The giant black horse with the flaming blue mane began his descent to the bottom of the crater, following a trail that had been rutted eons ago. The wheels of the black carriage fit them grooves like a marriage made in heaven.
The reins to this horse were held by an angry cowboy preacher who wore a broken set of eyeglasses; one lens broken down the half by a bullet that had killed him a century ago when it entered his brain.
Glinty McFlintlock had some business to tend to. He would not be thwarted.
= = = = = = = = =
“Sean! What the fuck?! Wake up dude!” I grabbed Sean’s arms and brought him straight up. His eyelids fluttered and he looked at me with one eye, and the other one wandered off to the other side.
“Willie Boy, let me alone. Sleepy…”
He wandered off into his dream again. His eyes closed, and I felt a disconnection, a sort of release in his shoulders.
He was going away. I would not have it. I shook his shoulders over and over again, but he would not respond.
He was taking the next flight out, ticket bought, security check cool, buckle up and let’s go through the pamphlet in the seat pocket in front of you. Locate the nearest exit, it may be right behind you.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Tellesco knew his ride. He knew that his fat, chunky tires could get him out of the desert silt and back onto the road, the path ahead, if he didn’t drive like a dumb-ass. He would not spin his tires. He needed to feel the response of his bitch, and so he drove bare-footed.
When you drive in such a manner, you are connected to your vehicle. You two are wedded. You know when to ease off her accelerator, and when to tickle her fun button.
All good marriages are this way. It is give and take. When you give her some good thrusting, she will take what ever you want to give her, and she will deliver the both of you to the moon.
+ + + + + + + + + +
Fat Jerry had his hands full. The lump was in bad shape. The blood from the top of his head was ruining the fine velvet in the back of Fat Jerry’s hearse.
And he had yet to go and get the other lump. All he wanted to do was to meet those folks who raced along, coming closer. He felt something about them.
They called to him.
They could dance quite well. They would love to dance with him. They were worthy adversaries. They had plenty of bones to snap. And they wanted to snap his bones.
This could be quite a lot of fun.
By now, you know that Fat Jerry was the sort of person who could not deny his true nature.
He sat in his front seat, and he looked in his rearview mirror.
Through the downpour of rain, he saw them lights grow brighter. Hunger for pleasure crawled across his scalp with the purple mohawk, and down his neck, across his back, down his arms, across his chest, down his belly, and…
..he got the willies.
= = = = = = = = =
Glinty McFlintlock reigned in his steed. They had arrived. The old shack glinted a flickering oil-lamp in the window, and smoke wafted out of the chimney. Home, sweet home.
He jumped down, took his old preacher-style cowboy hat off, and swung it against his thigh to clean it off. Then he stalked over to the side of the carriage.
His horse snorted and breathed heavy. Mayhem was done for the night.
Glinty grabbed the door handle, twisted and clicked it open, and looked deep inside.
“Well hey there you young whipper thnapperth! How ya doing?”
I looked back at him from Sean and almost jumped out of my skin.
A ghost was talking to me.
On the surface of the moon.
I could not conceive of this. It was incontheivable.
I pulled Sean’s limp body back up, close to me.
“Please help us.”
Glinty, well, he nodded.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.