Robert Devereaux - Babys First Book of Seriously Fucked-up Shit

DEADITE PRESS

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PORTLAND, OR 97211

www.DEADITEPRESS.com

AN ERASERHEAD PRESS COMPANY

www.ERASERHEADPRESS.com

ISBN: 1-936383-50-0

Showdown at Stinking Springs original y appeared in Hustler Fantasies.

Clap If You Believe originally appeared in Crank.

Ridi Bobo originally appeared in Weird Tales.

Lil Miss Ultrasound originally appeared in Gathering the Bones.

Bucky Goes to Church originally appeared in MetaHorror.

Fructus in Eden originally appeared in Pulphouse.

One Flesh: A Cautionary Tale originally appeared in Iniquities.

The Slobbering Tongue That Ate the Frightfully Huge Woman originally appeared in It Came from the Drive-In.

Holy Fast, Holy Feast originally appeared in Mondo Zombie.

Cover art copyright 2011 Sebastien Grenier www.SEBASTIEN-GRENIER.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Printed in the USA.

OTHER BOOKS BY ROBERT DEVEREAUX

Deadweight

Walking Wounded

Santa Steps Out

Santa Claus Conquers the Homophobes Caliban and Other Tales

A Flight of Storks and Angels

Slaughterhouse High

To the creative spirit in us all.

Our damnation if we ignore it,

Our salvation if we embrace, nurture, And set it free to dance

Beneath sun and stars.

Away with all bushel baskets!

CONTENTS

Showdown at Stinking Springs ...........................9

Clap If You Believe ................................................22

Ridi Bobo .................................................................32

Lil Miss Ultrasound .............................................42

Bucky Goes to Church ..........................................61

Fructus in Eden .....................................................76

One Flesh: A Cautionary Tale ...........................88

The Slobbering Tongue That Ate the Frightfully Huge Woman ........................................................100

Holy Fast, Holy Feast .........................................118

Showdown at

Stinking Springs

Tiffany knocked. She heard someoneher subject, she guessed, though the step seemed too spryapproach the door and snap open the locks. The ornate brass doorknob eased about.

Kyle Hardwicks weather-beaten face caught Tiffany by surprise, it glowed so with life. More like a horny teenagers, those eyes of his, than a man about to celebrate his hundred and twentieth year. His skin was cracked and scored like old parchment. Some boyhood disfigurement had marked the flesh from his nose to the shell-curve of his ears, as if a shockwave of some sort had blasted it.

By my reckoning, youd be the lovely Miss Walker, oral historian extraordinaire , he said in tones rich with the sounds of sagebrush and rawhide.

His eyes danced like campfires, his voice as thick and downhome as hickory smoke. Kyles face, she thought, might even be considered handsome in a perverse geriatric way. A thrill coursed through her. If his memories and the telling of them lived up to this preamble, she might come away with not just something for her archives but an honest-to-God spoken-word recording. She might even spark the interest of a documentarian, a pro like Chip Kendall, whom she had met and bedded in Waco at a conference the summer before.

I like your apartment, Mr. Hardwick.

He dismissed it with a gesture. It serves. Live long enough, one apartments like the next. Wont you kindly take 9

Robert Devereaux

a seat here by the window? Gives you a choice view of the traffic down below. You can set your player on this footstool.

Outlets over yonder.

Thanks, Mr. Hardwick.

Welcome. And call me Kyle. All my woman friends do.

Got lots of em, I do, sweet Tiffany, but theres always room for another. Particularly one with a saucy rump like yours, thighs just made for a mans caress, and a bosom anyoned be proud to tongue to two stiff blushing points.

Tiffany, taken aback, was more amused than shocked. She put on mock-anger. Why, sir, youd best mind your manners.

Sense of humor. I like that. His eyes twinkled. Us old codgers, were as cute and cuddly as snug buttons. Dont go denying it. It lets us get away with talking like that, cause we dont have time to waste skirting around the truth. The truth is, I want you Tiffany Walker, and I mean to have you.

She laughed at the audacity of it. Even so, she felt a rush overwhelm her womanhood, moisten it, make it swell in a way she thought absurd. Well, Kyle, lets get to the business at hand, shall we? You promised(here she pressed Record)

as the sole survivor of the fire that destroyed the town of Stinking Springs, New Mexico, summer of 1882, to relate exactly what happened that day.

That I did.

He gave Tiffany a wry wink, leaned forward on the sofa, gnarled hands knuckled between his knees, and launched into his narrative.

Everyone, began Kyle, has heard of Paul Bunyan, who scooped out the Great Lakes to quench the thirst of Babe, his big blue ox. And theyve heard of Pecos Bill, raised by coyotes, a fellow they say threw fistfuls of fishhooks into his liquor to give it that extra zing.

But few know anything about Hefty Jake Gentry, the hardest-humping, biggest-balled, thickest-dicked darling of all of Western womanhood at the time whereof I speak.

And fewer still have heard of Lily Mae Dalton, captured while yet a virgin by a band of Mimbres Apache warriors 10

Babys First Book of Seriously Fucked-Up Shit gone dishonorable, compelled thereafter into a savage love of manflesh, but freed by her own burgeoning appetites. Those braves could break the wildest mustang that bucked and weaved beneath them, but they were no match for Lily Mae when she threw off the shackles of civilized behavior and let free the fire in her belly. To speak plain, she fucked those boys to death she did. When the dust had cleared and Lily gentled her sweat-soaked body down from the heights of orgasm, she was amazed and dismayed to find dead red corpses sprawled everywhere, young and muscular and grinning to beat the band, but dead as dead could be. What was worse to Lily, not yet quite fulfilled, was that their dark dicks hung limp between their thighs, never to stiffen nor thrust again.

From the latter part of the 70s up to their demise on the main street of Stinking Springs in 82, Hefty Jake Gentry and Lily Mae Dalton proved the bane of tiny towns struggling to poke their heads above soil and sprout into bigger ones.

Hefty Jake would ride into town, his pecker as proud and tall as a flagpole behind his saddlehorn, and all the womenfolkd swarm into the streets, their fingers flying this way and that, tearing off dresses and underthings and flinging themselves down, open and ready, onto billows of muslin and calico. A great keening would fly up into the sky from scores of needy mouths. White arms were flung wide to welcome him in, and whiter thighs as well. The menfolk? They just stood by drained and helpless while virile Jake strode and poked, stroked and sucked, tilled and plowed and Johnny-Appleseeded his way up and down the street. The foolhardy soul who dared go for his gun took one bullet betwixt the eyes and another through the groin for his pains, but Hefty Jake never missed a stroke as he gunned those crazy cockwielders down. Trouble was, the ladies ended up being sated a lifetimes worth. And the men?