“Hey, hold on there,” he laughed. “I thought you wanted to go to sleep?”
Evelyn pressed her lips firmly against his, and started kissing him deeply and passionately. Randy’s hand flowed down her back to her hip as she partially lay on top of him.
Evelyn’s hand wandered down his chest, to his penis, and found it.
Randy was glad that by the time he had gotten to the room the fish was nowhere to be found. He didn’t know exactly what or how it happened; if he had absorbed it into his body or if the fish had simply evaporated. It was gone now, and that’s all that really mattered.
The special moment he shared remained firm in his memory, but that was all. He had examined his penis for a full ten minutes when he returned to his room. But there was nothing unusual, no strange cuts or marks; it looked that the same penis that he had been entertaining for the last thirty years.
Randy settled back in the bed, thinking he was going to get an unexpected hand job. Instead, he felt Evelyn’s lips brush past his chin, travel down his stomach, and then take him in her mouth.
His body jolted with surprise and he let out a gasp of delight.
Evelyn was slow and methodical in her pleasuring. Randy moaned softly so she wouldn’t have to wonder how much he was enjoying it. And when he came, it was the most incredible orgasm he had ever felt. Evelyn didn’t stop until he let out a final sigh of completeness.
“Oh, honey. That was fantastic,” he said, grabbing tissue from the box on the night stand, and then giving them to her.
“What are these for? Do you need me to dry you off?” she asked.
“No. I thought you might . . . you know, spit it out.”
“I don’t need to do that,” she said.
“Okay. You swallowed it?” he asked.
“Not really, it just kind of hit the back of my throat and slid down. I don’t taste it in my mouth or anything,” she said, lying back down and snuggling next to him. “I’m really tired now.” Evelyn smacked her lips together making a kissing sound.
“What? You just had my dick in your mouth and you want me to kiss you? Gross . . . .” Randy said, turning again with his back to her. He was snoring before Evelyn could think of an adequate reply.
That night Randy’s dreams came and went. Only one remained in memory the next day.
He found himself ten thousand feet in the sky on a cloudless day, behind the cockpit of a 1944 Mitsubishi Zero Japanese fighter. His was one of ten planes in formation over the Pacific Ocean heading for a speck on the water’s horizon. A black and white photo of him with the rising sun of the Japanese flag as a back drop was taped to the instrument panel. The hum of the Sakae engine gave him a feeling of oneness with the other planes. The same feeling that he shared with the fish in real life.
The speck in the water grew larger, until it was easily identified as a U.S. Destroyer, their primary target.
The lead plane pointed the nose of his Zero toward the Destroyer and Randy and the rest followed suit.
He awoke abruptly before his plane made contact with the hulking mass of metal.
“Honey, thank you so much for last night. You’ll never know how much that meant to me,” Randy said, kissing her on the cheek while pouring her orange juice from the mini-fridge.
“I’m glad you liked it. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. But I swear, there must be something hallucinogenic in your semen,” she said.
“Oh, really?”
“I dreamed all night long about beautiful flowers. Thirty or forty different kinds of flowers. First I would see a bud, then the flower would open, make seeds, and then wither and die. Then I would see another bud, and a different kind flower would open, make seeds, and then die. It was strangely beautiful,” Evelyn said. “I feel different . . . different inside. A feeling of belonging. I don’t know how to put it into words.”
Randy knew just what she meant. He couldn’t put his feelings into words either.
***
Randy and Evelyn had been home from their trip for a few days and over a week from the ‘event.’ They sat by their pool with some 80’s music playing in the background. The two had never felt closer. Randy knew it had something to do with his fish encounter and something to do with the oral sex that night.
“Randy, I feel sick,” Evelyn said.
Randy had been in a trance while working a crossword puzzle. “Huh, sick? Can I get you something?”
“I don’t know. I’m seeing tiny spots. I feel like I’m falling. I have vertigo or something.” Evelyn rose from her chair. Goosebumps popped up on her arms. “I’m going to go in and lie down.” But before she could take two steps, she fell to her knees in front of the pool, and vomited into the deep end.
“Evelyn! Are you okay? Did you have to puke in the pool?” Randy sprang from his chair and went to her side.
‘“I’m sick, damn it. Just throw in some more chlorine,” she said, spitting.
A jelly like mass floated just above the water’s surface by the edge of the pool.
“Randy, what is that?”
Randy looked and saw what ‘that’ was. Expecting to see the remains of her turkey sandwich from lunch, instead, he was looking at a ball of tiny white sacks, with little things inside. “I’m . . . I’m not sure. It sort of looks like fish eggs”
“Fish eggs? I haven’t eaten any fish eggs.” Evelyn had recovered enough to stand and rinsed her mouth out with lemonade.
The two watched the mass of eggs sink deeper in the water toward the middle of the pool.
“Turn off the pump,” Evelyn said.
“Why?”
“They’ll be sucked up in the drain,” she said. “I don’t know why, but I feel we must protect those eggs.”
Strangely, Randy felt that way too.
****
Having a pool made the Garretts popular in the summertime. Randy and Evelyn had four couples over to celebrate the fourth of July. It had been a tradition of sorts for the past three years.
Domestic and imported beers, iced in a cooler, awaited thirsty guests. A plastic table had been set with rum, vodka, gin, and whisky for those who didn’t like beer. Hard liquor worked better as liquid encouragement for the women to go skinny dipping later.
The pool had been set with a net across for volleyball. The men took the side at the five-foot level and the women the three foot to keep the game fair. Randy had a reputation for taking the game a little too seriously. His aggressiveness tended to increase proportionally to his alcohol intake.
Today, though, he didn’t go overboard. Everyone was having fun, playing game after game, and downing drink after drink.
Randy served the ball harder than usual, and it landed outside of the pool on the patio area. Evelyn left the pool and picked it up. She gave Randy a questioning expression by lifting her eyebrows. He nodded his head slightly in return. Now was the time.
“Cindy, Tricia, Lori, Tracy, let’s go inside and get dinner started. Most everything is made. We just have to take it out of the fridge and cook up the meat on the grill,” Evelyn called out to the girls.
“I’ll help,” Bob, Cindy’s husband, volunteered.
Randy moved over to Bob, and whispered to him, “No, Bob. Stay here. I’ve got something special for just the men.”
Bob gave Randy a sneaky wink of affirmation. “Never mind,” he hollered.
The women had gone in the kitchen and the sliding glass door closed when Bob asked, “Okay Randy, what’s the secret?”
“Secret? What secret?” Jim asked, with Blake and Duane looking curiously at Bob.
Randy smiled big. “Guys, you’re not going to believe what I have to show you.” Before anyone could ask, he swam to the deep end and dove down.
On the bottom lay a rectangular shape covered by a blue tarp. Randy removed the tarp exposing a three by six-foot cage and opened the door on the side.
He came up for air and swam back to where his buddies were all eagerly awaiting to learn what was behind this mystery.
“What the fuck, Randy?” Jim said. “What were you doing down there?”
“You’ll see.” Randy chuckled.
Blake was the first to notice. “Hey, something just swam past my ankles. There’s fish in here!”
Bob was the first to feel it. “Hey! A damn fish just went up my shorts! Ahhhhh!”
Jim, Blake, and Duane cried out in surprise as determined, large mouthed fish invaded their swim trunks.
“Guys, take it easy. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Trust me,” Randy said, with his hands raised in the air.
The tension on the three men’s faces started to relax as the fish had their penises secured firmly in their insides, and secreted their mind and body altering chemicals.
Expressions of pleasure replaced the contortions of anxiety as the fish delivered orgasmic warmth. The men struggled to keep their head above water.
Soon the hypnotic spell broke. The men turned their attention back to Randy. All now shared the same sense of oneness.
“The fish will totally disappear shortly. Act like nothing has happened. You’ll know what moves to make and when to make them when the time comes. You’ll just have to trust me,” Randy said.
The four nodded. By the time the food was ready the fish had completely dissolved. The party continued late into the night until tiredness finally wore the last one down. The four couples said their goodbyes and left for home.
“Did you have much trouble in the pool?” Evelyn asked.
“No. No trouble at all. It happened quicker than it did with me, smoother too. I guess those things are still evolving,” Randy said. “It’s late. Why don’t you go to bed? The food is all put away. I can help you with the cleaning in the morning.”
“That’s a really good idea,” Evelyn said.
“I’m going to check my email. I’ll be to bed later.” Randy yawned.
Evelyn kissed Randy on the cheek, took a shower, and went to bed. She died five minutes later in her sleep.
Randy finished reading his email and was surfing some of his favorite porn sights.
One of the thumbnail photos immediately captured his attention. A slutty looking blonde haired bimbo was in the middle of two naked men, on her knees, with her hands on each of their enormous cocks. Randy clicked on ‘play,’ and the blonde went to work, stroking and licking each one.
Randy became totally mesmerized at the sight of the low hanging penises. His eyes glazed and his jaw dropped. His mouth formed a large O shape. Unknowingly, his lips opened and closed in rhythm to each stroke.
Taunting like a squirming worm dangling on a hook, Randy wanted to strike as the penises became further engorged. A craving to seize a penis in his mouth overwhelmed him. He wanted to bite it—gnaw on it with his teeth.
There was nothing sexual about his insatiable new hunger. Revenge on mankind clouded his mind for what they had done to the ocean.
The End
The Corn Has Eyes
The sun broke over the eastern horizon casting an orange glow on Reverend Flake’s small farm. The air was thick with moisture. Dew glistened on the grass and weeds grew in the crop fields. The nocturnal animals had bedded down for rest.
The Reverend started his daily chores well before sunup, sitting on an old wooden stool squeezing milk from his two cows into a metal bucket. After the cows had been watered and fed, he moved over to the chicken shack for the ritual egg gathering before having breakfast with his wife and daughter.
When the sun rose high enough for his tired old eyes to see, he hooked the yoke to his loyal mule and plow. With the snap of the bridle reigns the mule began his walk, turning the soil for the spring crops.
Reverend Flake’s only son was serving in the army, fighting Hitler in Germany. Several members of his flock had pledged the day before to come by and give him a hand. Planting was a daunting task for one man to take on alone.
Not one of the good intending had shown. He was disappointed, but understood. Their farms and families came first. In his heart, he felt God would provide. When the time was right, God always provided.
The earth gave way under the heavy iron plow turning clumps of grass roots to the sky, sending worms and insects scurrying from the light of day. Sweat formed on his brow as the day heated, and stung his eyes as the salt and grim trickled from his forehead.
As he paused a moment to dab his face with his handkerchief, his eyes focused on a man approaching from down the road. He had a long sack slung over his shoulder.
The Reverend squinted his eyes and shielded the sun with his forearm. This man was not one of his parishioners. In fact, he did not recognize him at all.
A tall, young man with broad shoulders greeted the Reverend with a cheerful smile. “Morin’, sir. My name’s, Pickings. James Pickens. They call me Jim.” He removed the straw hat from his head and held it to his chest.
The two shook hands. The man’s biceps bulged through his worn flannel shirt.
“Good to meet you, Jim. I’m, Reverend Flake. Reverend James Flake. I guess we got the same Christian name. Now, what brings you here, boy?”
“Well, sir. I’m working my way down south. I hear they needs some help in them oil fields. I’m looking to go down there for some steady work,” Jim said, with a gleam in his bright blue eyes. “Sir, I’ll give you a day’s hard work if you can feed me and put me up for the night. You don’t have to pay me or nothing. I’ll be on my way first thing tomorrow. Once I get to town, I figure I can hitch a ride.”
“Son, you don’t know it but you’re an answer to my prayers.” The Reverend slapped him on the arm. “You help me get my crop planted and I’ll make things right.”
Jim walked past the Reverend and grabbed onto the plow. He put his bottom lip under his teeth and made a whistle that startled the mule from its rest, and sent it plodding forward again. The Reverend retrieved a bag of corn from the barn and started planting in the newly tilled soil.
As the hours passed, the morning gave way to noon. Without much enticement, the Reverend convinced Jim it was time to rest a spell and break for lunch.
Back at the farmhouse, the two left their dirt encased boots on the front porch, and met the others in the kitchen.
“This here is my wife, Edna. That there is my daughter, Elisa,” the Reverend said.
Both women gave their cordial hellos. Jim politely retuned the greeting. His eyes fixated on Elisa, not sparing more than a half second glance at Edna. He was so enchanted a shotgun fired by his head would have gone unnoticed.
Elisa was dressed in a sheer white blouse that contoured to her ample bosoms. Her aging denim skirt hung well above her knees, exposing her long legs, firm calves, and perfect feet.
The Reverend closed one eye and raised one brow. This boy was just like all the others, smitten by the sin of lust for his daughter.
The three sat down to a lunch of ham and biscuits, with fig preserves on the side. They washed the meal down with fresh cold milk. Jim dominated the conversation, asking three questions for every one asked of him.
Jim’s eyes darted around the room as he spoke. The Reverend found his shiftiness curious. He excused it for being nervous around Elisa. Eventually, Jim calmed down and relaxed.
Unknown to them, Jim was looking for something in particular. Something that most people had in their kitchen. A jar. A special jar. A jar that contained cash money. Jim spotted it in a corner of a top shelf behind a ceramic rooster. The rooster had dried butter beans glued to it to look like feathers.
There were other odd knick knacks made from vegetables in the kitchen and throughout the house. After lunch, Jim inquired about them.
“Oh, that’s Elisa’s art. She uses vegetables from the garden. See that picture right there,” the Reverend pointed to a wall in the living room. “The cows, the pasture, the whole picture is made from beans.”
Jim walked up to the picture. Sure enough. E
lisa had glued hundreds of painted beans to a canvas, producing a somewhat realistic scene.
She sure is talented,” Jim said. “As talented as she is pretty.”
The Reverend pulled Jim aside, and whispered, “Look, son. Don’t be getting too close to her. She looks sweet and innocent, but she’s unstable. You know what I mean?”
Jim stared back blankly. No, he didn’t know what the Reverend meant. And figured it was just the Reverend’s way to scare him away from his daughter.
“Don’t doubt me, boy. She’ll hurt you. You do as I say. Now, let’s get back to work. Daylight’s burning.”
Jim had hurt a few young girls along the way in his lifetime. A few wives too. He left them all with broken hearts. He knew better than to let the tables turn on him.
The day melted into evening, and the evening into night. The two men retired from the field, and the four shared supper together. They passed the night with storytelling until the tiredness of the day set in.
Jim was to bed down in the room attached to the woodshed. Edna provided him with clean sheets, a pillow, and a blanket for a comfortable stay.
While he prepared his bed, he saw Elisa though his window. She was in the house, in her room, by her window looking up into the sky at the full moon. Her long blond hair covered her left bosom. He swore he could make out the naked image of her right tit through her thin nightgown.
The water pump in front of his room and a towel and bar of soap on the chest-of-drawers gave him an idea. He was going to set a trap and make himself the bait. Off came his shirt to the floor, followed by his pants and underwear. Jim went outside and posed by the pump.
Pretending he was not aware of Elisa, he pumped a pail full of well water, dipped the soap in it, and lathered up in the cool night air. The moonlight glistened off his nude chest as he flexed and tightened his muscles as to work out the soreness of day.
He chanced a peek toward Elisa’s window. He was surprised she was no longer there. He didn’t know if he had embarrassed her or if his plan had worked, and she was sneaking outside to see him.
Mind Hemorrhages: Dark Tales of Misery and Imagination Page 10
