Jacob B. eyer – Assistant Associate T ansport And Web Design – o-Owner
“Scoop and Scoot! Meeting all your body transport needs since 2004.”
The lettering was getting old. Some of the letters were even missing. He’d need to do some touchups to it sometime soon. Jacob pulled on the back door twice to make sure it was secure. He didn’t want another incident like last week where he and Jacob ended up spending an hour trying to pick up bodies that slipped out accidently on the highway. The back door opened and the two bodies had slipped out while doing seventy. The body bags practically exploded when they hit the asphalt, and the two poor dead souls inside hadn’t fared much better. Luckily those two had been ejected from a motorcycle and then ran over a couple of times. So Bella was able to explain all the injuries away as being part of the accident. Even then the M.E. had given them a look that said he didn’t believe them. So from now on Jacob was extra careful to make sure it didn’t happen again.
Jacob slipped into the backseat behind Bella. The car went from leaning, to nearly dragging on one side. Over seven hundred pounds on the passenger side had the station wagon severely unbalanced. Considering they had over a thousand pounds of bodies stuffed in the back between the two cops, the headless woman, the three people they scraped off the gas station parking lot, the leftovers of the man stuffed in the slushee machine, the two bodies inside the gas station by the milk and beer that had been nearly picked clean, and the man up the street with an axe wound to his head, it was just a miracle they weren’t dragging the ground. Their car wasn’t built for this kind of load, and the shocks were straining under it. Even as Edward started rolling down the road, the car was already pulling to the right badly.
“This is going to be an amazing check.” Jacob said from the back.
Edward nodded, “Yeah, and don’t forget that you still owe me twenty bucks.”
“I don’t owe you shit!” Jacob snapped.
“The hell you don’t! I bought you that bucket of jerky. You owe me twenty dollars!” Edward growled. The two brothers started arguing. Bella slid around to watch the two men, and so she could grab the steering wheel it Edward let go of it to jump back into the backseat to beat on his much larger man. This wasn’t the first time the two men fought. It was however the first time a brunette ran out in front of their car in the middle of an argument.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Melissa Roberts stood in front of her full length mirror. She was wearing the tiara and sash she’d won from the beauty contest five years ago. She was still just as pretty now as she was then. Of course her future was a lot brighter back then…and she’d been a blonde. Now she was back to being a brunette. Being Miss Arcadia should have just been another mile marker on the highway of bigger and better things. Unfortunately it had turned out to be a stop sign. She’d had the right dress, the best hair, and the nicest nails. Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on one of the other contestants paying a member of the hotel staff to switch the soy milk in her coffee and cereal with whole milk. She’d been in a hurry that morning and ate so fast that she really didn’t take time to notice how strangely different things tasted. If she had then she would have stopped before finishing the whole bowl and drinking all the milk. It was something she’d done ever since she was a kid, and she still did it for luck. Everyone knew it…it was one of those cute answers she’d given at an early competition. They’d asked her if she had any rituals before the pageants, and she’d told them about her morning cereal and soy milk. Unfortunately she’d also told them she was lactose intolerant.
In fairness, her competitor hadn’t known just how severe her lactose intolerance was. She assumed there might be some cramps and a little bloating. The woman had thought that if Melissa was just a little uncomfortable then it might show in front of the judges. A few tenths of a point here or there might just have been all Callie Hix needed to win the contest. What Callie hadn’t counted on was the horror that happened on that stage.
Melissa knew something was wrong when her stomach started making horrible sounds. The cramps came shortly after. She was able to keep the smile on her face and maintain her poise right up until she got called to answer a question for the judges. They never did ask a question because as soon as the host started to read from his card, Melissa passed gas for a full thirty seconds. It wasn’t a gentle wisp of air. No, it was violent, and loud. It sounded wet and angry. It became an internet overnight sensation. Within a week it was a ring tone. Soon people were attaching other clips to it. Some had her farting, and then showed a clip from Godzilla where the people were running away screaming. Some just took the sound effect and added it to whatever celebrity or cartoon they wanted to make a joke about. One particularly gifted editor took the music from Jaws and melded it with her clip. Just as the music hit its crescendo; the video cut back to Melissa breaking wind, and then the editor added several other popular Youtube clips that were mostly just funny reactions. It ended on the dramatic chipmunk, a little furry rodent that looks back into the camera; as if that wasn’t enough, the editor added credits to the song Chocolate Rain. It had a million views in seven hours.
The clip had made her a joke. Everyone knew about the “farting beauty queen”, or “Pootyqueen” as she was eventually nicknamed on the cable news networks, but only the people that were backstage knew the rest. Melissa was violently lactose intolerant. She ran off the stage in embarrassment, and just barely made it behind the curtains when cramps brought her to her knees. Most of the contestants were smart enough to back away. Callie Hix wasn’t one of them. She stood right in front of the young woman and gloated.
“I guess someone just isn’t beauty queen material. What? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Callie taunted. It was right then that Callie lurched forward and sprayed vomit all over Callie. She tried to apologize, but every time she opened her mouth her stomach fired another round at her chief competitor. “OH MY GOD!” Callie screamed and tried to run back on stage to get away from the spray. Sadly, high-heels are not made to run with, especially on a slick surface made even more slippery by Melissa’s stomach contents.
The skinny blonde stepped wrong and slipped. She fell on Melissa’s leg, and pinned it so that Melissa couldn’t escape. On the way down she ended up tearing the woman’s dress. Most of the people offstage were now very aware that Melissa’s panties were still glued on from the butt glue she used in the bikini competition earlier. She was also wearing a pair of pantyhose to help conceal any pantylines from the judges. Later on the witnesses would say amongst themselves that this was what saved Callie Hix. It started with another deafening bout of flatulence. After twenty seconds Melissa gave no indication she was nearing the end. At the thirty second mark she was still going strong. Callie’s blue eyes were wide as dinner plates. She was still stunned by it all, and didn’t want to move because if she sat up then she’d have to actually get closer to Melissa’s bottom. The fart went from what sounded like a rapid fire string of coughs, and then became something closer to the roar of a wild animal. Everyone knew something was about to happen when Melissa sniffled, and said weakly, “Oh no!”
The roar of her bottom turned into what would later be described by the host as, “An old man gargling syrup.” Her flatulence had started out loud, but relatively harmless. As the tone changed to something akin to a man trying to play a trumpet full of pudding; a stench began to skitter throughout the offstage crowd. Most of the people tried to get away. Callie even decided it was time to make a retreat, but unfortunately for her another cramp ripped through Melissa. It forced her to slide back until she was sitting on her ankles. Callie screamed as Melissa shifted to the only position she could because of the cramps, and now Melissa was sitting on the other woman’s face. Callie hadn’t had enough time to close her mouth. The vomiting had stopped, but the gas was still firing out like a rocket blast. Callie’s arms and legs kicked in all directions as she tried to escape.
Suddenly Melissa’s panties began
to swell like a water balloon. The butt glue held it in place for a while, but even it has limits. The panties reached critical mass, and then tore the glue away and came firing out the sides. Brown oozed down her pantyhose like two tubes being filled. It swelled over Callie’s face, and then hung down on both sides. When they finally pulled Callie away, Melissa’s butt had an almost perfect face print indentation of the woman. It not only formed to fit, it practically vacuum sealed against her face. There was a wet sucking sound as the backstage crew was finally able to pull Melissa off.
Between the constant movement as Callie was fighting for air, and being jerked around as men pulled Melissa off her competitor. Callie’s panties were exposed, and because it wasn’t the swimsuit competition, it also exposed his very large and untucked bulge. Within the next few days everyone in the pageant would learn that Callie Hix was really Carl Knox. Unfortunately for Melissa the rest of the world would only remember the “Pootyqueen”.
Callie Hix was investigated, and spent ninety days in jail. The last Melissa had heard was that Callie, or Carl as he was legally known, was making cheap amateur porn movies around Louisiana. Apparently she had herself a regular cult following, and was making pretty decent cash at it. Melissa had moved on the best she could. She tried normal jobs, but found she really didn’t have many skills to really make it out there on her own. She didn’t want to flip burgers for a living, but didn’t have the education to do much else. She could have modeled a little, but there weren’t many willing to hire her. Most of the people that did only wanted her as a gag, and they demanded she answer to “Pootyqueen”. Eventually she learned to be a masseuse. Most of her money was honest labor. She’d give an hour massage and take home twenty-five dollars, but once in a while when business is slow, or when bills were more than she could normally pay; she occasionally gave “special” massages.
She wasn’t proud of it, but it beat starving. Tonight was one of those nights. A few clients stiffed her this week, and she had to pay her rent. So she took one of her “extra” jobs. The man always wanted her to jerk him off at the end wearing her tiara and sash. His name was Bucky. Well that wasn’t his actual real name, but that’s what he answered to. He always paid cash, and he didn’t ever ask for more than a handjob and occasionally he got to wear the tiara when she jerked him off. As tricks went, he was pretty tame.
“You look beautiful my dear. Good enough to eat.” Bucky grinned.
“Bucky…Jesus look at your arm.”
“Oh…it’s nothing. A little band-aid and I’ll be fine.” Bucky took a step closer. He wasn’t a particularly large man. He was older…about fifty. On previous jobs Melissa thought the man looked distinguished. She found him much less attractive with green blood oozing out of his arm. It wasn’t just his arm. Every vein had a darkly unnatural tint to it.
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked.
“I was at the gas station picking up some beer for later, and this guy came in attacking everyone. He bit the shit out of me before I could get away. It was the scariest damn thing I’d ever seen, but it’s nothing a little tender handling from you…and maybe a snack won’t cure.” Bucky grinned as he moved towards her.
Melissa raised her hand to keep the man out of her personal space. She assumed the hefty older man would stop, but instead he just opened his mouth and sucked in her pinky and ring finger. Bucky bit down, she stared in shock. Two of her fingers came off cleanly in his mouth, and he nursed on the bloody nubs like a baby suckling a breast until she yanked her hand away. She doubled over and howled in pain. Meanwhile Bucky took his time chewing. The bones crunched and popped in his mouth like he was eating ice cubes. Melissa ducked and ran around the man. Blood spurted with each heartbeat, and as afraid as she was it was coming out so rapidly she’d probably have bled to death if not for some fast thinking. Melissa took her sash and wrapped it around her hand to stop the blood. The sash had a red bloom seconds after she tied it off, but at least it stopped her from bleeding out.
“Come back baby…I paid for the whole hour, and now I’m ready to party.” Bucky said as he waddled out of the bedroom. In the time it took for her to make a tourniquet for her hand, the chubby older man had undone his pants and was openly stroking himself.
“Party’s over Fuckhead! Now stay back!” Melissa yelled.
Bucky’s temper got the better of him, and he taunted, “Oh…is the Pootyqueen gonna punish Bucky? Bitch please!”
It may have been the pain from the missing fingers. It may have been the blood loss. It may have been the sight of a pasty fat man leaking precum with blood dribbling out of his mouth and down his chest as he planned to eat her. It could have been another half dozen things, but most likely it was getting called Pootyqueen for the twelve thousandth time that finally made her snap. Melissa ran screaming right at the newly turned zombie. Bucky grinned, then leaned forward and opened his mouth as he waited for her to run right into biting range. He even took a couple practice chomps in the air.
Why he expected her to just run into his gaping mouth is anyone’s guess. Perhaps it’s the same thinking the man put into calling himself Bucky when his real name Maximillion Powers. Why he preferred being called Bucky over Max Powers will forever be unknown to this and future generations. Melissa’s leg rocked back and then blasted forward into the man’s crotch. Zombies aren’t particularly sensitive. A gunshot to the chest tickles, a knife in the back could be confused with a mosquito bite, and a kick to the groin typically would feel like a man’s underwear just rode up too tightly. Still, after years of consciously guarding one’s testicles from all threats foreign and domestic, it becomes ingrained in the male mind to protect the twig and berries at all costs. So Bucky promptly twined his legs together, cupped his balls, and hopped backwards.
Unfortunately for Bucky there was an ottoman right behind him. Bucky tripped over the ottoman and fell backwards into the fireplace. His head smacked against the ceramic logs, and broke them into a dozen pieces. The ceramic did more to irritate Bucky than it did to actually stop the undead monster. What stopped Bucky was the grate that held the ceramic logs. The cast iron grate had a distinct fleur-de-lis pattern. One of those fleur-de-lis went right through the back of the man’s neck and broke through the spinal column. Bucky couldn’t move. Alone this wouldn’t have killed him, but certainly it would have put a crimp on his plan to satiate himself on mouthfuls of bloody flesh. No, what stopped him completely was a touch of romanticism.
Melissa was a beautiful woman by any standard. It was often Bucky’s fantasy that one day he might seduce her. Perhaps even make an honest woman out of her. He was aware of the age difference, but he always fancied himself Richard Gere to her Julia Roberts. Together he thought maybe they might someday actually be a real life version of Pretty Woman. Of course there were two problems. The first being he was afraid to even ask her out, and the second being that while he was a nice man…she still found him physically repulsive.
Problems aside, Max always held out hope. When he booked her he tried to take the extra mile to give her a hint. He’d have flowers for her when she arrived, or sometimes candy. He had romantic music on. Sometimes it was Barry White, sometimes Isaac Hayes, as long as it was something that might encourage her to throw away her inhibitions and fall in love with the man then he was for it, he even listened to Kenny G once, but he found it almost impossible to keep an erection during that man’s songs.
Tonight he’d taken the liberty of turning up the air conditioner so that he could also turn on the gas fireplace. So as he lay there flat on his back, smelling his burning hair and feeling the flames biting into his flesh; he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he should have just stuck to flowers and candy. “I always loved you Melissa.”
“Fuck you asshole.” Melissa screamed as she kept kicking him in the babymaker. She was crying, and panicking. She could already see how this played out. The police would come. They’d find a woman missing two fingers, and a man impaled on the fireplace grate. Then
after doing some basic police work they’d realize she was an occasional prostitute. Then it would go from poor defenseless woman that was attacked, to crazy whore that killed her John to steal his money. She’d be lucky if she only got twenty years.
There was only one option, and that was to run like hell. She’d called a taxi before, but luckily it had picked her up from the mall and not her home. She could get away then call a cab from somewhere else, or she was only five miles from home. If she jogged then she could probably make it there, and then take her car to the hospital. She could say it was a food disposal accident or something.
“I’ll tell them I was trying to fish out a fork, and my cat hit the switch and I was just lucky I only lost two fingers. It’ll be perfect.” Melissa grinned. It was a plan made on the spur of the moment. She never considered forensics, or even something as simple as a doctor being able to tell the difference between a bite and something being cut off. She ran to Bucky’s wallet and at first only took the money he owed her, but then reconsidered and took the rest. She was grinning and actually proud of her quick thinking. The smile faded as she reached the door, “Shit! I’ll need to pick up a cat if I’m going to blame it all on them. Oh well, I can just say I let it out after I lost my fingers. That’ll by me time until I can get a real cat to take the fall.”
The door swung open and Melissa started jogging down the street towards her home. Bucky begged, “Don’t go.” It was sad and lonesome. His face was already bubbling and burning like an overcooked hotdog. She nearly went over to turn off the fire when he said, “Can I have just one more finger?”
“Sure.” Melissa flipped the man off, and slammed the door behind her. Bucky lay there trying to cry, but his tears just sizzled and evaporated as soon as they came out. Soon the heat caused the fluid in his eyes to boil, and expand. They swelled up and began bulging in their sockets before they finally gave giant watery pops. The fluid hissed and sizzled as it rand down the sides of his face. The man’s tongue swelled up and pushed its way out of his mouth. Eventually the fire caused his brain to boil. His mouth stopped moving then. The fire traveled down his body, and used him like a wick in a candle. He burned for an hour before he caught the rest of the house on fire. It burned around him, and then collapsed in on his lifeless body. He was reduced to ash. The only thing left in the morning was a melted clump of metal and rhinestones that had been Melissa’s tiara.
Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves Page 26
