I think I'm in shock. I'm going to tell my story if it's the last thing I do. Right now that's looking like a distinct possibility too. I guess I should start at the beginning.
I never knew my birth parents.
I was adopted when I was four.
I really don't have any memories before that. My adoptive parents were nurturing and I was a happy kid. I was encouraged to find out who I was.
Dance class, music lessons, acting camp; my parents encouraged it all. I was really happy until my seventeenth birthday. That's when they told me they weren't my biological parents.
I know. I know.
It's terrible. Mom and Dad loved me so much, but no matter how I rationalized it, it felt like the rug was pulled out from under me and I I landed right on my ass. And I guess I stayed there ever since.
After that I tried to pretend that nothing had changed but in my mind I might as well have woken up on Uranus.
I guess after that I promptly ran out of fucks to give.
Almost immediately I started experimenting with drugs.
First it was just a little drinking and pot. But then I met Roger. He was my first serious boyfriend and tour guide down that slippery slope of self-destruction. Before long I found myself dabbling with the hard stuff.
Coke and H.
E and acid.
Special K and mesc.
Meth and shrooms.
And sex.
I had no idea how much I'd love sex. Any kind of sex. And not just with Rog either. I fucked his friends. I fucked a guy at the gas station. I fucked three guys on the lacrosse team at once.
Rog said I put the "O" in "HO".
Too bad high school doesn't last forever...
I flunked out my first semester of college. All I did was party and slut it up. I kept telling my parents school was great and it was. All the drugs and sex a girl could ask for.
And I could sleep late every day. And then I got into girls. I never thought of myself as gay until one night while I was raving on a full tank of E and Sheila went down on me.
I think it was the first full body orgasm I ever had in my life and I was hooked.
After Sheila I was off the dick for good. I started getting heavier and heavier into drugs and pussy and after a while I didn't even want to go out any more. I just wanted to stay inside and let Sheila and her other dyke friends use and abuse me.
Some part of me hoped it could go on forever but like they say all good things come to an end. Last Christmas I returned home to my parents for winter break and a couple of weeks later I got my grades. Since "F" does not stand for fine & dandy I would at last have to face the music.
There was an intervention and I guess I was pretty belligerent because I told my parents they weren't my real parents and they could go fuck themselves. I know, I know. What a fucking ingrate. I was in the fast lane to rock bottom and I wasn't making any pit stops.
My parents sent me to a very expensive rehab but what I learned is that the best place in the world to score drugs was, drum roll please...
Rehab
Me and my room mate Leslie became thick as thieves and all we did was talk about drugs. Leslie had never been with a girl and I guess I wanted to corrupt her. I wanted someone to fall off the wagon with. I wanted a bitch I could grab by the hair and shove her face in my crotch. I guess I turned into a sad excuse for a human being in less than two years.
Then a funny thing or two happened. Leslie fell in love with me. Don't ask me why. I'm not that hot. Not after a year of doing any drug I could get my hands on anyway and never getting any sun. I'm probably not even that great in bed.
But for whatever reason Leslie told me she loved me and wanted to spend the rest of her life with me forever. Can you imagine? I only just turned nineteen.
And then the lawyer found me. His name was Belmore Zybyb or some Armenian name I could hardly pronounce. Told me he'd been looking for me for almost six months. Told me I had an Aunt. A real Aunt. Like the sister of my birth mother. And he told me that I was her sole heir.
Five million dollars and a house. They were mine. Well, almost. There was a catch.
I had to spend four weeks in her house in Auburn MS. No way I'm even gonna try and spell it. Oh, yeah. There was another catch. I had to be married.
"I'm fucking nineteen for Chrissakes!" I told Mr. Zybyb.
"I'm sorry. I don't make the rules. Your Aunt Zelda was very very specific in her will. You could try to contest the conditions but everything is tied to blind trusts I helped her set up. Frankly, if you want the money you're going to have to comply with the stipulated terms."
That night while Leslie was going down on me and I was chugging Nyquil to balance out the meth she had gotten off an orderly I began to curse my life.
"What? Am I doing something wrong?" Leslie asked, looking up.
"No. It's just such a fucking tease!"
"What? This is pretty good crank, babe."
"No! I mean this fucking will. What the fuck? I gotta be married. I gotta go down south!?!? What. The. Fuck?!?!?!"
"Let me make it better baby!"
I pushed Leslie away.
"That's not gonna make it better. I'm a fucking prisoner here and I got five million dollars dangling in front of me and I can't reach it. I'll never fucking get married. I'm off men. Period."
Leslie suddenly got a look in her blue eyes.
"I'll marry you," Martha.
"Very fucking funny. But what am I going to do? Seriously!"
Leslie came up for air and took my head between her hands.
"Stupid. Same sex marriage is legal now...."
I let that roll around in my head a little.
"Five million dollars baby. We could travel the world getting high and making love. And I do love you, you know?"
The next morning we blew rehab to go apply in town for a marriage license. A few days later the small town's justice of the peace performed the ceremony and we said our, "I do's" and we were married.
"Now, you just will have to spend twenty-eight days at your late Aunt's home and then that's it," the lawyer informed me.
"Well, how does it work? Do you just write me a check?"
"I am the executor as per your Aunt's request. I've had full power of attorney over her affairs for quite some time. So yes, to answer your question, I just write you a check. And you also take title of the house or, if you like, you can sell it."
"Well, it sounds too good to be true but there's a problem."
"Tell me."
"As you know I'm supposed to stay in rehab which I would leave in a heartbeat but I don't have a dollar to my name so how can I get to Auburn?"
Mr. Zybyb reached in his briefcase and took out a manila envelope.
"Since you seem earnest I've taken the liberty of arranging some good faith money and a debit card that you can use as a credit card. There's five thousand dollars and I can have you and your wife on a plane tomorrow. Would that be satisfactory, Martha?"
"Um, yeah. That would be fine. I really want to thank you too."
"Well, I'm so glad I could be of help," he said rubbing his hands together. I noticed his nails needed a trim and I wondered if maybe he liked to partake of the white powder now and again. Just thinking about it set my teeth on edge. God I could use a line, I thought.
"I think this calls for a celebration," he said and removed a flask from inside his pocket.
He handed me the flask and gave me a wink.
I started gulping and then looked at him embarrassed.
"Oh. Don't be shy on my account, Martha. I'm not here to judge. I'm here to facilitate. Go ahead. Drink up. You've got a lot to look forward to."
And I did. As a matter of fact when I got back to rehab I grabbed Leslie and we blew that joint faster than you can say, "I'm rich bitch."
We got a room at the only hotel in town and got good and fucked up that night on tequila. The next day we were on a plane to Auburn and Mr. Zybyb even had a chauffeur waiting for us at the small airport.
It took about an hour to get to my Aunt's house which apparently was in the middle of the Bumfuck Nowheresville.
I used the key Mr. Zybyb had given me to open the big front door. The house was old and more than a little on the decrepit side. It had a musty old lady mothball smell to it and there were religious icons and bibles all over the place.
"Holy shit! We gotta stay here for a month?" Leslie said, walking from room to room.
"It's only a month and yes, if we want the money we have to stay here."
"But why? Why would your Aunt want you to stay here? She didn't even know you."
"Mr. Zybyb said at the end of the month I would receive a letter explaining everything along with my inheritance. Just think, five fucking million. We could fucking go to Colombia and snort coke and party for the rest of our lives. We could buy a fucking penthouse apartment in Bogota. We could-"
Just then my fantasy was interrupted by the doorbell.
"Hi. You must be Martha! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You look just like your mother, God rest her soul."
"You knew my mother?"
"Of course! I'm your second cousin Mildred."
"Um, you want to come in or something? I just got here."
Mildred walked into the parlor and saw Leslie.
"Oh," she said frowning a little. "I was told your husband was coming down with you."
"Martha is my husband," Leslie blurted. "I'm Martha's wife, Leslie," she said and offered her hand.
Cousin Mildred just looked down at Leslie's hand. She read her fingers which were long ago tatted up to spell out, "C-U-N-T", for a long moment fighting a frown and coming up short.
Finally, she shook Leslie's hand.
"So nice to make your acquaintance," she said with a barely concealed grimace.
"Can you tell me about my mother?" I asked.
"Well, dear. I'd love to but I just wanted to say a quick how-dee. I'm late for church. Why don't you two come with and we can talk about it after?"
"Oh, fuck that noise," Leslie snapped.
"You don't go to church, Lizzy?"
"No, Millie. And it's Leslie, not Lizzy."
"Leslie!" I snapped back. "Manners."
"I'm sorry. No. I'm an atheist."
"Oh, dear. Well, look at the time. I really should be on my way. So nice to have met you girls."
"Well, maybe you can-"
But before I could do damage control Cousin Mildred was gone with the wind.
"Why'd you have to be so rude?"
"Fuck that redneck cunt! Let's find a bottle and get fucked up baby! It's our honeymoon and we're fucking rich bitch!"
Well, we got more than a bottle. We found a case of gin in the kitchen and well, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. We took a few bottles upstairs to a musty old bedroom and we drank and had hot honeymoon sex till well past the witching hour.
To tell you the truth I don't remember much after the first bottle. I do remember being really happy for the first time in a while. I wish it could have lasted.
That morning I woke up in severe agony. It felt like my plumbing was on fire. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming and pried an eye open. I wished I hadn't.
My wife was laying next to me with her head nearly severed. There was a cross carved in her forehead. There was a single word carved in below the cross.
Repent
I sat bolt upright vomiting all over myself and the bed. I tried not to get any on Leslie. I started to sob hysterically, my entire body convulsing. I threw the covers off me and then...
Then I saw it.
Someone had sewn a penis on to my labia.
It didn't even look human.
It looked like it belonged to a horse.
I screamed.
I puked again.
I wondered sadly about the poor gelding.
I dry heaved.
I reached for the gin.
I passed out.
I just came to in a cold sweat.
Both our cell phones are missing and the land line is dead. I only have my iPad and somehow I'm getting WIFI.
I'm in the middle of bumfuck and my wife is damn near headless and someone sewed a fucking horse cock between my legs and I don't know how to get help.
I'm guzzling gin for the pain but I don't know what to do. I think I'm going to be sick again. I know I'm going to be sick again. I think I smell smoke coming from downstairs. I-I- Ohmigod-I'll be right
From Crucifiction by Krafto Matix.
