Electric Funeral

"RJ, yew didn't heft it fer enough," complained Baby, wiping sweat from her forehead and smearing freshly shed blood across it. That didn't detract from her looks, however, since the vivacious blonde was clad only in an old, stained bra approprated from one of their myriad victims and a pair of cutoffs (with nothing under it) so tiny they could've passed for bikini bottoms. Taking hold of a bit of tough hide she pulled very hard, tearing off the rest of the beef's hide. It was hanging from the rafters, headless and hoofless, where Rufus Junior had pulled it up to for butchering. The skin could be made into fine leather, or maybe Otis would find something to do with it. "Awright, Tiny I'm ready," she said to the shambling giant waiting patiently out of the way. He shuffled up with the enormous washtub in his huge hands. He caught the steaming entrails in the receptacle, blood splashing his patched overalls liberally.

"I dunno why they left me to do this," she mumbles under her breath. "Fuckin RJ out God knows where and Daddy and Otis off on some boys-only bullshit trip. Fuck." The young woman finished butchering the bovine, thinking about what she was going to do to her next captive.

Mama was washing dishes as Baby made her way through the house. "Did ya get it gutted?," the older woman asked.

"Yeah, Mama," answered Baby.

"All right. RJ can quarter it when he gets back. Go wash up, I'll have dinner on soon."

Yeah, whatever, Baby thought as she went to the bathroom. It just ain't the same without Cutter and Otis and RJ around. Especially Otis. *sigh* She had bonded with the gangrel stanger that her father had picked up on one of his car thieving runs.

"Goddammit Casper couldn't you wait five fuckin' seconds so we could have a CLEAN getaway for once??," groused the hulking bald man.

"That fucker had it comin," returned Otis, biting his full lower lip as he drove. As usual there'd been a fight about who got to drive the stolen vehicle on top of the the original reason why Cutter was pissed off. The pale, wild-eyed man had been letting his hair grow for a while now and it made him appear even more scraggly and dangerous.

"We had em eatin outta our assholes, and you had to go an' ruin all the fun by shootin that dumb fuck. And get the cops after our asses."

"Johnny you should know better than that. You can never let yer guard down, not on anyone. I don't care how placid the fuckholes are, they're doin just like I do: lookin' out for Number One."

"Bahh, yer hopeless. A good beatdown and shoot one asshole in th' head and the rest are sheep to the slaughter. You need to get that damn chip off yer shoulder 'fore I knock it off for ya."

"Fuck yew, clownass," Otis responded, not unkindly though. He was thinking of sweet Vera-Ellen and her adoring blue-green eyes looking at him with love and admiration.

"Wellll what have we here?," mused Cutter, scratching his straggly beard.

"Oh Jesus fuckin' popsicle," groaned Otis. A young, scantily clad hitch-hiker with hip stuck out steadily grew bigger in the windshield as their car approached. "I thought you wanted to hurry an' get back home, hotshot?"

"Mmmm...now I'd love to sop that up with a biscuit," the clown continued as if Otis had said nothing. "Stop the car, Otis. Come on, stop the car! You always play around, this time I get to!"

"You're gonna be the death of me," grumbles the lean killer but complies anyway.

"Where you going, little lady?," Spaulding calls to the attractive dark-haired woman.