Billy stared at the fingernails as they lengthened and yellowed. He wondered about that. He stared at the man. “Bad Billy.”
“Your name’s Bad Billy?” the man asked. He grinned. “I’m going to fuck you up bad, Billy.” He swung a hand, and Billy felt his throat rip open. Blood from his recent victim spilled from the gash, and he gurgled the coppery liquid in his mouth and spit it out.
“I want you to say my name,” the man said. “Say, ‘don’t kill me, Ben Hauser.’”
Billy spit more blood out of his mouth. Red bubbles were escaping from the slash in his throat.
“Say my name!” Ben roared. “Say Ashley’s name!”
Billy stared at him blankly, choking on Ashley’s blood. He farted.
“Ah!!’ Ben screamed, grabbing for the slit throat. Billy felt his fingers on the wound, and then he felt his skin being ripped from his throat down. He cried out in agony, and Hauser pulled a patch off at his stomach.
“Told you I was going to skin you with my bare hands,” he said triumphantly, tossing the skin to the ground.
The men behind Billy were laughing. “Give it to him,” one said. “Rip his other arm off.”
Ben smiled, stepping up to Billy. He stared him in the eyes. “I’m your worst nightmare, you stupid –”
Billy leaned forward, opening his jaws like a snake. His movement was swift and his teeth clamped around Ben Hauser’s face. He bit down and felt the skull crack. He pulled away. Hauser’s face was completely gone, and his brains were spilling out of the hole. The body fell back.
Billy lifted the two men that were still holding his arms, and they let go quickly. He turned and saw several running away. Four jumped him, and he flung them aside like dominoes. He sunk his teeth into the nearest one and took a deep drink. He lifted his head and sighed with satisfaction. He lowered his head again.
The men were turning into wolves. One completed the transformation and rushed Billy. He caught the animal with his one good hand and crushed its throat. He tossed his drink aside, and lowered the wolf to the ground. He squeezed the throat tighter and placed a foot on its shoulder. He pulled the head clean off.
They were all fleeing now, and he followed them, the blood lust dominating any little bit of rationality he possessed. They ran under the trailer and jumped in the tunnel and he followed. He flew through the opening, gaining on the creatures, his anger boiling within. He reached one and ripped its head off. He passed it and continued ripping the heads off as he encountered the werewolves.
He took ten of the beasts out before he reached the opening and surfaced, bloody from the altercations. He looked around and spotted no more wolves or men. He dropped back down the hole, turned and fed on each body as he passed.
By the time he resurfaced underneath the trailer, he was completely covered in blood and dirt. His arm had completely regrown, and his skin had healed, smooth and unblemished.
Billy slowly walked to the water tower, the visions of his kills filling his mind with images of people he’d never known nor cared to. Their victims and crimes played out, women screaming, men yelling in hopeless rage. He willed himself from these thoughts, thinking of the girl instead.
He could hear her gently breathing on top of the water tower as he walked the fairgrounds. The place was large without the rides, vendor booths, and crowds of people. It was peaceful.
Billy thought about Laura and the little girl’s future with no parents. He wondered if he should tell her they were dead. He could say the werewolves had ended their lives. Maybe he could be her father.
Guilt was welling up inside of him. He climbed the water tower, lifted himself over the edge and stared at the little girl as she slept, her face troubled from her dreams. She whimpered.
Billy wondered if she was dreaming about him. Did she think he was a monster? He gently lifted her, and she stirred only a bit. He held her in his arms and jumped off the tower, landing effortlessly on the ground.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Hey, Billy.”
He grinned and brought her to the trailer. “Crawl under,” he said as he lowered himself to the ground and slid into the darkness.
“Why?” Laura asked.
“The big dogs,” Billy lied. “We don’t want them to find us.”
She nodded. “Okay, Billy.” She crawled under the trailer and nestled beside him on the ground. She was soon breathing deeply, her eyes closed, dreaming about something.
Billy’s stomach was growling. His fangs were growing. He could smell her blood and hear it pulsing. Her heart beat loudly and steadily. He could see blood flowing through her veins.
Billy opened his mouth. He lowered his head to the sleeping youth.
The darkness had faded to gray.
He stopped as his fangs neared her throat, a sudden realization that he was a monster creeping inside his head. He wanted to drain the life from this girl. This little creature who had befriended him. His only friend. He gently took her hand.
She continued to sleep as he examined her angelic face. “Bad Billy,” he said in a rough voice.
Billy dropped the hand and crawled to the front of the trailer, the sunlight hurting his eyes as he neared it.
He climbed out from under the trailer and felt his flesh bubble. He saw plumes of dark smoke wafting from his blackened skin. He felt the searing pain of the sunrays and watched as his body burst into flames.
Billy walked out into the field, ignoring the blistering agony that grew with each step.
He screamed once but thoughts of the girl fought away all of his fears.
He continued walking until his body was nothing more than blazing ashes.
And then the wind gently blew him away.
THE END
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About Yo A$$ Is GRA$$: Tales From a Rednek Gangsta
A collection of Jimmy M.F. Pudge's finest short fiction. From crackhead vampires to redneck zombies to a host of the craziest lowlifes you've ever met, Jimmy's got your fix right here! Come inside the magical world of Jimmy M.F. Pudge and enjoy the greasiest horror, crime and humor you're gonna find! Not sure if Jimmy M.F. Pudge is for you? Download the free sample right now and become this rednek gangsta's partna in crime! Warning: This book contains strong adult content.
Praise for Jimmy M.F. Pudge:
"....I like just about every genre, and I appreciate the best of any genre. Books are the same for me. That’s why I loved this collection of stories by Jimmy Pudge. If you’re easily offended—actually, even if you’re moderately easy to offend—you don’t want this book. Since I’m only offended by poor writing, Jimmy had nothing to worry about
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Necrotic Tissue did for horror what the Beatles did for music, and while both are now gone, NT wishes to still make money like they did, with a Best of Collection. These are the editor's choice of the best stories from fourteen issues (more than those Brits put out in albums) and the Malpractice Anthology.
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