Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves

by Visada, J. L. M.

  Jimbo ate Evan slowly while he waited to heal. He could feel his shoulders and arms knitting back together. He howled in agony when his foot turned itself back around until it was facing the correct direction. With every bite he got healthier. When he finished, Jimbo stretched out. His furry head bumped the ceiling of the ambulance. Jimbo roared and pounded the ceiling of the ambulance with his arm. It ripped through the thin metal like paper, but as Jimbo’s arm ripped through it the metal cut deep into the flesh. Jimbo jerked his arm away from the sudden pain, and the metal stripped most of the flesh and muscle from the forearm. Green blood flowed like water from Jimbo’s degloved forearm.

  The werewolf looked over to Dale, and started eating without any hesitation. With every bite the muscle and flesh regrew. By the time he swallowed Dale’s head, the arm was completely healed. Jimbo looked up at the shredded roof, and then turned around in the ambulance. It wasn’t easy. He was so large that every movement knocked over something. Once he was turned around Jimbo opened the back doors and ran off with a howl.

  Chapter Forty-One

  “Motherfucker!” Elliot Spenser jerked the wheel on the bus to avoid the ambulance swerving in and out of traffic. “Watch where you’re going you fucking Jew!”

  “How’d you know he was a Jew?” Cletus Canker asked from the seat behind Spenser.

  “No self-respecting white man would drive like that. It must be a jew, or a mulatto.” Elliot said through gritted teeth. “Wooo-shit! This hood is hotter than hell. We couldn’t rent a bus that had air conditioning?”

  “No…most of the buses won’t rent to our kind.” Cletus grumbled.

  “Ain’t that a son of a bitch? What kind of world are we living in when a self-respecting group of white men can’t rent a halfway decent bus. You know we wouldn’t have ever had this problem if someone would have slapped that bitch Rosa Parks all the way back to the back of the bus where she belonged.”

  “White power brother!” Cletus screamed.

  “White power!” Elliot Spenser responded.

  At that point forty hooded clansman all screamed, “White power!”

  The busload of clansmen travelling towards New Orleans to protest and combat the “Chocolate City” and its anti-white elements that were repressing their white brothers. They were all members of the Devotedly United Men Bolstering a Free United Confederate Klan of the South in good standing. Most of the men were members since their fathers brought them in for their first slightly homoerotic meeting. They all wore the D.U.M.B.F.U.C.K.S. insignia on their Klan robes proudly just as their fathers had, and their grandfathers before them. The only new member on this trip was Clovis Cooper, and he was only there because his father made him come.

  “Dad…I really don’t want to be here.” Clovis said. He was fifteen, and mortified by the whole thing.

  Cleophas snapped, “Boy…that Wetback loving sow you call a mother said I had to start spending some quality time with you. I don’t know why that bitch feels the need to run her mouth to me. Shit, I thought I was free of that crap when she left me for Pedro.”

  “His name is Ramiro, and he’s a pretty nice guy.” Clovis groaned.

  “Shhh….the last thing I want people to hear is my son is being raised by a taco vender.” Cleophas snapped.

  “He’s a lawyer dad…not a taco vender.” Clovis mumbled.

  “Shit…that’s even worse. That means he’s part Jew. Nothing worse than a Jewish Wetback…except maybe one of those niggeroos.” Cleophas spat.

  “N…n…?”Clovis couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Okay…I know I’m going to regret this, but what the hell is that thing you just said.”

  Cleophas grinned, “Niggeroos…that’s a Jewish Negro. Like that one-eyed coon Sammy Davis Jr.”

  “Jesus Dad! Don’t say stuff like that.” Clovis sputtered.

  “What? Are you offended by the truth?” Cleophas asked his son.

  “Dad…I’m stuck on a bus with a bunch of hate mongers wearing matching outfits that have dumb fucks spelled on them. Yeah…I think I’ve gone way past offended.” Clovis whispered.

  Cleophas looked down at the insignia and read it, “I don’t see anything.”

  “Dad…just remove the periods between the letters.” Clovis groaned.

  “But the periods tell everyone that the letter is part of our…damn! No wonder all those college kids were laughing last month.” Cleophas shook his head. When he saw his son lean back with a cocky look of self-satisfaction Cleophas grumbled, “Smartass kid thinks he knows every goddamn thing!”

  “Not everything, but I do know I’m stuck on a bus with a bunch of morons.” Clovis said with an eye roll that immediately reminded Cleophas of his ex-wife.

  “Son…I’ve been in the Klan for almost my entire life. There’s a noble and honorable history of our organization.”

  “No Dad…there isn’t.”

  “Shut up boy and listen.” Cleophas snapped. “I’m trying to prepare you for the day when the Blacks takeover. They are a sneaky race boy. They’ll act nice and helpful, but the next thing you know they’re telling you how good your hair smells. After that they’re raping you, and trying to put a baby in your butt.”

  “Dad…seriously? Black people aren’t running around trying to rape people and put babies in their butts. It doesn’t even work that way.”

  Cleophas growled, “Boy I know it doesn’t work that way! I put the bun in your mamma’s oven didn’t I. What I’m saying is that the blacks are so stupid and horny that they’re just running around trying to fuck anything that moves. It’s our own fault really. We bred those sons of bitches like cattle. So those big bucks have got that evillution stuff going for them. We had the big strong ones breeding right and left to make them strong. That’s why all the best athletes are black. It’s also why they’re so sex crazy. They just don’t know any better. They just need to spread their seed boy…and it doesn’t matter where they cast it.”

  Clovis responded, “It’s evolution, and it isn’t why all the best athletes are black. There are great athletes from all races. Jesus Dad…you sound like you just came out of the eighteen hundreds.”

  Cleophas muttered to himself and then said, “You just don’t know the real history. All your knowledge came from sissy textbooks that lie about the influence of the white race.” Then Cleophas yelled to their leader Elliot Spenser, “Grand Cyclops Spenser…can you please explain to my son the beautiful history of the white race?”

  Elliot Spenser nodded and slipped off his hood, “It’s a long and glorious history, but I’ll keep it to the highlights. Jesus came down a white, blue-eyed, blonde-haired savior to the world, but the sand niggers and the Jews killed him because no minority can accept the kind and benevolent rule of a white master. Two hundred years later George Washington fought off the Zionist regime of King Henry, and the dirty commie bastards he sent over to take away our freedom. Then four hundred and thirty years later Abraham Lincoln and the north became jealous of the loving and benevolent relationship plantation owners had with their slaves. He sent the dirty Japs, and had help from the towelheads and the fucking frenchies. The North outnumbered our brave men three hundred to one, but we still nearly defeated those evil bastards. Since then we’ve been subject to plots from the blacks, the queers, the homosexuals, the Jews, the fags, the wetbacks, Al Quaida, and those sneaky gays.”

  “That’s all lies.” Clovis snapped.

  “As the white Jew hating God Jesus is my witness…every bit of it is true.” The Grand Cyclops responded. “Cletus…in you capacity as the Grand Magi can you tell him more about it?”

  Cletus nodded, and took off his hood, “Abraham Lincoln had a change of heart, and the day before he was gonna repeal the law freeing the slaves the north assassinated him like the dirty cowards they are. Then they blamed that poor southern boy Lee Harvey Oswald who never did anything to anybody. They covered it all up. Then when the Japs bombed Hiroshima at the battle of the bulge, it was us that came and saved the day,
but do we get any credit for killing that evil Nazi bastard Winston Churchill by bombing the shit out of Moscow? Hell no they don’t give us credit. Instead they blame everything on the white man. They blame slavery on the white man. The collapse of the dollar gets blamed on the white man. The death of the dinosaurs was blamed on us. Shit…they even blamed global warming on us, and we all know that is just a Zionist plot.”

  Clovis was going to argue, but the Grand Cyclops Elliot Spenser suddenly put on the brakes and yelled, “What in the hell is a perfectly good white baby doing on the side of the road? Cletus…go out and pick that little kid up.”

  Cletus ran out and scooped up Dootsie, “There now my little white brother. Your uncle Cletus has you. Ow! Fucker! Stop biting me.”

  “Bring that kid in here.” Elliot yelled.

  Cletus carried the baby into the bus, “He’s a biting son of a bitch...so watch your fingers.”

  “What is this world coming to when someone leaves a perfectly good white baby on the side of the road? A nigger baby maybe, but a white baby?” Clovis shook his head in disappointment. “White brothers…we need to look after our weaker white brothers like this baby here. White Power!”

  “White Power!” The rest of the klan cheered on.

  Elliot stepped back on the gas. “Someday we’ll prove to the world that the white race is the true master race. We’ll make the world a better place for our future children like this baby here! White Power!”

  “White Power!” The entire group except for Clovis chanted.

  “Give me a White Power brother Cleophas!” Elliot yelled.

  “White Power!” Cleophas screamed

  “How about you brother Cletus?” Elliot screamed.

  “White Power Grand Cyclops!” Cletus screamed back.

  “God diddly Damn! I feel like a celebratory cigar. Cletus…light my cigar! I’m feeling like today is the first day of our ascent to true white power!” Elliot laughed.

  “You people are crazy!” Clovis screamed.

  “Boy…don’t insult the Grand Cyclops.” Cleophas slapped the back of his son’s head. “Men like our Grand Cyclops here helped build this country, and it’ll be men like our Grand Cyclops that see us through the hard times brought on by that darkie half-spook president. WHITE POWER!”

  The rest of the Klan screamed, “White power!”

  Clovis yelled, “What is wrong with you people?”

  Elliot Spenser looked at the teen in his mirror as he puffed away on his newly lit cigar. With his sandy blonde hair and blue eyes he was the spitting image of his father. That resemblance only made their different outlooks more irritating to the fat Grand Cyclops. He scratched at his head, and then straightened the comb over of his thinning hair before bellowing, “What’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with you? We’re fighting for the great white race against people that want to drag us down with their hippity-hop music, and their Flaaaaaaaaaaavor Flaaaaaaaaav’s. We’re trying to protect ourselves from the horny negro, the greedy Jew, the lazy Mexican, and those sneaky Asians. We’re all that stands between you and a pack of wild niggers raping your momma and then trying to put a baby in your butt. Don’t you forget that boy!”

  “None of that is true.” Clovis groaned and beat his head against the bus seat in front of him.

  Elliot snapped, “Oh, so there’s no one named Flavor Flav?”

  “Of course there’s a Flavor Flav.” Clovis sighed.

  “Well then…I proved my point.” Elliot grinned.

  Clovis opened his mouth to argue, but Cletus Canker screamed, “Ouch! Fat little bastard keeps biting me.”

  Elliot eyed the man, “Don’t be a pussy. Besides, the kid is probably just mad because it’s naptime.” Then Elliot bellowed, “Alright boys, join in if you know it, and we’ll sing our little Aryan brother to sleep. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  The Grand Cyclops cleared his throat and began again. This time everyone except for Clovis and the baby sang:

  When Sunday comes, and the sun goes down,

  Turn that frown upside down,

  Cause we’re going out to have a grand old time!

  I’ll bring the rope, you bring the dope,

  Get a big tall tree, and we can hope,

  For the day that this isn’t a crime!

  Oh the Lord loves a hanging, that’s why he gives blacks necks.

  Let them take one last look around, and dangle their feet right off the ground.

  The Lord loves a hanging…that’s why he gives blacks necks.

  Oh Darky loves to walk the streets,

  Dancing and boogeying to the beat,

  But he’ll hide his ass on Sunday you know!

  Cause if he don’t we’ll drag him out,

  Slap his face and make him pout,

  Then we’ll string him up and away we’ll go!

  Oh the Lord loves a hanging, that’s why he gives blacks necks.

  Let them take one last look around, and dangle their feet right off the ground.

  The Lord loves a hanging…that’s why he gives blacks necks.

  The Klansmen were stomping their feet to the beat. Some of the men in the back actually stood up and started dancing. They sung it three times, and Clovis watched in horror as the men started singing the song for the third time in the round. His own father was snapping his fingers and singing with a smile stretched tight across his face that somehow only made him look angrier. When they finished the men were practically giddy.

  “Cletus…I’m feeling so good that this cigar just isn’t going to cut it.” Elliot then tossed the cigar out the window. He reached into his robe and pulled out a much larger cigar, “I think it’s time for one of the good ones. Light me up Brother Cletus.”

  There was whooping and hollering in celebration of their Grand Cyclops’ good mood. Cletus pulled out the lighter and held it towards his leader. He was having difficulty getting the lighter high enough while still holding the baby the way he was. So Cletus adjusted Dootsie, pointing the child’s butt at the Grand Cyclops. They were just about to drive onto a rusted steel bridge when some of the methane that had been building in Dootsie’s decomposing body escaped. It blew out like a flame, lighting the cigar.

  “Damn…kids got talent.” Elliot laughed. “Now, point that little shit away from me bef-“

  The methane ignited Dootsie’s diaper. The diaper started burning the baby. Dootsie screamed, and methane escaped his mouth. It ignited and Cletus got a face full of flames. Cletus fell backwards, and slammed against the bus doors. Fire was coming out from the mouth and anus of the baby. Cletus covered the baby’s head and butt with his gloved hands to stop the burning. Instead he only succeeded in sealing both ends. The fire then ignited all the methane in Dootsie’s stomach and intestines which resulted in a very sudden and drastic change in Dootsie’s condition.

  *BOOM*

  Bits of Dootsie splattered everywhere. The entire top half of Cletus was blown into large meaty chunks from the “Baby Bomb”. The glass on the bus doors was blown out. The Klansmen screamed in terror as they watched part of Cletus’s face slowly slide down the windshield. The bus careened into the rusted metal bridge frame and then bounced back across the road into the other side of the bridge frame. The bus was accelerating as it bounced back and forth against the sides of the bridge like a ping pong ball. Elliot was slumped over the steering wheel twitching with Dootsie’s diaper safety pin embedded through his forehead and into the frontal lobe of his brain.

  The Klansmen were so focused on their Grande Cyclops that they didn’t see an eighteen wheeler locking up its wheels to try and avoid crashing into the bus. The eighteen wheeler and bus slammed into one another at the center of the bridge. The trucker was killed instantly. The impact turned the bus over onto its side, and slid into the trailer holding diesel fuel. The bus cut a huge gash in the trailer, and diesel fuel started pouring into the bus. Klansmen were strewn all through the bus. Some with broken legs, some had broken arms. Most had bruises and cuts.
>
  The men slowly untangled one another. Cleophas dusted himself off and picked up his son, “You alright boy?”

  “Yeah.” Clovis responded.

  The Klansmen that could move tried to open the back door of the bus, but it was blocked by the rear tire of the eighteen-wheeler. They tried to climb out through the windows, but they couldn’t figure out how to support themselves long enough using the seats to reach the open windows. After multiple attempts they finally gave up and sat down in the rising puddle of diesel fuel.

  Boaters that saw the accident drove under the bridge to get a much better look at the accident. One boat after another stopped at the bridge to see the carnage. At least one person in each of the four boats was on their cell calling 9-1-1 to get the men help.

  A few minutes later a police cruiser arrived. The Klansmen cheered until Duane Jones stepped out. Then they all groaned in disappointment. Officer Jones glanced at the eighteen-wheeler, and realized immediately that the trucker was dead. He then moved to the bus to check on the survivors.

  “Is everyone okay?” Officer Jones asked.

  “Go away Nigger…we’ll wait for a white God-fearing policemen.” Cleophas screamed.

  Officer Jones rolled his eyes and muttered, “Gonna be one of those days. Lord…give me the strength not to shoot these morons.” Then the officer moved over to the bus. He could smell the diesel. He then walked over to the edge of the bridge, “You people get out of here!”

  “Oh hell no! This is going on my Youtube page.” One of the boaters grinned as he moved his camera phone around to get Officer Jones lined up in the shot.

  “Yeah, and I’m adding this to my blog.” Another boater yelled.

  “Shit I don’t have nothing fancy like that. I just like seeing car accidents.” A fisherman grinned up with his three front teeth. The others just ignored the officer completely.

  “Yeah, definitely gonna be one of those days.” Officer Jones groaned. He scaled his way up the side of the bus and then laid down so that he could reach into one of the open windows. He saw all the men in sheets, and hesitated for a moment before stretching his arm inside as far as it would go, “Okay…someone give me their hand and we can start pulling you…gentlemen…out of this bus.”