yame

first edition numbered chapbook

YOU ARE MY EVERYTHING "You Are My Everything"
© 2009 by Edward Lee

cover art
© 2009 by Erik Wilson

this edition September 2009 © Necro Publications

YOU ARE MY EVERYTHING is offered as a 500-copy signed and numbered limited edition softcover chapbook as well as a 52-copy signed and lettered limited edition hardcover.

First Edition Chapbook

ISBN: 978-1-889186-86-3

book design
&
typesetting:

David G. Barnett

Fat Cat Design

www.fatcatgraphicdesign.com

a Necro Publication

5139 Maxon Terrace

Sanford, FL 32771

www.necropublications.com

Printed by

Publishers' Graphics

Carol Stream, IL

Your name is Easter Cutler. You are fifty years old and you've lived in the hills your entire life. You've lived right, you've lived honest, and you've always treated others as you'd want them to treat you. You live off the land and make your own clothes, you cook for your family on a wood stove, and you've always had a smile. A smile of gratitude.
Ever dang day we'se still walkin' and talkin', Easter...now THAT'S a day ta be grateful fer,
Grandpop Orne had always said, and you believed him.

Until now.

Until you looked through that crack in your own bedroom door.

You have a unique way of re-issuing your rage and your heartbreak via rationalization and, you suppose, Grandpop Orne's very edict; and though there's a tear in your eye when you look through that crack, you think,
All men're the same when you git right down to it. All silly'n ever-lovin' HORNY. Cain't control their urges fer the life of 'em...

What you see is this: your forty-two-year-old husband, Noot, engaged in aggressive intercourse with your twenty-year-old daughter, Linette, but, quite uncannily, you find something positive to observe.
Well at least he ain't low-down enough ta fuck her in our own bed.
Instead, he's standing at the end of the hand-made dresser while the twenty-year-old lay back trim, sweating, and nude on the dresser-top. Her ankles are locked behind Noot's back, and for a full minute, you watch his brute, rhythmic strokes. What bothers you more than the blaring incest are the greedy grins on their faces
—that and the cyclic wet
slapping,
the sound of his balls slapping the bottom of your daughter's vagina.

Oh, Noot,
you think, again
re-issuing
your despair into something like a scold.
You are my everything, honey. Don't'cha know that? And now lookit what'cher doin'. Fuckin' yer own daughter just 'cos you always been so dag-blasted HOT fer a nut. See? See what the evil world's got you doin'?

"Gawd, Daddy," Linette seethes through her gritted teeth as the over-large penis bangs in and out. "I just love you, like, so much..."

"Yeah, baby, yeah," the sweating man grunts.

slap-slap-slap

"That dang cooter on you feels a hunnert times better'n yer Mama's..."

Another tear wells.

"How'se many fellas you blow at the 'Waller today?" Noot asks amidst the rhythm.

"Twenny-six."

"Good, that's enough fer two hits
—

slap-slap-slap

—you swaller it all?"

A lewd grin as her eyes close and her back arches. "Uh-huh..."

"Why you li'l fuck-face, you," and then he chuckles. "That's my girl. Like I'se always teached ya, if'n yer gonna do something? Ya do it
right.
And I'se like the
idea,
ya know?"

"The idea? What'cha mean?"

"The idea'a all them fellas' cum in yer gut, and all'a
my
cum in yer pussy..."

"Oh, Daddy! Yer so silly!"

More slapping, more grunts. Noot's rhythm picks up.

"But ya better hurry, Daddy," Linette advises, concentrating more deeply upon the sensations. "Mama could walk in any minute."

slap-slap-slap

"Naw, won't be home fer a few more hours, she tolt me so. We'se'll have time ta do a hit and problee even fuck again. Yer Mama's up at Dory Ann Slate's makin'
doilies
or some shit, she say."

Linette chirps out a laugh.
"Doilies?"

"Yeah, like I believe
that,"
Noot chuckles. "What they'se really doin' problee is lickin' each other's big ole wored out pussies, and I hope they'se got clothespins on their nose while they'se doin' it."

"Daddy!"

slap-slap-slap

Linette giggles. "What'cha...what'cha think she'd do if...ya know... If she found
out?"

"Aw, I'se wouldn't worry 'bout it none. Yer Mama's a very understandin' gal, and she so fuckin' up'n
love
with me, she'd likely not say a word. Shit, I been fuckin' her over
twenny years
now. She know full well a fella's gotta have some new pussy on occasion, 'specially now that she's gittin'old'n startin' ta sag. It's just the way things is..."

slap-slap-slap

Now the tears begin
rolling
down your face, but even as you watch, you know that it's true, and you even smile.
I love him more'n life itself. He's my everything...

The rhythm turns frenetic. Noot's trim, well-muscled body
shines
with sweat. "I'se gittin' ready ta git it, baby! Come on, sit up now like ya do..."

"No," she says haughtily. "Not till you say it."

Noot's lust-twisted face frowns. "Say
what?"

"Say ya love me."

"Aw, shee-it, Linette, you know I love you..."

"Say ya love me more'n ya love my Mama!"

Noot heaves an exerted sigh. "Well, fuck, girl, okay! I up'n love ya more'n I love yer Mama!"

"That's better!" and then she sits up.

"Yeah, yeah, baby... Now reach 'round like ya do'n git yer finger up my butt so's I'se can come real good..."

Linette giggles, spits on her finger, reaches around
—

"Yeah, yeah... Like that... Git it up'n there deep
— shee-it, I'se gonna fill yer li'l pussy
up,
I am..."

slap-slap-slap

And that's when you walk in, raise the pistol, and
—

"I-I...yeah! There it goes!"

BAM!

The room
thuds.
Linette shrieks high and loud at the same moment half of Noot's cranial volume blows out the right side of his head and hits the wall like a handful of Sloppy Joe. The nude man collapses to the floor, eyes staring, lips still moving. His incestuous erection ejects strings of sperm even as more blood-marbled brains pour out of his head. Then his eyes slowly close.

Linette's screams switch off and on like a motor revving, as your well-toned muscles easily drag her slender body off the dresser to the bed. She fights with all her might, but all her might is all for nothing. In only a matter of moments, you've sufficiently wrestled her down and hog-tied her.

"Mama, please! Don't shoot me!"

In spite of everything, you still
smile.
"Honey, I'll admit, I ain't the happiest woman around right now, but
—gracious! Shoot you? Linette, I
love
you. Fer land's sake, girl! I ain't gonna shoot you."

The girl bawled outright. "I'se sorry, Mama! I'se sorry, but-but, see? He
made me
do it!"

You smirk gently, and walk around the bed. She's your flesh and blood, and, yes, you
do
love her. But you also know that in all of life's convolutions...
Sometimes love ain't enough.
You root through Linette's trampy cut-off shorts and find precisely what you already know is there. "So this is it here? This li'l thing?" A small glass pipe.

Linette's eyes go frightfully wide.

"This what'choo use ta smoke that evil stuff you got Noot 'dicted to?"

"No, no, Mama! It's him who got
me
hooked on it, I'se swear!"

From the shorts you've also withdrawn a wad of crumpled bills which you flip through now. You can't read, but you can definitely count. "Fifty-six dollars, hmm. So that's what'cha get fer suckin' off all them boys?"

"No, Mama!"

"You're doin' it ever dang
day's
what I hear. Blowin' whole
room-fulls'a
fellas
—"

"I do it only 'cuz Noot makes me! That's what he use ta buy the crystal!"

You don't hear her. "So that's what'cher whole life's come to. This
—" you wag the bills at her. "Whorin' yerself."

"It was
Noot!
It was
Noot!
"

You sit down on the bed next to her. "Honey, relax. Ever-one got problems in this world. Now Noot, I know full well he had some misgivin's, and that big dick'a his been gettin' him inta mischief fer even longer'n we'se been married. But that's just their
natures,
Linette. That's just how fellas're made. And deep down in his heart, 'fore he got 'dicted ta that stuff, Noot was a good person." You look right at your trussed and straining daughter. "You, on the other hand, ain't
never
been a good person, and that's just how it is sometimes. Ain't no reason fer it. Don't got nothin' ta do with how you was raised or where ya lived or who ya been exposed to, you's're just a
bad person.
It's how you was born
—

"No, Mama!"

"I loved Noot more'n all else on this earth, dear. He was my
everything..."
You continue to smile warmly at her. "And now you go'n muss it all up
—

"Aw, Mama,
please!
I'se
sorry!"

You pat her cheek. "Don't
worry,
baby. I ain't blamin' you
—like I said, the way people is ain't always their fault..."

The bed jerks from Linette's hitching sobs.

You turn to the door. "Blubber? Why'n'choo come on in now?"

Slow steady thuds thunk into the room, and with those thuds come a pungent stench, like armpits, unwashed crotches, urine, feces-smeared underpants, the clefts of dirty butt-cracks
—all those odors distilled down to one.

Blubber Smitts stands in the doorway, mouth open as if waiting for something. He's barefoot, cockeyed, and bald. He's possessed of numerous congenital defects, while some glandular disorder has made him obese, with a mammoth belly pushing out beneath the overalls he has likely never changed. Satchels of fat on his chest look like a slovenly woman's breasts; more satchels dangle under his arms, and there's even a staircase of fat rolls climbing up his neck. One iris is red, the other brown. He has no body hair at all, and his lower lip sags fat as a piece of kielbasa.

"Hi, there, Blubber," you say. "Thanks fer doin' that work fer me."

Blubber stares at Linette, and utters something like, "Gug-gug-gurrrrwwwwww'l come..."

Linette wails, "Mama! What you bring that big dirty retart in here for? He stinks ta high Heaven! He ain't warshed ever in his life!"

"Now don't'cha go bad-mouthin'," you say. "Blubber's just diffurnt, honey, 'cos what nature deal him were a tad less than it deal ta most'a us. See, his mama were a alkee and drunk all the time she were pregnant with the boy, so it buggered him all up. But he's a
nice
boy
—

Linette rocks in her bonds. "He's a big dirty fat
cracker,
Mama! He's a white-trash retart who lives in a old out-house! He eats skunks'n bullfrogs raw
—I seen him! I even seen him eat
possum
shit! And he walk 'round in the woods all day'n night playin' with hisself! He eats his own
nut,
Mama! Why you bring him here?"

You keep smiling in spite of her rancor. Yes, Linette is such an awful person to harbor all this ill-will against someone so unfortunate. "I hired Blubber ta do some work fer me, is all."