Ad Nauseam

by C. W. LaSart

  AD NAUSEAM

  13 Tales of Extreme Horror

  C. W. LaSART

  Dark Moon Books

  DEDICATION/ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This collection is gratefully dedicated to all of my friends and family. Thank you to Stan Swanson and Dark Moon Books for taking a chance on me, and to Kacy Danek for being my personal coach, friend, and unpaid editor. Last but most certainly not least, thank you to my wonderful parents, precious children and beloved Lou. Without your love and support, I would achieve nothing in this life.

  Many thanks as well to the Dark Moon crew including Araminta Star Matthews, Kurt Reichenbaugh and Max Booth III for all their hard work and Whendy Muchlis Effendy for his wonderful cover art.

  —C. W. LaSart

  DARK MOON BOOKS

  Largo, Florida

  AD NAUSEAM

  Copyright © Caren Hanten

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 978-0-9850250-0-5

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Dark Moon Books

  An imprint of Stony Meadow Publishing

  3412 Imperial Palm Drive

  Largo, FL 33771

  Visit our website at www.darkmoonbooks.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Cover Artwork: Whendy Muchlis Effendy

  Cover Design: Stan Swanson

  CONTENTS

  Simple Pleasures

  Widow

  Angel Lust

  Retirement Woes

  Micah’s Muse

  Flesh

  Carnality

  Lunch Date with Loa Loa

  Ink

  Bone Phone

  Sister Alice’s Suitor

  The Hand That Feeds

  Jack and Jill

  SIMPLE PLEASURES

  Jimmy squatted by the garden, his elbows resting on dirty knees. He pushed back his ball cap to scratch his receding hairline, squinting in the early morning sunlight at the small pile of gleaming guts in the grass.

  Hmmmmph! Now what the hell is that? Though it was only a thought, he still flinched, waiting for Mama to cuff his ear for cursing. Mama had been dead and buried for over a year, but he still felt her presence, hovering in anticipation of his next infraction.

  Edna DeLeon hadn’t raised her only child to be a foul mouth.

  The guts looked clean, not bloody like they’d been torn out by a cat or something. Jimmy thought they probably came from a rabbit or squirrel. A tiny, dark organ that may have been the liver was attached to the innards by a vessel no thicker than a thread. He poked at the pile with his index finger, wondering how it came to be in his yard, and where the rest of the unfortunate critter was. His finger began to tingle and he pulled it back in surprise. There was a faint odor around the pile he hadn’t noticed before, not the sort of nasty smell one associated with entrails, but a light, musky odor. It was almost pleasant. Jimmy inhaled deeply to breathe in more of the scent.

  As the unusual smell flooded his senses, he regarded the pile of guts with more curiosity than distaste. James DeLeon was a lot of things, but squeamish was never one of them. He grabbed the squishy pile of guts in his bare hand, meaning to throw them on the compost heap at the edge of the garden, but one end of the intestines seemed stuck to the grass. He tugged slightly, the slimy rope stretching a bit before the resistance he felt became a pulling of its own. It slipped through his hand and disappeared into the ground, with a faint slurping noise that reminded him of eating his Mama’s spaghetti.

  What on Earth?

  The entire mess was gone; only a small, irregular hole in the ground marked where it had been. Jimmy blinked. Had that really just happened? Did the ground really just suck those guts up like pasta?

  His whole hand tingled now and, though it had faded somewhat, the unusual scent lingered. Jimmy leaned forward, his nose pressed to the grass as he peered into the tiny hole left behind. It was hardly bigger than a drinking straw, the edges dark with raw soil. It actually looked like an earthworm burrow. The way the intestines had wriggled out of his hand was certainly worm-like.

  Jimmy straightened up and wiped his hands on his overalls before heading down the path to the house. It was awfully warm this morning and he’d been working in the garden for a while. His back was sore from being hunched over so long and he accepted that he wasn’t a kid anymore. Maybe he should just go in and have himself a cool glass of water and a short nap. He decided it was a good idea and, resisting the urge to glance back at where the little pile had been, he mounted the steps and entered the house.

  He had almost convinced himself the whole thing hadn’t happened, or that maybe it had been a big ol’ night crawler he’d gotten hold of, but one thing still troubled him. As he went about his daily chores, the same question kept returning to his mind.

  Why would a pile of innards, or an earthworm for that matter, have given him half a hard-on?

  ***

  Jimmy suffered fitful dreams that night and woke up early the next morning, feeling tired and a little hung-over.

  When Mama had been alive, she never allowed beer in the house. The day he put her in the ground out at Shady Pines Cemetery, Jimmy brought home a twelve-pack and, in the year since, made a habit of keeping beer in the fridge at all times. It was no longer her house.

  It still looked like her house, the same frilly drapes and matching hand-towels adorned the master bathroom.

  He hadn’t touched anything in her bedroom. But he considered the place his now, to be ruled under his rules. The beer was the first change. Jimmy had never lived alone before; never left his mother’s nest. Initially, he feared he would be lonely, but found the absence of Mama’s constant harping and slapping refreshing. He did miss her cooking, though.

  After a long shower (there was no one around to berate him for wasting water), Jimmy got dressed and checked the beer situation in the fridge.

  Uh oh. Only two left. He decided to go into town. He thought maybe he’d stop by the café for breakfast and see Charlene. Though being in town caused him anxiety, he would do anything for the chance to exchange a few words with his favorite waitress. The thought of seeing Charlene’s smile (even if it was because she kind of had to) made up his mind. Grabbing his sweat-stained ball cap, Jimmy crammed it on his head to cover his bald spot and headed out the door.

  The garage sat at the end of the walk, beyond the vegetable garden. Jimmy stopped abruptly, the sweat on his body cold despite the heat of the late June morning. The pile of guts was back, this time larger than before. Today it looked to have come from a cat or full grown rabbit. The smell was back too, much stronger this time. Jimmy could smell it from ten feet away, and became instantly erect.

  All thoughts of beer and Charlene disappeared as he once again knelt in the grass.

  The guts felt warm and sticky, once again clean of blood. He hefted them in his hand, careful not to pull at the section that disappeared into the ground like some strange umbilicus. A pleasant tingling permeated his flesh.

  “What the blue hell is going on here?” This time Jimmy didn’t flinch, ignoring his mother’s voice in his head as she berated him for cursing.

  James Allen DeLeon! You will not cuss in my house!

  “I’m not in the house, Mama. And
you’re dead.”

  At the sound of his voice arguing with his imagination, the guts once again slurped into the ground. Jimmy grabbed tight to the end, but it broke off in his hand, leaving him holding a scant inch of gleaming intestine. He wiped it on his jeans without thought, his eyes on the hole left behind.

  It was larger this time, big enough to admit his sausage-like index finger. Before he could lose his nerve, he poked the finger in and wriggled it around inside the hole. The interior was warm and moist. And slimy. Again he thought of an earthworm. Strange. Just as he was about to pull his finger out, the hole began to move. Pulling gently at his finger, it began to make those slurping noises. Sucking noises.

  Jimmy pulled back so violently that he fell onto his ass in the garden. A tomato plant broke his fall, the fruit squishing beneath his considerable weight and soaking through his jeans.

  Great! Just Great! Now it’s gonna look like I got my period! He laughed despite himself. Edna DeLeon hadn’t allowed cursing in her house, but it was really forbidden for men to talk about lady stuff.

  Jimmy sat on the remains of the tomato plant,staring at the grass. The dark hole in the ground stared back at him, exuding its seductive odor. He wondered where it had come from and what had caused it.

  Should I call someone?

  Who would I even call?

  He had no family left; his Dad had run off with a cocktail waitress shortly before he was born, and his mother had been an only child. He had no friends, and never held a job aside from repairing fencing for the farmers down the road. He and Mama hadn’t required much money to live on, and she had inherited a tidy sum in her bank account, including the house, when her own folks died. Now that bank account, like the house, was his. His decisions and his life were now his own, as well.

  When he was still in his twenties, Jimmy had mentioned to Mama that maybe he ought to date girls, like the rest of the guys in town did. Mama quickly squashed that ambition, reminding him how cruel the kids, especially the girls at school had been. Mama always said he’d been born with more heart than brains, and she fostered his shyness, not wanting to let anyone be in the position to hurt her only child.

  At thirty-seven, James DeLeon hadn’t dated since high school. Even then it had only been a few times. Both girls were so shy and sweet that he had been afraid to bring them home to his Mama, worried that she would hurt their feelings. He didn’t know if he could date at this point, or if he even wanted to. He didn’t know how to even start.

  Jimmy got to his feet and brushed off the back of his pants. No good. He was going to have to change. Another shower probably wouldn’t hurt, either.

  The hole in the ground remained, innocuous in the morning light, no outward evidence of the digestive remains it had gobbled up moments before. He once again wondered if there was someone he could tell about the phenomenon, but could think of no one, and walked into the house to clean up.

  ***

  A cheerful bell announced Jimmy’s arrival as he entered the diner, closer to lunch time now, since he had showered and changed. There were quite a few patrons, including a couple who occupied his usual corner table. Jimmy took a seat at the counter, disappointed his comfort zone had been invaded. Jimmy nodded at Sam as he walked over in his usual stained apron, looking bored, and laid a laminated menu on the counter in front of him. Charlene only waited on tables, and sitting at the counter made Jimmy the cook’s responsibility. He looked over at his table in hopes the couple might be finishing up, but Charlene was just delivering their food.

  Jimmy really wanted a beer, but ordered a cup of black coffee instead while looking at the menu. Someone pinched the back of his arm, startling him from his sullen inspection.

  “Hey there Jimmy.” Charlene stood at his elbow, holding three empty coffee cups by the handles expertly in one hand. Her smile, beautiful as always, made his heart skip.

  “Uh, hi, Charlene.” Jimmy felt himself blush, and tried to stop, only making the heat in his face worse.

  “Sorry about the table, Hon. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve saved it for ya.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t need that table. I was planning on sitting at the counter today anyways.” God, I always sound like an idiot when I try to talk to her! Jimmy wished he could just slither out the door.

  Charlene cocked her head to one side and smiled, clearly amused by his awkward behavior. Before she could reply, a woman across the restaurant called out, her hand waving frantically in the air.

  “Waitress! Can I have my bill? I’m late for a meeting!” Jimmy thought the woman was rude, and hated her for interrupting their conversation.

  “Just a minute,” Charlene called back.

  She reached out to grab Jimmy’s elbow gently, the feel of her hand reminding him of the tingly feeling he got from the hole. He tore his mind away from the memory just in time to catch what she said to him. “I go on break in about forty-five minutes. Would you be able to hang around that long? There’s something I wanna ask you.”

  “Sure!” He said too quickly. “I mean . . . um . . . of course. I haven’t even ordered yet. Was thinking maybe a hoagie, or a French dip—”

  She smiled at him as the woman needing her bill began to holler again. Charlene hurried away and called over her shoulder. “Talk to ya in a bit, Jimmy!”

  As if on cue, Sam came over with his pad and stood in front of Jimmy expectantly, not saying a word. Jimmy asked for the first thing on the menu, which happened to be a Rueben and fries. He didn’t like sauerkraut, but at the moment didn’t care. His mind whirled.

  What could Charlene want to ask me? What if she was going to ask him to quit coming in on her shifts? What if she thought he was creepy? Jimmy squashed the thoughts before they could blossom into a full blown panic. She probably needed someone to a repair a fence for her Mama. Or maybe for a new boyfriend?!

  Oh geez! Here we go again!

  The next forty-five minutes were the longest in his life, but Jimmy managed to eat his lunch, shoving the sandwich in without thought, and was surprised when it was gone. He almost left then, but suddenly the lady herself slid into the seat beside him, a diet coke in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other.

  “Whew! What a day! I think everyone must be crabby today. I swear if one more person complains about their food or the bill—she stopped abruptly, her big blue eyes bright with mirth. “Say Jimmy, would you mind talking outside? I only get fifteen minutes and I’m dying for a smoke.”

  Jimmy smiled in his awkward way and nodded. He always found it very charming how she spoke so fast and never seemed to run out of things to say. Charlene made him almost dizzy with her constant chatter, but he liked it. She never seemed self-conscious. He followed her out into the humid afternoon, the bell over the door sounding as they left.

  Charlene looked the same as always. Beautiful. She kept her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wore pink eye shadow and lip gloss that matched her uniform. Her skirt was short and tight, giving Jimmy a glimpse of long, tan legs that made him feel slightly lightheaded. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the brick wall, dragging deeply and squinting across the street at their reflections in the shop windows. As an afterthought, she held the pack of smokes towards him.

  “Want one?”

  “No, thank you.” He almost added Mama wouldn’t like that, but had enough sense to realize this wasn’t the sort of thing a grown man should say. Then he glanced at her legs and the roaring blush was back.

  “So anyway, I was thinking,” Charlene looked away as she spoke, paying too much attention to her cigarette. “There’s this picnic on Sunday after service, and I was thinking about going. But with me being divorced for so long and never showing up with a date to anything . . . I know those old women always have their tongues wagging and they have to be saying I’m some sort of lesbian or something.”

  He knew what a lesbian was, but he was unsure about the mechanics of such a relationship, so he nodded in a way he hoped look
ed knowing, saying nothing. Charlene stared at him for a minute, her eyebrows raised in expectation, before she finally spoke again, huffing in exasperation.

  “I was wondering if you would like to go with me.”

  “Go with, um, you?” Jimmy felt dizzy. Was she asking him out? “Like a date?”

  “Yeah. Sure. A date.” Charlene looked doubtful now and Jimmy felt that familiar panic well up inside him. She might be changing her mind.

  “Yes! Sure I would!” Jimmy beamed but she looked unsure, so he toned it down a notch, hoping he appeared less eager. “I mean, yeah. I would go with you.”

  Charlene smiled then, her teeth uneven and yellowed from nicotine, but still the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. She took out her order book and scratched something on it with her pen, before ripping the sheet off and handing it to him.

  “Here’s my number, Hon. Call me tomorrow night. We’ll figure it out.” She crushed the cigarette under her shoe then, with a wink, turned on her heel and left Jimmy to watch her hips swing as she walked back through the door.

  He stood there for a moment dumbfounded. He had a date! It was too much for him to process. Instead, he tried to remember if he had paid Sam for his sandwich or not. Checking the remaining cash in his pocket, Jimmy got into the truck and headed for the liquor store across town.

  ***

  Jimmy barely heard the liquor store’s little bell above the door. He walked to the back of the store and opened the cooler, locating his favorite brand of beer. There was a sale on cases, so he grabbed one instead of the usual twelve-pack. He heard Mama’s voice sound off in the back of his head, saying something about an alcoholic, but he ignored her. He was too happy about his date. Mama would have plenty to say about that too.

  On the way to the counter, Jimmy’s eyes fell on the magazine rack in the corner and he stopped. Unlike the racks in other stores, the front was higher so you couldn’t see the covers, only the very top where the name was. The beer wasn’t the only change in the house since Mama had died. He didn’t have very many of these magazines, but had collected a few.