Bitch Slap

by Bijou Hunter

  “Let me guess what happened next,” I say, thinking about Cricket in a bind. “You either went for his crotch or bit down on his tongue.”

  “Both but in the opposite order. I sunk my teeth into his tongue and just went cannibal on him. He screamed of course. Such a bitch, and then he let me go. I was spitting on the ground, trying to get rid of the taste of his saliva and blood. Then out of nowhere, can you guess what he did?”

  “Cried?”

  “No, though, I could tell he wanted to cry. But no. The butt nugget bitch slapped me! I’d never been slapped in the face before. I don’t know if you know this, but bitch slaps hurt.”

  “As someone who’s been bitch slapped, I agree,” I say, wishing I could find that asshole who hit her and make him bleed for a few days.

  “Wait, what did you do to get bitch slapped?”

  “A senile old lady thought I stole her purse.”

  “Did you?”

  Snorting, I ask, “If I did, would I have added the senile old lady part?”

  “Maybe you’re attempting to deflect from your guilt,” she says, struggling against laughter. “Like making me think she was wrong without actually saying she was wrong. I know how you biker boys skate around the truth.”

  “Though you make a good point, I did not steal her purse. When she slapped me, I didn’t even slap her back. I could have too. No one was around, and she was senile, so I could have gotten away with it. Still didn’t take down that bitch.”

  “In her defense, you’re young, and she’s old. There’s probably some jealousy involved in her lying and slapping behavior.”

  Laughing, I wish I could reach out and touch her smiling face. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. In fact, I thought I could drive to Tumbling Rock and visit you this weekend. Meet your family. Get to know the town you call home. You know, slum it for my man.”

  “That would be fricking fantastic.”

  “Fucking, Poet. Just use the real word.”

  Smirking, I warn, “The more you tell me what to do, the more I’m certain I’ll never say your version of fricking again.”

  “It’s not even for me. It’s for the babies. Do you really want them growing up saying fricking rather than the much cooler fucking?”

  “I want them to fit in with my family, meaning they’ll need to say fricking. Besides, they can get away with saying fricking when they’d get in trouble saying that other word.”

  “In trouble with whom? No, really, who are these people telling my kids they can’t say fucking?” Cricket says, and I sense she’s getting ready for a really wild rant. “Are these jerks related to you? If so, you need to keep your banjo-playing, hill-folk kin on a tighter leash. I won’t be having my children controlled by anyone besides me and you and possibly Bianca Bella and Chipper if you and I are busy.”

  “We don’t play banjos,” I say in a dismissive tone while trying not to laugh at her rage.

  “But you want to, don’t you? I smell your banjo envy every damn time we share a room.”

  Laughing at her tone, I imagine her sitting on my couch with me. “I live in a trailer. Don’t expect your fancy stone shower here.”

  “I won’t judge you or even complain. I’ll even keep that banjo talk to myself.”

  “Thank you,” I say and then add, “You’ll want to put on your thick skin before visiting. The women in my family can be... What’s a nice way of saying bitchy?”

  “Catty. Snarky. Cunty. Vagina-y. Any of those will do. Wait, are you saying they might bully me? I should warn you that I have bitch slapped women in my life.”

  “That’s not really fair, is it? They can’t bitch slap back.”

  “Even better,” she murmurs. “Hey, I’ll bring Chipper, and they can bitch slap him in retaliation for me bitch slapping them.”

  “Sounds fair. You are twins.”

  “Exactly. We share everything, and I know Chipper will totally sign up for that. He likes when women mistreat him. It’s like his meth.”

  “Are you really coming?”

  “Yep, and then you can make sure I keep coming. Eh, get it? Wink, wink.”

  “Oh, I’m already picturing you naked.”

  “I’ve gotten fatter since you last saw me.”

  “We were together two days ago.”

  “Exactly,” she groans. “I keep getting bigger and bigger. I have nightmares that I’ll pop like an over-inflated balloon.”

  “You’re beautiful, and you know it.”

  “I really do,” she says and laughs.

  “Hey, whatever happened to the shit stain who bitch slapped you? Is he still around because I could drop-kick his balls the next time I’m in town?”

  “Oh, I don’t know what happened to him after the ambulance showed up.”

  “More details please.”

  “He hit me, and it hurt, so I gave him a roundhouse kick to the hip. He went down like a sack of potatoes. That’s when I kicked his frank and beans region until someone mentioned I should stop. I heard from Candy that Chipper later talked to the guy and explained a few things. I don’t know if that means the guy is dead, or Chipper and he became chat buddies. My brother wouldn’t tell me, and I honestly didn’t care that much. That experience taught me a lot about bitch slapping, so it wasn’t a complete loss.”

  “I’m sorry your first kiss wasn’t amazing.”

  “I’m sorry your first kiss was amazing. I want to be the only girl who ever kissed you without setting off your gag reflex. I guess that’s a dream I’ll never enjoy.”

  “You’re the prettiest girl I ever kissed.”

  “I know. I’ve been to West Virginia before, remember?” she says and bursts into laughter.

  “Funny stuff coming from Methland, Tennessee.”

  “Hey, I live next door to Methland! Get your geography straight.” We laugh for a few minutes with her snorting more than once and muttering, “Methland.”

  “I can’t fricking wait until you’re sitting next to me in my trailer. It’s something I’ve been fantasizing about since our one-night stand.”

  “Is that your way of warning me that I’ll need to ride your dick all over the trailer?”

  “Yes. I have many fantasies, Cricket. I’ll be gentle though,” I tease. “You’re carrying our babies who are half Butternuts. We all know what that means.” Cricket laughs at my taunting, but I sense her mind is on sex in my trailer. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll clean before you get here.”

  “Mmm... can you clean while naked? That’s a sexy fucking thought right there.”

  “Nothing sexier than a man vacuuming with his dick flopping in the wind.”

  “Don’t stop,” she moans between laughter. “Now tell me about doing the dishes and how the suds will drip down your frank and beans. Oh, yeah, I’m so close.”

  Laughing at her tone, I try to imagine her touching herself while we talk. Her thighs widening as her fingers slide into the sweet pink flesh I know so well. Except, in reality, she’s likely lounging in an oversized puppy-covered nightgown while her real puppies sit on her feet. Only Cricket could make reality sexier than even my best fantasy, and that’s how I know she’s the woman for me.

  13—CRICKET

  Like most mornings, I meet my family at the Waffle House for breakfast. After ordering the waffles, I wonder if I ought to get eggs too. I’m usually super hungry in the morning. Thankfully, I haven’t suffered from morning sickness, so my pigging out continues unchallenged.

  “I’m driving to West Virginia this weekend to meet Poet’s family,” I announce while struggling with Chipper for the syrup.

  “No,” Hayes replies with his mouth full of bacon. “Candy, tell her.”

  “He said no, Cricket.”

  Giving up and letting Chipper have the syrup, I explain, “I want to spend time with my man.”

  “He can drive here,” Hayes says, struggling to swallow so he can properly growl at me. “You aren’t going to Hillbilly Town.”

/>   “Says you.”

  “I have my ways to make you stay,” he says and levels his more fearsome frown at me.

  I think back to when the security system was installed at my house, and Hayes hinted he had special commands programmed to ensure he’d remain the one in control. I assume he can lock me in the house, so that’s why I always keep my bedroom window open a tad. Of course, even if I manage to get out of the house, I’d still have to jump the gate. None of these acrobatic moves will be possible with my giant gut.

  “Why don’t you come with me if you’re so worried?” I ask while dumping too much syrup on my waffles.

  Chipper immediately steals back the syrup. “I’ll go with you. I’m interested in Poet’s grand-pappy’s moonshine.”

  “Always with the booze,” Hayes growls at Chipper.

  “If you were drunk more often, maybe you’d growl less and smile more.”

  “Where’s the upside for me?” Hayes asks.

  “Good point.”

  Candy pats her boy’s head reassuringly. “We should go to West Virginia. Meet Poet’s family and see what they’re about.”

  “You want to try the moonshine, don’t you?” Hayes growls.

  “Of course. My life has so few adventures left. Moonshine gives me a reason to go on.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up,” Candy snaps back, and he instantly smiles.

  “Foreplay at breakfast is just gross,” Chipper points out.

  “I agree,” Cap mumbles, having remembered he was awake.

  Candy takes a deep breath after rolling her eyes. “So, it’s settled. We’ll pack up the RV and drive to West Virginia for moonshine.”

  “And to meet Poet’s family,” I add.

  Chipper and Candy nod in unison, humoring me. Hayes frowns at them, realizes they’re not paying attention, and focuses his glare on me.

  “If these people are shit, you will cut them loose. I won’t have trashy losers showing up in White Horse looking for a handout.”

  “Is that a crack at Aunt Honey?” I ask. “If so, I’m telling Uncle Moot.”

  Hayes ignores my dig at his best buddy. “We’ll leave at two on Friday to avoid traffic.”

  “Do I have to come?” Cap mumbles.

  “Yes,” Candy says. “You can’t stay home alone.”

  “Can’t I stay at Keanu’s for the weekend?”

  “No. You need to meet his family too,” I insist while taking Cap’s hand in mine. “You’re special to me, and he’s special to me, and I need you two special people to be special together.”

  “I’d rather stay with Keanu,” he says, flashing me the same annoyed frown I get from Hayes.

  “Life isn’t fair, kid,” our dad mutters. “I’d rather stay home in my chair with my dog and woman.”

  “Did you notice how I get second billing?” Candy asks me, and I snicker.

  “My fucking point was that if I have to fucking endure West Virginia, then I’m making every single fucking one of you endure it too.”

  Rolling my eyes at how half the family is acting as if they’re so put out by this trip, I state, “I want it noted how I was planning to go alone, so none of you would have to endure anything. I refuse to have your impending misery pinned on me.”

  “What misery?” Chipper says. “Moonshine and grilled squirrel. It’s going to be great.”

  “They don’t eat squirrel.”

  “Are you a hundred percent sure of that?”

  I refuse to answer despite them staring at me with their dark, grumpy eyes. Finally, I give them a shrug and return to my waffles. We don’t talk about Poet or West Virginia for the rest of breakfast. Instead, the conversation turns to how Moot can’t track down anyone named Garbage from Polliwog Park.

  Hayes implies my info is bad while Chipper implies someone tipped off the dealer. They growl at each other, eventually no longer implying anything. By the time I finish eating, Chipper accuses Moot of being sloppy while Hayes accuses Pickles of selling bullshit info.

  I leave them to argue since Polliwog Park isn’t my territory and hunting down Garbage isn’t on my list of shit to care about. Instead, I head home to pack and prepare for a weekend in West Virginia with both the stress of meeting Poet’s family along with the impossible task of corralling mine.

  POET

  Cricket casually informs me how she will be bringing Hayes, Candy, and her brothers to Tumbling Rock this week. There’s no terror in her voice, and she’s more interested in asking if I think she’ll age as well as Lovie Howell from “Gilligan’s Island.”

  “I don’t moisturize enough,” she says during a commercial.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to bring the whole family on your first visit.”

  “Hayes does what Hayes wants. You’ll accept that with time.”

  My hand pets Jimmy too hard, and he gives me the “why do you hate me” look that kills me every time. I soften my caresses and calm my nerves.

  “Aren’t you nervous?”

  “I’m really fat,” Cricket says, and I think she’s chewing something. “That’s all I can obsess about right now. Everything else is someone else’s problem. Based on your tone, I’m guessing you’ll be the one obsessing about this visit.”

  “I want to make a good impression on your family.”

  “They’ve already met you, and they like you despite how they show you no affection and choose to treat you like trash. We’re not warm people, Poet. It’s not our way.”

  I appreciate Cricket’s attempt to keep the situation light, but I’m already thinking about my trailer being too small or my dog too ugly. Poor Jimmy doesn’t need more problems in life.

  “Are you worried I won’t make a good impression on your family?” Cricket asks and snorts. “Because I probably won’t.”

  “They’ll love you.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re great.”

  “I know.”

  Cricket giggles when I fall silent. I wish I could relax, but she’s too far away, and I’m too stressed to find the humor without her with me.

  “My family can be weird.”

  “Mine is super normal. What’s your point?” she teases. “Wait, are you worried your family will freak me out and I’ll dump you and have our babies with some other man? Is that why you sound terrified? Poor, Poet.”

  “Don’t laugh at me.”

  Cricket only laughs harder, and I think she drops the phone because her voice sounds suddenly far away while a dog’s sniffing sounds closer.

  “I miss you,” she says when her laughter dies down. “You’re so adorable. I should suck your dick to show you how much.”

  Groaning, I ask, “Why do you tease me when we’re too far apart to have any actual fun?”

  “Let’s have wild phone sex. Ooh, yeah, touch me something raw, baby,” she murmurs before her giggles returns. “Give my ass a hard slap. Yeah, that’s the stuff.”

  Laughing, I ask, “Is this turning you on, lovey?”

  “Oh, I’m so horny right now.”

  “Are you eating?”

  Cricket laughs harder. “Yes, but I’m horny eating. The chips are your dick. Ooh, that’s it. Give it to me salty and raw.”

  I can’t even speak I’m laughing so hard. Every time I’m nearly under control, I picture Cricket making out with her food, and I lose my shit again. She doesn’t help by making the most exaggerated sounds of arousal. Every time she gets loud, the dogs think she needs help and jump on her.

  By the time we hang up for the night, I’m sporting a partial erection and exhausted from laughing too much. The fear over her family visiting Tumbling Rock feels very far away and unimportant.

  Too bad my calm only lasts until the next day when I break the news to my family. Their dramatic reactions remind me why I’m worried this weekend could prove very painful.

  14—CRICKET

  A temperamental fucker like Hayes should not be behind the wheel of a Class A motorhome. He drives full of rag
e, hating every slow vehicle forcing him to decelerate and raging at every fast vehicle cutting him off. I sit in the seat behind him and pray we don’t end up in a road rage situation where I’m forced to play armed backup while six months pregnant. Even worse, we’d end up in a West Virginia jail. Even Hayes’s power has its limits.

  “Stop worrying,” Chipper says when I grind my teeth. “Hayes is all bark, no bite.”

  I hear the old man exhale roughly in the front seat. Chipper laughs at the sound before I do, but soon even Candy’s giggling. Nothing gets Hayes riled up more than us teasing him for being soft.

  Candy reaches over and pats his cheek. I assume he reacts positively to this gesture because my mother’s amused expression shifts into something hornier. I just hope we get to Tumbling Rock before these two need a quickie in the back bedroom.

  “I’m nervous,” I announce when we’re twenty miles from Poet’s place. “What if his family is truly awful? Like anal warts awful.”

  “What do you know about anal warts?” Hayes asks, immediately focusing on the wrong part of my babble.

  “I had them treated a few years back. Now can we focus on the topic at hand.”

  “Eww,” Cap mumbles from the back couch where he reads a book. “How do you even get warts on your butt?”

  “I’m not answering that,” I immediately say.

  Chipper turns toward our little brother. “Let me handle this. Well, when a man and woman love each other very much, the man gets something call lubricant.”

  “Chipper,” Candy hisses. “Don’t you dare scar that child’s brain with your filth.”

  “Can I get a hallelujah?” I ask while Chipper laughs at our mother’s glare.

  As if on his last fucking nerve, Hayes exhales again. “Let’s stop with the anal talk.”

  “And the wart talk,” Cap adds.

  Grinning at my brother’s tone, I snap my fingers. “Yeah, let’s focus on my nerves.”

  “Are you nervous about them sucking or us sucking?” Chipper asks.

  “Can’t it be both?”

  “Why worry about us?” Candy asks. “We’re good people.”