by Ledger, John
“I don’t understand why you won’t come with me? She’s going to kill you. You know that, right?”
“Not if I die first.”
“You need to feed. We all do, that’s how we survive.”
“Survive? Good luck with that. She’s in control of your army and that other bitch is in control of the zombies now. Not to mention the fact that there’s a homicidal maniac by her side that wants us both dead.”
“That’s why we need to leave. We need to get out of Circus City.”
“You go, Ambrose. I’m too old, too weak. I give up. I’m done.”
“You’re pathetic is what you are, old man. Lay here and die then, I’m out of here.”
“Good luck.” was all the Professor said, as he watched the dark man walk away into the night. Ambrose might survive, but the Professor knew he himself didn’t have a chance. He waited for death to rescue him from this nightmare, and eventually his prayers were answered.
II.
Father Fairview didn’t possess the abilities of Lord Ambrose, but he didn’t need to be able to see into the future to realize his time was up. The zombie and fiend clowns were all obsessed with Cotton Candy, she was the new ‘Zombie Mother’, and the dope fiends were all perverts, so it didn’t take much for her to persuade them into joining her rebellion. The war was coming soon, and Father knew that they didn’t have much of a chance against the vampires.
It was too late though, the Father wasn’t quick enough with his realization of the current situation. As he walked through the carnival, intending to leave town, he quickly became the first target. A small mob of vamp clowns dropped to the ground from above, surrounding him in a circle. Father Fairview pulled his blades out and went after them. One by one, the demented circus clown took the vampires out, slicing throats and scalping a few in the process. Father Fairview seemed to be unstoppable, a human weapon dressed as a clown, with the power of an undead immortal.
He wasn’t immortal though, that he quickly discovered as Cherry Pie and Whitey showed up on the scene. The world’s biggest vampire made his way towards the Father, and it was over quickly. Father Fairview got a couple of swings with his knife hand in, slicing Whitey's chest and face. It wasn’t enough to halt the big man though, as he snapped the clown’s neck with his bare hands. Father Fairview’s lifeless body collapsed onto the ground, but Cherry wanted to make sure he didn’t get back up ever again. She took his own cleaver in hand, as she slowly and methodically hacked his head off of his neck. The vamp clowns swarmed his headless body, sucking up whatever life force remained, as Cherry tossed his head in a dumpster.
Cotton Candy and her army approached from the other end of the carnival, as Cherry moved forward to confront her old friend. The zombies, fiends and vampires were all ready to destroy one another, as the two queens squared off. Whitey and everyone else quickly dropped their weapons and calmed their tempers, as Cherry and Cotton embraced one another.
Cherry shoved her tongue down Cotton’s throat, as she held the Bukkake Queen in her arms, caressing her naked back. Cotton’s hands were all over Cherry’s ass, pulling her pants down. The two goddesses ravaged one another in the middle of the street, oblivious to the two armies that were ravaging themselves, as they watched their leaders. Cherry and Cotton had gotten rid of Ambrose and Father Fairview, gained control of the zombie/fiend and vampire armies, and taken over Circus City. The Professor was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for much longer. Cherry would take care of him after she was done taking care of herself, he could wait to die. Cotton Candy tasted too damn good.
III.
Cherry, Cotton and Whitey approached the dying Professor, Cherry in the lead as she looked down on him. “Not looking so good, old man.” Cherry kicked him in the gut and laughed.
“Don’t!” Whitey yelled. “He’s my friend.”
“He’s your friend?” Cherry asked, walking over to the giant. “I’m your Queen. He is nothing.”
“He’s my friend.” Whitey repeated, glaring at Cherry Pie.
“I’ve had just about enough of you and your friend, Whitey.” Cherry turned around to a boot to the face. She looked up from the ground to see Cotton Candy standing over her. “We’ve all had about enough of you.” Cotton said, waiting for Cherry to get back up.
“No, Cotton!” Whitey yelled, pushing her out of the way. Whitey scooped Cherry up off the ground and slammed her head into the pavement. Holding her by her ankles, he swung her back and forth repeatedly, until her body was a battered and bloody mess. Cotton and Whitey reunited, embracing one another, as the armies stood around clueless and confused as to what to do.
Cotton and Whitey faced the crowd and smiled, holding hands in the air as a symbol of victory, and their unification. It became obvious that Whitey was the new leader of the vamp clowns, as they lined up around him. Cotton was the Zombie Mother and idol of the fiends, so together, they would be unstoppable. The only missing element was the knowledge of the Professor. Cotton needed him. She would make him want to live again. She would be irresistible to him and he wouldn’t have the strength or willpower left to fight her. She would make him turn her, and she would control everyone and everything. Circus City would belong to Cotton Candy. It was all a part of her master plan, and for a while, it worked.
Customer Service
If you had a couple extra bucks and wanted to see some tits and ass, there were only two places to go in Marinville, Pennsylvania. Those two places were right next to each other as well. It was a Friday night and my buddy Matt had planned on going to the strip club, so he was bugging me to tag along. He said he didn’t want to be the ‘creepy guy’ who goes alone. I wasn’t sure which one he planned on checking out, as the Oasis was a straight up strip club while the other place was more of an adult novelty store that happened to have girls dancing naked.
I didn’t really care which one we were going to as long as we were getting fucked up before we went. I was all about the strip clubs at the time, a bit of a junkie. The closeness was all that I needed once in a while. Just to feel the touch of a woman again, a woman who wasn’t cold and heartless like my girlfriend. I realize it was a complete waste of my money and it was a habit that made me feel pathetic. I have a lot of bad habits though: women, drugs, alcohol, and violence. I have issues, to say the least.
Matt came over around six o’clock and we started drinking, since we wouldn’t be able to at the club. He informed me that we were going to the Oasis, and that was fine with me. We popped some Valiums and smoked some pot with hash on top before finally heading out around nine. On the way there, Matt’s girlfriend called him and he had to bail out on me. I wasn’t happy as I drove him back to my house and his car. I was feeling pretty good, so I decided his departure wasn’t going to ruin my night. I went to the strip club by myself and decided on the cheaper place.
As soon as I made my way inside, I had a feeling I should’ve turned around and left. The over-sized bald guy at the door was not very friendly and he looked like a Nazi to me. I paid my eight bucks and made my way into the club section of the establishment. It was a dark and dirty looking room with a stage surrounded by mirrors. There were several couches and benches placed randomly around the room, and a section off to the side with three little personal lap dance areas. A curtain off to the left of the stage was obviously the entrance to the dressing room for the girls.
I took a seat in the back of the room so that nobody could sit behind me and so I could scope out the scene. I was one of only five guys in the room including two old white guys, a black guy dressed up like Puff Daddy and a Latino guy who looked like some kind of Mexican gangster. I had to laugh to myself as I realized that I was one of them. A low life pervert.
On stage a tiny black girl was dancing and nobody really seemed to care other than Puffy who was up front now throwing ones at her pussy. One of the old men looked like he was falling asleep, and the other was getting a lap dance from a cute little redhead. The Mexican, like myself, seemed to be s
taring at the stage uninterested. The next girl hit the stage and everything changed around me, like a scene in a horror movie.
As some kind of hardcore punk song that was unrecognizable to me began blaring in the club, a group of skins made their way into the club and sat down. There were eight or nine of them, ranging in size from little bitch to scary looking monster. All were bald and covered in tattoos with their red suspenders, and sporting black boots. I couldn’t stand these fuckers and I’ve seen them around plenty of times. They’d never really fucked with me before and I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t one of them that much was for sure. I looked a bit like Sid Vicious at the time and I get punk, but I didn’t get them.
The girl on stage was a tall blonde with legs that went on for days, and she had several tattoos that made it very clear she was one of them. The fact that they were all hooting and hollering for her performance as they drooled over her pole dance made that even clearer. A couple of times, I caught the eye of one of them and they would simply give me a friendly head nod or a wink. The little guy kept smiling like a fucking cheetah or something and they were all extremely obnoxious. The two old men left, and I was surprised Puffy and the Mexican didn’t follow. They both looked very nervous in their seats, and rightfully so, I thought to myself. They evidently both had their pride and image to maintain, so they stayed there in the Skin Club with me.
Why didn’t I leave would’ve been a good question, but I already know the answer. I was hypnotized by the beauty of their Nazi goddess on stage. Her tits were huge, but they were perfect, and I was totally in a trance thinking about those legs wrapped around my face as she spread them wide for all to see her glory hole. That beautiful daydream didn’t get to last long before chaos interrupted my happiness. I looked over towards the commotion and the skins were circled around Puffy, stomping him on the ground. A hot Latina chick with big tits bouncing around was being held back by the Mexican as she was yelling at them to stop. They were a couple, I assumed, as he kept calling her “baby” and “honey” and other shit like that. The Skins didn’t care though, they were on the attack as their lady just kept dancing.
The last thing I saw on my way out of the club was the Mexican being stomped to the ground as they were bending his girlfriend over on stage, whether she liked it or not. She didn’t.
I went next door to the Oasis and finally got the lap dance I’d been wanting all night. I decided it was indeed a much nicer establishment than its competition next door. I knew I would not be going there again and that everyone should go to the Oasis instead, as I drove home and loaded my gas cans into the trunk of my car. I decided that nobody would be going to the Skins club again, as I set the place on fire. It’s all about good customer service. Nobody ever offered me a dance.
The Sultan of Weird
The Davenport mansion was a gigantic black eyesore watching over the end of Mason Lane. Constructed in 1847, Andrew Davenport used it as a winter home for his family of nine. After three years, Andrew, his wife Elizabeth, their six daughters and son had vacated the house permanently. Andrew swore the mansion was cursed, and he had refused to let the evil that lives there cause any harm to his family. He sold the mansion to a wealthy investor by the name of William York, warning him of the evil within those black walls. Mr. York wasn’t concerned about any of that, since he planned on renting out the home or reselling it to turn a profit. They signed the necessary paperwork and completed their transaction, and that was that. The Davenport family left as quickly as they could.
Mr. York couldn’t believe how quickly he was contacted about the mansion. A woman with an Asian accent was on the phone, claiming that she needed to find a home for her brother, and that he was royalty. He was a Sultan from Turkey who would need a large estate for his wives and servants. William thought it was the craziest shit he’d ever heard, but the price she offered to pay was too pretty to pass on, so they made a deal. Two days later, a group of twenty or more people moved into the mansion, and it wasn’t too far into the first week of their arrival when the neighbors began to express concern among one another. Many strange things had transpired since the Sultan’s arrival, and it was only getting weirder.
All of the windows had been boarded up and painted pink, while the once blackened atrocity of a home was now a gold and pink nightmare. The neighbors had also noticed that numerous females of foreign descent entered the home, but none of them ever left. A limousine would leave and bring them back to the house one or two at a time but the next time the limo would leave, it was only the driver. One neighbor in particular was very involved in the neighborhood watch situation and very vocal as well. Oliver Thorn called the police when it all went down and spoke to the local news.
“It was like something from another planet. They had guards outside at all times and they were like little people, midgets, you know? And they were naked except they had diapers on. They had swords too, weirdest shit I ever seen. That nut, we thought he had parties or something going on, but we didn’t know what was going on in there. We always heard the same music, weird Indian sounding stuff, I don’t know, I’m an old man. But I ain’t crazy and I know what I saw today! I’m just glad it’s all over. They need to burn that house down.”
Oliver’s statement to the police of what he’d witnessed sure sounded crazy, completely bat shit crazy. Apparently, the Sultan was out on his front lawn, naked, riding a donkey. That wasn’t the crazy part though. His seven wives, who were also in their birthday suits, were crawling around the yard on all fours, like dogs. The Sultan yelled and screamed commands at them in some foreign tongue, and the events that followed would be forever burned into Oliver Thorn’s brain.
The women were ordered to defecate in the yard and then forced to sample each other’s droppings. Oliver threw up in his mouth a little as he watched this, but he couldn’t force himself to turn away; it was like a car accident that you just had to investigate, only much worse. The Sultan then jumped off his donkey and retrieved a bullwhip from the porch. He continued to scream at the women as he made his rounds, lashing all of them until they were bloody and in tears. The front doors suddenly opened and out came the midgets with knives and erections, ready to strike. The women were lined up in a horizontal row still on all fours, waiting for whatever was about to happen next. The Sultan commanded the midgets, and they were eager to please as they each lined up behind the wives, mounting them from behind. The Sultan laughed triumphantly like a raving lunatic, stroking his massive erection as he watched the show that he provided for himself. He yelled out one last command and the midgets responded by slitting the wives throats from behind and then sawing off their heads. They came, and so did the Sultan before he disappeared back inside the Golden Palace with the heads.
As soon as the police arrived, they noticed the stench of death in the air. Then, they saw the headless bodies in the front lawn and blood oozing out from underneath the front doors of the crazy house. It was time to go in with guns drawn. After opening the front door, several officers began blowing chunks on the spot. The few who didn’t stood wide-eyed in shock, taking it all in. There were more dead women inside and many other bodies as well. Parts, would be a better description considering there were arms, legs, feet and torsos scattered about like some satanic jigsaw puzzle. It was impossible to tell how many people had been killed here. Organs, blood, shit and other bodily fluids decorated the walls, floor and furniture, but no heads were found anywhere. Neither was the Sultan. Days later, police would determine that the midgets’ bodies were among the carnage. The mansion was cleaned up and the neighborhood was happy to see it vacated once again. They decided to paint it black, because nobody wanted to remember the “Golden Palace”.
Several hundred miles away…
Andrew Davenport was sitting on the front porch in his rocking chair when he saw him. He figured the Jack he was drinking must’ve gotten the best of him until one of his daughters, Adelia, tapped him on the shoulder. “Daddy, who’s that man?” she asked.
“I don’t know, baby. Just a stranger. Now go back inside and get to bed, honey.”
“Okay, Daddy. Goodnight.” She gave her father a kiss and ran back inside the house. Andrew watched and waited, as a tear fell from his eye. This was it, this was their end. His whole family was about to be slaughtered and there was nothing he could do about it. The visions from the black house weren’t about the house. They were about him, the stranger, the master. It didn’t matter that Andrew had moved his family away to safety because there was none. There was no escaping the evil.
Andrew had his gun in hand, ready to end it all himself. He knew it was the coward’s way out, but there was no way he could bear witness to his visions becoming a reality. Just as he was ready to pull the trigger, the demon rode by on his donkey with a bag full of heads. Andrew let out a sigh of relief and took another shot from the bottle. He was ready to thank God when his prayers were interrupted by a female voice. “You’re not safe.”
“What? Who the hell are you?” Andrew looked over to see an Asian woman dressed in all black standing on the step of his porch. She had come out of nowhere, literally.
“Who I am does not matter. My master just showed you that he knows where you are. You are not safe here, and this is not your home. The mansion needs you and your family. You shall return there immediately.”
“I don’t think so, lady. You’re fucking nuts and we are not going back to that house. No way in hell.”
“It’s funny you mention hell, Mr. Davenport, because when you built the mansion, you opened a doorway to a sort of hell. You opened a portal to another dimension which now resides in that house, and it’s your responsibility to take care of it.”