Smashed, Squashed, Splattered, Chewed, Chunked and Spewed

by Lance Carbuncle

  Pervis always brings me a new creature to decorate the house. Last time he visited he gave me something he called a globster. It was just a squishy brown unidentifiable glob of mottled flesh with a kinked, hairless tail, teeth in random places, furry patches and twisted antennae jutting out awkwardly. According to Pervis, he found it one day when he visited the beach. I have to admit that it doesn’t look manufactured. Either it’s for real or Pervis is a master. He says that a ranger unsuccessfully tried to take the globster away from him. The ranger must have seen something in the old boy’s eyes that made him back off and let him keep it. Pervis took it home, taxidermied it, and now it sits on in the middle of our kitchen table, a wonderfully horrid centerpiece.

  Arnette says that Buddy has gone off of the deep end; Buddy now insists on being called Bufo Bufo Gargarizans and says that he is part of a skunk ape cluster. Although he can’t confirm it, and Buddy won’t say one way or the other, Arnette believes that Buddy may have fallen in with the French-Canadian broads that are still running around out in the swamp. Pervis says that they’re probably licking psychoactive Cuban tree frogs out there and “trippin’ balls.” Buddy stops by Arnette and Pervis’s place less and less, looking more disheveled, more like a madman with each visit. They show me a picture they snapped of Buddy the last time he stopped in. His hair is long and dirty, his beard unruly, matted and tangled. Buddy stands tall with his chin jutting out. He is nude, thin and muscular, and looks as if his beer belly just fell off and sunk to the bottom of the swamp. The shaggy body hair obscures his genitals, making him look a bit Sasquatch-like. Despite his physical appearance, the gleam in his eyes and the smile on his face indicate that he is not mad. Instead, Buddy has a look of utter bliss. He seems to me to have matured into a swamp-dwelling mystic, a holy man who has found answers to all of his questions. I wish him well and hope to see him again.

  Denny is doing great. After giving up on his campaign to euthanize me, he went to Utah and retrieved his true love, Marie, sneaking her out of her little fundamentalist Mormon village in the middle of the night. Marie gladly went along with the abduction and let Denny bring her to Florida with him. As an ordained member of the clergy, I performed the marriage ceremony and counseled the couple on the soul binding nonsense that had so worried Denny. Marie had no powers over Denny’s spirit and just wanted to keep him around so she made up the story about getting him into heaven. After the ceremony we all sat around in the back yard, drank fruity punch spiked with pure grain alcohol and shot off fireworks.

  Now and again I see people on TV that I met in the course of the Idjit rescue mission. Last night, on a national talent show, I saw Peaches singing the Safety Dance. Peaches, from the Brahman. And she was fucking awesome. The panel of judges just about came all over her with how good she was. Even “Hot Carl” Blumpkin, the show’s host, couldn’t stop raving. In the background, for just a second, I saw Crash, the dent in his head grown larger and softer, clapping his hands out of time and flashing a moronic smile that says I’m in love and I have brain damage, I may have just smudged my pants, but I’m happy. Occasionally I see someone on the news or some reality show that looks familiar. I get the sense that I know them. The cloying, smoky scent of the Brahman comes back to me. Were these people somehow imprisoned by the Brahman? Was it like quicksand for lost souls? Did I somehow free them from their chains by setting the bar on fire? Maybe Ramona was some sort of soul-sucking vampire, a succubus who enslaved the bar patrons with cheap booze and karaoke while she sapped their wills to live. I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the holes in my brain getting bigger, eating away at what little I have left up there.

  Private investigators have come to see me lately about Kyle, the Bratmobile kid. He seems to have just disappeared into the swamps. He reappears spasmodically, taking a job at a pizza shop or car wash for a week or so and then disappears after his first paycheck is issued. It’s the same every time. His boss will give him a paycheck and Kyle says that it’s “like, so glorious and random.” He cashes the check and then is not seen for weeks or months. The investigators say that his coworkers usually report that Kyle reeks of decomposition and stale malt liquor. With each reported sighting he has more body-piercings and tattoos. I always say that I’ll keep an eye out for the kid. I can understand his parents’ feelings. I know what it’s like to have an errant loved one. I suggest to the investigators that they might want to check with Kyle’s friend, Spencer. They say that they have. Spencer is still driving around the country in one of the Bratmobiles, handing out meat-whistles. All he does is smirk when they ask about Kyle and say that “what he did was glorious.”

  I still have the mojo bag that Clubfoot Jasper made for me. It brings me luck and serenity. It gives me guidance. It soothes aching joints, removes plantar’s warts, and fights gingivitis. As part of my thesis work I lobbied the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to induct Jasper. He was THE quintessential Mississippi Delta Bluesman. He was the blues. Jasper lived the music he played. He slept, ate and shit the blues. I mean, the man invented the I-shot-my-cheatin’-woman-down blues format, for Christ’s sake. “It’s crap,” I told them, “that Muddy Waters and Bo Diddley and B.B. King are inductees, but not Clubfoot Jasper Moberly.” Hell, even Jasper’s friend Robert was inducted into the Hall of Fame. Don’t get me wrong, those guys were all good, but they couldn’t hold a candle to Jasper and his influence on rock music. My campaign on behalf of Jasper has thus far been disregarded. But I swear it on my mojo bag, the man will get his due.

  Fat Elvis has settled down in Gibsonton. He rents a room from Denny and Marie and is dating my former aunt, Bernice. She wants him to move into the trailer with her. Fat Elvis says he loves Bernice but needs his space. “And I just cannot visualize myself cohabitating in a trailer with a feculent freezer loaded chockablock with doo-doo,” he says. “You know what kind of an olfactory onslaught I would suffer in that manufactured home if we got walloped by a hurricane and the electricity went on the fritz.” Every couple of months Fat Elvis will come and stay with us when he gets a gig playing on one of the gambling ships or cruises going out of Miami. It’s good to see him. When he goes out to work a cruise he leaves me with the Stutz Blackhawk. Angus loves that freaky old car. Fat Elvis is out to sea right now, oozing the blues to a boatload of pasty Midwesterners and Canadians on their way to the Bahamas. When he gets back he will have loads of cheap t-shirts, hemp necklaces, Jamaican coffee, and duty-free booze to hand out. But while he’s gone, we have the car.

  Me and Angus and Jack are on the road again. We’re driving the Atlantic coast, straight up A1A. Jack hangs his head out the window and his tongue dangles from the side of his mouth, flapping in the wind. Angus laughs at him. I sit on an inflatable hemorrhoid pillow as I drive because my asshole is sore. We have a cooler stocked with Pabst Blue Ribbon, deviled eggs and PB&J. It’ll be a couple of days before Fat Elvis returns. I’m thinking Angus will like the Golf of Mexico. We should be back in time to pick Fat Elvis up at the port, as long as nothing weird happens to us.

  The Dr. Reverend Lance Carbuncle was born sometime during the last millennium and he’s been getting bigger, older and uglier ever since. Carbuncle is an ordained minister with the Church of Spiritual Humanism. Carbuncle doesn’t eat deviled eggs, and he doesn’t drink cheap beer. Carbuncle doesn’t wear sock garters. Carbuncle does tell stories. And he likes to hear what his readers think. You can let him know how you feel about his books at Bonesbarbuncle@Lancecarbuncle.com.

  [1] Mrs. Elva Ruby Connes recorded cover tunes under the name Mrs. Miller. Her voice sounded something like a dying coyote being anally mistreated. It was beautiful. Worth checking out are her versions of Under the Boardwalk, Sweet Pea, and These Boots are Made for Walking.

  [2] Author of literary classic A Pickle for the Knowing Ones.

  [2.5] For the purposes of this ebook version of Smashed, the footnotes have been changed to endnotes that are found at the end of each chapter.

  [3] www.lancecarbuncle.comr />
  [4] The Great Fart Survey, a survey of 1,000 Australians found that 39% of those surveyed enjoyed the scent of their own farts. 15% of those surveyed gave no answer to the question. If it can be properly inferred that the refusal to answer amounts to an admission, then the survey can be interpreted to show that over 50% of Australians enjoy huffing their own flatulence.

  [5] Plastination is a technique that is now available to preserve human bodies or body parts. The fat and water in body tissues can be replaced with plastics, thus depriving bacteria of the conditions they need to survive. A plasticated specimen does not smell or decay. Several large displays of real human plastinates have been exhibited around the world. One such exhibit is located in Orlando, Florida. One can imagine a family on vacation in the world’s happiest place, stopping in for an interesting science lesson and being horrified by real human bodies with skin sliced away, muscles filleted, and openly exposed genitals.

  [6] In the third episode of the seventh season of The Simpsons, Bart Simpson sold his soul to Millhouse for five dollars in the form of a piece of paper saying “Bart Simpson’s soul.” Millhouse trades the soul to the comic book storeowner, Jeff “Comic Book Guy” Albertson, for a set of Alf pogs.

  [7] In a hierarchy, every employee rises to his level of incompetence.

  [8] Mary is not the only elephant to be executed. Topsy the elephant killed three men (including her abusive keeper who attempted to feed her a lit cigarette). Topsy’s owner decided she was a danger and needed to be put down. Thomas Edison suggested that electrocution would be a humane way to execute the animal. Topsy was put to death via electrocution on January 4, 1903. Thomas Edison filmed the event and released it for viewing under the title Electrocuting an Elephant.

  [9] The tale of Murderous Mary was somewhat embellished by Ramona. However, she was telling a variation of the truth. Mighty Mary was lynched in the town of Erwin. Typing the terms “Mighty Mary” or “Murderous Mary” into an Internet search engine will bring up numerous web pages on the subject. Photos were taken of her dangling from the crane and are easily found on the Internet.

  [10] The Tennessee Code does not specifically prohibit anally raping a dead body. However, Tennessee Code Section 39-17-312(A)(1) does make it a class E felony, punishable by up to six years imprisonment, for somebody who physically mistreats a corpse in a manner offensive to the sensibilities of a normal person. It would be a question for a jury, then, whether anally penetrating a corpse is offensive to the sensibilities of a normal person.

  [11] If the reader should doubt that Pickles’ interrogation techniques are realistic, a perusal of the U.S. Supreme Court case of Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U.S. 436 (1966), is recommended for an interesting and entertaining read.

  [12] Some people call it a Slingblade.

  [13] Almost all mammals have foreskins, except for the platypus and echidna (spiny anteater). Echidnas have no nipples; their young sup at milk patches on the mother.

  [14] The ancient Sumerians are credited with the invention of the drinking straw. It was used for drinking beer in order to avoid ingesting the solid byproducts of fermentation.

  [15] The study of beards is called pogonology.

  [16] Armour Star potted meat product contains the following ingredients: mechanically separated chicken, beef tripe (stomach), partially defatted cooked beef fatty tissue (huh?), beef hearts, water, partially defatted cooked pork fatty tissue. It also contains less than two percent of the following: mustard, natural flavorings, dried garlic, dextrose, sodium erythorbate, and sodium nitrite.

  [17] In 2005 two oil paintings of dogs playing poker, painted by C.M. Coolidge, were purchased together at an auction for $590,400.00. It was expected that the paintings would be sold for somewhere between $30,000.00 to $50,000.00. The works, A Bold Bluff and Waterloo, are part of a sequential narrative of paintings that follows the course of a hand of poker played by a group of dogs.

  [18] It is thought that the myth of the jackalope was inspired by sightings of jackrabbits afflicted with Shope Papillomavirus, which causes the growth of horn and antler-like tumors about the rabbits’ heads and bodies.

  [19] Traditionally made by simmering the cleaned head of a hog (with the organs removed) to produce a gelatin from the bone marrow, and mixed with any incidental meat which comes off of the head, such as snout, lips and ears. Should be served cold or at room temperature, perhaps spread on a cracker.

  [20] After stepping on a carcass, turkey vultures frequently defecate on their own legs. The feces is white and fluid. The high uric acid content of the feces acts as a sanitizer, killing any of the bacteria the bird may have picked up from the dead animal.

  [21] A disproportionately high percentage of this small minority is rumored to hail from Nantucket, Massachusetts.

  [22] STRANGE BUT TRUE. See http://thestraights.com for in-depth coverage of the incident. Richard Bradbury, upstanding young man and discoverer of the penis pump attempted to sell it on Ebay.com for $300,000.00.

  [23] NASCAR groupies are frequently referred to as pit lizards. Professional wrestling groupies are known as ring rats.

  [24] Wikipedia.org, the online encyclopedia, gives a long list of movies and television shows that contain defenestration. It also provides examples of defenestration throughout history.

  [25] Although he did several different stints in jail, Johnny Cash never served a term of incarceration in a prison.

  [26] U.S. President Lyndon Baines Johnson also had interesting bathroom habits. He is known to have insisted that others accompany him in the bathroom to conduct official business (such as taking dictation) while he moved his bowels.

  [27] It is an irrefutable, scientifically documented fact that the opening riff to Smoke on the Water will be played by any musically untrained person who picks up a guitar and tries to play it. This occurs regardless of race, religion, physical location of the player, or actual familiarity with the song. Tribesmen deep in the Amazon Rain Forests have been handed guitars and asked to play them. Immediately, and invariably, they break into the riff.

  [28] Contrary to popular understanding, a sphincter is not just a butt-hole. A sphincter is a circular muscle that usually controls a bodily orifice and can be constricted or relaxed as is necessary. The human body contains at least 42 different sphincters, some of them microscopic in size.

  [29] Kalaupapa was the village on Molokai where lepers were forcibly isolated. The mandatory isolation law was repealed in 1969. A handful of people suffering from leprosy still reside there.

  [30] In 1978 a woman in New Mexico was making burritos and noticed a strange skillet burn on one of the tortillas. She believed the burn to be the image of the face of Jesus Christ. A priest reluctantly blessed the tortilla and the woman built a shrine for it. Thousands of people flocked to the shrine from around the United States to witness the blessed tortilla and pray for cures for their ailments.

  [31] See Shaun of the Dead for one of the best zombie movies ever. It has identical twin zombies.

  [32] Graham Barker, of Perth, Western Australia, is the world record holder for collecting navel lint. Barker has been collecting the lint since 1984 and keeps it in jars. See www.feargod.net/fluff.html for Barker’s story.

  [33] See www.menwholooklikekennyrogers.com.

  [34] Nurse Mildred Ratched, portrayed by Louise Fletcher, from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was voted as the fifth greatest villain in film history by the American Film Institute in 2003.

  [35] He’s such a nice boy. He used to mow the lawn.

  GRUNDISH AND ASKEW—Strap on your athletic cup and grab a barf bag. The Dr. Reverend Lance Carbuncle is going to kick you square in the balls and send you on a wild ride that may or may not answer the following questions: what happens when two white trash, trailer park-dwelling, platonic life partners go on a moronic and misdirected crime spree?; can their manly love for each other endure when one of them suffers a psychological bitch-slap that renders him a homicidal maniac?; will a snaggletoothed teenage
prostitute tear them apart?; what is the best way to use a dead illegal alien to your advantage in a hostage situation?; what’s that smell?; and, what the hell is Alf the Sacred Burro coughing up? Grundish and Askew ponders these troubling questions and more. So sit down, put on some protective goggles, and get ready for Carbuncle to blast you in the face with a warm load of fictitious sickness.

  • • •

  SLOUGHING OFF THE ROT—John the Revelator awakens in a cave with no memory of his prior life. Guided along El Camino de la Muerte by a demented madman and a philosophical giant, John sets out on a quest to fill in his blank slate and slough off the rot of his soul. Part dark comedy road trip, part spiritual quest, and part horror story, Sloughing Off the Rot is literary alchemy about John’s transformation from repugnant wretch to reluctant hero. To be released in 2012.