An erotic story gone wrong…very wrong. Part 1, 2, 3 and 4.
He could hear his mother mutter something…
At the edges of his consciousness, through the haze of blood clouding his vision, he thought, ‘that’s an odd way of putting it?’
A piece of flesh, half mutton chop flying through the window hit him on the ear, breaking his reverie. His mother still mumbled, now incoherently next to him. As the figure got closer he tried to focus, the blurriness sliding in and out.
His mouth fell open, out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother’s do the same, a semi roasted, semi-masticated duodenum fall out.
It was Uncle Victor! There was no doubting it. But…when was the last time he had seen Uncle Victor? It was on the farm, that exciting, breathless holiday with his moisturizing, musical uncle. Uncle Victor had been one of his uncle’s best friends. With a liking for brightly coloured sarongs and a taste for nationalism, he was an artsy piece of work. Old Reserve and Ginger Beer (Elephant House only) was his drink…though he did waver towards Cream Soda every once in awhile…muttering under his breath, ‘it’s those damn ads I tell you, all those young….”
Memories from that hot, wet, yearning summer kept flooding his mind as Uncle Victor loomed closer. He looked over at his mother…still chewing on the duodenum. As the smooth metal shone out of the dark, he realized with shock that Victor had a gun, beautifully polished .338 Lapua Magnum, air still steaming out into the cold out of the blackness of its muzzle.
‘Fuckity, fuck, fuck,’…his mother had finished the duodenum. The rough words barely on him as all he could see was the muzzle edging closer with a sweaty, brown finger on the trigger.
”You and that fucking sheep…” Uncle Victor’s voice was a low hiss…menacing in its quietness.
“He knew you know…he saw it all…we both did. And it broke his heart! After all the hard work he put in saving her from those military experiments, being her friend…to see you do that to Fluffy…”
The memories came flooding back to him now, the supple legs with their short tight black hairs, the thighs with their white, soft fuzz…the wetness…
“You know he left, he bought a gigantic tub of moisturizer and disappeared!” The voice was now tinged with manic…”he was my best friend…and you broke his heart! You broke my heart!”
He remembered, the tightness. The power he felt as he moved, the soft entreaties.
Such soft music to his ears, he could almost imagine her calling out his name, in a bovine sort of way.
“And now you’re going to pay!” The gun came, up…the finger tightened.
It was a different sound. The erotic charge had become low and menacing. This was not his imagination. It was very real, deadly.
Time seemed to freeze. Uncle Victor hesitated, the finger loosened. There was barely a whisper of sound through the quiet air as the cloven hoof came around.
The gun clattered to the ground.
There was a blinding flash, because as the gun was a cheap Russian knock off, the safety didn’t work really well.
Two red eyes welled up though the inkiness of the night…
Over to Sach:)
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