The Bighead (11 page)

So’s it was with this in mind that The
Bighead embarked, leavin’ Grandpap in the ground, leavin’ the
shack, an’ leavin’ the Lower Woods ta embarks upon the Outside
World. The Bighead hadda mission, ta fulfill all that Grandpap had
told him…

««—»»

Two days passed and Bighead
hadn’t come across no folks at all, not since that last gal he’d
spunked up an’ brain-et. So’s he hadda et a groundhog and a coupla
possums, oh, yeah, and a big fat hognose snake. He’d chopped off
the snake’s head an’ tail with his handmade knife, an’ sucked the
snake’s guts right outa the hole in the middle. It were good, snake
guts. But sometimes he gots ta worryin’, likes maybe he should go
back ta the Lower Woods, likes maybe he’d never find the Outside
World. He didn’t even know the way, he didn’t! But he kept movin’
nonetheless, he did, almost likes he were bein’ guided by
somethin’. The Bighead, a’corse, wouldn’t know what the word
instinct
meant,
nor
reminiscence.
He just figgured it was Grandpap’s spirit smilin’ down on him
from heaven, guidin’ him the proper way, ’fore Bighead just knowed
in his heart that he’d find the Outside World
’ventually.

He wore what he’d always wore: the
fine boots Grandpap had made fer him outa tanned deerhide, an’ his
overalls that Grandpap had stitched up fer him outa canvas sacks,
an’ the knife. It were a big knife, it were, which Grandpap had
alsa made fer him outa shapin’ a long piece’a steel an’
stone-sharpenin’ it real sharp, and whittlin’ a real nice handle
fer it outa cherrywood. The way Bighead seed it, he didn’t need
nothin’ else.

“
A fine, big, young fella
such as yerself,” Grandpap had said ’fore he died (Grandpap said a
lotta things ’fore he died), “it’s only natural that you’ll’se
wanna git ta wanderin’ so’s ya kin see the Outside World fer
yerself. But ’member what I’se told ya. Don’t take no shit offa no
one. Ya gotta fuck ’em up ’fore they kin do the same ta you. An’
’memeber this too, son. The Outside World is chock fulla some
really bad folks, so’s the only ways ya kin git by is ta try real
hard ta be badder’n
them.
”

The Bighead did not foresee a problem
there.

(II)

She was just a little
truckstop whore, a skinny little stringbean with long brown hair
an’ tiny little titties showin’ through her top. See, Tritt Balls
Conner and Dicky Caudill had just come off another
big
’shine run fer Clyde
Nale, and they was hungry as horses so’s they pulled up at the
Bonfire truck stop up near the county line fer some sam-widges, and
that’s when this little brownie-head whore come up the El Camino.
“Hey there’s, sweetheart!” Balls greeted, his mouth fulla B,L,T.
“Hey,” she said back, stoppin’ at the open winder on Balls’ side.
She were kinda twitchy, kinda scratchin’ at her arms, and Tritt
Balls knowed in a minute that she were a junkie, and Balls noticed
too just then how long her hair was, hangin’ alls the way down past
her little butt!

“
I’ll suck both you fellas
off fer ten bucks each,” she offered without hesitatin’ a hitch.
“Give ya’s both the best pecker-suck’a yer lifes, I will. I’ll suck
yer peckers so hard your buttholes’ll inhale.”

“
Why, hail!” Balls cited.
“Hop on in, cutie, ’cos that shore sounds like a right fair deal ta
me!”

Dicky, meantimes, kinda rolled his
eyes ’cos he knew what Balls really had in mind. She climbed right
on in, an’ ’fore she could say another word, Balls had his big
meat-hook hands ’round her tiny neck, an’ lickety-split, he choked
her little lights out in all’a ten seconds. “Drive,” he said ta
Dicky.

Dicky shoulda knowed. He cruised down
the Route a ways, an’ he didn’t have ta worry ’bout cops ’cos
they’d already dropped off their load’a hooch. He pulled up one’a
the side roads past Miller’s Farm, cut the bigblock 427, an’ doused
the headlights. Then they’se dragged the whore out ta the clearing.
Balls fancied this clearing in pah-tick-ah-ler ’cos at night right
about this time, the moon’d light up the field right nice an’
pretty. Balls tored the gal’s top an’ shorts right off. Her skin
looked kinda pale in the high moonlight, but her nipples were kinda
neat, really big’n dark on them little titties. Stunk pretty bad,
though, she did, which made sense ’cos no doubt she’d been suckin’
dirty cocks all day, an’ gettin’ humped by unwashed truckers in
their cabs. Balls didn’t mind though. He flipped her right over
onner belly an’ started ta out a corn-holin’ on her ’fore she’d
even woked up.

Dicky stood aside swiggin’
a beer. All this ruckin’ they was doin’, rapin’ chicks, killin’
folks, it were fun, shore, but more’n more it got ta botherin’
Dicky Caudill. It weren’t that he was turnin’ inta a softie, or
some creamcake faggot, naw, it were just the law’a averages that he
was worried ’bout. Once in a whiles, shore, no big deal, but lately
they’d been pullin’ ruckin’s like this most ever-day.
Sooners or later,
he
fretted to hisself,
We’se gonna git
caught.

An gettin’ caught’d be a
right blammed bummer, it would! Shee-it. Fer what they pulled,
they’d git life in the state slam fer shore, an’ Dicky knowed
plenty’a ex-cons who’d told him what went on. White boys,
’specially white
cracker
boys got turned a might quick. Turned as in turned
inta faggots, yes sir! Most fellas in the stone motel, they was
city bucks, an they was big, in more ways than one. An’ white boys
like Dicky’n Balls, why, they be turned inta genn-ral-pop cherries
bitches in less time than it took ta blow a snot out’cher nose.
Dicky knowed full well that he wouldn’t be’s able ta hack havin’ ta
spend the rest’a his God-givin’ life gittin’ butt-fucked by bucks
an’ suckin’ black cock. Uh-uh. So hence were the form-er-lay-shun’a
his trep-er-day-shuns. Doin’ life in the joint. An’ it could even
be worse, couldn’t it?

Yeahs, it could be worse
than just gettin’ caught, it could. We could even get ourselfs
kilt…

It could happen, shore. Why not?
What’s ta say one’a these gals they snatched wouldn’t pull gun on
’em, an’ pop both he an’ Balls fulla holler-points, or one night
they’se could be jackin’ some fella out for his green and they’se
could wind up with faces fulla 12-gauge double-ought buck from a
sawed-off. This were plain buck stupid, this was, pullin’ shit like
this alls the time…

“
Hail, Dicky!” Balls
guffawed, poundin’ away on this poor gal’s backside. “She gotta
butthole on her bigger’n cow’s, I say! Bet she been gettin’ assed
since she were four! Bet her
daddy
broke her in, creamin’ her poop fer
years!”

Balls looked intent on
drivin’ her right down inta the dirt, hard as he was reamin’ her.
“Aw, lordy ta shee-it!” he eloquented, then pulled his dog out an’
shot a good-sized wad right on her back. Just then, though, she
came too, groanin’ an’ droolin’, her eyes aflutterin’. But Balls
railed, “Aw, what the
hail!
”

“
What’s wrong, Balls?”
Dicky asked.

Balls were there on his
knees, his dirty pecker droopin’, an’ he were lookin’ down a might
disgusted. “You know what this cracker whore done, Dicky? She
done
shit!
”

Dicky frowned; he could see it in the
moonlight. Shore enough, she had, crapped herself a lumpy, runny
shit right there in the dirt.

“
Got some on my’s leg too,
the dirty whore!” Balls grabbed her long hair, shook her head
around to rouse her further. “What’s wrong with you, girl!
Ain’t’cha got no manners? Hail, only crackers shit thereselfs
whiles their gettin’ buttfucked!” He jerked her head some more,
whippin’ it back an’ forth. “An’ ya plumb shit on my leg ta
boot!”

Then he dragged her around. She
groaned steady now, her eyes propped open wide. “Dicky! Git the
pliers out the ’Mino! We’se got ta teach this here gal some
manners!”

Dicky did so, not even botherin’ ta
wonder, an’ cracked hisself open another beer.

“
Eat it, cracker!” Balls
demanded of her. He’d forced her face down right in front of her
shit. “Eat that poop right up like a good li’l whore.”

“
No!” she was finally able
to respond, hacking.

Balls chuckled. “Somehow I’se thought
you’d say that,” and then he took those pliers, stuck ’em right in
her back, an’ pinched up an inch’a skin. He squeezed the pliers
hard, givin’ a good twist.

The gal screamed so high’n hard,
Dicky’s hair almost stood on end.

“
Eat that shit,
girl!”

“
Nnnnnnnno! Ya cain’t make
me!”

“
Aw, shore I can, honey.”
Next, the pliers bit into the back of her thigh, and she screamed
again even louder.

“
Still ain’t gonna eat,
huh?” In the moonlight, Tritt Balls’ eyes looked devilish, his hair
hangin’ in front’a his face like a reg-lar redneck from hell. Next
thing he grabbed with them pliers was her pussy lips, an’ he
clamped down
real
hard this time, he did, and this time the gal screamed an’
hollered, “Okay okay, I’ll’se do it!”

An’ did it she did, all right. She put
her face right on down there an’ stared eatin’ her own
shit.

“
There ya go. Bet it tastes
good, huh, whore? Eat it all’s up an’ swaller it down. Hard-workin’
gal likes you
deserves
a good-sized helpin’ of hot viddles.”

Hackin’ an’ gaggin’, the
poor gal et it all up, she did. It weren’t much poop, but damned if
she didn’t lick up the last right up outa the dirt. So’s next Balls
chuckled some an’ said, “Dicky, that shore weren’t much of a meal,
ya know, an’ a growin’ gal like her, she needs proper
noo-trish-er-un, what with all that hard fuckin’ an’ cock-suckin’
she does ever-day. Comes on’s over here an’ drop trow. Pinch our
li’l cutie pie here a
big
loaf, yes sir!”

Dicky groaned to hisself. “Aw, come
ons, Balls, I don’t wanna—”

Balls’ face glared up mean as a
weasel. “What the hail’s wrong with you’a late, Dicky! You shore
are turnin’ inta a big creamcake!”

“
Aw…” Dicky smirked an’
moseyed on over, droppin’ his jeans an’ jockeys. He squated an’
pushed, bustin’ a few farts first, then pinched hisself out a
coupla big logs’a poop.

“
There ya go, honey,” Balls
announced, pushing her face down again. “Now
that’s
what I’se call a
meal!
”

Her face white as a ghost now, the
poor li’l hooker opened her yap an’ got ta eatin’ again. That first
poop she’d made herself weren’t nothin’ compared to Dicky’s big
logs! Steam flowed off’a ’em, ’n’fact, an’ bite by bite, she et ’em
up.

“
There, ain’t that better
now?” Balls made the inquiry. “Probably the first good meal ya had
in a long spell, I bet. But now that yer belly’s full, I reckon
ya’d like a good drink ta warsh all that good food down with, what
say?”

Balls flipped her back over and stood
up. Her head lolled, her mouth droopin’ open, showin’ brown teeth.
Then Balls leaned back, smilin’ like that evil smile’a his, and let
rip a long hard piss inta her wide-open yap. “Yeah, sweet thang.
Ain’t nothin’ like a good, cool drink on a hot night,
huh?”

Chrast,
Dicky thought.
We gotta
git outa here.
“Come ons, Balls. Let’s
roll. Just kill her so’s we’se kin be on our way.”

Balls was hitchin’ up his trousers
now, lookin’ kinda funky at Dicky. “What’choo talkin’ ’bout, boy?
What kinda dag bastard ya think I am? Ya think I’d leave a lady
here, all alone in the woods? No ways. The least we’se kin do is
drive her back down the road, huh?”

Dicky didn’t know what
Balls meant, ’ntil he watched what he did next. Balls grabbed the
gal again by her real long hair, he did, an’ he dragged her ta the
El Camino’s rear bumper. Now this gal’s hair, as were
preev-er-us-lee stated, was, like,
real
long, three foot at least, an’
what Balls did next was he tied that hair ta the trailer-hitch,
then fixed a big hose-clamp around the knot an’ screwed it down
good’n tight.

An’ what they did then was—

“
Yeah boy!” Balls whooped.
“We’se gonna have some
big
fun tonight!”

They went fer a
long
drive.

(III)

Charity’s earlier reservations—about
coming to the bar— diminished quickly with the introduction of
alcohol. Instead, her mental involvements shifted back to herself,
as they frequently did, to all the things about herself she didn’t
like, to all her failures. Her spirit felt dwarfed, sitting next to
Jerrica…

As the evening deepened, so did the
crowd; The Crossroads filled up with more of the same: rural
locals. Loud, rowdy, hard-drinking—sure. But not once did anyone
hassle them, harass them, try to put the moves on them. Every so
often, men would cast a glance their way, but Charity suspected
that their appraising gazes were more intended for Jerrica than
herself. The juke music played on, as did the billiards and dart
games, the laughter and drinking and high-spirits.