Veronica continued to stare forward. If the question What are they doing back there? ever occurred to her, it was entirely subconscious. She still didn’t know where she was and she scarcely knew who she was. As her eyes acclimated, however, her vision began to identify aspects of her surroundings: the trees, mostly bereft of leaves; crisp moonlight glimmering through boughs’ and that trail just before her began to surrender details. It seemed to incline. Without forethought, she squinted, focusing…
Yes, that trail rose to a barely visible hill and a perimeter of iron fencework. Here the moon shimmered more brightly. Past the fencework she was able to make out…gravestones.
A…cemetery…
Veronica blinked. Then an interesting and highly unlikely thing happened:
One of those cotton balls…fell out of her ear.
She heard:
“So’s we gonna double-fuck this ‘un like we done Paulie’s Maw?”
“Nope. We’se gonna triple-fuck it.”
“A triple? But, Paw. How’se can we triple-fuck it if’n ya only drilt two holes?”
“Hand me that hack-saw, son, and I’ll show ya.”
The grisliest sound ensued, very much that of a saw-blade cutting through meat.
“See, I got me this idea that headers is most effective if’n ya do it a little bit different ever time. I think the word is…variety. See, boys, to piss Paulie off the most we can, we gots ta have variety in how we fuck the heads of his kin. Cain’t never be the same old thing. So’s…here’s what we’se gonna do, and thank God Veronnerka recommended I buy this tripod along with the fancy movin’-picture camera. You boys ready? Good? Now, see, what I’se gonna do is I’se gonna stick my dick up its neck-hole first—ah, yeah, like that. It’s a little cold now, fellas, just so ya know—been in the ground since last summer.”
“Paw! Shee-it, this is nifty! I’se can see the end’a yer dick in its mouth!”
“Uh-huh. Like I said. Variety.”
“But, Unc, if it’s been in the ground since last summer, hows come it ain’t all gone ta rot?”
“Well, Micky-Mack, that’s a good question, and the answer is ’cos it’s been embalmed. ‘S’what rich folks do when their kin die—they embalm ’em. Special preservatives they pump in, so’s it don’t rot.”
“Aw, wow…”
“Now…all right. I’ll stand right here—yeah. And, Dumar, now step up careful’n slide yer dick in the hole on that side…and, Micky-Mack? Now, you git your dick in this hole here…”
“Aw, Unc—jeez. This here brain is cold…”
“Just don’t think ’bout it or else you’ll lose yer stiffer. What’cha think ’bout instead is that dandy cooter’n tits on Veronnerka.”
“Yeah, yeah, but…Unc? ‘Sides bein’ cold, this here brain don’t feel nothin’ like the other ‘uns.”
“Yeah, Paw. Feels kind’a…tough…”
“That’s ’cos of the embalmin’ fluid. What is does, see, is it kind of pickles the brain, firms it up. Nobody ever said headers is easy work, boys. We’se doin’ this fer the family name. Right?”
“Yessir.”
“Just like that, hump it nice’n slow. I’se know it’s kind’a crowded, but with a head this small, there ain’t no other way. Don’t move ’round or else you’ll block the camera. We want Paulie ta see all three’a our dicks goin’ in and out at the same time…”
“Ya know, Unc. Now that I’se thinkin’ ’bout Veronnerka’s big milk wagons…this ain’t so bad.”
“Just keep nice thoughts in yer head…”
A repetitive wet clicking sound could be heard, then…
“Kind’a like…pistons going in’n out, huh?”
“Why, Dumar I’d say that there is a fair annalergy!”
The clicking sounds picked up.
“Aw, yeah, mmm, boys-boys, looks like the old man’s comin’ first this time ’round—mmm-yeah…yeah! Oh! I’se a-comin’, Iiiiii’se a-comin’!”
“Good fer you, Paw! And I can see it! I can see yer nut in its mouth!” Then—“Aw, Paw—my turn! Shee-IT! There she’s goes!”
“Shit, big as my dick is, I’se surprised it ain’t squeezin’ the brains out the nose!”
“Don’t’choo keep braggin’ ’bout that big dick’a yers, son! I’se told ya what happened ta Tater Kline!”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Come on, Micky-Mack! We ain’t got all night…”
“Aw, fuck, I’se gettin’ close, I’se gettin’…aaaaaaaaaaaaah! Yeah, man! I’se comin’ up a storm! Feels like I’se takin’ a pee I’se comin’ so much! Holy hogshit, Unc! I’se fillin’ this baby’s head with cum!”
Veronica, still staring, blinked once more, then lost total consciousness.
(III)
Helton, sitting fatigued in the fold-down chair, took another swig of the fancy liquor they’d ripped off from Marshie’s mansion. Another day, another header… “She all right, Micky-Mack?” he called up.
“Dang, Unc. Guess she falled asleep again.”
“Just as well.”
Dumar came back inside, having just disposed of the body, and the tiny severed head. Just as fatigued, he took a milk crate next to his father and sighed. “Paw, I’se shore hope this feud ends soon. Maybe Paulie’ll give up once he sees this movie.”
“Maybe…”
Micky-Mack dawdled back and sat down on the table. “I know it ain’t the family thing ta say, Unc, but, shit. I’se had my fill’a havin’ headers. Feels good, shore, but it just…ain’t…right…”
“I’se hear ya, son. It ain’t right, but neithers is what Paulie done. If we could just find the varmit.”
“Find him and kill him,” Dumar said.
Helton nodded.
“So’s shouldn’t we wake Veronnerka up and have her send the movie to Paulie?”
“Naw, not just yet. She’s asleep. Let’s set a spell. All this head-fuckin’s got yer old Uncle Helton wore out.”
Dumar looked in one of the bags of McDonald’s leftovers, then declined. He noticed the green and red holly prints on the bag, and the SEASON’S GREETINGS. His eyes bloomed. “Dang, Paw. Sumpthin’ just dawned on me. It’s Christmas Eve.”
Helton stalled and looked at his watch. “Well I’ll be. You’re right, son.”
Dumar had a sudden tear in his eye. “And ain’t that some shit? Grandmaw Petunia ain’t gonna be able to celebrate Christmas with us. First time in my life.”
“It’s a terrible business, feudin’,” Helton uttered. “Takes the spirit out’a ever thang. Shit. Christmas Eve. We should be singin’ hymns and gettin’ the turkey ready and hangin’ orner-mints on the tree, but look what we’se doin’ instead. Fuckin’ a dead baby in the head…”
All three men looked at each other.
“Wouldn’t none’a this be happenin’ if’n it weren’t fer Paulie,” Micky-Mack objected.
“‘Tis true.”
“But what else can we do?” Dumar asked.
Helton looked at his watch. “It’s past three in the morn. We’ll get some shut-eye’s what we’ll do right now. Then we’se’ll send the movie to Paulie…and see what happens next.”