This is my story for Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge for this week. Details here… I had to choose two words for my title, one from one group of words, the second from a second group of words and tell that story in 1,500 words. I give you:
I knowed he’s trouble soon as I seen him. He strutted up into Sweet Kitty’s proud as a midget rooster with a full-size dong. I was on the pole, finishing my set, Def Leppard blasting on the sound system so loud my eyeballs was vibratin’. I couldn’t see him too clear yet, but the fumes off’a his cologne was enough to clear my visibility right quick. Tall with shaggy black locks that curled and caressed his neck like boy-fingers in a Catholic schoolgirl’s lap. His face wasn’t shaved, but not in a slobby way; sorta more in that sexified five o’clock shadow way. His eyes smoldered like coal and burned into my guts, making little hot beads of sweat pop out of my skin. I looked him up and down, my imagination taking his faded, shreddy blue jeans off, making pictures of his tipped over boots on the floor by my squeakin’ bed. He didn’t have to imagine me naked ‘cause I already was. He knowed exactly what he’s gettin’ in me and he smirked, the left corner of his mouth curled up and made his left eye squint up all sexy-like. He was givin’ me that same look now, ‘cept it weren’t sexy; somehow it came off sarcastic, like he’s laughin’ at me for bein’ stupid, like I shoulda knowed better. And I shoulda, but here we was, him standin’ there with my cousin Sheila’s hands in his, the pastor standin’ there rattlin’ on ‘bout God blessin’ their union together, and me standin’ there flummoxed and fumin’ as a fox in a empty hen house.
Sheila’d told me ‘bout her new man. Told me she and him’s fixin’ to start a family right away, despite they’d just met not long before. Fact, they’d already started it since she’s pregnant as she’s sayin’ it. I swear she was glowing just like the prego women say it happens. Sheila didn’t want no bastard child, though, and neither did her Pa, my uncle Sid. Nope, he seen the positive baby test in the bathroom trash and went and got his shotgun before knockin’ on her bedroom door and confrontin’ her about it, demandin’ she and her man make right about it. Ain’t no wonderin’ where the term ‘Shotgun Wedding’ came from when it’s so obviously painted like that right in front of your face. So there we’d sat, two booths down on the left inside the little diner down the street from Sweet Kitty’s. I was on in forty minutes so I’m watching the clock and she’s babbling about her man, saying how they’s getting’ hitched in a couple days and wouldn’t I be a bridesmaid with her, stand up in fronta God and everyone as they say their I do’s. I wanted to tell her I got a man, myself now, but I didn’t have time. Sheila was a talker and as riled up as this cat had got her, she didn’t shut up for a second that day, ‘cept long enough for me to say yes, I’d wear a stupid dress and hang out up at the pulpit with her.
We said our goodbyes outside the diner, Sheila huggin’ and slobberin’ all on me, then goin’ off to make plans for her life, me headin’ up to the Sweet Kitty to take my knickers off for the toothless, perverted afternoon crowd. Daniel, my boss, called it the ‘Tuna Sandwich Rush’. Said his afternoon customers wanted to look at tuna while eating their sandwich. I didn’t get it. I mean I knowed what he meant, I just didn’t get what naked pussy had to do with lunch or what the appeal of it was. Anyways, he hated when I showed up late and yelled and throwed stuff at me when I did, so I hustled it up there right quick. I got myself ready and as I came out of the tinsel draped over the dressing room door, I seen my man was seated at the stage and he slapped me on my ass as I went up.
“Lookin’ good today, babe. Lookin’ real good,” he said as his fingermarks turned red on my butt-cheek. Louis, the bald-headed gorilla what watched the door and the customers caught my eye and I shook my head, lettin’ him know he didn’t need to drag this one out back and put a whoopin’ on him.
“Careful, Billy,” I said. “Louis don’t like when my fans get touchy like that.” I couldn’t hear the next thing he said ‘cause AC/DC came screaming out the speakers overhead. I started moving my hips and reached behind my head to grip the pole, and his jaw was still flappin’ as I kicked my legs up and over and gripped the cold steel with my ankles. I bust off my top and throwed it at him and he caught it in his mouth. It fell out and went half in his drink as he hooted and hollered up a storm. Later, as he had me bent over the bathroom sink in his shitty little apartment, hips plungin’ away at my backside, he hollered in the same way. I was pretty sure we was in love. Then when we came at the same time, I was positive. It was true love. Had to be. After all, comin’ together don’t happen unless your souls are all matched up, least that’s what I heard. I had no idea then that he’d been bendin’ Sheila over this very same sink when he and I wasn’t together.
On the mornin’ of the weddin’, I was hangin’ back in Sheila’s bedroom, helpin’ her get her dress on and makin’ up her face and blowin’ out her hair. Cousin Heidi, Sheila’s little sister, was the Maid of Honor, but she weren’t really no help and doin’ nothin’ but blabberin’.
“Put on the blue eye shadow,” Heidi said. “No, wait! The green! That’ll be better than the blue. Green’s like money. That’ll get him hot. Boys love money.”
“Shut up, Heidi,” Sheila said. “I already got him hot. That’s why we’re doin’ this whole thing today. That’s why our little baby is growing right now in my belly. Don’t you know nothin’? A weddin’ s’posed to be a classy affair. Like the Grammy’s, or dinner at the Red Lobster.”
“Yeah, Heidi. Why don’t you go make sure Rufus got his tux on right or somethin’?” I said. Rufus was the ringbearer. He was also a pitbull and I’d right quick made his tux, shirt and bowtie out of some old black dress with a frilly white collar my dead grandma used to wear. The fabric was still strong and stiff, just like grandma’d been, even though the dress’d been hangin’ in the broom closet the last fifteen years. I wasn’t sure how exactly to measure a pitbull and was afraid it wouldn’t fit him right anyway. Seemed a good excuse to get Heidi out our faces and doin’ somethin’ other’n jaw flappin’. She finally shut her mouth and stomped out, slammin’ the door behind her. “God damn that girl can talk,” I said, and went back to rattin’ up Sheila’s bangs. Between blasts of AquaNet, I said: “You know, Sheila, I still ain’t met your man. Hell, you still ain’t even told me the stud’s name.”
When she said it, my heart sank a heap. “Billy,” she’d said all dreamy. “His name is Billy and he’s so handsome.” Now, I told myself it weren’t nothin’. I mean, plenty of fellas out there are named Billy. But what were the chances we both found a man named Billy? I tried to put it out of mind, hopin’ it couldn’t be and there’s a knock on the door and my Billy poked his head in.
“Hey, babe. Let’s light this candle, huh? You comin’ down or what?” He didn’t see me at first. Sheila answered him, but I didn’t hear it ‘cause blood was boilin’ in my ears. As he pulled his head out the door, our eyes caught and he smiled like there wasn’t nothin’ wrong. Well there was and I was gonna show them exactly what. I hit my uncle Sid’s gun cabinet on the way out to the yard where their happy little weddin’ gazebo was set up.
Now they was sayin’ their vows, but before the ‘I do’ part, I whipped uncle Sid’s shotgun from under the frills of my dress and opened up the back of Sheila’s head. Blood and brain bits speckled Billy’s face and all our family and friends hit the dirt screamin’. I’d killed my cousin and covered my man in her skull innards, terrified my family in the process, but I didn’t care. After all, most everybody’s got a cousin. Hell, I got plenty more cousins beside Sheila, but it ain’t often a backwoods stripper-girl like me finds true love.
For more of my fiction, check out ‘Cadaver Dogs: Ultimate Edition’ here…