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When The Boogeyman Is Real (And You Look For Him)

By: mileni
folder G through L › House of 1000 Corpses
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 19
Views: 2,979
Reviews: 10
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own House of 1000 Corpses, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Welcome to Ruggsville, 1978







Chapter 2





 

Chapter 2 – Welcome to Ruggsville, 1978

I woke up lying on the side of a road, my face in the dry dirt. I got wide
awake in two seconds, jumping to my feet with excitement. Am I in the right
place? I wondered, tapping the dust off of my clothes. Looking around, that
place didn’t look any different from California. I began walking along the road,
carrying only a small backpack. The sun had just set when I awoke, and it was
getting darker by the second.

In twenty minutes I stopped in front of a sign. With a big grin, I knew
that I was in the right place. The sign had an arrow pointing to the direction I
was going, and it read “Fried chicken and gasoline.”

Soon enough, there I was – standing like an idiot in front of Captain
Spaulding’s gas station and horror museum. All of a sudden, I wasn’t sure if I
had the guts to go in there. I hesitated. Now only clowns in general gave me the
creeps, that one clown in particular frightened me more, and for a good reason.
I saw his scrapbook in Rejects, he was a killer too – although I doubted that
killing was his main hobby, as Otis and Baby.

What if he murders me? I thought, my stomach starting to hurt from
nervousness. What if he forces me into that creepy murder ride and guts me like
a pig, all the while laughing loud and showing his rotten teeth? What if he
rapes me? The memory of his sex scenes in Rejects crossed my mind. Hell no! That
very disturbing idea seemed so much worse than being gutted alive.

I’ll be fine, I assured myself, trying calm down my fast breathing. I’ll just
have a casual chatting with the Captain, smile a lot and play dumb, get him to
draw me a map to the House and get the hell out of there.

When I was more or less calm, I assumed a confident attitude and walked in
there.

The famous Museum of Monsters and Madmen was empty, and it could have used a
brighter lamp or two. No one was behind the counter, so I took my time to look
around. Rob Zombie didn’t get it quite right on the movie, but the idea was the
same – a large display of weird and shocking objects, most of which I didn’t
dare to give a second glance, or wonder where they came from. In the back of my
mind I knew that a lot of it was Otis’ “artwork”, but I kept in denial
not to lose my cool. I could leave panicking and being grossed out for later.

Approaching the counter, I barely rang the bell when a large figure jumped up
as fast as a spring, screaming a cheerful “HAAA!” while I did my own jumping and
screaming.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha! I scared the living guacamole out of you!”

What a clown, that Cutter.

I forced a little “ha ha ha”, studying him for a moment. He was wearing
thorn, stained jeans and a very old, dirty t-shirt saying “Sometimes I pee when
I laugh.” And when I saw that face in white, black, pink and blue makeup, I
stared. “Gosh, you do look a bit like Sid” I said without thinking.

“Poor bastard!” he exclaimed, much louder than necessary. “Who’s this Sid? He
your boyfriend?”

Fuck, I thought. Think before you speak, you idiot! “No” I smiled,
“Sid... Johnson, he is my neighbor, and he looks just a tiny bit like
you. Not much. I’m Laura, by the way.” I reached my hand for him to shake, but
instead he splashed some water on my face, pressing a button on a little clown
head that was handy.

“Ya ya ya ya ya ya ya!” He teased annoyingly, while I forced another smile.
“What can I do for you, Laura? Need some gas, some maps, or maybe some of my
tasty fried chicken?”

“Actually, I’ll be traveling around this area for a few days, so I’m just
kind of exploring the place.” Yeah, right, as if there is much to explore in
that middle-of-nowhere town.

“I see” he said, studying me. “How do you like my museum?” He made an ample
gesture with his arm, encompassing the room. “I’ve been collecting these pieces
for too many years.”

I followed his gesture, and my eyes caught on something that I wasn’t
prepared to see. “Fish-Boy,” I murmured to myself, in shock.

“What did you say?” the clown looked at me suspiciously.

“That’s called Fish-Boy, isn’t it?” I tried to sound animated. “I’ve heard
about it, it’s quite a piece! Someone told me about it on the grocery store, uh,
the one a few blocks from here. Plus, it’s kind of obvious – half a fish, half
a, uh, boy, right? Imitating it, of course!” I laughed. Then I urged myself to
stop blabbering like a first-time criminal trying to deny his guilt in a police
interrogation. “Yup, great piece.”

“Hey, I bet ya would love riding my Murder Ride. Come on, let me take you
there-”

“No thanks!” I said too quickly, because he was already walking away from the
counter. “I mean, I would love to, but it’s been such a long day and I’m tired.
I – I’ll come back another day.”

Looking disappointed, he suggested “Okay then, but I won’t let you leave this
place without trying some of the best fried chicken in the whole state!” And
saying that, he reached behind the counter and produced a greasy, brown bag that
he offered me. I grabbed it and looked at it, trying to hide my disgust, but he
wasn’t going to cut me a slack. “Come on, give it a bite!”

I reached inside the bag and my fingers touched this oily, warm skin. I took
it out – a chicken leg. It was hard not to show revulsion, considering the dirty
cook standing in front of me, not to mention the preserved dead things
all over the museum. Lord knows what I had in my hands. But the last thing I
wanted was to offend a psychopath murderer clown, so I put that thing in my
mouth and took a bite.

“What do you think? Do I or don’t I make the tastiest fried chicken you ever
ate?” he challenged confidently.

“You actually do!” I exclaimed with deep relief. The damn thing did
taste good.

As I was finishing it, I bent over the counter, in a just-between-us
attitude. “You know... I have heard something else about this town, something
very
interesting.”

“Oh you did? Well, shit the bed! What else did you hear about this peaceful
town of ours?”

“I’ve heard” I said, keeping my voice low and my adrenaline high, throwing
the bone in a small trash can and wiping my fingers on the brown bag “about the
legend of Dr. Satan.”

He stared into my face with a smile. “You did?” Now it was his turn to bend
towards me. “Anything else?”

“Some guys told me about the tree where this Dr. Satan was hung, that it’s
not far from here. I was just wondering” I managed to say that without having my
voice fail, “if you could point me in that direction.”

“As a matter of fact, that place is not far at all. But tell me – you said
you are traveling? You alone?”

“Yes, I’m by myself, and I should probably get going soon – still need to
look for a hotel to spend the night.”

The old Captain showed me his nightmarish teeth in a big grin. “Beautiful
girl, wandering around all by herself, at night, in a dangerous place like this.
That’s not right. I’ll tell you what. I know some nice people that run a bed and
breakfast place around here. The place is not a fucking Hilton, but you’ll be
comfortable there. You can ask them about the tree the next morning. What do you
say?”

I had a pretty good idea which “bed and breakfast place” was that. My stomach
turned inside out with fear. But hey, I told myself, wasn’t exactly that what
you wanted? You couldn’t have been luckier, girl! “That sounds great, Captain.
If you would draw me a map, I’ll be heading to that place right away.”

The clown threw some keys up in the air and grabbed them back, walking
towards me and placing an arm around my shoulder. “No need for a fucking map,
lady. Captain Spaulding here will drive you there himself.”

 

* * * *

 



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