log-like legs, and sunk his genitals right deep up Bob’s back-end.
“Yeah, there ya go,” Enoch grunted, humping on the table. The table bowed.
Bob regained consciousness a rather hasty fashion, screaming like a truck horn.
“Sorry, fella,” Esau sniggered at Carol, “but my Grandpa likes a wiener roast just like anyone,” and he drew a sharp boning knife very quickly up Carol’s perineum, two fast swipes upward at an angle, one side, then the next. A few more slices along the top and around the scrotum, and he was removing the entirety of Carol’s very male genitalia from the base of the root. Carol gargled her horror, flipped and flopped against the bare wood wall, feet kicking madly. The blood
“That’s it,” Esau said with pride, holding up the cleanly severed works. “Think I’ll marinate it in some yakisoba sauce fer an hour or so.” He tossed the cock and balls into a plastic bucket..
“And those big ol’ titties?” he celebrated. “They’ll come in handy later!”
Enoch’s big body remained atop of Bob’s back, pumping and pumping, while Bob was puking and puking. “Yeah, boy, I’se kin tell ya had it up the ass before. Guess yer one’a them queer-boy city faggots, huh? Yeah…” Enoch pumped harder and harder, then buckled and came. And he came, it should be added, in considerable volume. “Cain’t help the last part, Tubby,” he said through a chuckle. “See, I’se a little different.”
By now, of course, it didn’t matter much to Bob; he was already unconscious again and suffering from horrendous internal bleeding. So the revelation was moot.
When Enoch withdrew his “cock” from Bob’s rectal vault, this same withdrawal pulled something out along with it: most of Bob’s large intestine.
It lay there between his spread legs like a fat coil of dark dough. The reason that Enoch had been able to yank out Bob’s lower g.i. tract with his penis was fairly simple when one calculated the most obvious point: Enoch’s “cock” was a bit more than that.
It was a tentacle, red-tipped and complete with suckers. Several feet long in its excited state. In this case, it was a diminutive egress in the tip from which Enoch pissed and ejaculated. And just as Esau had only one testicle, Enoch had none. His spermatic ducts were internal, just like that of an octopus.
Both brothers, in other words, were genetic freaks, in varying stages of evolution. Esau had something more semblant of a dick—however lumpen—Enoch had something a bit more close to his chromosomal home.
A tentacle.
“I say,
Carol now hung dead by her impaled hands. And Bob lay belly-down, just as dead.
“Yes sir!” Enoch continued. “This was more fun than that them three little bitches came through here on spring break last year. Hell, that little redhead lasted almost a week. I still think she would’ve hung on a while longer if you didn’t keep sticking your whole hand up her.
“I know, I know, A retorted his brother. “It just feels really cool when you got your whole arm up their pussies and you can feel around all that squishy stuff inside. Shit, you flex your fingers around up in there an you can even pull some stuff out.”
Enoch recalled the three girls somewhat wistfully. They’d gotten off the old highway by mistake and were driving around half-stoned looking for somewhere to buy beer when they’d come over to the bait shop. Two of them had died almost immediately under the brothers’ ministrations. But that redhead?
They’d stuck ten-penny nails through her tits’n twisted ’em like handles, they did. Blood squirted out like water from a fuckin’ faucet.
“But the fun’s over fer now,” Enoch reminded. “You find that stringbean gal with the trout cookin’ in her cunt, and ya also fetch that other chick. They’se both still on the island. Me? I’ll go ashore and take care’a the cook.”
Esau winced. “He ain’t a cook, Enoch. He’s a
“Whatever.” Enoch was about to leave. He pointed down to Darren who scrabbled on the ground with his cut knees. “Ya better take care’a that ’un there. Don’t want him gittin’ out again.”
“In a jiffy,” Esau said. His boning knife flashed, and in all of two seconds, he had slit open the shit-covered boy’s belly open—
“Jab-nab-hoo-glap…”
—and expertly removed the twenty-pound distended liver, snipping off the hepatic veins like strands of wet vermicelli yarn.
“Braaaaaa-lab,” Darren uttered and died. Blood filled up the hole in his gut like a punch bowl full of Cherry Smash.
Esau flopped the liver down on the table. “Sliced Foi Gras stuffed with scallions and buttered shad roe! I think I’ll hang him in the smoker, after marinating in his shit the skin ought to have a real nice tang to it!”
Enoch shook his head. “I dunno, I was sorta hoping you might be able to barbeque some ribsY”
“Enoch, that’s so
“I’ll bring him back in one piece, but you know we can’t let him go. Hell, we don’t wanna have to move again. Remember Grandpa telling us ’bout all the trials and tribulations he had before he settled in here?”
Esau looked at Darren’s shit-smeared corpse with visions of setting out a feast that even the master chef would be astounded by. Feeling a burst of inspiration, he took a large cleaver off the shelf and with two deft strokes severed Darren’s head.
“What’d you that fer?” Enoch seemed genuinely puzzled by the decapitation.
“It’s like you said, you do the procurin’ and I do the cookin’.” With that Esau seized a five-pound sledge hammer off the shelf and with a single downward blow cracked the cranium open as easy as splitting a breadfruit. “You hurry and find Mr. Morrone, I’ll fix us up some brain souffle for a snack!”
— | — | —
Chapter Thirteen
His chest was wet and sticky; had he puked on himself? Gingerly he touched his chest and almost screamed at the sudden pain. It felt like his whole body was one massive hematoma. Ashton Morrone sat still, trying to remember what had happened to him. All he knew for sure was that he hurt like hell and that he had to piss. Standing up seemed like an enormously painful undertaking; Ashton just wasn’t ready for such an endeavor, so he simply relaxed and let his bladder empty, feeling the warm flow pool underneath him, soaking his slacks.
As the tart smell of his piss reached his nostrils, memory flooded back. He’d been shot, and he should be dead… Galvanized to action by the realization that he was perhaps critically injured Ashton stood up and clutched at his breast. The book tumbled out from his inner pocket, embedded in the thick leather were two tiny bullets. The third had gone completely and penetrated his skin. Touching it ever so gently he could see it just under his skin, an angry black spot in the midst of a circle of burned and bruised tissue. Ashton laughed in spite of the ripples of pain that his chortling sent roiling through him.
The book on crackjaw eels had saved him! That and his own ample girth, a thinner man’s breastbone would’ve cracked like an eggshell.
That effete, mincing bastard had actually tried to kill him for the fucking eels! Why, when he got back to Seattle, he’d own the son-of-a-bitch!
Stopping only to take a cleaver from the cutlery drawer, Ashton stumbled into the night, wincing with every step. He’d find that redneck kid and tell him what happened. After all, he was the guy’s hero, Isiah or whatever his
