Timothy 02: Tim2

by Mark Tufo

  I could feel Hugh standing up in the back of my mind.

  “Oh no!” I shouted.

  “What’s the matter?” Clarence cried in alarm.

  “Hugh’s gotta go.”

  “Go where? I don’t understand what’s happening?”

  “Too friggin’ late,” I said as our body went rigid.

  “What’s happening?” Clarence begged.

  I turned on all his senses so he could enjoy and partake fully of Hugh as he relieved himself.

  “Oh no, nooooooo!” Clarence cried.

  Hugh was evacuating two full grown men through his bowel system. It felt and smelled exactly how you would expect three hundred pounds of meat to smell and feel. Clarence was beginning to spin down into unconsciousness again.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I said, smacking him upside his face. “If I have to go through this, then so do you.”

  “Ugh, ack…please let me die.”

  “Revel in this, man! This is a medal-worthy shit. Looking at the size of you, I’m sure you’ve taken a record breaker or two before.”

  “Not after eating people.”

  “People, cheeseburgers, cake, it’s just shit on the other end. The gross part is Hugh has the manners of a goat--he just craps whenever and wherever he is. You should see the dry cleaner’s face when I bring these beauties in!”

  Clarence was phantom puking. I was laughing.

  “Hugh we talked about this,” I admonished. “How are we going to pass as human if you keep shitting all over yourself?”

  “I am not human!” he shouted. “I am Hugh Man!”

  That was different, I thought. Hugh didn’t generally display too many self-awareness moments, he just was. He worked on instinct alone, not really even survival, because he just didn’t know enough to avoid a machine gun nest if it came down to it.

  “Alright, big fella. You’re Hugh Man, that’s fine, but you like to eat right?” I asked.

  A small pause, maybe none at all, when he answered, “Yesssss,” with a longing sigh.

  “The more human we act, the more humans we eat.”

  He liked that answer. Clarence didn’t.

  “You have to give me some sort of heads up.” (Question mark from Hugh) “Umm…some sort of idea when you need to drop a deuce.” (Another question mark). “Shit, Hugh, shit. You need to let me know when you’re going to eliminate fecal matter through your anus, is that clear enough?” He got that.

  “Now we need to clean up before I get back in that mini-van, I’m not sitting in what’s left of Pete and Dan all night. I saw something about a mile back that I think will suit our purposes just fine.”

  I’d been with Hugh for a few days now, and you’d think I’d be used to it. But in reality, how does one deal with that type of mess. I was slogging through brown, black filth. Clarence’s sweatpants were soaked throughout with it. A lot leaked out the bottom and into his boots. I’d gone maybe a quarter mile, my thighs beginning to stick, my ass chafing, when I threw caution to the wind. Who was going to give a fuck? I would be far from the weirdest thing anybody would see that day. I stopped and sat down on a curb, I had to pull away some verminous ribbons of intestines but I was able to locate the shoelaces on the boots. I took them off and my now brown gym socks and then in one deft movement I stripped down to my birthday suit. How easily I forgot! I had taken this body over.

  “What are you doing?” Clarence begged. “You can’t walk around like this, people will see us.”

  “Listen, I’d be embarrassed, too, if I had to cart this donut of a body around, but I can’t handle bathing in liquidy swill.”

  “What if Anne sees me?”

  “Oh right, the whole micro-penis thing.”

  “That’s not it!” he roared.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad. It’ll only be for a few more minutes, then I’ll get you all prettied up for her.”

  He resigned if only for the fact that I wasn’t going to do anything he said anyway.

  “Finish your stupid story then. Maybe I can forget that I’m walking around naked.”

  “Oh yeah, Amy Brannigan.” My cocktail wienie of a dick began to stir.

  “Oh gross,” Clarence rued as I looked down as his burgeoning man meat.

  A chip of tooth encased in bum butter slogged off the tip as we walked forward.

  “That’ll dampen the mood!” I laughed. “Okay back to the Brannigans. They were dressed formal like we were about to attend church, which seemed weird because they really didn’t have to leave to do that. The freaks had an altar in the living room. I was wondering if we were going to have the Eucharist for dinner, maybe with a little blessed wine. Shit, I crack myself up. So we’re sitting around the living room and I’m leering at his daughter and even the wife, she was damn hot herself. I was wondering how he did it, must have been loaded. Finally we go into the dining room to eat. Yup, you guessed it, more crosses. If those things really protected you, then a direct hit by a nuclear bomb wouldn’t have even rocked the house.

  If I had any reservations about turning the night into a spectacle that all changed when the missus comes out carrying a meat loaf made of fish. I thought I was going to puke right there and then. Who the hell makes meat loaf out of fish? What else could I expect? Peanut butter and asparagus sandwiches.”

  “Was it the Sabbath?” Clarence asked.

  “And how do you think I’d know that? I told you I’d been making up everything. But I guess that explains it. We sit down and we grab hands, I had Mrs. Brannigan’s hand in my right and Amy’s in my left. Mr. B lowers his head to pray and I lean over and lick the top of Mrs. B’s hand, I thought she was going to turn twenty shades of red. Oh, I could tell she liked it; color ran up her neck and onto her cheeks. Her quim was probably quivering at the thought of doing something besides the missionary position. I should have just whipped it out right there and then, because I know them crazy Catholics say it’s better to fuck then to waste a drop of seed.”

  “I don’t think that’s exactly the wording,” Clarence explained.

  “Close enough, I could have done them. Damn…why am I thinking of this shit now? I probably would have got the dad’s blessing to do them both. Don’t want to waste baby batter now, right! I could have high-fived the old man while he watched.”

  “I’m sure it would have happened just like that. How many times did your mom drop you on your head?” Clarence asked.

  I ignored him; the alternative was to kill him. “So anyway, Mrs. B is sweating bullets, her hand is all clammy – like her panties I bet. When the prayer was over I kept staring at her, even as I felt Mr. B looking at me. Amy asked me what I was doing. I told her that I knew where she got her good looks from, still not looking away from Mrs. B.”

  “Beauty is only skin deep,” Mr. Brannigan stated. “It’s God’s eternal love that goes deep into the soul.”

  “He can have the soul, I only want the skin,” I told him.

  “Timothy is a devout Christian,” Amy spoke up. I guess she was trying to smooth things over. “He attends church five times a week.”

  “Well that’s a lie,” I told her. She gasped. “Those nights I was at the bar picking up women because you’re so uptight. There you are with a body built for sin and you’re the damn poster-child for goodness, chastity, and morality. I can’t even begin to tell you how infuriating that is.”

  “I’m saving myself for marriage,” Amy said, aghast.

  “Are you going to be one of those nut jobs that will only screw to procreate, too? Wow your husband’s going to be in for one hell of a ride once a year. What a fucking treat!”

  “Now see here!” Mr. Brannigan shouted, standing up.

  “Oh fuck, now I know why you’re so uptight!” I laughed, pointing at him. “When’s the last time you broke off a little of this?” I stood and grabbed Mrs. Brannigan by the waist. I twirled her around once for good measure. “Why are deeply religious people always the most ignorant? People are animals, we’re me
ant to eat and fuck, that’s really about it. Then religion came into the mix and screwed everything up. Gotta have morals, gotta act nice or you’ll pay the price when you die. Don’t you fools see that religion is just a way to repress man?”

  “I will not have you saying things like that about the teachings of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!” Mr. Brannigan was screaming. “Without his guidance, man would be bereft of a soul.”

  “Yeah but we’d be having a blast!” I shouted back at him.

  “Anne you are no longer allowed to see this man. And I use that term loosely,” he said sternly. His face was beet red.

  “What about Mrs. Brannigan? Can I see her? I bet she could teach me a thing or two.” I sneered.

  “Get out! Get out of my fucking house!” he was raging, pointing his finger towards the front door.

  “Hey, man, take it easy…don’t want you to burst an artery or something. Although I guess that would give you something to pray about,” I said as I headed for the door. “Oh, and one more thing,” I said, turning back around. Mr. Brannigan was shaking he was so angry. “This is so far from a fucking house. I emphasized fucking for him.”

  “I got it,” Clarence said.

  “Want to know what the real funny part was?”

  Clarence nodded.

  “Mrs. Brannigan called me the next night. She wanted to meet and offer an apology for her husband’s behavior. We screwed for hours, she was like a pent up animal. Once she was let free she ran wild.”

  “You’re lying, I know you’re lying.”

  “Oh that’s right you can tell. Well, it’s a way better retelling when you don’t know I made that part up.”

  “You’re a sick man.”

  “You’ve said that before, Clarence. And if you’re that repulsed by me, we can end our little relationship right now,” I growled. He shut up. “See how powerful self-preservation is? I’ll have you walking in my footsteps in no time.”

  We made it to the store in another fifteen minutes. Would have been quicker but I stepped on a piece of broken bottle and sliced my foot open pretty bad. I had to awaken Hugh from his nap for some repair duty and then we soldiered on.

  “Party City?” Clarence asked as I looked up at the sign.

  “You’ll see.” I went up to the front. The door was unlocked and, except for the first third of the store where the candy was housed, it looked relatively untouched. Unless some idiot wanted to pretend he was the Masked Avenger during the apocalypse, this store was going to be left alone. Although who knew, the apocalypse brought all the crazies out of the woodwork.

  I walked past the crappy Halloween costumes and to the counter in the rear of the store where the real stuff was rented out.

  “Tim what are we doing here?” Clarence asked. I think he had an idea because, if I was thinking it, then chances were he’d be able to pick some of it up considering it was his mind to begin with.

  I was ecstatic when I found what I was looking for. I took it off the rack and headed to the back. There was no way I was going to don my new duds as filthy as I was. I found the employee bathroom, and a former employee. At least what was left of her, the right side of her face had been completely gnawed off, but it didn’t look like a zombie attack. Then I saw the rat turds all over the place and the bottle of pills on the floor.

  “What a waste of food,” I said, looking down at her.

  The rats had been fairly thorough, taking her eyes first and then the soft flesh of her cheeks and mouth. It looked like they’d taken her tongue, too, but I really didn’t care as I pulled her by the ankle out of there.

  Fifteen minutes later and the absolute destruction of a bathroom, I was a reasonable rendition of clean.

  “Hey, Clarence, want to toss one off? We’ve got a little time to kill.”

  Clarence phantom puked again.

  “You’re right, that would be a little weird, three guys. It’d be like a circle jerk or something. At least I think Hugh is a guy, I’ve always thought of him that way. Would it make it any better if he were a she? Naw, still two guys. Plus I’m afraid we’d damage your little guy anyway. Maybe later.”

  Clarence went sobbing off into the darkness. That was fine by me; I wanted to surprise him anyway. I grabbed some supplies that were hanging on the wall and went into the dressing room thankful there was still some ambient light coming in through an overhead window. I didn’t need too much anyway; I wasn’t going for precision, just effect. It was roughly forty minutes later and I was liking what I was looking at, but something just wasn’t quite right. And then it dawned on me. I quickly exited the dressing room and looked for a maintenance closet. I was just about to give up all hope when I remembered there was a door with a lock in the bathroom. I tiptoed in, doing my best not to soil my new duds and turned the handle, thankful that the bitch that had denied me a meal had not screwed me twice by locking this door. Rats scurried as I opened the door disturbing their slumber. Small bones littered the floor, they looked like little fingers. Who knew rats liked to eat in bed? Oh well; what uninvited guests do they have to worry about showing up if they don’t clean up after themselves?

  There was a small toolbox in the corner. I grabbed it and headed out. I started rooting through the standard fare, screwdrivers, small hammer, wrench, etc. It wasn’t until I opened up the final drawer that I came across what I was looking for. I held it up like it was a newborn baby and I was displaying him to the world.

  “This will do.” I said aloud.

  I was a half hour into my newest project when I realized I could barely see. At some point, the day had run away from me and I needed light. Due to Hugh’s enhancements I could see better in the dark, but it still wasn’t like I had night vision goggles on. I traveled over to the Halloween decorations and aptly grabbed some black candles, went back up to the front for a candle lighter and within 5 minutes I was back in business. I knew I was running out of time. Hugh was beginning to grumble about being hungry again and my buddy Clarence was debating on having a moment of lucidity – although two minutes from now he was going to wish he hadn’t.

  I blew out a few of the dozen candles I had going for dramatic effect. What was staring me back in the mirror was simply awe-inspiring.

  Clarence was staring out of eyes he could no longer control. I made sure not to blink, giving my face an even more exaggerated tone.

  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” he screamed so loud I could hear Hugh coming to check it out. “WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?”

  “I knew you’d like it,” I told him as I plastered on a menacing sneer so he could get the full scope.

  I had layered my new face in white pancake make-up; then, realizing that hid my handiwork, I went back over my stitches with black, highlighting them instead of muting them. Next, I drew round red semi-circles over my eyes, donned a red wig and nose. I then capped it off by ruining what looked like ten thousand dollars of dental work by filing all of Clarence’s teeth to sharp points, which I demonstrated by pricking his tongue on them and drawing blood.

  “I’m back!” I told him, bringing my white glove-clad hands up. I waved them around like jazz hands. The kiddies would have just loved this. And if I found one of the little bastards I was going to give him good reason to fear clowns.

  “I’m ruined,” Clarence was crying.

  “God, you’re a pussy. We are the meanest, deadliest, scariest looking motherfuckers around and you’re crying like someone stole your last Pop-Tart. We are the stuff of nightmares! OF FUCKING LEGENDS!! Mothers will tuck their kids in at night telling stories about how they should avoid Timothy. They will welcome the boogeyman instead of me. That pansy will quake at the mere mention of me!”

  Clarence snapped then and there – whatever tenuous grip he still had on his psyche was shredded. It was fucking hilarious to watch. I could have been entertained for hours, but I was hungry. And what was weirder was that Hugh hadn’t even prodded me on.

  I stepped out of the shop into the cool night air, purp
le ruffled shirt and yellow parachute pants, fluttering lightly in the breeze. The only sacrifice I had to make was the oversized shoes. If my food would be so considerate as to come to me, I would have worn them. Eventually I needed to find a shoe store so I could get a pair of sneakers, but that would have to wait. I listened carefully for any signs of my prey as they nervously scavenged in the night for their meager supplies. To catch a human, I had to act like one – not always an easy feat for me even before all of this grandness.

  One thing I still shared with my former brethren was the need to feed. I needed to find a store that still had some food. I could lie in wait much like a lion did at a watering hole as gazelle came up to nervously drink its fill. I had one false alarm as a zombie came stumbling out of an alleyway. I had hoped for a bum soaked in a nice wine marinade.

  Something else occurred to me as I saw the zombie. It took a moment to look over at me, when it realized I wasn’t food, it began its ambling to parts unknown. It was doing what I was doing, hunting. And for every human it took down, that was one less potential meal for me. That just wasn’t going to do, I rapidly approached him.

  The zombie looked over at me, as I got close, I saw him sniffing the air. It knew something was different about me, but I don’t think it was much of a thinker. If it couldn’t eat me it really wasn’t all that interested in discovering the why. I hauled back and punched it in the head. He nearly fell over from the force of it. I was more than a little pissed. My old body would have caved that skull in. Clarence was strong like fat people needed to be to haul their heft around, but he wasn’t powerful. I wonder what a gym membership would cost?

  The zombie staggered about ten feet and, as he righted his ship, he kept plodding on. I fell in step behind it. The stupid fucker didn’t even care that I was trying to crush its head. I followed him because I thought maybe he knew something I didn’t, like there was a little human all-you-can-eat buffet going on. And this time there wouldn’t be a little puissant restaurant manager to kick me out while I binged on his shitty Indian food spread. I remember cursing at him that I had spent my $9.99 and I was entitled to do just as his sign stated.