Electric Funeral
folder
G through L › House of 1000 Corpses
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,426
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › House of 1000 Corpses
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,426
Reviews:
0
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.
Puttin' Their Foot In It
"You're awfully quiet tonight," observed Mother Firefly as she ate her pork chops and mustard greens.
Baby was rooting her food around her plate, not much like the usual gusto she normally displayed when presented with anything mildly edible. "Yeah...I guess I'm bored an' lonely."
"Well, I miss your father too. But I bet it's ol' Otis yer missin most, ain't it?"
Baby said nothing, only poked at the fried squash Momma had painstaking rolled in flour and fried. Vera-Ellen was bonkers about fried yellow squash. Most of the time, anyways.
"You two do have a lot in common," mused the older woman, chewing the swine deliberately. "So are you two fuckin'?"
"Momma!," exclaimed the girl, for once in her life affecting something akin to embarrassed horror. At 18 she was already well-versed in the sport of sexual interaction, having been raised by a mother who sold herself for many a year. But love, however, was something she'd reserved only for her parents and brothers. And Otis.
"Lookit you! I didn't raise no prude," declared Mother Firefly, flipping her blonde locks haughtily. "I just want you to never ferget, that ones a poisonous viper in man's clothing."
"Do tell," Baby sassed. "Then how come I see 'im goin' to YOUR room at night?"
"Hahahaha, yew think yew know it all, do ya? I think of him as my child, just like you and RJ and Baby Boy. I love him. He's a pistol though, cocked an' loaded. Always remember that, Angel-Baby. I gots to look out for my lil girl."
"I know yer lookin out for me, Momma. But stay outta my bidness!"
Otis was grinning in spite of himself as he drove the car toward a secluded location where his partner could...do his thing. After the bitch was dead Cutter would lose interest, but that was just he beginning of the fun for Otis. He was imagining what she'd look like cut, battered and dead. How the flesh would still be elastic and yielding for a few hours before rigor mortis set in, and how the bruises stood out purplish on the dead, fading skin.
"My name's Jenny," the black-haired beauty was saying. Spaulding was already cozying up to her, a bear paw of a hand kneading a half-exposed breast. "You can drop me off at the next town if ya don't mind."
"Oh, not at all," says Otis, his pale eyes glinting in anticipation. "We just got a few errands to run, is all. Might grab a bite to eat." Now where's that turnoff, the wiry man thought to himself.
"I don't have any money," Jenny says, pouting a bit.
"Oh, we can work summin out, sweet thang," Cutter chuckles, groping the lady for emphasis.
"Oooh, well if you want some o' that all ya gotta do is say so. I'm worth the ride, some dinner and a twenty dollar bill, big man."
"You look worth it, doll," croons Spaulding.
"Dammit Cutter--," Otis objected.
"Just drive," ordered Cutter, brooking no opposition. "It'll be fine."
Sighing, Otis acceded, brow furrowing in frustration. Cutter was the one so big on getting home, now he's wanting to fuck around with this hitch-hiking bimbo, probably stick some objects up her twat before and after they killed her. He fought the urge to take his favorite Bowie knife and pin her to the back seat through the chest then fill her cold, dead box with his semen.
Jenny didn't even seem to mind when they took the backroad turnoff, parking under some big shady trees to escape the Texas summer heat. "First, the money, sugar britches," she says, stopping his hand from rubbing her crotch.
"A professional, I see," chuckles Johnny. "Well, hear ya go," he says, handing her a crumpled twenty.
A triumphant expression settled on the woman's face. "Thank you. I'd also like to inform you that you're under arrest. Vice Squad." A gun was pointed at the big clown's head. With her free hand she produced a tiny two-way radio and called for backup to come pick them up.
"Fuck me sideways!," said Otis, half-amused, half-exasperated. "We picked us up a vice cop."
"Shut up," ordered Jenny, standing and backing to have room to shoot him if she needed to.
"Girl, you have no fuckin' idea what you've got yer sweet little ass into," Otis sneers at her. Cutter just sat where he was at, blinking stupidly.
Baby was rooting her food around her plate, not much like the usual gusto she normally displayed when presented with anything mildly edible. "Yeah...I guess I'm bored an' lonely."
"Well, I miss your father too. But I bet it's ol' Otis yer missin most, ain't it?"
Baby said nothing, only poked at the fried squash Momma had painstaking rolled in flour and fried. Vera-Ellen was bonkers about fried yellow squash. Most of the time, anyways.
"You two do have a lot in common," mused the older woman, chewing the swine deliberately. "So are you two fuckin'?"
"Momma!," exclaimed the girl, for once in her life affecting something akin to embarrassed horror. At 18 she was already well-versed in the sport of sexual interaction, having been raised by a mother who sold herself for many a year. But love, however, was something she'd reserved only for her parents and brothers. And Otis.
"Lookit you! I didn't raise no prude," declared Mother Firefly, flipping her blonde locks haughtily. "I just want you to never ferget, that ones a poisonous viper in man's clothing."
"Do tell," Baby sassed. "Then how come I see 'im goin' to YOUR room at night?"
"Hahahaha, yew think yew know it all, do ya? I think of him as my child, just like you and RJ and Baby Boy. I love him. He's a pistol though, cocked an' loaded. Always remember that, Angel-Baby. I gots to look out for my lil girl."
"I know yer lookin out for me, Momma. But stay outta my bidness!"
Otis was grinning in spite of himself as he drove the car toward a secluded location where his partner could...do his thing. After the bitch was dead Cutter would lose interest, but that was just he beginning of the fun for Otis. He was imagining what she'd look like cut, battered and dead. How the flesh would still be elastic and yielding for a few hours before rigor mortis set in, and how the bruises stood out purplish on the dead, fading skin.
"My name's Jenny," the black-haired beauty was saying. Spaulding was already cozying up to her, a bear paw of a hand kneading a half-exposed breast. "You can drop me off at the next town if ya don't mind."
"Oh, not at all," says Otis, his pale eyes glinting in anticipation. "We just got a few errands to run, is all. Might grab a bite to eat." Now where's that turnoff, the wiry man thought to himself.
"I don't have any money," Jenny says, pouting a bit.
"Oh, we can work summin out, sweet thang," Cutter chuckles, groping the lady for emphasis.
"Oooh, well if you want some o' that all ya gotta do is say so. I'm worth the ride, some dinner and a twenty dollar bill, big man."
"You look worth it, doll," croons Spaulding.
"Dammit Cutter--," Otis objected.
"Just drive," ordered Cutter, brooking no opposition. "It'll be fine."
Sighing, Otis acceded, brow furrowing in frustration. Cutter was the one so big on getting home, now he's wanting to fuck around with this hitch-hiking bimbo, probably stick some objects up her twat before and after they killed her. He fought the urge to take his favorite Bowie knife and pin her to the back seat through the chest then fill her cold, dead box with his semen.
Jenny didn't even seem to mind when they took the backroad turnoff, parking under some big shady trees to escape the Texas summer heat. "First, the money, sugar britches," she says, stopping his hand from rubbing her crotch.
"A professional, I see," chuckles Johnny. "Well, hear ya go," he says, handing her a crumpled twenty.
A triumphant expression settled on the woman's face. "Thank you. I'd also like to inform you that you're under arrest. Vice Squad." A gun was pointed at the big clown's head. With her free hand she produced a tiny two-way radio and called for backup to come pick them up.
"Fuck me sideways!," said Otis, half-amused, half-exasperated. "We picked us up a vice cop."
"Shut up," ordered Jenny, standing and backing to have room to shoot him if she needed to.
"Girl, you have no fuckin' idea what you've got yer sweet little ass into," Otis sneers at her. Cutter just sat where he was at, blinking stupidly.