You Are My Everything Page 5

  His grimly hand takes it; his crossed eyes register some aspect of explosive acknowledgment. Bits of spittle fly off his swollen lips when he attempts: "Thhhhyak-thhyak...thhyank you."

  "Why, you're quite welcome," but your eyes turn more serious. "A'course, there's still a few things I need ya to do fer me 'fore ya earned that money proper. Like I 'splained the other day?"

  He nods again.

  "And ya gots ta do these things 'zackly like I say, 'cos if'n ya don't... Why, that'd just mess me all up, and you wouldn't want that, would ya?"

  The question stirs an obvious frenzy in the bed-immed mind. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nnnnnnno!"

  You smile, and pat his flinty cheek. "I know ya wouldn't, Blubber. Now go outside'n pull the cord on the gas generator like ya did earlier, then come back inta the bedroom."

  Blubber hands you the candle and staggers out the front door.

  You seem to glide to the bedroom. It's a good thing you'd left the door and window closed because Noot's collapsed corpse shows no signs yet of insect infestation. The room smells sour, however, sour and pissy and rank, but that's no matter. Soon such things will mean nothing. You drop the straps on your garment and it slides down your body. The faint yellowy candlelight illumines your reflection in the old mirror, and your image smiles back at you, soft and sedate and nude. Your nipples and sex tingle.

  You kneel at Noot's body and push him over on his back. The fan of gore on the wall and floor have congealed. Noot's mouth hangs open while his eyes remained closed. The hole in the side of his head looks like a crater full of chunks of meat but even in the visual atrocity, your smile fixes on his serene face and enticing body.

  Your hand plays with the dead genitals. It's such an odd notion but you simply can't abide the knowledge of what's on it, so you lower your face and begin to suck it, limp and shriveled as it is. You suck it clean because you don't want any of Linette's private juices on it. The very idea offends you.

  To anyone else that act would be unspeakable: you're sucking a corpse's cock. But to you...

  You're giving succor to the man you love.

  The room's single lamp flickers several times, but then the bulb glows steadily bright. Outside, you hear the chugging of the generator.

  You're standing when Blubber fumbles into the room. His heavy lower lip hangs, showing ruined teeth. He snorts a whine in the surprise that you're naked now; he rubs his crotch.

  "None'a that now, hon. You can do that later, after you're back home, okay?"

  He nods dumbly.

  "'Cos right now? Ya still got a few things ta do." You walk to the nightstand where you've placed the recorder, and as you address Blubber, you choose your words wisely. "What'cher gonna see now, Blubber, is somethin' ya ain't gonna be able ta understand. All ya need ta know is it's, well, it's magic." Your eyes look at him more deeply. "So's don't be alarmed by what'cha see," and then...

  Then you press the small button on the recorder, and Westmore's words begin to issue out...

  ***

  Westmore drove wide-eyed down dark, winding roads. Some of his daze lingered. Did any of that really happen? he wondered, but then his damp, semen-redolent shirt told him yes.

  So did the evidence of the manuscript pages on the front seat.

  "Jesus," he muttered.

  But now his work was more than cut out for him. Who knew what was on those sheets? With any luck, he'd get another book out of it. The prospect made him almost giddy.

  But he was also exhausted.

  The tires hummed over old asphalt. Gotta find that motel, he thought. The Gilman House. What town did she say? then, he remembered, Luntville.

  The name rang a bell from his brief geographical research but he didn't know exactly where the town was. Map, he thought at once and reached under the passenger seat.

  His hand landed on the map but...something else, too.

  What the... His fingers pulled out an oblong locket— silver-dollar sized—on a chain. Where had it come from? Probably something left accidentally by the person who rented the car before me, he reasoned. He pulled onto the shoulder and turned on the inside light.

  Oh, no...

  A cursive inscription on the locket's back read: FOR EASTER, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY - LOVE, NOOT, and then a date: Feb. 2, 1991. Westmore opened it to find a tiny photo of a much younger Easter, smiling radiantly, and a lean, dark-haired, roughneck-looking man. Cradled in Easter's arms was a baby.

  Shit, he thought. Obviously the locket had slid out of Easter's rucksack, and he'd missed it when he'd retrieved the other things that had slid out.

  I'll have to take it back, he knew, tired as he was. Clearly, the locket was something she held near and dear, and after giving him the manuscript pages, he'd be a perfect scumbag if he didn't return it simply because of the inconvenience.

  Westmore sputtered, lit a cigarette, and turned the car around.

  The dark road seemed to conjure him back the way he came. One turn, then another, then the trees appeared to lean inward, making an arcane tunnel of the crude roadway. Stars struggled to flash through laden boughs. He had to squint as the car slowed before the barely visible access. He turned slowly and made his way up the dirt-paved drive.

  At once, the oddity struck him: lights glowed bright in all of the windows in Easter's shack—no doubt electric lights. He thought sure she'd hear the car pull up, but when he doused his own lights and cut the engine, he heard a steady chugging, like a lawn-mower motor. I guess that explains the electricity and why she didn't hear me pull up... Earlier, she'd mentioned some kind of generator, which obviously ran now.

  God, I hope I'm not disturbing her, he thought and got out. Backwoods people were known to be very private people.

  Locket in hand, Westmore approached the primitive porch and front door. At the corner of the house, he spotted the modest generator sitting next to an altered hot-water heater.

  Something seized him then, not something physical but...something arcane. He winced, scratched his head. A drone seemed to enter his mind so profoundly that it dimmed the sound of the generator. He would never know why but instead of knocking on the front door...

  He walked over to the window.

  When he looked in, it was madness that looked back at him.

  His thoughts stilled, and his mouth fell open.

  Easter stood nude and sweat-glazed in glaring incandescent light. The image instantly made Westmore's libido shout. She was talking but the drone in Westmore's head, plus the generator noise, precluded any chance of hearing her words. However...

  Who was she talking to?

  Very carefully, Westmore took one step back, then one to the side.

  Yes. Madness.

  A young, bald, and very obese man in overalls stood in front of a bed. He was staring cockeyed at Easter as she talked to him. His lower lip was so heavy it nearly folded over to his chin, and from the maw of a mouth, ropes of drool dangled. A retardate, Westmore thought. Inbred or defected or something. Fat bulged from the stained overalls.

  What the fuck is going on?

  It was then that Westmore took another gingerly step to the side, to see who else might be in the room, and, indeed, there was someone else.

  The guy in the locket...Noot, he Knew immediately. The man was naked.

  Yes. It was Noot.

  The man Easter had told him was dead. Half of his head was blown out from one side, yet still, he stood there, much like the retarded man, listening to Easter.

  Easter's flesh shined as she then walked over to this man—yes, this man with half his head gone—and embraced him and kissed him on the mouth...

  ***

  Your name is Blubber, and you think your last name is Smitts. For as long as you can remember, your head has felt like a bucket stuffed with garbage, but at least as you've gotten older, you're able to understand more things. You don't know exactly what death is, for instance, but you're pretty sure when a person stops moving for a long time, that means he's dead. That's why
you're confused now because the other man there was dead a little while ago, but after Miss Easter pushed the button on the little black machine, and those funny words came out, the man got up again.

  You're not that worried about it, though, because Miss Easter had said exactly that just a minute ago. She'd said, "Don't worry none, Blubber. You'll be seein' things ya can't reckon but that's okay," and you trust Miss Easter very much so if she says not to worry, then you won't worry.

  Instead, you listen, or at least listen the best you can. Miss Easter's naked body is making your peter throb, and it's hard to concentrate on what she's saying. She's so beautiful. You wish she could be your mother but that could never be because you already have a mother, and she doesn't like you. She makes you live in a box in the woods.

  You would like to fuck Miss Easter but that can never be either, because Miss Easter is your only friend. She's the only person ever who's been nice to you. And when she let you fuck the skinny blond girl in the head today...well, that was the nicest thing to ever happen in your life. Miss Easter surely was a wonderful person to let you fuck the blond girl in the head. It felt better than anything you'd ever felt. In fact, you fucked the skinny blond girl in the head four more times in the woods, because Miss Easter said you could. Then you put her in the hole and covered her over with dirt like Miss Easter told you.

  Yes. Miss Easter is so nice. That's why you do everything she says.

  "—magic," she's saying to you and the man named Noot who you thought was dead. "Magic from way on back," but then her attention focuses more on the man named Noot, and suddenly she's crying but still has that great big smile she always has, and then she hugs Noot and kisses him. "I just love you so much, honey."

  She's on her knees now and she's got the man's peter in her mouth with her head going back and forth. Noot's mouth opens and it looks like he's trying to talk but for some reason no words come out.

  She does it awhile until Noot's peter is sticking up.

  "You're my everything, darlin'. And I'm gonna prove that to ya in a sec..."

  You keep standing there, looking at her, waiting, because you know there's more she wants you to do.

  She comes over. She looks closer at you, still smiling. "I'm gonna die now, Blubber...but it's okay. It's what's supposed ta be. Ya hear me?"

  You nod.

  "Don't be alarmed by anything, okay?"

  You nod. No, you don't understand, but when Miss Easter says everything will be okay then you know everything will be okay. Miss Easter has never lied to you.

  Her face moves very close, right to your ear. She whispers, "I want ya to do 'zactly like I did ta Linette today with the drill, and I mean 'zactly, Blubber. Don't do no more'n don't do no less. And when yer done?" She shows you the little machine where the funny words came out a minute ago, and she points to the large button in the middle. "I want ya ta push this here button. Then set the machine down. And then go on home. Okay?"

  You nod.

  "And then ya go live yer life'n ferget'cha was ever here."

  You stare, and make a noise in your throat.

  She rubs your shoulder. "It's the way it's supposed ta be, Blubber. And it's okay." Her smile glows at you. "So...yer gonna do it fer me, right?"

  You nod.

  "Thank you, Blubber," and then she kisses you on the cheek.

  As she walks to the dresser, she says to the man named Noot, "We all go astray sometimes, honey—like with you and Linette—but I understand, and I forgive ya. And right now, ta prove how much I love ya, I'm gonna give ya somethin' that no other woman ever could," and then she kisses Noot again. And then...

  She lays down on her back, on the dresser.

  "I'm ready, Blubber."

  You pause for a moment because you're confused but then you know that it's all right. Miss Easter said so. You don't understand but it's all right.

  And you will do exactly what she asked you to do.

  The loud noise from the hole-saw doesn't bother you at all. You press it against the top of Miss Easter's head like she did to the skinny blond girl today. Bits of stuff fly out from where the saw is turning, and Miss Easter is shaking on the dresser-top, all tensed up but still, still-

  She's smiling.

  "That's it, Blubber, just like that!" she says even as her teeth chatter. "Push a little more and—

  You know. You push the saw a little more until it begins to turn easier, and then you take it out. The circle of bone falls out and hits the floor, and you can see that whitish pink stuff inside Miss Easter's skull. She's still shaking and tense, and her voice sounds a little jaggy now when she says, "The knife, blubber! The knife!"

  Yes. The knife.

  You pick up the knife. When you stick it in the hole, Miss Easter's back arches, and her bare heels drum the dresser.

  Red stuff comes out of the hole.

  You step back and look at what you've done. Something bothers you about it but then you know it shouldn't because it's what Miss Easter wanted.

  The man named Noot's eyes widen. His peter is throbbing. You can see a bunch of yucky stuff in the crater at the side of his head but you figure there must not be anything wrong with him because his peter is throbbing. His hand shakes a little when he grabs his peter and begins to stroke it.

  Miss Easter is still shuddering on the dresser, her big beautiful breasts going up and down real fast from the way she breathes. But then—

  Her breasts stop going up and down. She stops shuddering.

  You're looking at the hole in her head, and part of you is even thinking how much you'd like to put your peter in it and fuck it like you did with the skinny blond girl.

  But—no! You know you can't do that! Miss Easter didn't say you could!

  You look at her a little more, then something kind of clicks in what little mind you have. Was there something else she wanted you to do?

  Yes!

  Your feet thunk the wood floor when you walk to the stand by the bed. You push the big button on the little machine, and set it back down.

  For the second time tonight, those funny words come out: "Guh'narl'ebb, druh'nug lee eye shub negg add'uk zynn...ee'uh, ee'uh, fuh'tay'gun, nem'blud duv...yog'saw'thoth..."

  Suddenly Miss Easter is moving again, and that makes you happy. Her hands run up and down her body, and she stretches out and curls her toes and smiles.

  Her voice sounds different now, kind of scratchy and stuttery when she says, "Thank you so much, Blubber."

  "Gug-gug-gurrrrwwwwwwelcome," you say.

  "You'se can go on home now..."

  "Bub-bub-bub-bub-bbbbbbye!"

  You're about to leave the room but then you stop and turn because you want to look at Miss Easter one last time.

  The man named Noot with half his head gone has already stuck his peter into the hole. He begins to hump, and as he does so, Miss Easter smiles and says, "This'll make you ferget all 'bout that dirty li'l daughter'a ours, honey. And ya wanna know the best part?"

  The man named Noot starts fucking Miss Easter's head hard.

  "Best part is cuzza the way we are now, we'll be with each other forever, and you can do this ta me any time ya want. Forever and ever. You like that idea, honey?"

  The man named Noot keeps humping Miss Easter's head, but while he's doing it, he nods rapidly.

  Miss Easter is playing with her cooter while the man keeps humping her head, and she says, "It's 'cos you are my everything, baby, and now I hope ya know that."

  The man named Noot keeps humping and keeps nodding.

  You walk out of the room, down the hall, and leave the house out the back door. The night greets you with cricket noises and peepers, and it's a sound you've always liked. But you can also hear that machine on the side of the house that you pulled the cord on, the machine Miss Easter called a generator. You wonder if you should go turn it off, but then you decide not to because, well, Miss Easter didn't tell you to turn it off.

  You walk out into the woods in the direction of
the box you live in. You're rubbing your crotch now because your peter is all hard from seeing the man fucking Miss Easter in the head. You're whining a little because your peter is feeling like you need to make that white stuff come out, and then you whine a little more when you think back to earlier when you were fucking the skinny blond girl in the head.

  It felt... real good.

  After more walking, you just can't stand it anymore; you know you're going to have to stop and play with yourself, and that's when you realize—

  You realize where you are.

  You're now at the self-same spot where you'd put the skinny blond girl in the hole and covered her over with dirt.

  The first constructive thought you've ever had in your life comes into your mind...

  You liked fucking the skinny girl in the head, so why not dig her back up right now and fuck her in the head some more? Why, you could even take her back to your box and fuck her in the head all the time...

  You stare for several moments, thinking. At first you think you shouldn't do that because Miss Easter didn't say you could.

  But then...

  But then...

  She didn't say you couldn't either, did she?

  No! She didn't!

  Gibbering, drooling, ecstatic, you grab the shovel and begin to dig.

  ***

  Westmore's mouth and eyes were locked open when he was finally able to drag himself away from the horror in the window. He staggered back to the car, got in, and drove away.

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