This Town Needs a Monster

by Andersen Prunty

  I palmed her stump and began squeezing it. I made a mental grocery list. Might as well grab some food while I was here.

  “Wanna know how I lost it?”

  “What?” I was thinking about bread.

  “Want to know how I lost my arm?”

  Not really, I thought. I want to keep all the stuff I’m going to rob from you locked in my head so I don’t forget anything.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “I went to my doctor up at The Point a few years ago cause I thought I was gettin that corporate funnel syndrome. He tells me he thinks it’s a lot more severe than that n wants me to get x-rays of it. So I do that thinkin they just want some way to make a little more money off me and he comes back and tells me there’s some kind of worm livin in my arm!” She rubbed herself quickly, almost angrily. I lit into the stump with the same passion. “So he tells me they need to operate right away or it’s gonna come out through my pussy and I might die and I go in the next morning and they put me under n when I wake up I only got one arm!”

  She shuddered with a rapid climax and I felt a sticky substance against the palm of my hand. I quickly pulled it away and watched an anemic waterfall of sickening greenish brown liquid ooze from her stump.

  I searched the break room for a paper towel or napkin while she sat in the chair with a far away look in her eyes.

  “I hope I lose the other arm one day,” she said softly.

  I wiped my hand off and got out of the break room before I threw up. I marched up to the counter and grabbed a couple of bags and a carton of cigarettes and quickly filled the bags as full as possible. I went back to the coolers and grabbed a case of Bud and got out of the carryout as fast as I could. She hadn’t come back up front the rest of the time I was there. That made things a lot less awkward.

  When I got back to the apartment, there was a sky blue Xeroxed flyer taped to the door of the building.

  It said:

  ARE PLAGUED BY DEMONS OR WITCHES???

  BLACK MAGIC RUINING YOUR LIFE???

  CONTACT DR. BLAST TODAY AND

  LIFT

  THE

  CURSE!!!

  Below the text was a black and blue photo of an affable looking bearded man wearing a turban and at the bottom were a number of tabs with a phone number on them.

  I ripped the whole sheet down and stuffed it into one of my bags.

  Maybe I was cursed.

  If so, I had no way of contacting this Dr. Blast character to lift the curse. Even if I could contact him, I had no way of getting to him or paying him so I guessed I’d just have to remain cursed.

  Back in the apartment, I dived into my bags of junk food and the beer, taking breaks to smoke, lifting the curse the only way I knew how.

  * * *

  A couple days later I had a dream I was at the dentist’s office. I had some kind of apparatus on my head holding my mouth open and the doctor was in the process of shoving a severed hand down my throat. I wanted to tell him I couldn’t breathe but couldn’t make any coherent sounds come out.

  I woke up to the crushing weight of Plopsy on my chest, her meaty hands wrapped around my throat.

  Once she noticed I was awake, she took her hands away but didn’t get off.

  “Dawn told me to come and get you,” she said.

  I was slightly hungover and sick with junk food. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a shower.

  “Okay.” My voice felt hoarse and weak. “What time is it?”

  “Late. Almost dark.”

  “Do you mind getting off me? I think I’m going to be sick.”

  She hoisted herself off me and fell to the floor. She struggled to stand up and I felt really embarrassed for her. She was remarkably thinner than she had been, but still pretty large.

  “I’m gonna have to take a shower,” I said.

  “No rush,” she said.

  I went into the bathroom to vomit and brush my teeth and take a quick shower.

  I expected to find Plopsy powered down and standing in the middle of my apartment staring into space in a slightly unfocused manner.

  Instead she had her dress hiked up and was rubbing her vagina against a Chet Atkins record.

  “I got bored,” she said. “So I was puttin my pussy on stuff.”

  “Yeah. That’s fine.”

  I held out my hand and she gave me the record. I walked into the kitchen area and threw it in the trash.

  I followed Plopsy out to the former police car. I sat in the passenger seat, not feeling all that great. Plopsy drove to a McDonald’s on the outskirts of Gethsemane and ordered an abundance of food. She didn’t offer me any of it. I was okay with that. I’d eaten so much shit since rubbing that woman’s stump the idea of eating any more bad food made me queasy.

  By the time we got to Dawn’s house I was really excited to see her.

  Plopsy didn’t knock or anything, managing to get the door open with her two bags of food and massive soda.

  Dawn was waiting for us.

  She looked really good in a tiny pair of denim shorts and white t-shirt so tight I could make out her darker colored bra beneath it.

  “Hey,” I said, trying not to sound too needy.

  “Follow me,” she said.

  She wasn’t wearing any shoes. I didn’t have a foot fetish and I’d had my mouth on her pussy but, still, the sight of her naked feet excited me.

  Christ, I needed to start jerking off more.

  Plopsy didn’t follow us. I imagined she was going to go dig in to all that food.

  I followed Dawn downstairs and through the rec room and into a small bathroom next to the office she’d taken me into the one day.

  “I know you want me,” she said.

  It was true. I didn’t say anything.

  “So I want to play a game. The winner gets me.”

  I wasn’t a competitive person and had no idea what game she wanted to play.

  “What’s the game?” I asked.

  “I’m going to get into the bathtub. Someone else is going to come in. The first one of you who pisses on me gets to fuck me.”

  I was a bit lost for words. I felt relieved it didn’t involve killing animals or beating people in the face with a chain but knew I could never win. I could barely piss at a public urinal if there was anybody else in the bathroom. I didn’t see how I could possibly stand next to another man and piss on a girl I was more or less obsessed with. That was a lot of pressure. There was also the thought of someone else having sex with her if I lost. That lit a sort of jealous rage in me and maybe that was her whole point. I knew the jealousy was unreasonable. Dawn had never expressed the least sexual interest in anything other than my tongue, I knew she was married, and she’d also repeatedly told me she wasn’t into any guys. Well, I guess she’d admitted being into one guy, her pimp or whatever from her delinquent days, but I’d assumed that story was mostly bullshit.

  “If that’s what you want,” I said.

  “And the loser has to watch the winner fuck me.”

  She probably meant this to be a huge deterrent to losing but the thought of seeing her actually get fucked by anyone, seeing her with more than just her pants off, seeing her penetrated, excited me quite a bit. Men are animals.

  “Okay,” I said. “We doing this now?”

  She nodded, looking deep into my eyes.

  “You can come in now,” she called outside the bathroom.

  Suddenly White Power Larry was filling the doorway and my little pussy heart was suddenly hammering. I wondered what Stasia thought about this and remembered the last time I’d seen her she was getting fucked by three large black guys.

  Dawn got into the bathtub and lay down.

  “Why don’t you take off yer clothes, honey,” White Power Larry said.

  “Come on now,” she said in an almost purring sexual voice I’d never heard her use before. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

  Larry moved up to the side of the tub and began unfastening his bl
ack cargo pants. I moved to his right and began unfastening mine with shaky hands.

  I didn’t even have to piss. I’d peed before leaving the apartment and hadn’t even drunk anything since.

  Larry was probably full of Jagermeister and hate. He probably pissed on people all the time. I’d never pissed on anyone. Maybe as a kid. Not with anything sexual in mind. Not that this felt very sexual.

  I flopped my sad dick out and tried my best not to look over at Larry’s. Not only did I imagine he was much larger than me, I was pretty sure he would lynch me for even glancing.

  “May the best man win,” she said.

  “Win what?” a voice said from the doorway of the bathroom.

  Larry and I both turned toward it.

  I wondered if Larry was as panicked as I was.

  Sheriff Bando stood in the doorway.

  “Larry?” Bando said. “Dawn? What the fuck is going on?”

  He moved into the bathroom and realization broke across his face.

  “This is sick,” he said.

  Maybe him saying that meant he was into it. I remembered the night Barcie and I had run into Bando in the field. I remembered her coming back bruised and covered in shit.

  Larry had already hoisted up his pants and quickly shoved past Bando.

  Did that mean I won by default?

  Looking at Bando’s angry red face, I should have been worrying about a lot more.

  “What’s wrong, baby,” Dawn said in the same voice she’d used with Larry earlier.

  The thought of watching Dawn and her old husband have some kind of marital tiff was almost as menacing as getting murdered by Sheriff Bando. I knew it would probably get me the chain, but I bolted for the door anyway.

  And was blocked by the solid flesh wall of Bando.

  He grabbed me around the arm and drove me to the floor. He dropped on top of me, yanked my arms behind my back, and quickly fastened handcuffs around my wrists. This was something he’d probably never had to do before and, fresh from sensitivity training, he seemed extremely brutal.

  Dawn now stood above us.

  “You gonna hurt him, baby? He was tryin to pee on me. I don’t even know who he is. He just showed up with Larry.”

  “None of that is true,” I think I said. I tried to say, anyway. I was nervous and panicked and it was hard to breathe.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Bando said. “I know who this piece of shit is. I should have arrested him when I caught him gettin Barcie wasted that one night.”

  “I’m so sorry, baby. Did I do somethin wrong?”

  Bando dragged me out of the bathroom, lifted me up, and forced me into a chair.

  He pulled his gun out, making the situation a thousand times tenser.

  “Now don’t do nothin stupid,” Dawn said.

  “I think the stupidest thing I did was marrying you.”

  Dawn was still in the bathroom and I couldn’t see her. Bando aimed the gun into the bathroom and fired three times.

  Holy fuck.

  The sound was deafening. I’d heard gunshots before, but never up this close. The smell of burning machine oil filled the room. Maybe this was what I’d always heard described as ‘cordite’ in crime novels. I was doomed.

  I thought about bolting but Bando now stood only a couple of feet in front of me.

  “Don’t move,” he said. “I just want to talk.”

  My whole body was vibrating. I might have been crying. This was not how I expected the night to go.

  “How long have you been fucking her?” he said.

  “I . . . I haven’t.”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “I’m not. I swear.”

  “Larry’s probably been fucking her for a while. He’s my best friend. Or, at least, I thought he was. Were you guy’s gonna fuck her together?”

  “No. I . . . didn’t know that was going to happen.”

  I thought I could tell him the truth—that she occasionally had me go down on her—but didn’t see how that would help things.

  “I’ve never fucked her. Maybe I should do it now but . . . I’m too sad. I should have known something was wrong. She said she had a condition. Didn’t like to be touched. I married her anyway. She said she loved me. Said she’d love me forever. And we were good to each other. She was nice to me. I thought she’d cave in eventually but the most she’d ever do was watch me jerk off. I was forced to lower myself and bed the dirtiest of whores. I confessed every time. I couldn’t keep anything from her. She never judged me. You know, people think she married me for the money but she has a lot more money than me. I don’t know where it comes from. I probably should have looked into that too.”

  Bando was now crying and that further complicated my assessment of the situation.

  “I thought she’d be with me when I retired,” he blubbered. “Thought we’d travel together. Now I have nothing. Nothing. Oh God, what have I done?”

  “I . . . I’m really sorry,” I said.

  There were too many things to process. Bando had distracted me with his talking and I could barely think about Dawn being dead.

  What was I going to do?

  “She was everything to me. And now she’s ruined my life. Made me into a murderer. I think she needs to give me something. She owes me.” His blubbering turned into a steely resolve.

  He came toward me and I thought it was going to be all over. Instead he put the gun on my lap. I stared down at it, completely aware of its deadly weight.

  He disappeared into the bathroom and came back out carrying Dawn. He laid her down on the floor.

  There were three large bloodstains on her chest. Blood soaked into the carpet.

  He got down on his knees, still weeping, and unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts, tugging them down her legs. Her underwear came down partway with them. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of those and pulled them down. He wiped his tears away, the look of miserable sadness suddenly replaced with one of excited frenzy.

  He straightened up and began fumbling with his belt.

  I glanced at Dawn’s face.

  Her eyes were open.

  And moving.

  She was alive.

  Once Bando’s pants were undone he looked at Dawn.

  She had raised herself up onto her elbows.

  Bando began trembling.

  He stood up and fastened his pants.

  “What the hell are you?” he said.

  Dawn didn’t say anything.

  Bando took a couple steps toward me and grabbed the gun from my lap. I expected him to shoot Dawn again, but he plugged the gun into his mouth and blew his brains out.

  I turned and vomited and sat in the chair shaking, my nerves completely shredded.

  Dawn stood and approached Bando’s body.

  She nudged him with her foot.

  “I think he’s gone,” she said. “Oh, before I forget . . .” She grabbed her shorts from the floor and grabbed my phone and keys from one of the pockets. She tossed them to me but since I didn’t have my hands free, they hit me on the shoulder and fell to the floor.

  “I had some money in those pants too.”

  “You did.” She still stared down at Bando’s lifeless body. “You don’t anymore.”

  “Do you think you could undo my cuffs?”

  “I’m going to have to call the cops. I think I should leave you like that. I don’t want to tamper with anything.”

  “I’d like to leave before they get here.”

  “I can’t let you do that. It’s better to have a witness.”

  “What do you want me to tell them?”

  “Tell them whatever you want.”

  “Should I tell them about why I’m here?”

  “What? To piss on me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s not really why you’re here. This is why you’re here.” She again nudged Bando’s body.

  She grabbed her own phone from the pocket of her shorts and came over to me. She put one foot on the ba
ck of the chair and moved her vagina in front of my face. Just the familiar scent of her made me crazy. I eagerly began lapping at her, instantly hard. I forgot about what I’d just seen. Her juices were like a balm, quieting my nerves.

  She called either the local police station or 911. I guess there wasn’t really a need to call 911, since the emergency was over. Something about this was exciting her, although not outwardly or anything. She didn’t even move her hips. But her juices mixed with my saliva and made a trail from her to my lap. I couldn’t get enough.

  “I need to report a suicide,” she said. She did her best to sound sad and slightly panicked. She rattled off her address.

  I continued to lick her until we heard sirens and then she stopped and said, “I need to change shirts.”

  * * *

  Dawn dropped me off after midnight. I had to write a statement that was mostly true. I hadn’t mentioned why I was there. I had put in the part about Bando shooting at Dawn but didn’t offer any real speculation. The whole thing was a lot more cut and dried than I thought it would be. The major surprise following Bando’s suicide was Plopsy’s death. Maybe suicide. Maybe not. They actually found her body first, sitting on the couch in front of the TV, a sack of McDonald’s congealing on her lap, and a look of utter terror twisting her dead face. One of the EMTs speculated that her heart had probably just given out. With her size, nobody bothered arguing with him.

  Dawn got a lot of sympathetic hands to the upper arm. One of the cops gave her a hug I found mildly lecherous. I went to bed with her taste in my mouth, her smell on my lips, her juices dried to my chin. I masturbated and fell asleep.

  Travis

  I woke up the next afternoon and discovered a red spot on my penis while taking a piss.

  Great, I thought. One of Dawn’s girls has given me herpes.

  After taking a shower I decided I was coming down with the flu or something. My skin felt sensitive and my bones were achy.

  It hurt to put on clothes so I didn’t. For, like, three days.

  I mostly just lay in bed and shivered with the fear.

  It felt like something was coming to a head but I had no idea what it was. I found it impossible to think coherently about anything. I knew what I had seen. I had seen Dawn recover from three gunshot wounds as though they’d never happened. But the more I tried to think about it—the more I tried to think about what that could possibly mean—the foggier the memory became until I began questioning if it had happened at all.