running at her as fast as her high heels would carry her. “Oh, thank God you’re here! I need you. Like pronto.”
Johnson kissed Dove’s cheek and murmured in her ear, “I’m going for a walk around… give you girls some time to be alone.”
Dove made a kissy face in his direction and wanted to shout after him, “Don’t trip and fall in any pussies!” But she didn’t because that would be weird. And she should trust him. And also, there were so few people at Southern or Bust.
Shannon squeezed Dove’s hands, pulling her attention back to the conversation. “Married!”
“I know!” Dove still couldn’t believe she was attending the second—maybe third… did all the weddings at the factory venue count?—wedding in less than two weeks. But it sort of did make sense for Shannon because when she committed to something, she did it like a boss.
“This is the most exciting afternoon of my life.” Shannon started bouncing on her toes. “Were you surprised? I was surprised.”
“I was very shocked. More about the coronation than anything else. I thought that only happened in countries with monarchies.” Dove watched Johnson in the distance, his long gait taking him far so fast.
“Stop noodling over your man and noodle over me for five damn minutes.” Shannon put her hands on either side of Dove’s face. “Well, technically, one square inch of land can be its own country. It’s all about claim and people and red tape. Don’t fret; Preston has worked out all the details.”
Shannon looped her arm through Dove’s and dragged her back to what was, Dove guessed from all the kissing cow decorations, the bridal suite.
“So what do you think of my future kingdom?” Shannon waved an entitled hand toward the motel window while slamming the door.
“Southern or Bust? Hm. I think it’s pretty much a hellscape.” Dove sat on the bed while Shannon began flat ironing her hair. The back was all wonky, so Dove stood and took over for her friend.
Shannon picked up her eye shadow without missing a beat. “It is now, but give us a few…” She paused.
Dove supplied, “Decades to turn it around?”
Shannon let out a long sigh. “Yeah, it’ll take a while. But since Preston has given up on the dream of claiming Disney Epcot France’s throne, this is the new dream.”
Dove snorted. “Seriously? I’d rather rule over Disney. They have the cleanest toilets and a castle.” She reconsidered when she saw tears glisten in Shannon’s eyes. “There’s something beautiful about fixing up what isn’t perfect yet, though.”
Shannon st
ood taller, as if the observation had given her strength. “Yes. That’s the truth. Easy is way easier than hard. And we like it hard.”
Dove and Shannon started laughing at the innuendo, grabbing various objects from the dresser to simulate a penis while emphasizing the word hard over and over.
“Speaking of which… what’s Preston working with?” She lifted her eyebrow. It was a ritual they had. Penis discussions.
“Pretty impressive. Gotta say. We haven’t done it yet. Preston is very old fashioned.”
“Most kings are,” Dove observed.
“He’s the first I’ve met, but I’d imagine that’s the case.”
Dove finished with the flat ironing and sat down on the bed. Shannon took up a curling iron and started on her ends.
“So you’re all ready? Dress and everything?”
“Yes. I’m was going to dress up in stuff from the gift shop. You know, support the economy and stuff, but Flower brought me something.” Shannon stuck her tongue out before asking, “So Duke’s with Flower now? Is that how it is?”
“I guess. This week she’s been spending time with him, and she has a new cat.” Dove wasn’t jealous. At all. It just went to prove that she’d made the right choice as far as Duke was concerned. He hadn’t been serious. And to miss out on a relationship with Johnson just to give Duke a chance to be a jokester about the whole thing…
It would’ve been sad. She pictured Duke all dressed up with a big smile, looking serious as a fucking heart attack at her, telling her she was the one for him. Duke was a great actor. She just hoped they could still be friends.
Shannon finally turned and faced Dove. “How’s it look? Is the makeup and stuff okay?”
Her friend looked beautiful but scared. Unsure.
“The look is great. You still in this one hundred percent?” Dove stood and folded her arms.
Shannon shook her head as if that would shake the uncertainty off, too and fluffed her hair at the same moment. “I’m great. I’m sure. Listen, go find Johnson. I want my dress to be a surprise, even to you.”
Dove nodded and hugged her friend. “Congratulations. This place is lucky to have you.”
Feeling a little like she was abandoning Shannon in a foxhole at war, she left. When she closed the door, she literally ran into Duke, who caught her before she stumbled.
“Hey, Pants-crapper. Trying for a concussion?” Duke steadied her before letting go.
She hugged her body. “Thanks. No. Not the intention today. How’s Flower? And the cat?”
“That Bitch is Screwed is getting fed with an eye dropper back in Flower’s room. Pretty sure that cat could kill itself a mouse right now, but treating it gently is making Flower happy.” He looked around and amended his analogy, “Well, maybe the rats are more plentiful around here.”
Dove backed up a small step. “So glad you and Flower were able to make it work. And so soon after you thought we could work out.”
His eyes narrowed. For a dude who spent a lot of time in his cartoon underwear, he didn’t miss a trick. “No. Wait a friggin’ minute. Are you jealous? Miss I-run-straight-to-the-hotel-room-to-screw-my-boyfriend-when-my-roadtrip-is-over? You’re passing judgment on me?”
Dove looked at her feet. “No. You are.” It was a lame comeback, and she knew it.
“Are you doubting my sincerity, Dove? Because I’m finding that kind of incredible.” Duke puffed up his chest.
“I just wanted to point out that I probably made a great choice. With Johnson. Because you seem real comfy with Flower.” Dove shrugged.
“Okay. That’s how it is.” Duke ran his fingers up and down the back of his neck. “For your information, that woman came to me and tried to make me feel better. She knew I was fucking heartbroken over you. And she’s delicate and shit. I don’t stomp on people, Dove. I don’t make sure everything’s perfect for me and screw everyone else’s life.”
Dove knew her face was pinking up with a flush of indignation. She hated that her eyes pricked with tears when she needed them least. She whispered, “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Well, maybe Sal the Weiner guy. And the sad clown. But not you.”
“You’re right. You did make the right choice. Johnson is perfect for you. So glad you are with him. No worries, Dove. You do what you have to.” Duke gave her a little half bow, and she covered her mouth.
It was that look in his eyes that did her in—like he knew she was doing something wrong.
Duke strode off, and as Dove took a second to regain her composure, she saw Johnson staring at her with a huge smile from his position right between the legs of a giant Flamingo statue.
She wished she could just be happy with Johnson and not have Duke acting like she was pissing on an eternal flame.
Shannon was due to get married to Preston in less than ten minutes so they had to get to the store where it was being held.
Johnson and Dove walked from outside Shannon’s hotel room over to Big Peter’s Rocket City Fireworks, Fireworks, Fireworks! for the ceremony.
Dove passed the first few displays until she found the spot that had been cleared for the wedding. The folding chairs were decorated with elaborate toilet paper bows. Duke patted the folding chair next to him. Dove shrugged and sat down; Johnson joined her and put his arm around her.
Flower was cuddling her new, supper floppy cat. Duke followed her eyes and answered her unasked question. “It’s still alive.”
Flower kissed its head, and the earless animal perked up to hiss at her.
At least Duke was still talking to her. Dove nodded and looked around for Shannon. The only thing that was on display was a large, old flat-screen TV. It didn’t have Bobbin or Fordicks embossed into the glass, so Dove knew it wasn’t Duke’s from home.
A familiar click-clack came from the back of the store. Mr. and Mrs. Anastasia emerged and posed and posed and posed. If anybody had been taking pictures, they would have had a full magazine layout by the time they were done. But no one was.
Steve the Cat trotted in behind them and made a beeline for Dove. She was surprised when her former feline hopped on her lap. There was no happy purring, though, just his endless, creepy stare.
“Hi, Steve. Looks like The Anastasias are feeding you well,” she commented as she noticed his new, big, swinging belly.
The cat didn’t move, didn’t blink, but with an almost imperceptible clench, he suction-cupped his anus to Dove’s thigh. She silently wished she’d worn tights. She supposed it was the way Steve said hello.
An exit door slammed open, and Preston walked in wearing a woman’s beach cover-up with a picture of a woman’s body in a bikini on it. He was wearing orange Crocs.
“Welcome friends… and you guys.” He pointed to Dove, Johnson, Duke, and Flower. “I appear to you today in the garb of my countrymen. Please regardez as my fierce novia comes to me.”
Preston turned and spread his arms wide, waiting for the TV to flash to life and revealing the thong on his beach cover-up in the process.
Duke whispered to Flower loudly, “That T-shirt is giving me a chubby. Is that wrong?”
Dove covered her face turned away while she tried to stop giggling. Duke continued, “I should probably see if they have a shirt for That Bitch is Screwed with front legs on it.”
Dove crossed her legs to keep from peeing and Steve stayed put, just sitting higher on her now propped-up leg. Duke was giving her whiplash with his attitude, trying to make her laugh so soon after reading her the riot act.
Johnson turned to Dove to get her attention. “Is that the ridiculous, busy, and dangerous I-95 that runs right outside?”
Dove looked at the screen, and yes, it was depicting what appeared to be I-95 with a red aisle runner spanning its width. Shannon, small and dressed to the nines in Flower’s black wedding dress Johnson had altered with a pocketknife on their first date, was perched on the shoulder of the road.
“To prove her worthiness to our people, my bride will come to me across the great and ominous
Interstate known as I-95.” Preston smiled at the screen.
Dove stood up; Steve stayed on her leg like Spiderman’s cat. “Preston! Please do not tell me my friend is running across a highway in high heels!”
Preston nodded solemnly. “Yes, annoying woman. She’ll rush with the wind against her back and terror in elle soul straight to moi.”
Before Dove could take any action other than pulling Steve off her thigh with an audible pop, Shannon was running, her long veil pouring out behind her like spilled soda. She dodged, danced, and jumped as cars piled up around her to avoid hitting the small bride.
Soon “Tik Tock” was booming throughout the entire Southern or Bust Empire, calling to Shannon as she struggled over the last guardrail. Dove almost collapsed with relief when she saw her friend was safe.
The booming thunder that was her groom’s praise was even louder than Ke$ha’s.
A camera followed as Shannon stumbled into the store, manned by a security guard with S.O.B embroidered on his pocket.. As soon as she could see Preston, he stopped hooting like a vuvuzela having an orgasm.
They locked eyes and Shannon’s smiling face fell and she bit her lip. Dove was worried for a moment, until Shannon took a deep breath and shouted out her obviously practiced words, “King Preston, I love you!” She took brave steps down the store’s center aisle. Dove looked at Preston; the man’s lips formed a reserved half moon.
Halfway to her man, Shannon told him again, in a loud voice, “Te quiero.”
Preston’s lips opened slowly from one side like a ziplock bag, revealing his white teeth. Shannon hopped the rest of the way down the aisle to where the bikini-clad-appearing dude grabbed up his unconventional bride.
One of the other security guards appeared behind them. The wedding guests and the marital couple all winced like a dog about to be spanked in surprise at his approach. Instead of slapping the all-too-familiar handcuffs on them, he brought out a Bible from behind his back.
“Well, looks like the paperwork is in order, King Preston. Are you ready to get married?” He opened the book.
Fire in the Hole Page 14
