Scary Rednecks & Other Inbred Horrors

by Ochse, Weston

  “You can pull your pants up now, man,” Max said, rubbing his eyes. “No need to keep it out now that I’ve seen it.”

  “Max, what the fuck am I gonna do?”

  Judd told the story of the voodoo woman and how he had stolen the pussy stick, leaving nothing out. He spoke in the hushed words of one recounting a guilty memory.

  Max and Judd walked into the living room as they heard Kenny Joe and Bailey’s Ford pull into the driveway. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. This shit is too weird. Even for us.”

  The Butler brothers strolled through the screen door without knocking, each of them carrying a case of Bud. “Hey all,” they chanted in unison.

  “You tell them and you fucking die,” Judd whispered into Max’s ear.

  “What the hell you two whisperin’ about?” Kenny Joe said, already grabbing a beer from the case.

  “Nothing,” Judd said quickly and grinned. “Toss me a beer, bitch.”

  Kenny Joe shook his head and looked at his rotund, bearded brother. “You hear this guy? Called me a bitch. Anyone calls me that and expects a beer has got some serious problems.”

  “I must agree,” Bailey said, grabbing his own beer and cracking it open. He took a long sip, his eyes rolled back in a way that could only be described as ecstasy.

  Judd walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Fuck the both of you. I’m going to be needing the harder stuff tonight, anyway.”

  “Good,” Kenny Joe said, sitting down on the case. “More beer for me then. So where we going tonight?”

  “I figured we’d just hang out here,” Judd said, taking another long swig of the whiskey. “There’s a good game on tonight anyway.”

  As the night went on, Judd continued to hit the bottle of Jack Daniels until it was nearly empty. Every time Judd would catch Max staring at him, he would glare until Max would look away. By the time the game was over, Judd had passed out against the sofa, the bottle of JD still clutched protectively in his hand.

  “So then I grabbed that fat bastard by his fucking hair and demanded he sing me a good song,” Kenny Joe said, crunching up his beer can. He threw it to the floor where it bounced between Judd’s legs.

  Max grinned and took a sip of his beer, staring at the discarded can and trying desperately not to think of Judd’s pussy. “This is too rich. What song did he sing?”

  Kenny Joe smirked. “I’m getting there, man.” He looked over at his brother, who was fingering the belly button on his enormous gut. Bailey picked out a piece of red and blue lint and tossed it into Judd’s hair. “Throw me a brew, bro.”

  Kenny Joe caught the beer, cracked it open with a snap and continued. “So this snaggle-toothed bastard looks me in the eye and goes, ‘I ain’t singing shit to you, you redneck, cretinous piece of white trash.’”

  Max and Bailey gasped. Kenny Joe nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with their surprise. “Yep,” he continued. “The nerve of this bastard. So I pulled out my Colt .45, cocked it and stuck it to the side of his head. I gave him a big old shit-eating smile and said, ‘Let’s hear some of that sweet voice.’” He paused dramatically and watched with satisfaction as his two friends leaned in for the climax of the story. “His eyes sort of turned to the right side of his skull as if he was trying to look into the barrel of my Colt sideways. He pauses for a moment, and then he sings in the sweetest voice you ever did hear, ‘I got sunshy-yee-ine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside, I got the month of May.’”

  They all detonated into laughter. Bailey fell to the floor, holding his jiggling belly, a sight that only made them roar all the harder.

  Max was wiping a tear from his eye. “You’re the man, Kenny Joe. That was fucking perfect. That fat bastard had it coming to him all year.”

  Kenny Joe stared down at Judd and burped. “Look at him sleeping already. Looky at the way his eyes go back and forth underneath his eyelids. That means he’s dreaming.”

  “Dreaming of Mr. T,” Bailey said as they all exploded into laughter again.

  “Them bats is smart, they use radar!” they all screamed simultaneously.

  Judd rolled over from his side to his back and muttered, “Fuck all of you.” They stared down at him quietly until they again broke out into howling hysterics.

  “Poor Judd,” Kenny Joe said, gazing down at his friend affectionately. “The man just can’t catch a break. Snake bites to the dick. Anal probes in the ass. Crazy ass elephants runnin’ amok. The man must have pissed off Jesus or somethin’. What else could happen to the guy?”

  Max was quiet for a moment and then sighed. The secret was just too big to keep to himself. He told his friends the story of Judd and the pussy stick and watched their faces. “Apparently, poor Judd thought this stick would make every woman that he wanted just throw themselves at him. The way he tells it, he just had to have this stick. Now he comes home, falls asleep, and wakes up with this hairy pussy. Fucking disgusting, man. People should not screw around with voodoo women.”

  Kenny Joe and Bailey watched Max for a few seconds, turned simultaneously to Judd’s crotch area, and then looked back to Max’s face.

  “You don’t hardly expect us to believe that, Max,” Kenny Joe said. “We may be drunk and gullible, but we aren’t that drunk and gullible, man.”

  “Go on and look for yourself, man,” Max suggested. “He won’t wake up.”

  Kenny Joe and Bailey crept up to where Judd lay on the floor, his mouth open as he mumbled something in his sleep, a line of drool streaming down the side of his face. They looked over at Max as if to seek permission and he nodded like a wise man.

  “You do it,” Kenny Joe said to his brother as he pulled at his thick beard nervously. “I ain’t never unbuckled a man’s pants, and I don’t intend to start now.”

  “Fuck that,” Bailey said, backing up. “You do it.”

  “I ain’t doing it.”

  “Well, I ain’t fucking doing it neither.”

  Max snickered. “It’s not like he has a dick. If he ain’t got no dick, he ain’t much of a man, is he?”

  “Whether he has a dick or not is still debatable, Max,” Kenny Joe said. “I still don’t believe your ass. You have a tendency to fuck with me a lot. I still remember that time you had me convinced they were going to bring the Dukes of Hazard back. That pissed me the hell off. That was totally evil on your part.”

  “They did do a TV movie, though, remember?”

  “Yeah, but it was disappointing. They was all old and it didn’t even have Boss Hog. You can’t have a Hazard County without no Boss Hogg. It ain’t right. It’s like Crazy Horse without Neil Young, it just don’t work.”

  Max got up and stepped over to where Judd lay. “Oh for Christ’s sake, move out of the way.” He undid the button of Judd’s Levi’s and unzipped the fly. He grabbed the jeans at the cuffs and pulled them down until they reached Judd’s ankles. The area where Judd should have had a bulge in his underwear was flat and he gestured towards the crotch. “Go on and look.”

  Kenny Joe reached down and placed his finger under the waistband of the underwear, pulling cautiously, almost as if he was awaiting the strike of the deadly snake that had once terrorized his friend. They stared at the pussy in dumb confusion before fleeing to the furthest corner of the room.

  “Holy shit, bro!” Kenny Joe howled, eyes wide. “That’s fucked up!”

  “I must agree,” Bailey said, nodding up and down rapidly.

  “No shit,” Max said, frowning down at his passed out friend. “We need to go and put the fear of God into that voodoo woman for doing this to him.”

  Kenny Joe shook his head. “No fucking way, man! She took his dick! What if she does the same thing to us? Maybe switches our dicks around or something, gives you Bailey’s dick and I get yours.”

  “That best not happen,” Bailey said, rubbing the bulge in his jeans. “My dick is massive. The eyes widen when I bring it out.”

  Max sniggered. “How would you know? You can�
��t see it with that gut.”

  “I use a mirror. Plus I can see it in their eyes.”

  “He ain’t lying, Max. It is pretty damn big,” Kenny Joe said. “I used to be very envious until I accepted it.”

  Max shook his head. “Let’s not go there, man. This conversation is getting uncomfortable. Let’s take the pussy stick back to the voodoo woman and ask her to take off the curse.”

  The men reluctantly agreed, still afraid of the consequences of messing with such scary voodoo magic. It was a visit they would rather not have taken. The voodoo woman had frightened them greatly. As they drove back to Judd’s, Bailey kept putting his hands to his pants to see if his penis was still there.

  What they learned was something that would disturb them until the day they died. They drove back to Judd’s house with haunted eyes, saying very little as the music of Hank Williams wafted through the truck. The words to “Lost Highway” had always meant something special to them.

  “All’s I know is I’m not the one who’s gonna do it,” Kenny Joe said, as they pulled up in front of Judd’s place. “No fucking way. No fucking how.”

  “I must agree,” Bailey said as they got out of the truck.

  “We’re drawing straws,” Max growled. “You guys have been his friend as long as I have. Also, I’m the one who bailed him out of the snakebite incident.”

  Judd was sleeping peacefully on the floor, jeans still pulled down to his ankles. His hand was resting comfortably over his crotch.

  They sat on the couch, each of them trying desperately to think of a way to escape. They stared down at their passed-out friend and tried to make him somehow appealing, but it just wasn’t happening.

  “Why can’t we just forget about the whole thing?” Kenny Joe suggested.

  “Because the voodoo woman said one of us has to have intercourse with him to cure him,” Max said, grabbing another beer. “We can’t just leave him like this. He’s our friend, man. He’s been our friend since grade school. If the situation were reversed, he would be helping us.”

  “What if we catch the pussy?” Kenny Joe asked, his voice quivering.

  “What in the hell you talking about?” Max asked.

  “Well, it’s like a disease,” he explained. “What if we have sex with him and one of us catches the pussy disease? I admit if I woke up with a pussy I would play with it a lot, but it would get old real fast, man. Real fast. Don’t they have to use a douche on that thing all the time so that it don’t stink? And tampons too?”

  “The voodoo lady said if we do this, then Judd will get his dick back. She was very clear on this.”

  “Aren’t you afraid this will make us gay, though?” Kenny Joe asked. “That’s terrifying.”

  Max took a long swig of his beer before answering. “Listen, my friend. Judd has no dick. Therefore, he’s not a man, right? Isn’t the general definition for being a woman, having a vagina? So how can it be gay?”

  Kenny Joe gaped down at his rotund and bearded friend. “Well, he sure ain’t no woman, or if he is, he is the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen. Talk about falling down the ugly tree and hitting every branch on the way down.”

  “That poor bastard built himself a tree house and fucking lived up there for years before falling out,” Bailey added.

  “Well, I agree the man ain’t pretty,” Max said, finishing off his beer and grabbing another. “But the point is, that it is not homosexual to do this. Admittedly, it ain’t normal, but it is not gay, nor will it make us gay. We need to help our friend.” He walked into the kitchen and came back a minute later with three matchsticks clutched in his fist. “Time to draw.”

  “Oh my god, bro, this is the scariest thing I have ever fucking done,” Kenny Joe said, staring at the three wooden sticks like they were tipped with the heads of his ex-wife.

  “Who wants to go first?” Max asked, holding his hand out.

  Bailey reached forward and grabbed a matchstick, his frog-like eyes bulging. He exhaled loudly when he saw his was normal. He looked up at the ceiling and blew a kiss. “Thank the Lord all mighty. I love you so damn much, Lord. You my man.”

  Kenny Joe said a silent prayer, held his breath, and grabbed a matchstick. He gripped it before his face in trepidation and then beamed. “Jesus loves me, yes I know. ‘Cuz the Bible tells me so.”

  “Fuck,” Max hissed. “This is so goddamn unfair.”

  Judd wheezed and then farted loudly.

  Max looked down at his friend, his eyes almost in tears. “Oh man. This is disgusting. We’re gonna have to do something to make him look more womanly. I can’t just fuck him like this.”

  Kenny Joe grinned. “Want to take him out to dinner or something first? Maybe catch a flick or something?”

  Bailey snickered at his brother’s joke.

  “Kenny Joe that wasn’t even a little bit funny, man,” Max growled. “I’m serious here. We need to do something to make it easier for me. He has a—I mean SHE has a fucking beard for Christ’s sake!”

  After a brief discussion, they decided it would help if they shaved Judd’s beard. Ten minutes later, Judd had a smooth face, give or take a few bloody nicks. Bailey tore off little pieces of toilet paper and stuck them to the wounds where they made little dots like measles.

  The men stared down at Judd and tried to think of him as a woman. Again, it just wasn’t happening.

  “I think he’s even uglier without the beard,” Kenny Joe stated. “No wonder he hasn’t been clean shaven since the seventh grade.”

  Max nodded. “Maybe we can put makeup on him or something. A wig might help too.” He grabbed Bailey’s arm. “Go next store and ask Mrs. Anderson if you can borrow one of her wigs.”

  “What if she asks why?”

  “Just tell her we’re going to a costume party.”

  “But all her wigs are gray. You wanna fuck an old lady?”

  “Bailey…”

  “Okay, okay,” he muttered and walked out the front door.

  Max studied Judd. “Okay, we’re gonna need makeup too.”

  “Max, this is getting ridiculous! Just fuck him and get over with!”

  “HER! Don’t say him! Semantics are important here, man.”

  Kenny Joe shook his head and frowned. “Just fuck HER, then, and get it over with.”

  “Do you want to do it instead?” Max asked, glaring at his friend. “I thought not.” He snapped his fingers and ran into the kitchen. “I got it!” He came back carrying a plastic cup full of magic markers.

  Max pulled out a red marker and colored Judd’s lips. He stepped back and studied his friend’s crimson mouth like an artist. He narrowed his eyes, nodded to himself, and grabbed a blue one. His face lined with concentration, Max applied the wet tip to Judd’s thick eyelids. He looked over to Kenny Joe for approval. “What do you think?”

  “He’s still fucking ugly. Maybe even uglier.”

  A teardrop fell down Max’s face. “I know. Maybe the wig will help.”

  As if on cue, Bailey walked in with a gray beehive wig. “This was all she had.” He saw what they had done with the magic marker. “Oh, man. That is just scary.”

  “Just shut the hell up,” Max said, grabbing the wig from his hand. He placed it on Judd’s head and frowned. “Fucking frightening.”

  Kenny Joe painted large circles on each of Judd’s cheeks with the magic marker. He grabbed two of the sofa pillows and stuffed them into Judd’s shirt in a vain effort to make breasts. “The finishing touch.”

  Judd looked obscene. The blue “eye shadow” made him looked like Tammy Faye Bakker’s ugly sister. Red ink was smeared all over his lips, giving him the appearance of a one-dollar whore. His rouge, two large, red dots painted on his cheeks, made him look like a frightening fuck doll. The beehive wig made it look like he was wearing a giant melting ice cream cone on his scalp. Tiny dots of toilet paper stuck to his face like freckles. One pillow fell to Judd’s side like a huge, sagging breast.

  “So how you gonna do it?” Ken
ny Joe asked.

  “What do you mean?” Max asked, staring down at his painted friend morosely.

  “Well, you gonna do him-”

  “HER GODDAMMIT!”

  “Okay, HER! Are you gonna do her missionary style or doggie style?”

  Max frowned. “You better not be fucking joking, man, because I am so close to choking you.”

  “I’m serious,” Kenny Joe said, his face devoid of a smile. “It’s something you need to consider.”

  “I would do it missionary,” Bailey suggested.

  “Of course, I’m going to do it missionary. I’m a self-respecting Baptist.”

  Kenny Joe and Bailey nodded in unison, agreeing wholeheartedly with the profound truth in his words. Judd muttered in his sleep and they watched him quietly.

  “Well, I guess we better leave now,” Kenny Joe said, patting Max on the shoulder.

  Max sighed. “Judd better appreciate the hell out of this.” He exhaled sharply. “Shit! No condoms.”

  Kenny Joe went into the kitchen and came back with a box of plastic wrap. “There you go, bro. I remember fitting my dick into a zip-lock bag once, but that’s a tale for another time.”

  After the Butler brothers left, Max had a brief moment of panic. He thought of all the times Judd had bailed him out of one ass-burning frying pan or another and he couldn’t help but break out into a grin. Any time he had ever needed anything, Judd was there with a smile and a six pack.

  Max gazed down at his painted friend and shook his head sadly, a ghost of a smile on his face. The only magazine he was able to find to get himself aroused was a National Geographic, but he was quite surprised at how fast he achieved an erection.

  He found a nice picture of a group of beautiful Pygmy women in the magazine, nestled it deep into Judd’s beehive wig, and tried not to weep. He grabbed a thick wad of plastic wrap and put it to use, his heart beating in trepidation. When Max entered his friend, he whined.

  Every time he thrust himself deep into the warm pussy, a wave of foul, whiskey-tainted air would blast into his face. At one point, Judd moaned quietly, a sound he found terrifying. Max closed his eyes and tried to pretend it was a woman, but Judd’s hairy legs kept tickling his thighs.