I tossed the letter opener back on the desk blotter and cracked my knuckles.
"You shouldn't crack your knuckles!"
"And why's that pumpkin puss?" I asked.
"My gram-grams says you can get arthuritis [sic]."
"That's the same gram-grams that was okay with me being thirty years older than you just so long as I wasn't black?"
"Ay-yuh."
"Well, I'll risk arthruitis if it's all the same mushmouse. If I were you I'd be more concerned with your writer's block."
Cyndi just scowled. For months she'd been telling me she wanted to be a writer. That and her 18 year old ass were the primary reasons I invited her back to my Brooklyn apartment when summer camp ended.
"I wrote the last page today, Daddy. It's done"
"I'm very proud of you."
"Now you're just being snarkastic."
"Well, that may be so my own true love but all stories are not created equal."
Cyndi gave me that dull stare I had never quite come to love.
Fact was most of her facial expressions left me less than jazzed. I definitely had come to prefer her backside under almost all circumstances. But, alas, even buggery can grow stale without breaks, and thus it was we found ourselves in my home office discussing the long awaited completion of her first story.
"It's a horror story, Daddy. And it's really really scary."
I took a drag of my hand rolled Drum and got a little piece of hash in my mouth. I spat it out instinctively, accidentally getting it stuck in my golden retriever Mel's natty dreads.
"Didn't you say you were gonna give Mel a bath?"
"I will."
Mel rolled his eyes at me and left the room. I wondered what he was trying to say and cracked my knuckles again.
Cyndi was about to say something but I pointed a long index finger in her general direction, heading her gibberish off at the pass.
"Okay. Let's hear no more jibber jabber 'bout arthuritis and let's hear your very scary story."
"Okay Daddy."
Cyndi picked up her pages and put her Winston in the ashtray. She let out some smoke and cleared her throat. I took another drag on my lacey and re-crossed my ankles.
"Daddy's waiting," I remarked impatiently.
"It's called, 'Justus killed Vinnie cuz he was the flesh dancer entitty [sic]'".
"Kinda long title for a story, maybe?"
Cyndi scowled a little.
"And Isn't Vinnie your brother's name?"
Cyndi nodded.
"Okay. Just checking. Pray go on with your narrative."
And she did.
The story Cyndi wrote went a little something like this:_______________________________________________________________________________________
Justus killed Vinnie cuz he was the flesh dancer entitty
My name is Cyndi. I'm sixteen years old. I'm living in foster care because I cut my wrists. I cut them because I didn't want to share my stepfather with my mother any longer. Oh yeah. And she threw away my sketch book.
My Mom had me and my brother Vinnie when she was fifteen. Back then we lived in Colorado. Me and Vinnie always had a connection. We used to help my Dad fix cars when we were just little. Before he ran off with that waitress what's her name?
The best part of that was he would let us sniff gasoline. Me and Vinnie liked that. Except afterwards Vinnie would take me behind the barn and do stuff to me. He said it was okay because he was my older brother and family should stick together real close.
Sometimes stuff would bleed but he always kept a washcloth and bucket around to wash stuff off. One day we were out back and he bent down to tie his shoe. I just stood there and waited for him to finish wondering if I would bleed again. I didn't wonder too hard though, mostly cause of all the gasoline we'd been snuffin.
By then our Dad had gone but Mom said Flesh dancers had tooken him. We know he just wanted to run away with that waitress but we figured Ma didn't want us to worry none 'bout them flesh dancers cause we might be next.
Ma explained that every genrayshun [sic] the flesh dancers needed a sacrifice cause our family had been cussed a long time ago for lynchin' a gypsy back in Europe or Tennessee; I can never remember which.
Ma said they almost got her once but gram-grams had thrown our dog Otis at the chief flesh dancer. That dancer had real bad munchies and couldn't control hisself and 'et Otis right up. Ma explained that since flesh dancers are only allowed to eat one family member per generation we was gonna be okay; mostly anyway.
I never actually met Otis but I heard he was a good boy. Weren't for Otis me and Vinnie might never been a born and then all that gasoline woulda gone to waste. 'Ceptin now it were a new genrayshun [sic] and the flesh dancers was having some awful terrible munchies seeing as how they hadda settle for just Otis last time.
Vinnie finished tying his shoelace and said, "Today I'm gonna show you how to hitchhike down the Hershey highway lil sis. Ma's out for the rest of the day so we got lots time to clean up after."
I followed Vinnie into the barn but our neighbor Justus was in there smoking a cigarette. Justus was older than Vinnie and sometimes when Vinnie weren't around he'd do stuff to me. Vinnie didn't know 'bout that but Justus tole Vinnie 'bout the Hershey highway in the first place. But I wasn't gonna tell. I sorta had to go to the bathroom too but Vinnie got mad sometimes if I kept him waiting and sometimes it was hard to go if I had snuffed too much gas.
"Hey guys," Justus said. "I saw your Ma drive off."
Vinnie said Hi to Justus but I think he was mad cause he seemed real anxious 'bout the whole Hershey thing. I just stood there noticing that Justus had something behind his back.
"Justus, me and Cyndi got some family business to talk to. Whyn't you come back later?"
"That right? Y'all got some family business?"
"'swhut I said."
"'swhut you said, eh?"
"I stutter or something?"
"Hey Cyn," Justus said. "I think Vinnie wants to ride that Hershey Highway and don't want me 'round. Whatchoo thunk 'bout that, Cyn?"
I shrugged my shoulders trying not to giggle.
"You should watch your mouth, Justus."
"Or what, Vinnie? You think everybody don't know bout your family business?"
"Huh?"
"Huh? Boy, you sure is one dumb shit. Both you and your sister. But at least your sister got some usefulness. You just 'bout useful as a preacher in a whorehouse, Vinnie."
"Whyn't you just go Justus afore I-"
"Ah, yeah, boy. Now we're getting to the gristly parts, ain't we?"
Vinnie's shoulders looked a little hunched and he stiffened noticeable while Justus walked up to his face.
"Ahm a give you a choice today, Vinnie. You can let me have your sister first or you can get what for."
"Ain't playin' with you Justus."
"Tha's real good Vinnie cuz ah ain't playin' neither."
Vinnie looked up at Justus and tried to look tough.
"So punk. What'll it be. Your sister or what for?"
"Ain't gon' warn you again, Justus."
Justus poked Vinnie in the chest.
"Ain't gon warn you again, Justus. Ain't gon' warn you again, Justus."
Justus poked him again.
Vinnie stepped back some.
"Tha's right, boy. You better step back."
Vinnie's eyes looked around the barn all shifty like. He spied a pitchfork and ran for it. Justus paid him no mind. He looked at me and said, "We gon' ride the Hershey highway 'gain lil girl. 'Ceptin' this time it'll be in the fast lane."
"Get away from my sister!"
Vinnie had the pitchfork.
Justus chuckled some. He took his arm out from behind his back.
Vinnie's eyes bulged a little when he saw the big axe.
"See boy. This here axe is how we flesh dancers get our groove thing on. I wasn't 'sposed to dance you for another couple a years but since you been buggerin' Cyndi the elders decided it was my call.
See your Granny.... Well, thing of it is she thought she was a right smarty pants and got my Uncle Ned to eat Otis. Now, dogs don't make for particularly good flesh dancers and seein's how we only get to do this once every generation, well let's just say everybody decided it was up to me."
"I ain't my Granny, Justus and I don't know who told you 'bout that flesh dancer stuff but you ain't no flesh dancer. You just want to do stuff to Cyndi. But I'm a run you through if you don't skoot right off my property."
"Oh, you don't believe? Well..., check this out!"
Justus lifted up his Justin Bieber, 'I'm a Belieber' 2011 tour tee-shirt and then dug his fingers into his belly.
"Now this hurts some but I don't like bein' called a liar more."
Justus pulled on the flesh of his belly and it started to stretch like salt water taffy, the kind you see in those machines at fairs and stuff.
"What the hell, man?!?!?!" Vinnie exclaimed.
Justus pulled on that taffy skin and it just kept stretchin' and peelin' away until it was up to his neck.
Vinnie looked a little green and dropped the pitchfork but I don't think he noticed.
"Now don't get sick, Vin. I don't want you to miss the best part! I can only do this once ever twenny years or so!"
And then the skin was up and over his head. It was hangin off the back of his scalp. 'Bout eight feet worth of taffy flesh. Vinnie puked some and it got on Justus' Belieber tee.
"Aww, now you done mussed up my Belieber tee. Not cool, boy."
Justus was unrecognizable 'cept for his voice which said, "And now let's stop all this cock blockery. We entitties don't 'preciate no snarkastic little punks playin' us for the fool."
Vinnie seemed like he got it together cause he just turned his head real fast and some puke chunks landed on my face. Then he turned tail and went for the barn door but Justus was too fast.
Afore Vinnie could get through the door Justus was there. He grabbed Vinnie by the throat and Vinnie made a little whelpin' sound like my gram-gram's dog, ZootSuitie, when she'd hit him with the rolled up Penny Saver.
"I've been waitin' for this, but Cyndi don't have to see it. I don't want her to die a fright."
Then Justus pulled the taffy flesh back over the other way covering up Vinnie so I just saw a blobby like shape. There was some awful screaming and then the taffy flesh came back the other way 'cept Vinnie had been skinned.
Justus draped all the Vinnie skin on his body like a toga and started to dance. It looked like that poppin' dance I'd seen in those old movies from the '80s. Maybe it was called 'Lectric Boogaloo but I couldn't really remember plus all the gas I snuffed was interferin' with my recollectin'.
Vinnie kept screaming and he looked pretty awful with no skin. Well, that ain't exactly true. There was still some left round his ankles that hung over his thrift shop Velcro sneakers. I only noticed cause I was lookin' down at Justus' Belieber tee which was all red in a puddle of fresh blood.
Finally when Justus was all done poppin' and breakin' and stuff he said, "And now Justus has been served, boy. And you can go to hell."
Then he lifted Vinnie clear off the ground, holding him by his head with both hands and snapped his neck real fast. It made an awful crackin' sound like when you crack your knuckles, 'specially if you got the arthuritis.
Then he dropped Vinnie on the ground and looked at me.
"What you think? You want it with or without?"
I think he meant if I wanted him to pull the taffy skin back in place but I wasn't sure so I just shrugged.
He left the taffy hangin' and he rode that Hershey highway till real late in the afternoon. I heard my Ma's car pullin' up on the gravel and Justus whispered in my ear, "My kids'll see yours in about twenty. Until then watch your ass."
I heard my Ma callin' my name.
"In the barn, Ma!"
My Ma walked in the barn and looked all around.
"What're you doin' in here all by yourself? You ain't diddlin' are you?"
"The flesh dancer was Justus, Ma. He took Vin."
I pointed at the bloody Belieber shirt on the ground.
Ma walked over to take a closer look and then said, "Well, serves him right for buggerin' you."
"You knew, Ma?"
"I tole him to. Thought maybe it keep you away from your Step-daddy some."
"Oh."
"That all you got to say young lady?"
I shrugged my shoulders and wondered if'n I wasn't bleeding some.
"Well, you go get washed up. I got gizzards be ready on the table in ten minutes and your Step-daddy don't like to be kept waiting."
"No. He don't."
And I washed up real good and ate gizzards and we never mentioned Vinnie again.
The End.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
"Well, Daddy?"
"Well, what?"
"What'd you think of my story?"
I cracked my knuckles and took a last drag off my Drum. I whistled and Mel came in to the room.
"Lay down, Mel."
Mel plopped down on the carpet with a thunk and a sigh. I didn't want him to miss this.
I put my Drum in the ashtray and said, "What'd I think?"
I picked up the letter opener and stuck it in Cyndi's neck twice.
"I think," I said sticking it in a third time. "I think I'm doing the world a favor by opening your throat like mail."
Cyndi stared at me with bulging eyes but she didn't have much to say as usual. Her blood spurted out like a geyser and Mel snuffed at the air with mild interest.
I stuck the letter opener in Cyndi's neck a final time and let her fall to the floor.
I looked at Mel and said, "You believe in entitties, boy?"
Mel made an "awwwrooor" sound and sniffed his scrotum some.
"No? Well then you must never heard 'bout entitties and beer..."
From Crucifiction by Krafto Matix.
