Edward Lee: Family Tradition

Another twig snapped, this one sounding like a small firecracker and suddenly a huge frame hove into view. The man was no more than a dozen feet away, and he was sniffing the air like a dog, slowly turning back and forth as though to catch an elusive scent.

“I can smell you’re around here somewhere’s, ain’t no mistaking the smell of bloody pussy n’ fresh trout!” The monster chuckled and seemed to look right through the foliage directly at her.

Fox! Fox! came her insane plea. Where are you?

“ You just sit tight, I’ll be back for you soon enough. Right now I’ve gotta find me a master chef!”

Without another word he turned and headed off the way he’d come. Mavis shuddered and reached down to remove what turned out to be the biggest millipede she’d ever seen from its bloody nest in her pubic hair. Not daring to make any other movement, she sat in the darkness wishing that someone would come for her, someone to rescue her.

At this point, even the Lone Gunmen would be okay…

««—»»

Sheree fought the urge to gag, the miasma rising from the boat almost knocked her over. She just couldn’t get in the boat with that stuff in there. Sheree had seen some disgusting things in her time—you didn’t do all those porno loops without seeing some pretty scatological acts performed a time or two—but this was different, these were intestines and stomachs surmounted by a black cloud of buzzing flies and gnats. Sheree turned away from the sight. There had to be another way off the island besides trying to swim in the chill lake water. The lingering buzz of the Bebo acid seemed to give everything a sharp edge of clarity; if only her thoughts would quit running together so quickly, maybe she could figure out what to do.

Sherre gingerly made her way along the shoreline, looking back over her shoulder to ensure that whatever had left the steaming piles of viscera in the boat wasn’t following her. The fear-charged adrenaline in her system seemed to kick the acid into a second wave of hallucinogenic bliss: the forest wasn’t that bad, the clouds of gnats buzzing about seemed to give off pleasant little sparks of energy as she half-heartedly tried to brush them away. The splashes from the lake that had seemed so ominous a short time ago seemed friendly and inviting. Why, if the lake weren’t so cold she’d go for a swim.

The thought of floating in water seemed stimulating somehow. Sheree imagined herself lying in a warm pool as Carol held her legs spread apart and thrust her cock into her. Sheree closed her eyes momentarily, letting her hand drop to her crotch and…

SPPPLLAAAATTT!

She fell face first into a shallow pool of mud. The impact jarred her back to a harsh reality. Carol was gone. Bob was gone. There was a skinny girl with a fish in her pussy running around. Worse, there was a madman covered in shit running amok on the island. She had to get the hell out of here and find the police or a ranger or somebody… The acid buzz had receded a bit, washed away by the cool lake-mud that covered her from head to toe. She struggled to her feet, wiping grayish-brown mud out of her eyes.

There it was.

Bobbing in the lake like a yellow cork.

A raft.

Thannnk God!

It was only about twenty feet from the shore. One would have to row it, but that was infinitely preferable to ferrying across the lake in the company of the two piles of innards and the buzzing hosts of predatory insects. Sheree looked around for a long stick to drag the raft to the shore. There was a long branch on the ground, just the thing. Sheree bent to pull the branch loose from the underbrush, reaching for it with both hands. Stifling a scream she fell back into the mud as the branch writhed in her hands as a flat triangular head turned to regard her balefully from two yellow, ophidian eyes.

Fuck!

The snake was apparently no happier to see Sheree than she was to see it. It slithered quickly through the bushes, leaving its new-found acquaintance shuddering in the mud.

Sheree looked back toward the raft and its promise of freedom, or if not freedom, at least escape from this mad realm of tree-branches turning into snakes, hillbilly chefs, beautiful women with huge cocks, and shit-covered lunatics. It was all just too much. Gritting her teeth against the chill of the water, Sheree waded out toward the raft. Things brushed against her legs, things that she couldn’t quite make out in the murky water, but things that somehow didn’t feel quite right… The water was shallow enough here that she didn’t actually have to swim to the boat—she could pretty much wade to it in the chest-deep water.

Grabbing the raft was elating. Here was the way out! Just as quickly as her hopes had risen they sank as she looked into the raft and saw that somewhere along the line the oars had disappeared. All that was in the raft were some empty packages of Hostess Suzy-Q’s, pork rinds and…

A shotgun!

First the raft, now a weapon! Maybe there really was a God.

But now she was faced with a serious choice. Get in the raft and go, or—

Sheree grabbed the shotgun, waded ashore, and set off back toward the shacks.

I’m gonna find out just what the FUCK is going on!

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Chapter Fourteen

Esau licked the traces of brain-cream off his fingers and reached for the container of mace. Nodding to Darren he remarked, “Can’t make a good souffle without a touch of mace ya know? Ya can have your salt, pepper, even some garlic and coriander, but without a touch of mace it just ain’t right.”

Darren’s crushed head was quite beyond showing any degree of appreciation for the culinary arts being demonstrated by Esau.

Esau loved having someone to talk to as he cooked, even if that someone was a crushed head. He continuedY “The other thing that’s important is ya need some lard. Fortunately we got that girl with the big titties there, I’ll scoop some of that suet outta her boobs and we’ll be all set.” Esau was enjoying himself thoroughly; this was almost like having your own cooking show, just like Mr. Morrone. Helping himself to a big glass of cooking sherry, he toasted Carol’s corpse dangling from the wall and bowed expansively. To no one in particular he continued his monologue.

“A bit of the bubbly, and now we get our suet, the fresher the better.” He squeezed one of Carol’s large breasts. “This’ll do perfectly!” Making a deep incision, Esau began scooping out yellowish fatty tissue, but first out came the implants. “Yeah, a city gal,” he remarked, then chuckled when he remembered what he’d carved out of her groin. “Er, sorta!” He tossed the strange plastic bags aside. “Sure don’t want none’a that siller-cone in my recipes.”

Kneading the fatty tissue into the mix, he chuckled again. Just maybe Mr. Morrone could be persuaded to stay around for a while and give some private lessons. After all, it wasn’t like he was ever going to get to go back to Seattle and resume doing his show. Enoch would find him soon and bring him back, and then, Esau was struck with inspirationY No need to give Grandpa everything. Why, there was enough here so that Mr. Morrone could have a generous sampling of several different delicacies! A chance to actually cook for the greatest chef in the world! Esau was so excited by the prospect that he figured he’d better take a short break with the worms. There was plenty of time to get a good nut off while the souffle set.

««—»»

3Ashton slogged through the woods, cleaver at the ready. Each breath came as a struggle. His chest felt as though a soccer team had run practice drills on it. Only a red hate made him conscious and mobile. Steal his eels would he? Put a spy in his restaurant would he? Shoot him ? When he found M. Gerald James he’d dice him into pieces small enough to make mince pies. James and that duplicitous little whore, Roseanne or whatever her name. Fueled by rage Ashton felt more alive than he had in years. Why, he might even condescend to let Sheree fuck him when they got home.