Dead Clown Barbecue

by Strand, Jeff

  He fumbled out of his pants and briefs and sat naked on the bed. He wasn't quite ready for action, thanks to all of this arguing, but Angel knelt in front of the bed without him having to ask.

  * * *

  Jesus, thought Katherine as her head bobbed up and down. His dick is probably smaller than the dummy's. In the grand scheme of things, having the doll around wasn't anywhere near as weird as some of the other things guys wanted her to do, like be choked, but it creeped her the hell out.

  She glanced over at it. It was a wooden dummy that pretty much looked like all of the other ones she'd ever seen. It had painted-on brown hair, large brown eyes, a small nose, and a mouth that was permanently stuck in a grin.

  And even though it wasn't moving or anything like that, the goddamn thing looked like it was actually watching her. She half-expected it to spring to life and start tugging its tiny wooden penis.

  At least the dummy's owner wasn't having much trouble getting hard. She was so not in the mood to deal with erectile dysfunction tonight.

  She looked away from the dummy. The sight directly in front of her eyes wasn't much better. Somebody needed to tell him that it was the 21st century. Guys trimmed now.

  She pulled her mouth away. "How do you want me?"

  "On your hands and knees."

  She climbed onto the bed and obliged him, facing the television even though she kind of knew what he was going to say next.

  "No, face the nightstand."

  "You mean face the dummy."

  "Yeah. Do it."

  It wasn't worth arguing over. If there was a camera in the dummy . . . well, it wasn't as if there weren't already a dozen amateur sex videos of her online. She'd just get some friends to find Mr. Ventriloquist, break his legs, and get her fair payment.

  She adjusted her position as he tore open the condom wrapper. The dummy wasn't moving, and yet the creepy little fuck still seemed to be watching her.

  It was just her imagination.

  Stop looking at me, you pervert doll.

  The ventriloquist fumbled a bit behind her, and she reached back to help him out. She didn't want him to get performance anxiety and force her to start all over. He got inside and four or five thrusts later she could tell he was almost about to pop already.

  Awesome. The sooner the better.

  He sped up.

  The doll turned its head.

  Not a lot. Just enough that she was almost positive that she'd seen it turn its head, but enough that she immediately decided it was her imagination.

  The ventriloquist let out an orgasmic moan that was more like a high-pitched screech. At that moment, the doll leapt off the nightstand onto the bed.

  Katherine screamed.

  * * *

  Cameron sat on the sofa, drenched in perspiration and drinking whiskey as he stared at the dead hooker on his bed.

  He hoped nobody had called to complain about the scream. It had been a quick one, and this was a pretty crappy motel, so he might be fine.

  "Why the fuck did you do that?" he asked Wally. "What in your wooden little brain made you think that was a good idea?"

  Wally didn't respond. The dummy just sat on the bed, little wooden legs dangling over the edge.

  "Don't go mute on me," said Cameron. He pointed to Angel's bloody body. "And don't try to act like this was my fault. What the hell were you thinking?"

  Wally lowered his head.

  "I should break off your legs, that's what I should do. Snap those twigs off and make a little campfire. How would you like that? Or maybe I will lock you in a drawer. Lock you in there forever. It's not like you'll starve to death or suffocate. How's that sound?"

  "Please don't," said Wally, speaking so quietly that his mouth barely moved.

  The voice Cameron liked to do for him when he was playing ventriloquist was completely wrong. Wally actually had a very low voice, and often sounded like he was growling.

  "Then apologize."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Say you'll never do it again."

  Wally blinked. The dummy looked a bit defiant, which was hard to do with a wooden face that didn't move much. "What do you expect me to do?"

  "I expect you to behave yourself. I expect you to remember who has the power. You need me a lot more than I need you!"

  "What are you talking about? That doesn't make any sense! I don't need you at all! I want to be rid of you!"

  Cameron wanted to grab him off the bed and throw him against the floor, bashing him into splinters, but resisted the temptation.

  "You don't appreciate anything I do for you," Cameron said. "How many other dummies get to watch a live sex show? Huh? She wanted you to go in the drawer, but I was thinking about your happiness!"

  "You think I wanted to see that grotesque sight? You're more insane than I thought!"

  "She was hot! You should have sat there and enjoyed it, but no, instead you had to go and take advantage of my generosity!"

  Cameron finished off the bottle of whiskey and stood up. He'd put this off long enough. Now he had to get rid of the body.

  "Now I have to go buy a goddamn hacksaw," he told Wally. "Get in the bag."

  * * *

  Wally protested, but Wally always protested, the little shit. But he did get into the bag without Cameron having to pick him up and shove him in there.

  Cameron put up the Do Not Disturb sign and left. He preferred to support Mom-and-Pop stores, but he wanted to be less memorable buying the hacksaw, so he went to a Home Depot. He bought the best one they had and paid with cash. At a different store, he bought some garbage bags and cleaning supplies.

  "Making me buy a frickin' hacksaw," he muttered under his breath, as they drove back to the hotel. "Like I've got the extra money."

  Wally, still in the bag, didn't respond.

  "You can sit there and watch me do this," said Cameron, propping Wally up in the same spot where the dummy had watched him have brief sex with Angel. "If there's any shred of decency left in you, maybe you'll puke up some wood chips."

  Wally said nothing as Cameron sawed up the body. Cameron looked at him often, still expecting to see signs of regret in plastic eyes that could show no emotion.

  He got the body parts into their individual triple-wrapped garbage bags, and then bagged up the comforter and sheets. He scrubbed the mattress as well as he could. It wouldn't pass a forensics team, but it didn't immediately scream "ghastly murder site." He flipped the mattress over to further hide the crime.

  Obviously, the housekeeper would notice the missing linens, but he'd paid with cash and given a fake name, and at this kind of dump they were probably used to getting ripped off. He'd be driving all day to get to his next gig, and they weren't going to track him across three states to get back some sheets.

  * * *

  Her body was perfect.

  Seriously. If Cameron could have hired an artist to sculpt the ultimate female body to suit his taste, she would have been it. Her face? Not so great. But her body was sensational.

  As she writhed on top of him, topless but still in her thong, he could barely control himself. He needed to be inside her, now.

  Jenny licked his ear. "Want me to cuff you?"

  "Excuse me?"

  She leaned back and grinned. "I've got handcuffs. It'll be fun."

  "Oh. No, no, that's okay."

  Jenny gave him an exaggerated pout. "Oh, you're no fun." She looked over at Wally on the nightstand. "Your friend wants me to cuff you. He knows what kind of things I'd do to you . . . how I'd have my wicked way with you . . . with nothing you could do to stop me . . ."

  The idea was almost irresistible. Almost. But Cameron shook his head. "Sorry. Not my thing."

  Jenny shrugged. "A pity."

  Cameron was in love. Not just with her physical form; she was nice. She seemed to genuinely like being there with him. Was she faking it? Probably. No nineteen-year-old would want to hang out with an ugly guy her dad's age. But he was able to completely lose himself i
n the illusion that there was no exchange of money involved, that he'd met her at a bar and talked her into coming back to his hotel.

  "I love you," he said, before he could stop himself.

  She smiled. "Well, I love you too, sweetie. Are you ready for me?" She reached down and stroked him.

  "No, don't —"

  His release was intense, but he was too frantic about the bad timing to enjoy it. After a few seconds he just lay there, humiliated.

  Jenny giggled. "Wow. You got it all over us."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be sorry. I'll make you a deal. You be a gentleman and go get me a wet towel to clean myself up. I'm going to make a call so that I can spend some more time with you, and when you're ready, we'll give it another shot. Sound good, sweetie?"

  Cameron nodded.

  She winked at him. "I don't do this for everybody, so don't be a tattletale, okay?"

  Cameron got up and hurried into the bathroom.

  "Warm water!" she called after him.

  * * *

  Jenny reached for her cell phone to send a quick text to Marty. The ventriloquist was kind of adorable, and it made her feel good when a guy popped too soon. Marty could go for hours in a coke-fueled hate-fucking session, often rolling off her without even climaxing, and it wasn't the least bit romantic.

  "Please don't scream," a voice whispered next to her.

  She glanced over. It was the dummy. Its mouth moved as it spoke.

  "He's insane. He's a killer. Please, get out of here and take me with you, as quickly as you can. Grab me and run."

  She looked more closely at it. That ventriloquist prankster was in the bathroom, making this thing talk through some kind of remote control. Clever. "That so?" she asked, tapping on her cell phone screen as she kept her eye on the dummy.

  The dummy stood up as the sound of running water came from the bathroom. "I'm dead serious. He's psychotic. I can't get away from him."

  "That's a shame. You'd better run for the door, then."

  "I can't open it by myself! Please. You're in danger."

  "You know, I'm giving you a free second pop. I don't usually do that. You ought to be more grateful instead of trying to scare a lady."

  The water turned off.

  "Please, please help me," the dummy whispered, sitting back down.

  The ventriloquist walked out of the bathroom, holding a damp towel. He'd cleaned himself up. His eyes darted from her to the dummy and his smile disappeared.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "Cute trick."

  "Did he say something to you?"

  He seemed genuinely angry. Of course, he was a professional actor — ventriloquists counted as actors, right — so that wasn't surprising. Still, the way his eyes flashed with rage was unnerving.

  "Nah. I just thought he turned his head, probably the light. C'mon over here so I can bring your friend back to life. Not the dummy."

  The ventriloquist seemed unsure, but he lay down on the bed. Jenny picked up the remote control. "You like sports?" she asked.

  "Sure. Why?"

  "Most guys fantasize about watching the game while their girlfriend goes down on them. You one of them?"

  The ventriloquist nodded.

  "Good." Jenny turned on the television to ESPN, where a hockey game was playing. She turned up the volume, set the remote aside, and then took him into her mouth.

  "I don't think I can do it again this soon," the ventriloquist said.

  "I'll be the judge of that."

  After about a minute, it was clear that, yeah, he wouldn't be ready to go for a while. Jenny briefly pulled her mouth away so she could speak. "Sure you don't want me to cuff ya?"

  "I'm sure. I could cuff you."

  Jenny shook her head. "Noooooo," she said, playfully. "I like to be in charge. Just close your eyes and let me do all the work."

  The ventriloquist closed his eyes as she resumed.

  * * *

  As that hideous man lay there, moaning softly, Wally watched the hooker. Wally (Walter, before his soul had been zapped into this ridiculous dummy) knew she had some sort of plan. He had no personal experience with prostitutes, but he knew perfectly well that they didn't give you a free second try out of the goodness of their heart.

  Her eyes kept darting toward the door, which Wally couldn't see from where he sat.

  Wally would have smiled if he could. Now it made sense that she'd lured Cameron to the bed, and then said "Oh, wait, let me make sure the 'Do Not Disturb' sign is out." She'd left the door unlocked. Brilliant!

  Just lie there, Cameron. Enjoy yourself. Hopefully it'll be the last pleasant sensation you ever experience.

  A beam of light appeared and widened. Jenny picked up her pace and started making plenty of noise of her own. The beam of light disappeared.

  * * *

  Paradise.

  If Cameron could relive one moment on an endless loop for the rest of his life, it would be this one. He wondered if he could get away with kidnapping her. He'd never kidnapped anybody before, and he didn't really have anywhere he could take Jenny and keep her safe, so he'd probably just have to leave that idea as a fantasy.

  She pulled her head away from him.

  He opened his eyes.

  Oh, shit!

  There were two big men standing next to the bed. They lunged at him at the same time, and before Cameron could let out a cry for help they'd flipped him over and pressed his face into the mattress, muffling him. One of them twisted his arm behind his back.

  "Jesus!" said Jenny. "You don't have to break his arm!"

  "Shut the fuck up, bitch."

  "Real nice."

  "Listen up, asshole," said one of the men, presumably her pimp, whispering into Cameron's ear. His breath smelled of cigarettes and whiskey; much better whiskey than Cameron could afford. "We're taking your cash and any nice shit you've got. Give us any problems, and we cut the hell out of you. You got that?"

  Cameron couldn't speak through the mattress, but he was able to make a noise to indicate that he understood.

  "What're you waiting for?" the pimp said to Jenny. "Go through his shit!"

  Cameron lay there, helplessly listening to Jenny open drawers and dig through his suitcase. They were not going to be happy with the results.

  A few minutes later, his prediction was confirmed. "Twenty-six bucks," said Jenny, "not counting the cash he already gave me. He does have an ATM card, though."

  "So, how about you give the little lady here your PIN number?" The pimp grabbed a handful of Cameron's hair and pulled his head up enough to let him talk.

  "I don't have any money in my account."

  "That so?"

  "I've got twelve bucks. You want to hold me here for twelve bucks, be my guest."

  "He's got this dummy," said Jenny, picking up Wally. "It's remote control, I think. It might be worth something."

  "Bitch, you think that toy is valuable?"

  Jenny scowled at her pimp. "It talked to me while he was in the bathroom."

  "That shit's been around since I was a kid. That's not any year 3000 technology."

  "I'm not saying it's going to make us millionaires! I'm saying it was kind of cool!"

  "Then take it. I don't care."

  "I will." Jenny, still naked, picked up Wally and cradled him to her breast. "Show me how it works," she said to Cameron.

  "I can't," he said.

  "Bullshit you can't," said the pimp, smacking Cameron on the back of the head, hard. "Show her."

  The men pulled Cameron up into a kneeling position, clearly no longer worried that he might call out an alarm.

  "I have to be holding him to make him work," said Cameron.

  Jenny shook her head. "No, make him do what you did in the bathroom."

  What was he supposed to do? Try to convince them that Wally was really alive? They'd never believe that. His only hope was for Wally to play along . . .

  "It's all a trick," Cameron told Jenny, "but it's
about the performance, so you've got to make yourself believe that he's alive." He looked right into the dummy's eyes. "Wally, I'm sorry for everything I've done, and I swear to you that when we get out of this mess, I'll let you go. I'll open that door and you can run right out, or I'll take you anywhere you want to go. Please, Wally, believe me. Do you believe me? Just nod your head and say something if you believe me."

  Wally didn't move.

  "Please, Wally! Say something!"

  Wally said nothing.

  "Give this bitch the remote control or whatever it is," said the pimp. "We don't have time to play around."

  "Wally, say something! Talk to us!"

  "Make that dummy work or we're going to beat the shit out of you and leave you for dead."

  "Please, Wally! Please!"

  * * *

  Wally snuggled against Jenny's blouse as they sat in the back seat of the car. He'd had the perfect view of the men beating the shit out of Cameron and leaving him for dead, and now he had a nice place to relax while they drove back to wherever they were going.

  At some point, he'd tell Jenny that he was alive, but he'd wait until the right moment. There was no rush. For now, he'd just enjoy not being Cameron's prisoner any longer.

  "Why'd you bring that stupid thing?" asked her pimp, looking at her in the rear-view mirror.

  "Because it's cute."

  "Don't get too attached to it. When we get back, I'm gonna take that fuckin' thing apart splinter by splinter and see how it works."

  Crap.

  Oh well.

  Wally flapped his arms and thrashed around. "I'm alive! I am a living dummy! Fear me! Fear me! Fear me!"

  He bit down on Jenny's breast through the blouse, as hard as he could.

  Everybody in the car screamed.

  * * *

  Wally climbed out through the broken rear windshield. A couple of glass chunks were stuck in his face, but they didn't hurt or anything. He didn't think anybody in the car was dead, though he didn't have to worry about any of them coming after him anytime soon.

  He scurried out of the street and onto the sidewalk, and then into an alley.

  Safe. Finally.