I posted this on a movie forum and a hobby forum:
Charlie Valance opened the double barrels with a audible crack and loaded in two magnum odd buck brass, and snapped the breech close again, rail arms and patched up clothes, he looked like a modern day poster child for Tom Sawyer.
His tongue clicked behind his chipped front teeth but Sheriff Buckley was too preoccuppied performing his rendition of last year's pie-eating contest on Lucy's once beautiful breasts, Charlie watched him bite that nipple clean off with something bordering on sexual intensity.
Charlie damn near suffered a erection before being overtaken by the smell of gorey bloody entrails that resembled slimy giant earthworm carcasses trailing all over the floor from Lucy's opened tummy like an obscene Greek depiction of Medusa's decapitated head. He swallowed back down the vomit with tears welling in his eyes.
Being temporarily visually impaired, he never seen Richard Harlin in full Deighton Hall HS football regalia pounce in his peripheral vision before the dead Center lunged over the counter and grabbed hold his ponytail.
This time Charlie managed a cut-off half scream seconds before being pulled off his feet onto the diner counter kicking and thrashing while receiving a succession painful of butts to the skull from Harlin's faceguard.
Meanwhile, Sheriff Buckley never ceased liking his meals fresh and warm in life or death and had gathered up his bloodgore drenched uniform and stood watching Charlie flail like a fish on a hook atop the diner counter with all the deliberation of a family pet during a thanksgiving gathering.
The zombie Sheriff raised both arms Frankenstein-like and made his way down the aisle of revolving bar seats with all the skill of a palsied drunk.
Harlin's breathe stank like dead skunk, in fact between the blows of the faceguard and the drooling puss, Charlie caught what resembled a small paw bobbing around behind the mask.
Charlie felt like vomiting and fainting until he heard a loud groan by his belly with the dead Sheriff Buckley between his legs bent down over his groin with raw bloody lips rising over blackened gums and gore covered teeth.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!," Charlie screamed aloud.
Through much violent thrashing and wrestling, Charlie managed to kick Sheriff Buckley square in the chest that stood the zombie upright and careening back a couple of staggering steps.
BOOM!
A single barrel roared as the buckshot took both of Buckley's thumbs off, Charlie should know the digits shot up like sprung rubberbands along with his whole prefrontal lobe.
Harlin now had both massive hands wrapped around his throat, choking him, Charlie could feel his tongue swelling and stars filled his vision. Everything grew distant like he was not a victim or participant in this surreal moment of suspended reality but an audience. And who was pounding that hammer over and over again?
Charlie turned to his right shoulder and only saw large numerals pumping vigorously in his vision, no pounding gavel there he thought, then turned to his left shoulder and came face to face with two sweet buxom breasts from some vision of heaven before blacking out.
It was dark when he awoke, the room was nearly pitch beside the moonlight peaking through the strangely familiar black blinds. Charlie uncurled from the fetal position and discovered he was lying on a bed. He touched his head.
"Ow!," he sharply cried, and explored the bandages tenderly.
"You'll live Charlie!," a soft female voice purred. "You have suffered a nasty fall and I brought you here ... under my care."
The woman's voice traveled around the room but he failed to hear any movement of feet on the floor.
Charlie's brow knitted and his eyes closed to slits straining to identify where he was and whom was speaking to him. The room was cold and the voice throaty, always hovered above his neck and his scalp tingled yet his heard it across the room and some times at the foot of the bed.
"Too dark, right?," spoke the darkness as the cold clammy hand fell upon his right shoulder that made him jump about foot. Charlie felt his lips quiver and his eyes well up with tears upon mental recognition.
"I'm sorry," he croaked out. He began shaking all over and another hand landed on his left shoulder and pulled him to her silk clothed bosom, the material ice cold upon contact with his cheek.
"YOU HAD BEEN SPYING ON ME!," the voice rose demonically. Charlie sunk deeper into the unseen assailant quivering uncontrollably. The voice lowered to a throaty whisper again. "Right through those drapes behind you. Did you not think I would hear the commotion of that ladder?"
The phosphorus smoke of the lit match burned in Charlie's sinuses. Charlie did want to look, didn't not want to see, but the hands were too strong and he felt like a hare trapped in the talons of a bird of prey.
Looking up from a sensual bodice veiled in silk, white marble skin contrasting with the black gown so remarkably that the piece resembled the leathery wings of a bat. His gaze continued to follow the heavy breathing to the relatively thin neck and shoulders to raven black tresses to the voluptuous full crimson lips to the beautiful face of a young girl certainly no older than sixteen years. A girl that possessed the voice of a middle aged woman.
"They're dead Charlie. Both of them," the woman's voice pouted. Charlie closed his eyes tightly.
A trailing giggle descended upon him as she sat beside him on the bed. Charlie felt the movements of Desiree leaning towards him.
A long clammy tongue lapped across his jugular and throat and teased his ear. Warmth instantly seeped in the crotch of his pants as his bladder emptied.
Charlie, teary eyes closed, pulled his legs up and gathered his arms in. He felt the lips of the beautiful smile he once admired afar gently fall on his neck and began to suck gently, seductively on the skin above his jugular as both bodies collapsed him under Desiree's petite weight while bound in her arms.
Once the teeth sank, Charlie's resistance rose again though weaker and futile.
The End!
A work in progress. *shrugs*
Comments and suggestions welcome!
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