Dirty Rotten Hippies and Other Stories

by Bryan Smith

  The cheerleader giggled and wiggled her hips a little. It was pretty distracting. “It really didn’t, but you’re cute so it’s okay. So . . . do you want a ride or not?”

  “Well . . . I kinda wasn’t actually going anywhere.” He indicated the apartment building behind him with a tilt of his head. “I live over there. Was just out for a walk and a smoke.”

  The cheerleader pouted. “Aw. You sure you don’t want a ride anyway?”

  Darby gave that some thought. It wasn’t like he had to work or had anything planned today. Sure, Lacy might be mad if he took off without saying anything, but she was in one of her fouler moods today and it might be nice to avoid her for a while. When he got back, he could just tell her he went on a really long walk. And hell, maybe she’d be too stoned to even notice he’d been gone at all. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  As he thought it over, he took note of the pom-poms the girl was holding. They were orange and black. Which made him think of Halloween decorations. They matched the black outfit she was wearing, which consisted of the typical short, frilly skirt and a tight, midriff-exposing top. Sewn across the front of the top was a bat insignia.

  Not a baseball bat.

  The kind with wings. A flying rodent.

  Darby exhaled smoke. “What kind of school has a fucking bat for a mascot?”

  The cheerleader giggled again and glanced over her shoulder. “He wants to know what school we cheer for.”

  Raucous feminine laughter exploded inside the bus. Darby’s gaze swept the windows along the side of the bus. The vehicle was loaded with gorgeous cheerleaders. They hooted and hollered as they noted his scrutiny. Some waved. Others blew kisses. A few opened their mouths and did suggestive things with their tongues.

  Darby blew out another cloud of smoke.

  The cheerleader peering down at him through the open door said, “We cheer for the devil, Darby.”

  “The devil?”

  “Satan.”

  “You’re Satan’s cheerleaders?”

  “Yes.”

  Darby now figured this was a gag of some kind. They were having some fun messing with him. But he didn’t mind. They were hot, so it was okay. And what the hell, he could play the same game. “All right, I’ll take a ride with you gals.”

  The cheerleader he’d been talking to let out a whoop of delight. “Awesome!” She stepped aside and beckoned him inside. “Climb aboard, baby.”

  Darby frowned again. “Um . . .”

  He’d figured they would laugh at him and close the door in his face the moment he called their bluff, maybe making mocking faces at him through the windows as they drove away. Suddenly unsure of himself, he experienced a momentary paralysis.

  “What are you waiting for, baby?”

  Darby swept his gaze up and down the block. Cars were backed up several deep behind the stalled bus. The intersection was effectively blocked as the backed-up vehicles haltingly jockeyed for position, hoping to slip into the other lane. Horns honked. Angry voices called out epithets. One man in a Volvo right behind the bus was getting out of his car. He was a big man and in his beefy right hand he clutched a big baseball bat.

  Aw, shit.

  Darby looked at the cheerleader. “Can I smoke in there?”

  She beamed at him. “Of course, baby. You can do anything you want.”

  Darby nodded. “Cool.”

  Weird.

  He climbed aboard the bus and the door hissed shut behind him just as the big man with the bat was closing in. He turned around and flipped the guy a middle finger as the bus pulled away from the curb. The guy screamed at him and smashed the bat against the side of the bus.

  “That dude has anger issues.”

  The cheerleader he’d been talking to touched his arm and said, “Have a seat with me, baby.”

  She waved a hand at an empty seat at the front of the bus. He dropped into it and the cheerleader slid in next to him.

  She smiled brightly at him and put a hand on his thigh. “My name is Lexie.”

  He glanced at the hand on his thigh. It was a slender hand. Pale as snow. It looked very soft. She wore a single silver ring engraved with the number 666. Though he was distracted by how very close to his crotch her hand was, he made himself look her in the eye. “My name’s—”

  “Darby,” she said.

  Darby’s brow furrowed. He remembered now that she had done that once already, before he boarded the bus. “How do you know my name?”

  “Satan.”

  Darby nodded. “Right. Satan. Of course.” He glanced again at her 666 ring. Though he hadn’t felt it move, her hand was closer to his crotch now. “You sure about that? I mean . . . and I don’t mean to offend you or anything . . . but it sounds kind of crazy. You know? I mean . . . you know there’s no such thing as Satan, right?”

  Her hand came away from his thigh and snapped across his face. This was no love tap. It was a hard blow that rocked his head savagely to one side. He blinked rapidly and struggled to focus. “Jesus, girl.”

  She slapped him again.

  He backed away from her. “What the fuck?”

  She was still smiling. Strangely, it didn’t look like the kind of mean smile Lacy sometimes flashed at him, the kind that invariably meant she was about to really unload on him. This was a genuine smile. A happy smile. It looked pretty out of place on the face of someone apparently bent on beating the shit out of him.

  “I’m sorry, Darby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Well, don’t then. Jesus.”

  She slapped him again.

  He cringed away from her. “Oh, come on!”

  The other cheerleaders appeared unconcerned with the strange altercation occurring at the front of the bus. Actually, they were completely oblivious to it, as far as Darby could tell. They were all too busy making out with each other. Everywhere he looked, curvy, busty, scantily clad hot girls were kissing other hot girls. Very passionately. As he stared with his mouth hanging open, one of the cheerleaders slid off her seat, dropped to her knees, and pushed her head beneath the frilly skirt of the girl who’d been sharing her seat. She was just the first. Others soon followed suit. Moans of ecstasy soon resonated inside the bus.

  Christ, Darby thought. It’s a lesbian orgy on wheels. What the fuck?

  He looked at Lexie. “What the fuck?”

  She smirked. “Do you really have a problem with any of that?”

  “Well . . . no.” His frown deepened. “I mean, it’s hot as fuck. No shit. But it’s strange as shit. This kind of shit doesn’t happen every day.” He gave that a moment’s thought. “Okay, maybe in your world it does, but not for most people. And why do you keep hitting me?”

  Lexie’s hand was on his thigh again. “Because you keep misbehaving.”

  “I do? How?”

  “Well, for one thing, you denied the existence of our dark lord, Lucifer. That’s blasphemy. Don’t do it again or I won’t stop hitting you for hours and hours.”

  Darby gulped. “Um . . . okay. Was there something else? You said ‘for one thing’ . . .”

  “You said the J-word.”

  “The what?”

  “The J-word. Don’t make me say the actual word.”

  Darby had no idea what she was talking about. Not at first. But he did a mental rewind and it came to him. What he’d said that offended her so. He’d said it twice and each time he’d received one of those thunderous slaps. It couldn’t be a coincidence. “Okay. I won’t say the J-word again.”

  She smiled. “Awesome.” Her hand was on his crotch now. “Would you like to fuck in the name of Satan now?”

  Darby couldn’t help laughing.

  Lady, I’ll fuck in the name of whatever the hell you want.

  “Well . . . sure.”

  She unzipped him and pulled out his erection. Her head dipped to his lap and she went down on him for several mind-bendingly pleasurable moments. He gasped as her mouth came away from him. She smiled again, raised her little ski
rt, and mounted him right there on the seat. By this point, he was unsurprised by her lack of underwear. Panties would just get in the way of fucking in the name of Satan, after all.

  Lexie tossed her head back as she bounced up and down on him, her long, dark hair flailing and her mouth hanging open in a wide orgasmic O. She arched her back and thrust her pert breasts at him as she repeatedly screamed out . . . well, not his name. “Oh, Satan!” she screamed. “Oh, Satan! Oh, Satan! Oh, Satan! Oh, my beautiful dark fucking lord!”

  It wasn’t just her.

  Other loud female voices called out the devil’s name over and over.

  Oh, man, this is some fucked up shit.

  But it felt really fucking amazing, so Darby figured he’d just roll with it for now. At least until Lexie was done fucking him. Then, once the bus inevitably came to a stop again, he’d just hop off at the curb and leave this madness behind. Even in the midst of ecstasy, it was all so surreal. Seriously . . . cheerleaders for Satan? He had to be hallucinating. Maybe Lacy had slipped him something. It was the kind of sick fucking prank she would pull when she was really high. None of this really felt like a hallucination, but what other explanation made any kind of real sense?

  When it was finally over, they reclined lazily in the seat, sharing a smoke as Lexie leaned against him with her head on his shoulder. “So . . . you never told me how you knew my name.”

  “Yes, I did, dummy. Satan.”

  “Oh. Right. So . . . Satan told you about me ahead of time?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay. And . . . he told you I’d be waiting on that street corner?”

  “Yep.”

  “And that you should pick me up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. But . . . why?”

  She groaned and snuggled closer against him. “Because Satan likes you and wants you to join the club.”

  “Oh.”

  “You should feel privileged. Not many motherfuckers get a direct invite.”

  “But . . . why me?”

  She snorted and exhaled smoke before passing the cigarette back to him. “I don’t know, Darby. The devil doesn’t tell us everything. He’ll tell you himself someday.”

  Darby tried to imagine having a conversation with the actual devil. Just a chill chat with the prince of darkness. It should have scared him. The dude was supposed to be the living embodiment of ultimate fucking evil, after all. But right now the prospect didn’t unnerve him too much. Part of that undoubtedly was the very recent sexual release. Not much could bug him right after blowing a load. But a bigger part of it was this whole concept of hot Satanic cheerleaders. Evil or not, a guy with this kind of entourage couldn’t be all bad, right? You could have a beer with a dude like that. Be buds, even.

  The bus rolled to a stop at an intersection. Darby tensed, recalling the plan of action he’d conceived earlier.

  Lexie sensed the change. “Something wrong, baby?”

  Darby didn’t say anything right away. He stared at the slice of curb visible through the closed bus door.

  Stared at it until the bus driver changed gears and pulled away again.

  He shrugged. “Nothing.” He looked at Lexie and smiled. “Say . . . where are we going anyway?”

  “The Nazi cemetery.”

  Darby opened his mouth to reply, but remained silent a long moment as what she’d said fully registered. “The . . . what cemetery?”

  “The Nazi cemetery,” she repeated.

  Darby puffed on the cigarette and frowned. “Are you talking about, like, a cemetery for skinheads. Like neo-Nazis?”

  Lexie giggled. “No. That would be lame. Real German Nazis from World War II. We’re gonna perform some satanic rites and shit for them.”

  “A cemetery for actual WWII Nazis? Here in America? Are you sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure. Would I lie?”

  “I have no idea. Would you?”

  “Not to you, baby.” She sat up straight and stretched her arms above her, then dropped them and looked Darby in the eye. “It’s a secret, you see. Hundreds of coffins were shipped here at the end of the war and buried at this special cemetery. They’ve been there all this time. Waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  She indicated the other cheerleaders with a head gesture. “Waiting for us.”

  “To do what?”

  She smiled. “Isn’t that obvious? To bring them back, silly.”

  “Oh.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Right. Of course.”

  Darby looked out the window on his side, observing the passing cityscape with a new sense of longing. It still seemed remotely possible these girls were just a bunch of delusional crazies. It was what anyone observing from the outside would think, at least at first blush. But how likely was it anyone could convince a large group of devastatingly attractive young women to participate in this kind of lunacy if there wasn’t some kind of real substance behind it? Which, though it seemed unlikely and absurd and insane, left just one viable explanation. Everything Lexie had told him was the absolute truth.

  He looked at her. “Could you maybe have the driver stop somewhere? I need to take a leak.”

  “Thinking of running away, Darby?”

  He tried not to look startled . . . but didn’t entirely succeed. “Um . . . no, of course not.”

  “Good. Because that would be dumb. I’d have to be really mean to you and you wouldn’t like that. Anyway, you can piss when we get to the cemetery. It’s not far away now.”

  “Right. Sure. I’ll hold it. No problem.”

  She patted his cheek. “I love you, Darby.”

  “What?”

  “I love you.”

  “That’s what I thought you said.”

  “Satan says you’re mine. That means you are.”

  Darby nodded. “Right. Of course it does.”

  Lacy is gonna be so pissed when she finds out about this.

  She patted his cheek again. A little harder this time. “So say it back, Darby.”

  “What?”

  Another pat. Even harder, just a shade away from being a slap. “Say you love me.”

  The last thing Darby wanted was to have her really let him have it again. “Um . . . I love you, Lexie.”

  She squealed in delight and kissed him on the mouth. “I know you do, baby! I know you do!” She bounced up and down on the seat, apparently unable to contain her glee. “You’ll make a great daddy.”

  “What?”

  “I just conceived.”

  “What?”

  “You’re gonna be a daddy, Darby. We’re gonna be parents!” She was doing that bouncing up and down thing again, this time hard enough that the dwindling cigarette was dislodged from his fingers. “Satan foresaw it. He sent me to seduce you and get knocked up with a little devil baby and that’s just what happened. Aren’t you happy?”

  “Um . . .”

  “We can start making wedding plans once we get back from resurrecting the Nazis. Oh, Darby, I’m so excited!”

  “Um . . .”

  Darby snatched the fallen cigarette from his lap and drew heavily on it.

  Oh shit, he thought. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

  Lexie kept babbling away about the wedding. “Naturally I’ll want the ceremony to happen in a graveyard at midnight. It’ll have to be a proper satanic wedding, of course, with human sacrifices and an orgy amongst the tombstones afterwards.”

  “Obviously,” Darby muttered, lighting up yet another cigarette.

  There was a squelch of brakes and a ratcheting sound as the bus driver changed gears again. Darby puffed smoke and looked out the window.

  Lexie clutched his arm and squealed again. “We’re here!”

  Darby shuddered. “Great.”

  Darby departed the bus with the cheerleaders and accompanied them through the grounds of an immaculately maintained sprawling cemetery. The grass looked freshly mown, raked, and edged. Many of the graves sported fresh flowers.
There wasn’t a speck of trash anywhere. It all looked very nice and peaceful, like the kind of place where you’d want to be interred when it was your time. But it was maybe the biggest cemetery Darby had even seen. Acres upon acres of lush, tombstone-spotted land. They walked and walked for what seemed like miles, baking beneath the heat of a summer sun shining brightly in an almost cloudless sky. Darby was in decent shape for a young man with so many unhealthy habits—chain-smoking and copious booze consumption being just two of them—but he soon grew uncomfortable in his boots and tight jeans. Sweat dampened his Harley t-shirt and made it cling to his torso. But this physical discomfort was nothing compared to what he felt as he and the cheerleaders sauntered past a group of solemn-faced mourners at a graveside service. Many of the mourners glared at them as they went by. Darby couldn’t read their minds, but he guessed they found the skimpy outfits disrespectful. He couldn’t argue with that. It was disrespectful. The bubbly din of feminine laughter and conversation wasn’t exactly appropriate either. But he wasn’t about to suggest that the girls modify their behavior. It’d only earn him an ass-beating from Lexie and wouldn’t do any good anyway.

  He didn’t relax at all until they’d put at least a hundred yards between themselves and the group of mourners. But even then he was left with the matter of his physical discomfort. He tugged at the collar of his Harley shirt. “Jesus, it’s fucking hot.”

  Lexie had been walking arm-in-arm with him the whole time. She disengaged herself from him and placed a hand against his chest, stopping him cold.

  Oh shit. Not again.

  She slammed a fist hard into his gut, just beneath the sternum.

  He gagged and doubled over.

  When he was able to breathe again, he stood up straight again and looked at her glaring face. “I’m sorry.”

  “You know what you did.”

  “Yes. I do. I’m sorry. I just forgot.”

  “Next time I break something.”

  “There won’t be a next time. I swear.”

  She took him by the arm again and this time she urged him to hurry along. The other girls had gotten ahead of them. By the time they caught up to the rest of the group, they had nearly reached a stand of tall trees that Darby assumed marked the edge of the property. But the girls kept on going, plunging into the dense knot of trees.