136 lines
7.8 KiB
Plaintext
136 lines
7.8 KiB
Plaintext
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### ###
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### ###
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### #### ### ### ### ####
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### ### ##### ### ###
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### ### ### ### ###
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### ### ##### ### ###
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########## ### ### ##########
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### ###
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### ###
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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####### ## ## ####### # # ## ## ####### ####
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ##
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#### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ##
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ##
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## ## ####### ####### # # ## ####### ######
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[ A Happy Christmas Story ] [ By Max West ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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A HAPPY CHRISTMAS STORY
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BY MAX WEST
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Lewis settled down on the hardwood toilet seat, grunting with self content.
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That Yuletide season sure makes a guy feel jolly, and he wanted to feel
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jolly; so very jolly.
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Out in the kitchen, it was true, his girlfriend, sprawled on the Formica
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like a spilt bag of groceries, wasn't what he'd planned - she O.D.'ed on
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cheap H' in the excitement of the season. But after all, shit will happen.
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He was wondering if she'd mind, up in Heaven, if he had just one little
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quicky before he moved her to the dumpster over at the Shop n Go parking
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lot; she'd always been a generous gal - he thought it'd be alright.
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"You crazy whore!" he choked with sudden emotion. "Why'd you have to kill
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yourself just when we were making love? Well", he hedged, "I guess we
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weren't exactly making love. At least not at that particular moment."
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He flushed briefly at the thought of his limp member - downers and
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booze - dangling like a piece of salt water taffy and his frantic efforts to
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try and cram it into the unreachable bull's eye. Jeez! It'd been like trying
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to shove a handful of Jello into a straw...
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He was over that now, and he smiled down at the Gallo salami, replacing
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the Chinese noodle, threatening to rip loose at any minute. Oh yeah! He'd
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made up his mind: Santa's little helper was going to be busy this very
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special night.
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He'd barely finished smelling his hands at the sink, when the doorbell
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rang. "Goddamn it, who the fuck is that?" The black eyes of the inscrutable
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toilet paper caddy on the back of the seat looked innocent. It was a dirty
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pink and white crocheted, Southern Bell doll, present from his first wife -
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but he had a feeling that even if it did know, it wouldn't say.
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When Lewis cautiously cracked the front door, his old drinking pal, Dirk,
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swayed toward him, red eyed and unzipped knee deep in gusting snow. Behind
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his soused bulk swayed three or four Christmas revelers. Lewis couldn't
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make them out at first, but by the sound of gagging, spitting, coughing and
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pissing he knew it had to be Neal, Mendoza, Trudy and Jane. Trudy, speeding
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her brains out as usual had half her clothes off, dispite the cold, wagged a
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dildo with the head of Santa on it in his face: "Merry Fuckin' Christmas,
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Asshole!" she laughed brushing by into the house heading for the kitchen,
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followed by everybody else except Neal, past out on the walk.
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Sitting around the cheery blaze of the car tire in the fireplace, glazed
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and drooling, Morphine surrettes happilly hanging from arm, neck or foot
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(this year, Lew had decided to get everyone something they could really use)
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they shared a silent moment while their minds slogged off into the sparkling
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night.
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Lewis, who had eschewed the path of the mattress', for the more lively
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joys provided by Lady Meth and the Christmas Crack Pipe, suddenly jumped up,
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a weird and novel idea, inspired by the holiday season, lighting his Tiki
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face.
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"C'mon! let's pray!"
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"Shit!" yelled Jane, "What a wild fucken' idea! Lewis, you are the
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shits!" When she looked around at the mirror bright eyes glowing from every
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face like the reflection of burning sulfur, she knew they were agreed.
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"Let's do it!" The others chimed in at something so unexpected and just
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plain jolly. That Lewis! Yeah, sure, he was a drug addict, sodomizer,
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murderer and necrophiliac, but a hell of a host!
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"So, dude, like how's this deal go man?" Trudy asked. Lewis, bloated with
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the Christmas spirit forgave her the lapse into street lingo, (but if she
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called him 'dude' one more time he'd have to kill her), put his hands
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together in front of him showing them how to start.
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"Now, close your eyes", he prompted, "That means you too Mendoza... c'mon
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now!" Mendoza, stubborn, got a sullen gleam in his bloodshot eyes, and a
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hand doing a stealthy creep toward the crotch of his skin tight jeans; he
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gave a snort of contempt. "OK, here's what we say: 'Now I lay me down to
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sleep, I pray...'" He looked around pointedly to make sure everyone was
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still with him. "'... the Lord my soul to keep'"
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"Heavy." From Neal. Over the decorated mantle a special glow began to
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manifest and it seemed to Neal that beautiful singing as if from a celestial
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chorus raised in adoration or maybe screaming like tortured cats he couldn't
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decide which - began to fill the room, first far off and then near. The
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sound was hard to nail down exactly, but it wasn't coming from him. His
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focus was on the reddish glow centered directly behind and above Lewis,
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rapidly spreading from the fireplace to the walls. Just before someone
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screamed "F-F-Fire!" Neal was sure he saw an upside down cross forming up
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there, but in the rush for the door, all was immediately forgotten. Outside
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in the night, glittering like sugar crystals and softly reflecting green and
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red lights, the approaching group armed and in camouflage, surrounding the
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house, had set fire to the chimney, trying to smoke Lewis out. They could
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hear Mendoza through the windows say as he ran for his weapons, "I told you
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it was a bunch of bullshit! Goddamn nobody ever listens to me!"
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The Neighborhood Watch, long aggravated and frightened by the
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multicolored party lights, squeals of ecstasy and mutilated body parts which
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seemed to be vital accessories to Lewis' suspicious lifestyle, waited. They
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all held either automatic weapons or shot guns which they used without
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restraint, mowing down Trudy, Jane and Neal as they bolted from the burning
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house. Far above this lively scene, if anyone other than little Kevin (five
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year old Polio victim; lives with welfare mom) had noticed a familiar
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silhouette of sleigh and reindeer crossed the very jolly full moon and was
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gone in a flash. Some of the shooters did remark later that they thought
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they could hear up in the sky, a hearty "MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!" and the
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tinkling of silver bells; but if that had really been the case, it was
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mostly lost in the excitement of what for some had been their first kill.
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Lewis and Mendoza weren't going down on Christmas Eve without a fight.
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Using the riddled corpses of their friends for cover, grinning lurid
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yellow and red in the merry glow of his smoldering house on this Night of
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Nights, they locked and loaded. They were Santa's Little Helpers, hot wired
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on a 220 Volt Kamikaze mission for the North Pole. Behind a wall of hot
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strafing lead they hollered, going over the top: "Merry Christmas to All,
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Motherfuckers!!!!!!!"
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Ain't that just like an American?
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DECEMBER 98
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #481 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #481
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Call RIPCO II -> 773-528-5020
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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