Jeff Jacobson - Wormfood

Junior slid out of the booth, gently pulling on Misty’s leash. “I want you to watch this. Maybe you can learn something.” Drawn by the leather leash, she rose to her feet. Junior gripped Misty’s waist, pivoted her so she was facing Fat Ernst and Pearl, then pulled her back against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, watching with her. His hands crept forward around her hips and slid into her front pockets. “Ma’s the best. The best .”

Junior couldn’t see Misty’s face. But I could. She glanced at Pearl kneeling on the floor between Fat Ernst’s knees, then looked me dead in the eye. Her face was blank, cold. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Such a big, strong man,” Pearl breathed, flicking her long tongue out to lick Fat Ernst’s white briefs. Fat Ernst didn’t look too happy. Like me, I think he wished Pearl would just jam that blackened fingernail back in his eye instead. But she kept licking at his white underwear like she was attacking a large vanilla ice cream cone. She fiercely clutched the top of his left thigh, rolling her head around like a snake rising out of a wicker basket. She darted her head forward, licking at the front of Fat Ernst’s underwear, then pulled back for some more head rolling.

Despite himself, I’m sure, a bulge started to grow in the front of Fat Ernst’s underwear.

The left side of Pearl’s face crinkled up in satisfaction, and she applied more pressure to her licking, dragging her tongue up and down the bulge in slow, gliding movements. Finally, she slid her right hand back up his thigh and worked her fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down, releasing Fat Ernst’s penis.

Fat Ernst had the biggest dick I had ever seen.

Don’t get me wrong here. It’s not like I’ve seen a lot of guys’ dicks or penises or anything—or even want to—but, Jesus, this thing was huge. It looked like a telephone pole was erupting out of his pants. “Please don’t,” Fat Ernst said in a strangled voice.

“Don’t what?” Pearl said slyly, staring up at him with her good eye.

Fat Ernst gritted his teeth.

Junior slowly pulled his hands out of Misty’s front pockets and slid his palms up her stomach, inch by inch, until he was cupping her breasts. Misty’s expression never changed. Junior stuck his tongue in her ear and wriggled it around like a fat worm. I vowed to cut his goddamn tongue out if I ever got the chance.

“You want me, don’t you? You want this, don’t you? Don’t you?” Pearl opened her mouth wide, flicking her pink tongue up and against his dick. “Tell me. Tell me where it is and I’ll suck you off until you explode.” Then she took Fat Ernst in her mouth and suddenly I found I could close my eyes.

The slurping sounds didn’t help.

“Tell me where it is!” I heard Pearl say, panting a little.

No answer.

More slurping.

After a couple more long seconds, I heard “Tell me!” again. “Tell me where the buckle is and I’ll finish you off, big boy.” Pearl paused for emphasis. “And I’ll swallow .”

I’ll admit it, I peeked. Pearl was on her knees, staring up at Fat Ernst, right hand wrapped around his dick, giving him that lopsided smile.

“Fuck you, you ugly old bitch,” Fat Ernst said, spitting little flecks of blood into the air as he spoke. “I don’t care what the fuck you do, you ain’t getting jack shit outta me.”

Pearl froze.

Just for a second. Then she nodded. But the lopsided grin never left. She opened her mouth wide, and I suddenly feared that she was just gonna bite Fat Ernst’s dick right off. Instead, she said in a low voice, “Junior, get your ass over here.”

Junior stopped kneading Misty’s breasts. “But, Ma …” he whined. “I was just getting started.”

“You mind your mother,” Pearl snapped. “Less you want to sleep with the hogs again. Besides,” she said, not taking her eyes off of Fat Ernst. “We get that buckle, and I’ll let you take her home.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course. You can keep her as long as you want. This flood here, nobody’ll know what happened to her. If you’re careful, she’ll last weeks, maybe even months, if you’re extra damn careful.”

Junior licked at Misty’s eye and whispered, “You stay right here now. I’ll be back right quick.” He pushed her down into the booth and left the end of the leash on the table.

Misty gave him a smile I hoped was fake.

“Drag that goddamn deputy back in here. Find out if we caught anything,” Pearl said and let go of Fat Ernst’s dick. She put her hand on his thigh for support and pushed herself to her feet. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” She didn’t zip his pants back up, and that made me nervous.

Junior and Bert yanked on Ray’s cowboy boots and slid the body back inside. Once Ray’s head cleared the doorframe, Bert dropped the leg and sank into a nearby chair. His face had gone nearly totally white, and he kept scratching at the skin around the top of the cast, where his arm joined his shoulder.

“You got your knife?” Pearl demanded, leaning on her cane, still standing between Fat Ernst’s knees.

Bert nodded feebly, working his fingers under the top of the cast.

“Junior. Cut his head off.”

That got Fat Ernst’s attention. His eyes snapped open, jerking up to Pearl’s face. She grinned back down at him. “You had your chance,” was all she said. The muscles in Fat Ernst’s arms tensed, and fresh droplets of blood started rolling down his wrists, the backs of his hands, collecting in small puddles on the floor.

Misty methodically twisted and rotated her wrists, still bound in the extension cord. I kept staring at her, but she wouldn’t look up.

Junior bent over, plucked the huge Rambo knife out of Bert’s boot, and sank to his knees by Ray’s head. Ray’s legs were pointing toward me, and I couldn’t see much. Junior cocked his head for a moment, studying Ray’s long, crooked neck, readjusted his grip on the knife, then brought it down like he was pounding on a stubborn nail. He sawed the knife back and forth for a moment, and a dark pool of blood began to grow under Ray’s shoulders.

After a couple of seconds of sawing, Ray’s head rolled lazily away from his body and came to a stop, resting on the left cheek and ear.

“Bring it on over here,” Pearl said, waving Junior over.

Junior drove the tip of Bert’s knife into the table. Bert looked like he wanted to focus on the quivering handle, but his eyes wouldn’t work right. Junior picked up Ray’s head by the thinning hair, holding it out as if Ray wanted to keep an eye on the floor, and carried it over to Fat Ernst’s chair.

Ray’s eyes were closed. His mouth was open, fat tongue hanging limply between his teeth. His eyes had nearly disappeared inside his orbits, as if they had been pushed aside, driven deeper into the skull. The huge Adam’s apple had been raggedly severed in half.

“Well, well, well. Let’s see what we caught here,” Pearl said, taking Ray’s head by the hair. She dangled it in front of Fat Ernst’s face for a moment. The fingers on her ruined left hand stretched out, forcing Ray’s jaws open even farther. The thumb and forefinger slithered inside, pushing the tongue out of the way. She yanked the head away from her chest with her right arm, and there, pinched between the thumb and forefinger of her ruined hand, was a worm. Maybe three inches long, slick with blood and slime, squirming and twisting between Pearl’s two fingers.

Pearl flung Ray’s head at me. I flinched and jerked out of the way as it hit the bar and bounced into my lap. I bucked, kicked it down the bar, yelling something, and looked frantically down at my T-shirt. No worms, thank God. Nothing had crawled out of his head.