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Staring Contest With Satan (3024 hits)

Category: Humor

Rating: 2 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Labels:

Submitted by daniel <daniel.at.writerspacemail.com> (View user info) at 2004-11-14 16:44:29 EST


This follows-up my "Bitch Gotta Knife" post, which dealt with hurricane Ivan shredding Orange Beach, our lack of cable, Blakely's ruined apartment and our quest for entertainment. I might add that Blakely never uses commas when she talks. And that Satan is alive and well.

Friday Blakely and I were in her car "Boomerang" leaving the island over the intercostal bridge. She took County Road 10 off into the sticks. We were deep in Dixie, serious Shake'N Bake country.

Her car's called Boomerang because no matter where she leaves or loses it while partying, it always comes back. She had wanted to come out here Halloween to see the gathering place of rumored devil worshipers. I had reasoned that we postpone the outing, since Halloween was "their night" and nobody likes party-crashers.

She took enough wicked turns through moss-draped oak corridors until we may as well have been in the 1600's. We arrived at an old barn so overgrown with kudzu it looked like an Indian burial mound. A bull skull rested atop a post, Satan's mailbox.

"Maybe there's a drive-thru," I mumbled.

Blakely bounced out as if we'd just pulled into Applebee's. She was wearing camel-toe shorts and a tiny air-brushed T-shirt which depicted a cow in hightops under the words "Cool As Fuck." She looked hot (ish), going by the Wal-Mart-hot-scale, which helped dispel the ambience of doom and thus calmed me. Then I remembered that all the chicks in horror flicks dress like sluts.

The ones who die.

The guys who die follow a girl who yells things like, "Come on nobody's here fuck's-sake!"

Inside, I kept glancing to the loft, picturing the kid from "The Ring." Blakely huffed around kicking at hay: no candles, no alter. Then I saw the most godaweful humongous cow ever, a hippo with horns, roaming at will but slurping a salt block.

I eased closer. Its eyes followed me with a menacing gleam. Its head low, it gazed up from beneath its brow, eyes full of silent judgment and dark fire.

We locked eyes way too long.

"Bet she can out-stare you," Blakely said.

"No way. I'll put twenty on it. But don't cows sleep with their eyes open? Maybe she's--"

"She's wide-ass awake twenty bucks."

Blakely probably wouldn't pay, but it was something to do.

Not a moo, something primeval and godless growled within the beast. Its lips hadn't moved. Intelligible malice glittered through the darkness of its double-wide eyes.

"Blakely, somebody gave this cow the wrong steroids. I thought only guy cows have horns. She has serious horns. This is a bull."

"You saw her milk bag girl cows have horns sometimes Jeee-zus."

"Sometimes if they're from Hell. Christ she's getting closer." I eased back. "This is fucked."

To weaken my resolve she said, "Devil worshipers use her in rituals to represent the Dark Side."

"She's definitely representing."

I could see our reflections in dark-mirroring eyes, like in the lens of a shoplifting cam. The cow did another ventriloquist growl, like a diesel down-shifting.

That this horned mutant was very possibly possessed I wouldn't admit aloud.
1) I didn't want to give Blakely more ammo.
2) I remembered reading that demons can hear what we say but can't overhear thoughts.

Minutes passed. All I knew was that matadors are underpaid.

"Daniel have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and personal savior?"

"Ask that to this Babylonian bull-god. She'll hiss and get Gene Simmons on my ass with her tongue."

"Kinky she needs a big wet kiss and a fisting."

"She needs a priest. So do you."

I remembered Blakely's shirt: a cow. Maybe she was in league with this cow, one of the Daughters of Darkness. She had driven here without missing a turn.

Blakely's reflection receded from view, so I whispered (to the anti-cow, it couldn't hurt), "The power of Christ compels you. Unclean spirits depart from this cow. The majesty of Jesus Christ--"

My cell phone rang, scaring the bitch-slapping Jesus out of me but not the unholy cow.

I managed to answer and keep eye contact. "Hello?"

"What a nice day for an exorcism." The muffled voice sounded like Linda Blair tied to the bed.

"Who is this?"

"I'm the Devil! Now kindly undo these straps. This cow is mine!"

Blakely's reflection remained out of view. It had to be her calling, hiding as she kept up: "Why do you do this to me Dimmy? Why?"

Relieved, I said, "If you're the Devil why don't you make the straps disappear-- the straps to your bra?"

"That's much too vulgar a display of power."

"Or maybe your t-cup tits would be the only vulgar display."

"Your mother sucks cocks in hell!"

"It's for you," I said to the cow. The horned one looked none too amused.

The contest had been going on an ungodly five minutes&#8212; three hours in cow-time.

Re-enter Blakely. Topless. Hot-pants danced into my peripheral vision. Girls Gone Wild Backwoods Style.

"Stop, Blakely, I'm not looking. This has gotten personal."

"I'm a bad girl I forgot my panties." In the margin of my vision she worked her shorts down. Her back to me yet her eyes on me&#8212;Linda Blair again&#8212;a creamy moon rose beneath her arched back. "Take timeout to spank my ass look at it and think how bad I've been and how bad I need it I'm so dirty." She used her hands to make pigtails, wiggling and singing:

"I'm a naughty schoolgirl,
can I go home with you?
I'll tell my mom and daddy
you're a little schoolboy too."

The barn's acoustics carried sound like a slap in church, and in the silence a twig snapped behind me.

Blakely spun around hiking her shorts up.

I heard a man's voice:

"Y'all them freaks who come here gettin' mushrooms? What's that fella doin'? Hypnotizin' my cow? Y'all them devil worshippers."

Significant fact: He hadn't made his presence known until the show was over, the only show he cared about.

Blakely stood stricken, a degenerate harlequin. Without missing a beat or an ignored comma, she explained the staring contest, she'd only been trying to distract me. The man, thank God or Jack Daniels, chuckled.

"For the record, I'm still not distracted," I said.

All things considered, Blakely's ass in particular, this man's day, possibly his life, had just been made.

"I'll put fifty dollars on the cow for you," he said to Blakely, then less audibly, "if you start back your distracting."

She made abundant excuses.

"Then I'll give you somethin' to watch," he said, "your ass losin' money." He hollered, "HO got cobs HO gal cobs!"

Demon cow teetered. She no longer had the eye of the tiger.

She struggled with inner darkness, but the cow in her turned, shouldering toward him like a boulder.

"Fuck!" From Blakely.

He said, "I like dirty words from a pretty mouth," or some such as I followed the cow saying, "Who's your daddy?"

The man looked at me, his voice reverent with remembered dread. "Son, you don't EVER want to meet this cow's daddy."

He was right.


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User Reviews


Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-10-09 18:08:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Blimey.

NSF school

Submitted by NumLock (user info) at 2005-07-27 19:17:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

JA-heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez

Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-07-27 19:15:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

The girl, that is. Not the cow. Frick.

Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-07-27 19:14:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Are you serious? That is hot.

Submitted by dbhjw (user info) at 2005-07-27 18:58:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

+2 for demon cows!

Submitted by jimbo (user info) at 2005-04-29 18:28:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Goddamn that's hilarious.


Submitted by mrwolf (user info) at 2005-04-16 09:40:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I liked this story enough to keep my boot out of your ass.

Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2005-04-05 23:06:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

This was pretty cool, daniel.

Submitted by Galgos27 (user info) at 2005-04-05 20:36:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

Nice, not the Bad Ass Austalian Cows but a Cow story I don't mind repeating at a later date.

Submitted by Jungle_Jimanee (user info) at 2005-04-05 07:18:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Submitted by Tigre (user info) at 2004-11-14 17:30:55 (#)
Ranking: 2

Fuckin A

Submitted by hollygolitely (user info) at 2005-03-08 18:23:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

I just wrote a post-long reason why I can't believe this only had 5 reviews, but erased it.... on purpose... because I am the last person you want advocating your writing (see drunken posting = "no credibility").

Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2004-11-14 20:10:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

"Then I remembered that all the chicks in horror flicks dress like sluts.

The ones who die."

This cracked me up. Interesting story.


Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2004-11-14 19:30:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

"You saw her milk bag girl cows have horns sometimes Jeee-zus."

"Sometimes if they're from Hell. Christ she's getting closer." I eased back. "This is fucked."


for this alone

From a man with milk bags :sigh:

-Davros

Submitted by heyzues (user info) at 2004-11-14 17:57:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

This was all kinds of awesome

Submitted by Tigre (user info) at 2004-11-14 17:30:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Fuckin A

Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2004-11-14 16:52:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Not too shabby.


Always remember that you're representing our country. I guess what I'm
saying is, don't mess up France the way you messed up your room.

-- Homer Simpson
The Crepes of Wrath