Scary Rednecks & Other Inbred Horrors

by Ochse, Weston

  Bailey looked up at the machine. To him it appeared as if Max had somehow become entangled into Judd’s ass, pinning his friend to the table with a Terminator-style dick. It was such a nightmarish sight that he promptly fell over into unconsciousness.

  Judd looked down at where the portly Bailey had fallen. “Sure, he passes out in fear and I’M THE ONE WITH A METAL POLE IN MY ASS!” He whipped his head back. “MAX, GET DOWN FROM UP THERE!”

  Max ignored Judd. “Kenny Joe! Get up here and help me goddammit!”

  Kenny Joe peeked out through the cracks in his hand. “No! I’m not coming near that thing.”

  “Goddammit, Kenny Joe!” Max shrieked, from where he was perched on the machine. “I need your help!”

  “No fucking way,” Kenny Joe hissed, closing the crack in his fingers again. “He enjoyed that shit, Max! He was sighing!”

  Judd gasped. “I did not!”

  Kenny Joe clamped his hands even tighter around his eyes. “Did too! And if you sigh again, I’m running!”

  “I did not enjoy it, you prick! How would you like to have the machine hooked into your ass!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t like it nearly as much as you seemed to!”

  “You bastard!” Judd shrieked. “I’m gonna kill you!”

  “KJ, if you don’t get up here and help me pull this, I’m coming down there and beat your ass like I did on Christmas day!” Max yelled.

  Kenny Joe sighed, opening his eyes as little as possible. “Okay, man, but if Judd sighs again, I swear to Jesus I’m fleeing.”

  “I DIDN’T SIGH, YOU BASTARD!” Judd shrieked.

  Kenny Joe climbed up onto the machine, still squinting. Bailey opened his eyes, sat up groggily, looked up and saw his portly brother and Max entangled in Judd’s ass and promptly fell back into unconsciousness. His head hit the floor with a dull, meaty thud.

  Judd looked down at him. “Sure, you fucker! Sleep!”

  Max and Kenny Joe gripped the pole firmly, muscles tense. “Okay, on the count of three, pull!” Max shouted, closing his eyes. “One…two…three!”

  They braced themselves and yanked violently, their teeth gritted.

  Judd shrieked. “STOP! STOP! STOP! YOU’RE FUCKING KILLING ME HERE!”

  Max and Kenny Joe climbed down from the machine dejectedly. The probe had not even moved one inch and remained deeply buried, as if it had become symbiotically merged with Judd’s body.

  “Now what?” Max asked, staring at the massive machine with hatred.

  Kenny Joe picked up a small pistol shaped piece of metal from one of the dead alien’s hands. “Shoot it with this thing?”

  Max turned the cool gun around in his palm and aimed it at the wall. “Stand back.” He pushed a button and a red beam shot out, burning the metal with a sizzle. “This will do.”

  “No way!” Judd screamed. “You’re not shooting that thing anywhere near my ass, Max!”

  Max shook his head. “Be realistic, partner. Could it really be any worse?”

  Judd sighed, resignation making his face look old. “Get it over quickly.”

  Max aimed the alien laser at the probe and pushed the button. With one clean sweep, he managed to cut the shaft in half.

  Two feet of metal still jutted from Judd’s ass, but he was no longer connected to the machine.

  Max looked down at the protruding rod, amused at how it appeared as if his friend had a metallic, smoking tail. “We’ll worry about getting the rest of that thing out of your ass later. Now, we need to find a way to get off this damn ship.”

  They helped Judd from the table, and awoke Bailey.

  Kenny Joe stared at the shaft that stuck out of Judd’s ass and said, “Man, I wouldn’t fall down if I was you.”

  Judd looked over at his friend. “Do you seriously know how close I am to killing you right now?”

  “It almost looks like someone took the bitch-be-quick-stick out and plunged it in his ass,” Bailey commented.

  Judd’s eyes actually looked moist with tears. The metal pole wiggled back and forth as he walked.

  The hallway outside the probe room, much to their relief, was empty.

  “Hell, for all we know, we could be on another planet by now,” Max said as they walked, guns aimed forward ready to shoot anything that moved.

  Max was holding the alien laser in his hand like a fat-ass intergalactic space hero. Judd waddled slowly and painfully, taking wide steps as the jutting pole wiggled behind him. Kenny Joe watched the rod quiver back and forth and bit back a comment that he knew would cause a fight.

  The corridor seemed to be an endless path of doors. They elected not to try any in favor of just following the passage to its completion. Minutes later, they found themselves before a purple door, dull humming emitting from the room.

  They got ready, their guns held out in different angles. Max glanced back at them and he was reminded of a sick parody of Charlie’s Angels. Judd was in the middle, totally buck naked, a pole sticking out of his flabby ass. Kenny Joe and Bailey quite literally rounded out each side, their beer bellies pushing out proudly, their guns held in the air. Kenny Joe fingered his beard dramatically.

  “Okay,” Max whispered. “Let’s wait for one of them to come-”

  The door opened suddenly and Judd, Kenny Joe and Bailey opened fire, sending Max scurrying to the floor to avoid being killed.

  The alien just stood there for a few seconds, five or six holes in its lime-colored, leathery skin, its massive eyes widening even further. It fell forward with a soft thump, a puddle of green goo pouring out of its head.

  “Who’s your Daddy!” Judd yelled to the corpse, not quite aware of just how ridiculous he looked standing there with the end of an anal probe vibrating happily from his ass.

  They cleared out a half a dozen aliens from the bridge rather quickly, with very little effort. Soon, the bodies of smoking aliens surrounded them, green blood covering the floor where they walked.

  A massive screen showed the earth below them, lonely against the twinkling black background. The moon could be seen off in the distance like a pale, cratered apple.

  Max stared down at a control panel full of buttons, each of them marked with the hieroglyphics that he had seen in the probe room. “We need to figure out how to get back down with this control panel.”

  The rest of the men nodded and stared down at the buttons dumbly. “What about that one with the green and blue circle on it?” Kenny Joe suggested. “That’s the color of the earth.”

  Max nodded. “Should I push it?” he asked, looking over at his friends.

  “What’s the worst that can happen?” Judd asked.

  “Well, that’s easy for you to say, Judd,” Bailey said, staring down. “You got a metal rod sticking out of your ass.”

  Before they could start fighting again, Max pushed the button and stepped back fearfully. There was a dull rumbling underneath their feet and they braced themselves for the worst, their eyes darting around the room with growing panic.

  Through the screen in front of them, they watched in awe as the biggest missile that they had ever seen floated down towards earth, spinning silently as it fell. Their mouths slowly dropped open in unison as the missile entered the planet’s atmosphere with a trail of fire and smoke.

  “Oh my motherfucking god, I think you just blew up the earth,” Judd uttered, his eyes watching his home planet in amazement.

  “My mama is on that planet!” Kenny Joe wailed, his hands stuck to the glass.

  Max wondered how it was possible that he had just actually heard someone utter the line ‘My mama is on that planet’ in a serious tone. “You don’t know that it’s going to destroy the earth, fool,” he muttered just as the missile detonated on the planet below. A colossal, fiery cloud could be seen from their vantage point. “There, see, it only got a part of the earth. A piece is still there.”

  “Looks like some part of Europe,” Bailey said. “Mama don’t live in Europe, thank the Lord his own bad self.”
>
  Max could see quite plainly that it was Southeast Asia, but he decided not to say anything.

  “Push another,” Kenny Joe said, happy that the bomb had not killed his mother. “Just don’t push no green and blue ones.”

  Max nodded and pushed a random button. Nothing happened. “We’re never going to figure out how to move this thing back to earth. This is helpless.”

  Judd slapped his hands down on the control panel, pushing dozens of buttons at once. “ANAL PROBE IN MY ASS! EARTH BLOWING UP! KENNY JOE’S MAMA DEAD! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!”

  The ship lurched forward, tumbling slowly towards the earth, faint tremors reverberating underneath their feet. Gravity was suddenly cut off and they found themselves floating around the room along with several alien corpses. Kenny Joe seemed to be stuck to the front of the view screen, while Judd floated around fearful that he was going to hit his backside on a wall. Bailey grabbed the pole in Judd’s ass in a vain effort to steady himself, sending the both of them hurling wildly through the room. They hit the wall on the other side with a sickening thud.

  Luckily, Judd had hit the wall headfirst.

  Max floated in front of the view screen and watched the earth grow larger before his stunned face. The ship hit the atmosphere and plunged toward the planet, the view screen detonating in sheet of fire. “Oh…shit,” he whispered.

  Kenny Joe, still stuck to the view screen like a squashed bug, had a front row seat to the whole thing. He screamed and cried as they plummeted.

  The ship vibrated spastically. Showers of sparks exploded from the control panels, filling the room with sulfurous smoke.

  The last thing Max heard before he fell into unconsciousness was the womanly sounds of Kenny Joe’s front seat screams.

  One year later:

  “You’d think you’d be used to it by now,” Max said to his friend as they watched the big screen TV. They could see Judd being carried from the wreckage of the UFO, the metal rod sticking out of his ass like a sundial. The spaceship had crashed into the Atlantic Ocean and, after submerging for about an hour, floated to the top. Government officials had soon swarmed the ship.

  They were watching a documentary called The Aliens Among Us!

  Judd held his hands over his face. “That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t been dubbed ‘Assman’ by the media.”

  “It could have been worse,” Kenny Joe commented. “They could have called you Anal Probe Guy.”

  Bailey cackled. “That kinda sounds like a gay porn actor.” He stopped laughing suddenly and coughed. “Not that I ever watched any.”

  On the screen before them Max was saying, “We tried and tried to get that probe out his BEEP, but it just wasn’t BEEP happening. Finally, we just had to cut the rod, so now it just stuck out his BEEP just so, you know what I mean?”

  Judd looked up. “Did you really have to do interviews, man?”

  Max nodded. “Shit, for twenty thousand I woulda done that interview buck naked in a pink bow tie while sodomizing a monkey.”

  Judd shook his head looked at the screen, just about ready to cry. Kenny Joe was now being interviewed. “I could tell by looking at the poor BEEP that it had to hurt. Hell, if you had a metal shaft shoved straight into your BEEP would you not be BEEP hurtin’? I was wincin’ just looking at him. And of course he was BEEP carryin’ on like it was the end of the world.”

  “Look at it this way, Judd,” Kenny Joe said, slapping him on the back. “You’re a star now. Shit, they’re selling ‘Assman in Space’ T-shirts and everything!”

  At this point, Judd started to cry. He knew that shitpie would always be on the table when he came for dinner. He just couldn’t catch a break.

  Ingredients are the Secret to Great Taste

  by Weston Ochse

  “What the fuck do you mean, it ain’t my turn?” shouted Enus into the racing wind of the speeding pickup.

  They were confident the deputy sheriff had taken the last turn-off where Zebulon had left a skid of dust as a swirling temptation. The blue and red Ford pickup had swung around the bend in the road too quickly for them to see if the bastard had taken the bait, though. Zeb didn’t care. He was hell bent at near seventy miles an hour — the fish-tailing back end fighting the road at each turn.

  “Just what I said. I mean it ain’t your turn,” said Zeb, wrenching the wheel hard to the right. “Anyways, you had the last one.”

  “The last one? She don’t count. Hell,” said Enus, “you can’t count her. She was near eighty years old. That gash was gray as hell, man.”

  “Thems the chance you take. It was your turn and you can’t even start complaining. It ain’t like that man I had to do last week. At least yours was a woman.”

  Enus chuckled at the memory of his lifetime friend embracing the hippie they found hitchhiking last week. They had both thought he was a woman. His legs and his butt were tight and pretty damn good looking. Then the fairy pulled his hair aside and they saw the two weeks growth of beard. By then it was too late. And Zeb had made the hippie pay for it.

  “Fine then. At least I get to help,” said Enus. The last was a question more than a statement. The grin Zeb gave him in return was enough to let him know that tonight would be a group effort.

  Three miles later they skidded to a stop in a roadside picnic area. Zeb repositioned the truck so it faced back the way they came and grabbed up his sheep skinner. It was a six-inch, wicked-looking blade. Its grip could double as a spiked set of brass knuckles and Enus had only seen it used once. The look on the poor patrolman’s face as his forehead sprouted five new holes was still funny, even after six months.

  “I think we ditched the motherfucker,” said Zeb grabbing a beer from the Styrofoam cooler between them. “Lucky for him,” he said, taking a deep gulp.

  “Yeah, lucky,” said Enus.

  He ignored the cooler and grabbed the earthenware jug. It was one of Daddy’s specials —- The Sweetness, they called it, and the taste lightened his feet.

  Half an hour, six beers and an empty jug later, they were cruising the highway again. They called it rousting. Their daddies did it and their daddy’s daddies had done it. It was family tradition and besides the guarding of the still, it was all they ever did.

  Their hunting ground was a road that ran between the dark forests of Ooltewah and Cleveland, Tennessee. Travelers had two choices. They could take the newer Interstate 25 or the old highway. Zeb and Enus preferred the less traveled highway and concentrated their rousting there. Besides the occasional cheerleader who dumped her date, or the young boy who ran away from home because his mommy and daddy cut his Sega-time down, the only people who traveled it were leftovers.

  That’s what daddy called them. Leftovers, those folks who had already wasted their chance and were merely waiting for Darwin to exert himself. Zeb and Enus were Darwin’s messengers, and in the battle of survival of the fittest, they were always on top. It wasn’t as if they threw the leftovers away. Leftovers were special ingredients that made everything taste better. You never knew what you were gonna find. Daddy said it was the mystery that enhanced the taste.

  It had been a slow night and just as they were about to head home, the headlights illuminated a solitary figure walking along the side of the road. Zeb immediately slowed, the sheep skinner gripped in his left hand. They could tell by the walk that it was a man and Enus laughed loudly.

  “Like you said, Zeb. It’s your turn.”

  Zeb shot him a look that was meant to kill, but it only succeeded in making Enus snort white-lightning through his nose as he laughed hysterically.

  “Big bad Zebulon,” continued Enus. “Rouster of men and a closet homosexual.”

  He dodged the half-full can of beer and grinned wider as it flew through the open window.

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I offered to help, but you said, Nooooo.”

  The sheep skinner rose and sank between Enus’ legs, impaling the seat. A little of the moonshine spilled from Enus’ shaking hands,
hiding any piss that may have inadvertently escaped due to the proximity of the razor sharp blade to his manliness.

  The pickup pulled just ahead of the walking man and stopped on the wide shoulder. Enus opened his door and leaned out. The light had been removed several years ago, a solution to too many hitchhikers who bolted.

  “Hey, Man. You wanna ride?” Yelled Enus.

  Their target was dressed in a black leather duster that hung all the way to the red clay dirt on the edge of the road. His hair was likewise black and flowed halfway down the back. Enus thought of the hippie and hoped this one would scream the same way.

  “I said, do you wanna ride?”

  The man stopped by the back of the truck, his face and eyes cast in shadow. His hands were clasped solemnly in front of him.

  “Yes,” came a voice like a serpent’s hiss.

  Enus glanced at Zeb, who indicated the sheep skinner in his hand.

  “No problem, stranger,” said Enus. “You got any bags?”

  Zeb cracked his door and began to slide slowly out.

  “Do I look like I have any bags?” asked the dark man.

  “Well, no,” said Enus, letting the insult slip. He’d have plenty of time to make the fucker pay.

  “Come on in then, we need to get going.”

  “I don’t think so,” said the voice.

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to kill your sorry ass right here,” said Zeb from behind the man.

  Zeb lunged, the glistening blade held in a practiced hand, falling fast towards the unprotected back of the stranger. Suddenly, his target wasn’t there. Zeb almost castrated himself on the follow-through, barely correcting in time.

  “Behind you,” yelled Enus.

  Zeb spun around to find his target and cursed as the stranger raised its head. The eyes were solid white and the mouth showed twin fangs, descending.

  “Fuck. It’s one of them,” said Zeb.

  “One of what? A faggot?”

  “Worse. A fucking vampire,” said Zeb with resignation.

  The pickup wound through the hills and finally skidded to a stop as the road dead-ended in an unmarked cul-de-sac. Kudzu covered trees surrounded the half-circle like sentinels and cicadas sang in the darkness. Two men stood in the beams of the headlights, shotguns trained at the windows.